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you—we’ll follow up on those leads, and we’ll have more questions.” Despite his speech, he looked exhausted. “But that’s enough for tonight. We’ll talk to Tomas now.”
    Tomas knocked before he came in. He was taller than his father. His red-rimmed eyes and clenched jaw reflected his stress.
    â€œI’m sorry about your brother. What can you tell me about him and about you?” Rhona said.
    â€œNot enough. I feel awful.” He pulled a wad of soggy tissue from his pocket, blew his nose and apologized as he sat down. “Dad says you want information about me in case the killer tampered with the wrong bike.”
    â€œIt is a possibility.”
    His features relaxed. Maybe it felt better to hear suspicions validated.
    â€œYou want to hear if I have enemies—if I belong to Hell’s Angels or deal dope.” He shrugged. “I did do drugs at thirteen. They busted me.” His eyebrows rose. “You can imagine my father’s reaction—major league anger. Not about me. About him and his reputation. Everything’s always about him. I ended up with a warning. The old man—ever since I saw Cat on a Hot Tin Roof, I think of him as Big Daddy—wanted me in detox.” His eyes brightened. “Thank God for my stepmother. She intervened. Told him she’d handle everything.” He stopped and frowned. “It isn’t a secret, but I don’t know if she’s told you that she has problems with depression.”
    â€œNot yet,” Zee Zee said.
    â€œWell, it’s true. She’d learned from firsthand experience how much better you feel if you exercise hard. I was a good swimmer—she encouraged me to become a competitive swimmer.” He leaned forward and spoke with intensity, “For years, years, she drove me to swimming practice at five a.m., even though she had Etienne and a full-time job.” He smiled. “I suppose you don’t hear much praise for stepmoms, but Manon has always cared about me and Ivan.”
    His smile disappeared. “My dad is great if you’re doing fine. We sail and bike and have fun. He’s no use if you have problems. But you want names of anyone who might have it in for me.” He shrugged. “I came home from the University of New Brunswick last week. I don’t have a girlfriend right now. I don’t think I’ve seriously pissed anyone off. When I asked myself if anyone wanted me dead, I didn’t come up with a name, but I’ll keep thinking.” He met her gaze. “It’s not a happy thought that whoever did it made a mistake and still wants to murder me or my dad. I promise I will think about every single person I’ve ever met. If I hit on a name, I’ll call you. Believe me I will.”
    â€œNow tell us about Ivan. Who did he hang around with?” Rhona didn’t expect Tomas to know but had to cover the ground.
    â€œIn high school, no one special. He wasn’t victimized, bullied, nothing like that, but he didn’t have close friends. He liked girls, but he was shy—he had bad acne in high school. At Christmas when I came home, I saw a big difference in him—he smiled a lot and whistled. When I commented he shrugged and gave me a platitude.”
    â€œYou have no idea what brought about this character change?”
    â€œNone.”
    â€œDid he always like cooking?”
    â€œForever. He was really good.”
    â€œDo you know where his computer is?”
    â€œHis computer? No.”
    Rhona thanked Tomas and asked to see Ivan and Tomas’s apartment. Upstairs, they slipped on gloves before they opened drawers and examined cupboards and book shelves. In case they needed anything fingerprinted, they made sure not to contaminate the scene. Ivan didn’t have many personal mementos. The one photo in his room pictured Etienne as a toddler splashing in the bathtub.
    Zee Zee plucked it from the shelf.