“Shouldn’t be too hard to trace,” Marge said. “Not too many buses go to Fall Springs. Seems to me a driver might notice a woman and her adult retarded son…unless Pappy took the bus.”

Decker said he’d call the bus lines from headquarters.

Marge was silent for a moment. Then she said, “It just pisses me off that someone tried to pawn this all on Earl.”

“Let’s not be too hasty,” Decker said. “Maybe he did do it all.”

Marge looked doubtful.

“Yes, it stinks,” Decker said. “But let’s face it, Marge, hanging it on the kid makes a lot of sense. A judge would take one look at Earl and confine him to a home. Nice and neat.”

“Blaming it on a retarded kid,” Marge said.

“Despite what they say,” Decker said, “the meek don’t inherit too much.”

Sitting at his dining-room table, Decker was on his fourth beer and his third cigarette by the time he heard Rina pull up. Quickly, he tossed the empty bottles and the stubbed-out butts in the garbage, sat back down, and brooded. Goddam bus system. No one who knew anything was ever in, the drivers were always out, and the goddam schedules were always changed at the last moment. Decker had wasted two hours, was expecting calls from at least a half-dozen people. But it was half past six and his phone had been silent.

Except for that one call from New York. A nervous voice on the other end.

Is Rina there?

No, she isn’t. Can I take a message?

Just tell her to call home.

Where’s home?

New York.

Is everything okay?

Yes.

Who’s calling, please?

Just tell her to phone home.

Click.

Phone home. Like she was some fucking E.T. Treating him as if he were a venereal disease.

“Hi,” Rina said. “You’re home early.”

Kiss on the forehead.

“Someone called from New York,” Decker said, staring at piles of bus schedules. “She wants you to phone home.”

Rina put the bag of groceries on the table. “What’s wrong?”

Decker heard the panic in her voice and looked up. “Don’t worry. She said everything’s fine.”

“She?” Rina asked.

“She didn’t identify herself,” Decker said. “It sounded like one of your sisters-in-law. Probably Shayna. She’s the one without the Brooklyn accent, right?”

“Yes.” Rina started to unpack the food on the dining-room table. “She give you a rough time?”

“Downright rude,” Decker said. “Unusual for her. She’s always been the nice one.”

“Maybe she was upset.”

Decker tossed her a sour look.

“I’m really sorry,” Rina said.

“Nah.” Decker stood up and kissed her. “Just forget I said anything. Not your fault. I had a frustrating day.”

Rina hugged him. “Marge looks better.”

“You visited her?”

“Brought her a cake,” Rina said. “From the both of us.”