"I tried calling you twelve times."

"I was being sly, honey," I said. "I had to turn the cell off."

I was trying to figure out what was wrong. Katrina hadn't been jealous of me in twenty years. Both of us were having multiple affairs in the heyday of our marriage. The term "jealousy" wasn't one of our ten thousand words.

She fell against the backrest of her chair and began to cry.

"What's wrong?" I asked, wondering about the smell of Lucy's perfume on my clothes.

"Dimitri," she said, "and, and Twill. They went out and haven't come back. I tried to call but both their phones are off, too."

Every now and then young Twilliam took pity on his shy, morose brother and introduced him to a particular kind of girl or woman he came upon in his barely legal activities. I'd seen a few e-mails between them when Twill had come across someone he thought D might like. It's supposed to be the other way around-the older brother is supposed to teach his younger sibling the ropes, but that wasn't the case in our home. Twill was the reincarnation of an old soul that had spent one lifetime after another in prison or on the run.

Lately my youngest, and favorite, son had been running an online fence. He never saw or spoke to anyone, just had his e-wallet fat with transfers from a dozen different buyers and providers.

I was looking into how to short-circuit his illegal enterprise but thus far the weak link eluded me.

I couldn't see how that particular endeavor would get both kids in trouble.

"It's okay, baby," I said to my wife.

She sniffed and I wondered if she got a whiff of my make-out session.

"I'm worried, Leonid."

"You know Twill. He probably met some girl wants a college man for a night or two. That's the one thing would keep Dimitri away from here."

"You think so?"

"I'm sure of it. They'll call in the morning. Probably call me, 'cause they're so afraid of you."