As soon as they were out of sight, Seth asked, “Did you know my father?”
“No, I’m sorry to say I didn’t have a chance to meet him.”
He seemed momentarily disappointed, then shrugged. “Neither did I.” He thought for a moment, then said, “You’re a detective, right?”
“Yes.”
“So was my dad. Matt says my dad was a good detective.”
“Your dad was better than good. Is Mr. Arden back yet?”
“Matt? Not yet. He’s visiting a friend in the hospital. The policeman who got hurt in the building when the bricks fell on him. Do you know who I mean?”
“Yes. He’s my captain.”
“Did he know my dad?”
“Yes. He was made captain of the division just before…”
“Before my dad died?” he asked calmly.
“Yes.”
“Can you take me to see him?”
“No, I’m sorry. He isn’t able to talk much right now. He’s too badly hurt.”
“Oh. Do you know anyone else who knew my father?”
Frank hesitated. “I do, but I don’t think they really knew him. I think they’re mixed up about some things and wouldn’t be able to tell you the truth.”
“They’re liars?”
“No, they’re just mistaken.”
He grew thoughtful again. “What they said today in the church — those people — that was true, wasn’t it?”
“Yes, I think so. I had never met them before today. But I’ve read about your father, and everything I’ve read makes me think they were telling the truth. And there would be no reason for them to lie, right?”
Seth solemnly considered this, then said, “No, because they were in church, and you know…” He pointed up.
“Exactly,” Frank said, struggling to match Seth’s gravity.
“They were sad,” Seth added. “Their stories were sad.”
“Yes. But even though they were sad, they wanted to tell about how your father had helped them and to say that they were grateful.”
The boy seemed lost in thought. Frank hoped that Elena and Yvette wouldn’t take his silence as a cue to enter the room. He was fairly sure they were within earshot.
As if he had decided that — for the moment — he had puzzled out all he could about his father, Seth suddenly changed the subject. “Do you have a picture of your dogs?”
“Yes.” Frank pulled out his wallet and removed a slightly worn photo.
“What are their names?”
“Deke and Dunk.”
He frowned. “Really? Like in hockey and basketball?”
“Yes.”
“Who is that with them?”
“My wife. Irene.”
He studied the photo, then said, “Do they bite?”
“Irene? No, she’s nice.”
This information won a slight smile. “You know that’s not what I mean.”
“The dogs are friendly, too. They might bite someone who tried to hurt Irene, but I’m not sure. Now that I think about it, Irene would definitely bite someone who tried to hurt the dogs.”
The smile grew a little.
“Where do you go to school?” Frank asked.
“I don’t.” At Frank’s look of surprise, he said, “I used to, but now I’m home schooled.”
“Your mother teaches you?”
“Yes. And sometimes my aunt. She teaches me French and about the history of the Quebecois and Canada. My mom teaches me lots of stuff. Spelling, reading, math. Spanish — we learn that together. And self-defense. You should teach your wife that, you know.”
“Self-defense?”
