“I’m sure you’re right,” Henry said. “But you went into the bakery and asked for the biggest, best cake they had. And I want to know where did you get the money for that?”

Shawn shrugged innocently. “Oh, you know,” he said. “Around.”

Henry briefly considered his alternatives. He could get the gun out of his safe, but Henry had long felt that if the imposition of discipline required the threat of deadly force, you’d probably lost the moral authority needed for good parenting. He played with the notion of putting Shawn across his knee and waling on him, but deep down Shawn was Henry’s son, and physical punishment would only make him more stubborn.

No, Henry wasn’t going to get anything out of Shawn. The kid just didn’t seem to have a conscience-at least not an internal conscience. Fortunately, the external model was tiptoeing toward the door, his face still covered with frosting.

“Gus,” Henry said softly. “Son. Tell me. Where did the money come from?”

Gus froze. “I’ve got to be getting home now,” he said. “My folks are probably waiting for me.”

“I’m sure they are, Gus,” Henry said. “Say, why don’t I give you a ride?”

“Uh, no, thanks, that’s okay,” Gus said.

“It’s really no problem,” Henry said. “I’ll just run you over to your house. Of course, I should probably walk you to your front door, just to make sure everything’s okay.”

“Honestly, you don’t have to do that,” Gus said.

“Really, Dad,” Shawn said, “Gus has walked up his front steps lots of times.”

“That way I can say hello to your folks,” Henry said. “Lovely people, so proud of their son. I’m sure they’ll be dying to hear how their talented boy made so much money in one day.”

Gus stared at Shawn, who glared back at him. Then he turned back to Henry. “Shawn did it,” he said. “He was playing spot the lady.”

“Spot the lady?” Henry said. “That sounds like fun. Do you think I could play?”