“Only this. When hack artists looked over the shoulder of Monet, all they saw was a man painting dots. Daubs and dots.”

“But when they took a few steps back, they saw the whole picture?”

“You got it.”

“I need to get home. I’m sorry, Doris.”

“Come on, my brother!” Quentin says, as though I’m taking all this too seriously. “I’m just tryin’ to make you feel better.”

I walk out onto the gallery, then look back at him through the half-open door. “You get Dad acquitted, you can tell me what a genius you are all day long. Until then, why don’t you try to remember a little basic legal procedure?”

He shakes his head as though I’m a hopeless case. “Why don’t you get out of my light, hack?”

“Half a day, Quentin. Then you get your walking papers.”

As I shut the door, I see Doris watching me over her shoulder, her dark eyes inscrutable as ever.

One block away from my house, my cell phone rings. It’s Rusty, of course.

“What did Quentin say?” he asks.

“It’s going to get worse before it gets better.”

“Fuck.”

“At least he dropped his Leonardo bit. Now he thinks he’s Monet.”

“I think he’s freakin’ Big Bird. He’s got to go, amigo. When court opens tomorrow, you’ve got to be standing at the defense table. You, your father, and nobody else. That’s something the jury can believe in, right there.”

“I gave him half a day, Rusty.”

“You what? Q can sink your old man in less time than that.”

“I went with my gut.”

“Well, usually that’s a good thing. But not this time.”

“I’ll tell you what scares me most. There’s some kind of split between Quentin and his wife. I think Doris is worried Quentin’s out of his league, too. Something’s messed up. I don’t know what.”

“Go talk to your father.”

“There’s no point. He won’t fire Quentin. Whatever’s at the heart of this case, Dad won’t confide it to me.”

“Shit, man. Is he that embarrassed about all this? So he tagged Halle Berry, and she got pregnant. That’s no reason to go to jail.”

“I’m glad you’re not making the closing argument.”

“Better me than Quentin Avery. Dude, I’ve known your mom a long time, and she’s close to cracking. She doesn’t care who Tom nailed back in the Dark Ages, she just wants him out of jail. Why can’t he see that?”

“Maybe Dad really believes the Knoxes will kill Annie or me unless he takes the fall.”

Rusty breathes into the phone for a few seconds. “Well . . . if that’s it—”

“I know. Nothing’s going to change his mind.”

“Where’s Ray fucking Presley when you need him? Or your blond buddy from the Special Forces?”