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the doorbell rang. Nadine answered and brought two police officers into the kitchen.
    Impossible.
    Hollis recognized Rhona Simpson, the Ottawa detective who’d been in charge of her husband’s murder case. Rhona looked equally surprised.
    Hollis recovered first. “Detective Simpson, you’ve transferred to Toronto?”
    Rhona introduced Zee Zee and added, “I investigated Ms Grant’s husband’s murder a year ago. It was my last Ottawa case.” She nodded to Hollis. “The world grows smaller and smaller.” She directed her next remark to Curt. “You’re Ivan Hartman’s father.”
    â€œI am.” Curt introduced everyone else.
    â€œSorry to intrude on your grief. If you can manage it, we’d like to ask questions. Time is important,” Zee Zee said.
    â€œPerhaps we should move to the living room,” Manon said. Propelling Etienne ahead of her, she led the way.
    Zee Zee took notes while Rhona conducted the interview. “I understand your son didn’t live with you all the time? Any idea where he was going?” Rhona asked Curt.
    â€œNone. Not to work. He works...” Curt’s eyes widened. He swallowed as if a large foreign object were stuck in his throat, “Worked, at the Buy Right Superstore on St. Clair. If he was going south on Parliament Street, he wasn’t going there.”
    â€œHe also worked for Catering Plus. I have their phone number but not their address,” Manon said.
    â€œDid he have alcohol or drug problems?”
    â€œOf course not,” Curt said. His gaze and Manon’s flicked to Tomas and away again.
    Zee Zee made a note.
    â€œWas he worried about anything? Depressed?”
    â€œAre you implying he cut his own brakes?” Curt bristled.
    Rhona held up her hand. “I’m not implying anything— these are routine questions. Did he belong to a gang?”
    â€œNot Hell’s Angels, if that’s what you’re suggesting. No, not a member of any gang.”
    â€œAny trouble with the police?”
    Curt shook his head.
    â€œWe found a current student card from George Brown College in his wallet. Which campus was he at, and what was he studying?”
    â€œGeorge Brown,” Curt repeated. He frowned. “I didn’t know he was studying anything.” He addressed Manon and Tomas. “Do you know?”
    They shook their heads.
    â€œI do,” Etienne said.
    He had everyone’s attention.
    Etienne managed a smile, although his eyes were swollen and his nose was running. “He was taking cooking. He was going to be a chef. He had a big white hat and everything.”
    â€œWe might have guessed,” Manon said. “But why didn’t he tell us? Why is Etienne the only one who knows this?”
    Rhona addressed Etienne. “George Brown has several locations around Toronto. Do you know which campus he was at?”
    Etienne thought for a moment. “You know the big castle on the hill? He told me that every time he passed it, he thought of me. He promised to take me there in my summer holidays.”
    â€œGood work. The Casa Loma campus.” She turned to Curt. “Was Ivan’s bike the same as the other two parked outside?”
    Curt nodded. “Different years.”
    â€œPlease don’t use either bike. We’ll test them and the pad for prints. We’ll have more questions later. What about Ivan’s room—we’d like to check it out.”
    â€œMy room is there too. We share the third floor,” Tomas said.
    â€œPlease come up and remove whatever you’ll need for a few days. We’ll secure the site until we finish our investigation. After we’ve spoken to Ivan’s mother, we’ll be back to make a thorough room check and ask follow-up questions,” Rhona said.
    â€œI told the police at the hospital I’d tell Ivan’s mother, my ex-wife, Lena Kalma. If you’re finished with the