“Most common arsonist is owner,” the chief says. He studies Rabbit thoughtfully; his eyes are almost round, as if somebody took a stitch at the corner of each lid. “Maybe the girl was pregnant by you.”

“She was on the Pill.”

“Tell me about her.”

He tries, though it is hard to make it seem as natural as it felt. Why did he permit Skeeter to move in on him? Well, the question was more, Why not? He tries, “Well, when my wife walked out on me, I kind of lost my bearings. It didn’t seem to matter, and anyway he would have taken Jill with him, if I’d kicked him out. I got so I didn’t mind him.”

“Did he terrorize you?”

He tries to make these answers right. Out of respect for the law. “No. He educated us.” Harry begins to get mad. “Some law I don’t know about against having people live with you?”

“Law against harboring,” the chief tells him, neglecting to write on his pad. “Brewer police report a Hubert Johnson out on default on a possession charge.”

Rabbit’s silence is not what he wants. He makes it clearer what he wants. “You in ignorance over the existence of this indictment and defiance of court?” He makes it even clearer. “Shall I accept your silence as a profession of ignorance?”

“Yes.” It is the only opening. “Yes, I knew nothing about Skeeter, not even his last name.”

“His present whereabouts, any ideas?”

“No idea. His call came through from it sounded like a phone booth but I couldn’t swear to it.”

The cop puts his broad hand over the notebook as if across the listening mouth of a telephone receiver. “Off the record. We’ve been watching this place. He was a little fish, a punk. We hoped he would lead us to something bigger.”

“What bigger? Dope?”

“Civil disturbance. The blacks in Brewer are in touch with Philly, Camden, Newark. We know they have guns. We don’t want another York here, now do we?” Again, Rabbit’s silence is not what he wants. He repeats, “Now do we?”

“No, of course not. I was just thinking. He talked as if he was beyond revolution; he was kind of religious-crazy, not gun-crazy.”

“Any idea why he set this fire?”

“I don’t think he did. It isn’t his style.”

The pencil is back on the notebook. “Never mind about style,” the chief says. “I want facts.”

“I don’t have any more facts than I’ve told you. Some people in the neighborhood were upset because Skeeter was living with us, two men stopped me on the street yesterday and complained about it, I can give you their names if you want.”

The pencil hovers. “They complained. Any specific threats of arson?”

&. Wiseasses get fragged. You better fucking barricade the whole place. “Nothing that specific.”

The chief makes a notation, it looks like n.c., and turns the notebook page. “The black have sexual relations with the girl?”

“Look, I was off working all day. I’d come back and we’d cook supper and help the kid with his homework and sit around and talk. It was like having two more kids in the house, I don’t know what they did every minute. Are you going to arrest me, or what?”