And hopefully they would no longer try to involve my son in their filthy practices. That was the main reason I didn’t say anything to Duff about the glasses. He must have found them, although he still wasn’t wearing them. Nevertheless I had no intention of reporting the matter to the authorities, and I wasn’t going to confront my son with it either. If he had killed Stephanie, I didn’t want to know it. If he had done it, the others had caused him to do it, and I was hoping—and as a couple of peaceful days went by, beginning to believe—that nothing like that would ever happen again.

On Friday morning I mentioned to Duff that the psychiatrist would probably be in Cainesville the next day. Actually, I was wondering if I shouldn’t call Father Jackson and cancel the whole thing.

“He’s coming to see me?”

“Well, he hopes to see you, but that’s not the only reason he’s coming. Father Jackson says he and his brother haven’t gotten together for a long time, so that’s probably the main reason.”

“I sure can’t understand why he’d want to bother with me. After all, it’s just a simple behavior problem, isn’t it? You think I haven’t been behaving as I should lately and you want to know why. Any good shrink must see a dozen such cases every week.”

“That’s right. Dr. Jackson has probably agreed to see you only because he doesn’t play golf or tennis and there’s nothing else to do in Cainesville on a weekend.”

“He could go riding.”

I turned and stared at him.

“There are plenty of riding stables around here, aren’t there?”

“I don’t know, are there?”

“I would assume so. This is the country, after all. Plenty of open land around here.” He grinned and then said, “All right, Mother. I don’t have anything else to do this weekend either.”

That night Father Jackson called to say that his brother was in town. He had suggested seeing Duff at his motel the next morning if I could arrange it. Also, Jim would like to talk with me before the meeting with Duff. Could I come to the motel and have a drink with them in an hour or so? Maybe Jack would like to come too, Father Jackson suggested.

I didn’t even mention it to Jack. I was sure he would only laugh at the idea of meeting with a psychiatrist and a priest to talk about his son, whom he considered to have very minor, if any, problems. I told Franny I was going for a drive when I left for the Siesta Time Motel about eight-­thirty, and she didn’t question it. I don’t know whether Duff was in the house or not. I was getting sick of always looking for Duff anyway.