I shook my head like I didn’t know what she was talking about but was happy to indulge her little whims. Once I was on my feet, I took another couple of breaths. I realized now it was Gavrilla who’d held me, and Ludmilla who’d thrown the punch. It felt as though her fist was still in my stomach.

“This way,” I said, leading them up the stairs to the study. “Honestly, I don’t know what it is you’re going on about.”

“Shut the mouth,” said Mrs. Gorkin, giving me a shove from behind.

“Who’s running Burger Crisp?” I asked, just making conversation. It wouldn’t be long before the lunchtime crowd showed up. “Shouldn’t you be there? You want, I could bring the computer by.”

“We have people,” said Ludmilla. “Better than your stupid son.”

I led them into the study and took a seat in front of my computer. Mrs. Gorkin had her eyes on me, but the girls took a quick look around the room, taking in my various items of SF kitsch.

“Look!” said Ludmilla. “Wonder Woman!”

“Neat!” said Gavrilla, taking the busty superhero from the shelf. “Look, her arms move. She even has a little lasso.”

Mrs. Gorkin was not interested in Wonder Woman. “Show me where you have da files,” she said.

“I’ve got all kinds of files,” I said. “What kind of files did you have in mind?”

Ludmilla came up behind me. “Open your e-mail. Momma wants to see the e-mail.”

I did as I was asked, Ludmilla peering over my shoulder. She smelled of fries. “Go to Inbox,” she said, and I did. “There it is,” she said, pointing to the one labeled “Brian Sandler.”

“I don’t hear anyting,” said Mrs. Gorkin.

“Click on it,” said Ludmilla. “Momma doesn’t understand computers very well.” I clicked on the e-mail, and then, at Ludmilla’s instruction, the attached audio file.

And a moment later, the conversation between Brian Sandler and Frank Ellinger was coming out of the speakers.

“Dat is it!” said Mrs. Gorkin. “You say you not know what I’m talking about!”

“I didn’t know you meant this file,” I said. “Do you have any idea how many files I have?”

“Okay, kill da file,” she said.

“I’ll do it, Momma,” Gavrilla said, dragging me out of the chair and taking my place at the keyboard. I hoped she wouldn’t notice the tiny arrow attached to Sandler’s message, indicating that it had been forwarded to Lawrence Jones.

Gavrilla highlighted the e-mail, hit Delete, and it disappeared.

“Is gone?” Mrs. Gorkin said.

“I have to empty all the items in the Trash file,” Gavrilla said, switching to the Trash box. She highlighted all the items, hit Delete again, and they vanished from the screen. But she’d neglected to go to Sent Items, where the message to Lawrence sat.

“There we go, Momma,” Gavrilla said.