Chapter 2

I parked the Blazer in my usual spot in front of the house, where I'd been parking since 1994 ... or had it turned into 95 by the time I first parked there? I knew when we got married, but I couldn't remember offhand which year I'd first visited Cecelia's house. At any rate, her arrest-me-red Mazda was in the driveway, since what used to be the garage had been my study since August and September of last year.

We got out, and held hands up the walk to the front door. I unlocked it, let Cecelia in first, and closed it behind me. I hung my hat on the rack by the door, and then thought of something.

"Where's Darlia?" I asked.

"She's with the Farleys." She smiled at me. "I wondered when it would occur to you to ask."

"I've had other things on my mind."

Now her smile became a broad grin. "And you suppose that I didn't?"

Not being brilliant, I plowed in where angels would have run away. "Darlia's whereabouts are your job."

"Yes, they are. But you are not supposed to be aware of the division of labor; I have endeavored to keep you ignorant of the real state of affairs, lest you take advantage."

I shook my head. "Shoot, C, I've known for a long while that we wound up with you keeping track of when and where she needs to be."

Her grin faded, but not completely – a small smile remained. "I chose, very deliberately, to be a 'mere' housewife, and voluntarily took upon myself the responsibilities of the job. I should have known you would rely on that, but for some reason I simply didn't think of it."

"I never consciously thought of it," I said, as I moved toward the sofa. I was ready to sit down and pry my boots off. "But when it came up, I didn't have to ponder to realize that you've been taking care of seeing to her for most of her life."

Cecelia sat down beside me, on my left as our long custom was. We've been married since April of 1995, and we've got some pretty solid habits by now. "You have had your work as an investigator," she said. "Once I was home all day, even before I relinquished my business, it was easy for me to care for her most of the time, and arrange for others to watch her when necessary. I never found it necessary to formulate a detailed plan."

Now that I was sitting, I realized I was too tired to mess with my boots. I slumped there, doing nothing. "No, you didn't need to plan it. Shoot, I don't see that we even need to talk about it."

Cecelia leaned against me. "You proceed with far less analysis than I do. But tonight I'm too fatigued to analyze anything ... well, there is one thing that perhaps I can arouse myself to discuss. We are going to handle this case, aren't we?"

"Yeah. Whoever it was, they clipped the guy right out of my office. That don't go with me." We'd talked about it already at the office, but she was tired and might have forgotten something for once, and I was too tired to fiddle with it.

She straightened, and then turned so that she was facing me on the sofa, her feet in their Apache-style moccasins curled under her. "I have never sneered at your ethical code. I know that some do, but I also know that you do not subscribe to any sort of machismo; your ethics are precisely that. And I myself know something of absolute standards; you know my faith, and my adherence thereto. You have said, as I recall, that character is what you do when no one is watching." I couldn't remember saying that, but it was what I believed so I didn't interrupt. "That requires some sort of code, however unspoken, and you have that. It is not in all respects mine; your code of ethics relates in part to your work, and I have had no part in that work and have not needed to formulate or adopt ethical standards appropriate to investigations. But I understand, at least in part, your position here. However briefly, and however marginally, that man was under your protection, and those who killed him violated that. And if your protection is impotent, it is worthless – and your effectiveness as an investigator is proportionately less."

"There's also the fact that my effectiveness as my family's protector suffers too."

"I hadn't thought of that – but I do appreciate that you have such a commitment to me and to Darlia." She paused, and something in her face made me think she was about to change the subject. "My own ethics are involved here." Yeah, she'd changed it, though not greatly. "I am the last person, in your office at least, who spoke to him. He wished me a good day as he departed, and I returned the sentiment. Just a few minutes later he was dead. Those who killed him offended me, and I do not propose to let this offense go without a reply."