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me.”
    â€œWhere’s your father at this point?”
    â€œTibet. He’s taken to mountain climbing of late. Last year, he lived in an ashram in India. His soul is evolving at a pace with his VISA bill.”
    I cupped a hand to my ear. “Do I detect some hostility?”
    Bobby shrugged. “He can afford to dabble in the Great Mysteries because of the settlement he got from my mother when they divorced. He pretends it’s a great spiritual journey when he’s really just indulging himself. Actually, I felt O.K. about him until he came back just after the accident. He used to sit by my bedside and smile at me benevolently, explaining that being crippled must be something I was having to sortthrough in this life.” He looked at me with an odd smile. “Know what he said when he heard Rick was dead? ‘That’s nice. That means he’s finished his work.’ I got so upset Dr. Kleinert refused to let him visit anymore, so he went off to hike the Himalayas. We don’t hear from him much, but it’s just as well, I guess.”
    Bobby broke off. For a moment, tears swam in his eyes and he fought for control. He stared off toward a cluster of people near the fireplace and I followed his gaze. There were only ten or so on a quick count.
    â€œWhich one is your mother?”
    â€œThe woman in the cream-colored outfit. The guy standing just behind her is my stepfather, Derek. They’ve been married three years, but I don’t think it’s working out.”
    â€œHow come?”
    Bobby seemed to consider several replies, but he finally settled for a slight head shake and silence. He looked back at me. “You ready to meet them?”
    â€œTell me about the other people first.” I was stalling, but I couldn’t help myself.
    He surveyed the group. “Some, I forget. That woman in blue I don’t know at all. The tall fellow with gray hair is Dr. Fraker. He’s the pathologist I was working for before the accident. He’s married to the redhead talking to my mom. My mother’s on the board of trustees for St. Terry’s so she knows all these medical types. The balding, heavyset man is Dr. Metcalf and the guy he’s talking to is Dr. Kleinert.”
    â€œYour psychiatrist?”
    â€œRight. He thinks I’m crazy, but that’s all right becausehe thinks he can fix me.” Bitterness had crept into his voice and I was acutely aware of the level of rage he must be dealing with day by day.
    As though on cue, Dr. Kleinert turned and stared at us and then his eyes slid away. He looked like he was in his early forties with thin, wavy gray hair and a sorrowful expression.
    Bobby smirked. “I told him I was hiring a private detective, but I don’t think he’s figured out yet that it’s you or he’d have come down here to have a little chat to straighten us out.”
    â€œWhat about your stepsister? Where is she?”
    â€œProbably in her room. She’s not very sociable.”
    â€œAnd who’s the little blonde?”
    â€œMy mother’s best friend. She’s a surgical nurse. Come on,” he said impatiently. “You might as well take the plunge.”
    I followed Bobby, keeping pace with him as he hobbled down the room toward the fireplace, where people had congregated. His mother watched us approach, the two women with her pausing in the middle of their conversation to see what had engaged her attention.
    She looked young to be the mother of a twenty-three-year-old, lean, with narrow hips and long legs. Her hair was a thick glossy bush of pale fawn brown, not quite shoulder-length. Her eyes were small and deep-set, her face narrow, mouth wide. Her hands were elegant, her fingers long and thin. She wore a cream-colored silk blouse and a full linen skirt nipped in at the waist. Her jewelry was gold, delicate chains at her wrist and throat. The gaze she turned on Bobbywas intense and I thought I