Chapter 14: The Square on the Wall

Silvio's POV

Bruno called at seven, from the kitchen, with his bad arm in a sling.

"The mother's in a cab," he said. "She just left the wife's building. The wife wouldn't let her up."

"Where's she going?"

"Home. Northeast."

I was already in the car.

The Rafferty house had a porch light still on in the morning, and a chipped blue door.

Joan Rafferty sat on the top step with her suitcase between her feet.

She looked up at my car and did not look surprised.

"Mr. Carrara," she said. "Come in. I'll put the kettle on."

I followed her inside and did not take off my coat.

The hall was narrow, with a coat rack and a runner worn pale down the middle.

On the wall, where the clock should have been, there was a tall pale rectangle in the paint.

It was the one clean thing in the house.

I stopped and looked at it.

"Grandpa's clock," Joan said, behind me. "Claire took it. She said it was willed to her."

"It was."

"It was always going to be hers. She was the one who wound it." She put the kettle down on the stove. "Sit. Please."

The kitchen table had a lace cloth and a half-finished crossword.

I stayed standing.

"Your daughter is at her apartment," I said. "She told you not to come up."

"She'll come around."

"Why did you go to her?"

"Because she's my girl." Her chin trembled. "Where else would I go?"

"You came to my club in September with a folder."

She straightened the crossword.

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