“Go on.”

“I got up this morning. About seven. And I went over to Paul… to Mr. Thomas’s room, and knocked. And went in. And…”

“And you went in and did some things.”

“Yes.”

“And your aunt came around and barged in on you two?”

“Yes. That’s about it.”

“Then what?”

“She was pretty mad. I thought she’d have a heart attack. I was really worried. Mr. Thomas was very calm, though. He sort of took it in stride, didn’t raise his voice to her or anything. He got out of bed and used this reasoning tone with her and at the same time was getting his pants on… it was, I can’t think of any other way to put it, it was kind of impressive.”

Turner had practice getting caught in bed with women. He had his act down pat; he’d be a cinch on the Amateur Hour, if Ted Mack wasn’t dead.

“My aunt told me to go home, to go back to bed and… she said

… and sleep this time. Real sarcastic. I almost… I hated her when she said that. That’s the part that hurts, isn’t that silly? That for a second I hated her and I think, I think maybe I even consciously thought it, thought, I wish that fat bitch would go off someplace and die, and… she did.”

The girl looked at me blankly, but the blankness quickly dissolved into more tears and I let her cry a while.

“So they were arguing when you left,” I said, when it began to let up.

“Yes.”

“You know that your friend has flown the coop.”

“Yes. I went up to his room. It looked like he left in a hurry.”

“It sure did. Then what do you think really happened?”

“I don’t know. It was an accident, it had to be. They were arguing and she went storming out of the room and lost her step and… just fell. Maybe? Or… God. Or they came to blows and he accidently slapped her or something and she fell or… I don’t know. It’s upsetting. It’s scary as hell, too.”