“Not the model he wants.” Helen got down from the stepladder and pushed the plug into the socket. The lights began to flicker in blue, yellow, and red.

“Whooo!” she heard Thom call in jest.

“All the same, things have gotten a lot easier for you since the old days,” said Arianne.

Helen understood what she was referring to. Not very tactful—it bothered her a little. “I’d rather still have my mother with me.”

“Yes, of course. Sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it.” She looked at her phone. “Seven o’clock. I’m just about ready for a drink. How about you?”

“I was ready at ten o’clock this morning.”

11

11

The Vespa had belonged to a girl. Leather seat, windshield, red paint. It was well looked after. She must have realized by now that her scooter was no longer under the carport. The image of an unhappy teenage girl impressed itself on his mind’s eye—staring sadly, her helmet in her hand. If somebody pulled a stunt like that on him, he would completely lose it. But in the final analysis, he thought, he wasn’t really stealing from these people. Scooters like this one were always insured, so he was indirectly taking money from the insurance companies—and according to his father, they were the real gangsters in this world. Just like the banks and the multinationals. It was OK to steal from them. But still.

A message appeared on his phone.

Can you pick me up? We’re eating at the Drop-In. X

The Drop-In was a fast-food joint on the edge of a small shopping mall, run by a Chinese family. A lot of people Ralf knew went there for something to eat before a night out. He would rather have eaten at home this evening. It felt like the right thing to do after everything that had happened at the police station. Eating at home was also free, and you didn’t have to pay for anybody else. He needed every euro he could get.

Ralf picked up a wad of bills from the bed and counted them for the third time. Tens, twenties, fifties. His gas tank was full, and he had a couple of ten-euro notes in his wallet. That left five hundred forty euros for Mikey. It wasn’t three thousand, but it was a start. He stuffed the cash inside a magazine, rolled it up, and tucked it between various other items inside a drawer in his desk.

He grabbed his phone and tapped out with his thumbs:

I need to take a shower first. See you in half an hour.

12

12

“Would you like a Cuarenta y Tres?”

“No, thanks.”

Helen grinned. “Straight to the Grand Marnier, then?”

“Sorry, but it’ll have to be a glass of wine for me. I’m heading over to the gym after this.” Arianne threw her coat over one of the dining room chairs and sat down.