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what happened. Give me anything that’s relevant, anything at all. And give it to me in sequence, please. I’ll especially need the time everything happened. As precisely as possible.”
    “Of course. I understand. In fact—” He put the letter opener aside, and took a sheet of paper from a drawer, at the same time reaching for a pair of horn-rimmed glasses. I’ve made some notes. I knew you’d need them.” Consulting the paper, he recited:
    “Marie and I had arranged that John would stay with me for the weekend. That’s our usual arrangement. And, as usual, I picked John up at Marie’s house after I finished at my office, about four o’clock. I took John for an ice cream cone, and bought him a toy. Then we had dinner—a hamburger, actually, at Hamburger Heaven. We arrived here about seven o’clock. Quade was already here, by prearrangement.”
    “How long had Quade been working for you and John as a bodyguard?”
    “Ever since I learned that Kramer intended to steal John. That would be about four months ago.”
    “Did anyone guard John except Quade, when John stayed with you?”
    “No.”
    “Did Quade work for you at other times?”
    He frowned. “I’m not sure what you mean.”
    “I mean, did he do anything except guard John—work for you in any other capacity?”
    He hesitated, then said, “No.”
    “So you hired Quade almost every weekend for about four months. Is that it?”
    “Yes.”
    I nodded, and waited for him to consult his notes. “Clara and Fred—my servants—left about eight this evening. Or, rather, last evening, technically. They won’t be back until Sunday afternoon. John and I watched TV until about ten, when he went to bed.”
    “What was Quade doing while the two of you watched TV?”
    “As far as I know, he was watching TV, too, in his own room. He was there when John went to bed, in any case.”
    “You saw him.”
    “I didn’t actually see him. But I heard him. Before I put John to bed I knocked on Quade’s door, and told him that John was going to sleep. He acknowledged what I’d said, and turned his TV off. So I knew he was there, even though I didn’t actually see him.”
    “As I understand the layout of your house, there’re only two bedrooms on the ground floor. Is that right?”
    He nodded. “Yes. Two small adjoining bedrooms, at the back of the house. There’s a bath back there, too, and the laundry room. Originally they were servant’s quarters, but the space over the garage is better for a couple, more private. There’s more room, too. And a view.”
    “I was wondering—” I hesitated, considering how best to put the question.
    “Yes?” He spoke impatiently, frowning. Plainly, Guest had no time for other people’s indecision.
    “Well—those two bedrooms seem to be pretty isolated, there at the back of the house. They don’t seem very secure, as nearly as I can see. There’s one door that leads into the area from the garage, and another door that leads directly outside, to the driveway.”
    “You’re wondering why I put John there, in view of the fact that he might be kidnapped. Is that what you’re saying?”
    “Yes, sir. I’d think he’d have been safer here on the second floor.”
    “That’s probably true. But there’s more to life than security, Lieutenant. That’s John’s room. It’s part of his identity, perhaps a very important part. And I don’t propose that he begin his life by surrendering his freedom to the possibility of danger. Did you see his room, look inside?”
    “Just a glance.”
    “Well, as you’ll see, it’s decorated for him. He’s comfortable there. It’s his room. And, after all, Quade was there, on guard. And, in addition—” He swiveled in his chair, and pointed to an elaborate communications panel set into the wall beside his desk. The brushed satin-chrome knobs and green-glowing dials and digital displays looked incongruous against the bedroom’s old-English paneling. “There’re three