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character, and he wanted her to know he could play. Beatrice was pale as it was, but he thought she turned just a tad paler.
    “Nobody calls me
Ms. Belarus,
Nicky. It’s BB.” She stepped around in front of him. “No Moolmans today.”
    “People call me all sorts of things, but only one person calls me Nicky.” He started for the door. “Call me if one turns up. I’ll make it worth your while.”
    Nicholas let himself out, and as soon as he hit the windblown sidewalk his cell phone started to vibrate. He found cell phones useful sometimes, but preferred the anonymity of pay phones. Everybody had caller ID, and even if you did block your number, the wrong people could tap into your signal and listen in. A pay phone number told the callee nothing, and if you used a different one each time, was tap-proof. Nicholas’s theory was that the less anybody knew about him or his whereabouts, the better. Very few people knew where he lived, and all his bills were sent to a post office box. He gave out his cell number sparingly.
    “Nicholas, it’s me.”
    Here we go,
Nicholas thought. It was the distinctive voice of his brother, Garth, and the tone was familiar. Nicholas always kidded him there were only two Garth tones of voice. One was that of the disapproving big brother. The other was that of a helpful neighbor who would come over to borrow the mower but end up drinking beer. Nicholas wished today’s tone were the latter.
    “What gives?” Nicholas sighed.
    “What gives is that I read in the paper that my brother was arrested for murder.”
    “Yeah, well…” Nicholas rolled his eyes, drawing his coat about him to shut out the cold. “I’ve been on a killing spree.”
    “You think this is some kind of joke?”
    “Yes, it is a joke. The guy was dead when I got there, OK? What do you want from me, Garth? An apology?”
    “No, Nicholas. I’m sorry.” There was a pause on the other end. “It’s just sort of a shock to read about your brother as a murder suspect in the paper. You could have called, you know.”
    “Been busy.” Nicholas regretted giving Garth his cell number—this business of having family, of being big brothered, was cramping his style. “I’ve been working on extricating myself from the murder rap, and I’ve got a new project that’s hot. What could you have done, anyway? Not like you could have bailed me out.”
    “Well…”
    “Look, Garth, let’s be frank here. You and Angie have been in a bit of trouble yourselves now and again, am I right?”
    “Well…”
    “OK, then.” Nicholas took a deep breath and calmed. “You can’t afford lawyers for yourself, much less for me. What are you going to do, come down to One Centre with a stuffed squirrel?”
    Nicholas had his odd line of work, and Garth had his: taxidermy dealer. He wasn’t a taxidermist, just a guy who rented it to the movies and TV and such. And, as it happened, Garth got into a jam once or twice when one of his stuffed animals turned out to be something someone was willing to kill for. That was how the brothers had gotten reacquainted a year ago. Before then, they hadn’t seen each other since their dad’s funeral.
    “Please, Nicholas, don’t even joke about squirrels, not after what we went through.” Garth’s tone had softened toward that of the beer-swilling neighbor. “I guess the family curse for getting in trouble is alive and well. You should come over Sunday, have a beer, or a scotch…hold on…” There was a muffled sound on the other end.
    “Are you OK, Nicholas?” It was Angie, Garth’s longtime significant other.
    “Golly, Mother, I’m just super,” Nicholas chirped.
    “Oh, for Pete’s sake,” she scolded. “Shouldn’t we be concerned?”
    “Except that girl I took to the T-dance, well, she’s pregnant, and we figure we’ll steal a car and go on a crime spree across the flat states…”
    “You’re family, Nicholas. We’re your family. If you need anything, anything at