We began with small talk. He wanted to know about my son and I told him, without belaboring it. Mentioned Disneyland but didn’t go into it. He was one big wound and I didn’t need to go flinging salt.

I asked about his older son.

“It’s been rough on Paul,” he admitted. “He knew this Hall creature in military school, not well but did know him, and felt guilty over bringing him into our lives. Not his fault, of course. And he’s doing very well now. Has his own dealership over at 50th and Main—he sells more Cadillacs at that location than we do here.”

“Must make you very proud.”

“I am. I am. But it does hang over him…the feeling of guilt. And it’s same for Sue.”

“Your daughter? Why would she feel guilty?” But then it came back to me, from the press coverage. “Oh, that’s right… Hall and Heady originally targeted her.”

He sighed, nodded. “Yes, they made several attempts to take her that we weren’t aware of. Apparently they settled on Bobby because Sue was older—she was eleven—and our boy looked… easier to handle.”

I touched his sleeve. “You don’t have to go into it.”

“The point is, she felt guilty. What do they call it?”

“Survivor’s guilt. Soldiers who come back from war have it.” I had it. “Is she doing all right now?”

“Yes. She’s in high school. And she’s had counseling over time. A child psychologist initially, lately a psychiatrist. She and her mother are very close. She and I are very close.”

“And Mrs. Greenlease?”

He gazed down at his folded hands. “My wife takes solace in her church work. She’s a very devout Catholic—I’m not of that faith, but I support her and the charities she’s interested in. She’s convinced she’ll see Bobby again in Heaven.”

He didn’t sound quite so convinced.

“Mr. Greenlease…Bob. I wanted to talk to you in person because a telephone just wouldn’t do.”

His head came up.

I continued: “I’ve been asked to look into what happened to the missing half of the ransom you paid.”

That seemed to confuse him. “What was recovered has already been returned.”

“I figured as much. But there’s a great interest in what became of the missing three hundred thousand dollars and where exactly it went…and who benefitted from it.”

He stood. Sudden enough to surprise me. He walked to the curtained window onto his showroom and stared as if he could see anything but fabric. His posture reminded me of Johnny Hagan at his flophouse window.

“I think you care about that money,” I said. “I don’t think you care about it as money…you obviously have everything you need in life.”

“Not,” he said quietly, “everything.”

“No. Not everything. And who else would put up twenty-five thousand dollars to make that cabbie talk?”

He turned quickly—quicker than a man his age might be expected to. “Is that why you’re here, Nate? You figured that out?”

“It wasn’t hard. I’ve worked for Pearson. He wouldn’t pay two dollars admission for a last moment with his dying mother. You’re the only one in this thing who could have afforded an offer like that. So you must want to know where the money went. It must mean something to you who ended up with it. I have a couple of clients who would like to know, too. Before I say yes to them, I want your blessing to go on with it.”