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looked at him, biting her lip. Chewing on it, really. She opened her purse and fumbled in it. I thought she was going for a tissue. She wasn’t. She pulled out something and set it on the table in front of her. It was the gold-framed picture of my brother that used to be on Phil’s key chain.
    â€œThis is the item I told you about,” she said to Detective Antonelli. “The item that my husband usually carried with him but that was missing from his things after he was…” Her voice trembled. “After he died,” she said finally. She took a deep breath. “I found it in the clothes dryer when I was taking clothes out of it. They were all David’s clothes, including the clothes he was wearing on Saturday night.”
    Geez, my own mother! What was she doing?
    She turned to me. “Tell Detective Antonelli what you did, David. Tell him and tell me.”

Chapter Seven
    Detective Antonelli looked at my mother for a moment. Then he looked at me. He said, “Do you want a lawyer present, David?”
    â€œNo,” I said. “But—” I glanced at my mother. “I want to talk to you in private,” I said. “I don’t want my mother here.”
    I had a pretty good idea how my mother must have felt when I said that. I was sure she was thinking the worst. But I didn’t care. I didn’t want her there.
    She didn’t want to leave.
    â€œI’m his mother,” she said to Detective Antonelli. “I have the right to be here.”
    Detective Antonelli stared at me. “Are you sure, David?” he said. “You have the right to have a parent here in the room with you.”
    â€œI’m sure,” I said.
    â€œDo you want another adult here with you?”
    â€œNo.”
    â€œI’m staying,” my mother said. “You can’t talk to my son without me present.”
    Detective Antonelli stood up. He said, “May I speak to you outside for a minute, Mrs. Benson?”
    It took my mother a moment before she got to her feet and followed him out of the room. Five minutes passed. When the door to the interview room opened again, Detective Antonelli came in alone.
    â€œYour mother is waiting for you outside,” he said. “David, you have decided not to have a parent or any adult present with you. Is that right?”
    â€œYes.”
    â€œIf at any time you change your mind about that, tell me. I will stop asking you questions until you have been able to talk to your parent or to another adult and, if you want, to have that person here with you. Do you understand?”
    â€œYes,” I said and then asked, “My mother can’t see me, can she?” I looked at the mirror on the wall and wondered if she was on the other side, watching.
    â€œNo,” Detective Antonelli said.
    â€œShe can’t hear what I’m saying?”
    â€œNo, she can’t.”
    I looked at him, but I couldn’t tell what he was thinking. I didn’t know him well enough. Besides, he was a cop. Cops have a special way of talking and looking.
    â€œHow do I know?” I said.
    â€œYou have my word, David. Your mother can’t hear what you’re saying and she can’t see you. I’m being truthful with you, David. Why don’t you be truthful with me? Tell me about your stepfather.”
    â€œHe liked to gamble. He liked to play poker.”
    â€œThat’s not what I mean, David.”
    â€œThis is important,” I said. “I can tell it my way, right?”
    Detective Antonelli’s eyes were dark and sharp. He never took them off me when he was talking to me or when I was talking to him. He didn’t take them off me now as he leaned back in his chair and said, “Yes, you can tell it your way.”
    So I told him about Phil and how much he liked poker. He liked it so much that whenever he told me to do something and I didn’t want to do it, he always said, “Tell you