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“It’s a murder trial, a big one,” he said importantly. No kidding, Theo thought. “And, well, murder trials attract some folks who might be security risks.”
    “Like who?”
    “Well, Theo, let me put it like this. In every murder there’s a victim, and the victim has friends and family, and these people are, naturally, not happy that their victim got murdered. Follow what I’m saying?”
    “Sure.”
    “And you have a defendant. In this case it’s Mr. Duffy, who claims he’s not guilty. They all say that, of course, but let’s assume he’s not guilty. If that’s the case, then the real killer is still out there. He might be curious about the trial.” Deputy Gossett glanced around suspiciously, as if the real killer could be close and might be offended.
    Theo almost asked: Why would the real killer be a security risk if he showed up to watch the trial? What’s he gonna do? Kill somebody else? In open court? In front of dozens of witnesses?
    “I see,” Theo said. “You guys better be careful.”
    “We’ll have things under control.”
    “I’ll see you in the morning.”
    “You’ll be here?”
    “Sure.”
    Deputy Gossett was shaking his head. “I don’t think so, Theo. This place will be packed. You won’t find a seat.”
    “Oh, I talked to Judge Gantry this morning. He promised to save me great seats.” Theo was walking away.
    Deputy Gossett could not think of a response.
    Ike was Theo’s uncle, the older brother of Woods Boone. Before Theo was born, Ike had started the firm of Boone & Boone with Theo’s parents. He had been a tax lawyer, one of the few in town. According to the scant information Theo could get on the subject, the three lawyers had enjoyed a pleasant and productive relationship until Ike did something wrong. Bad wrong. So wrong that he was stripped of his license to practice law. On several occasions Theo had asked his parents what, exactly, Ike did wrong, but his parents refused to give the details. They said they didn’t want to talk about it. Or, that they would explain things when Theo was old enough to understand.
    Ike was still doing tax work, but of a lesser variety. He was not a lawyer and not an accountant. But since he had to do something for a living, he prepared tax returns for working people and small businesses. His office was on the second floor of an old building downtown. A Greek couple ran a deli on the first floor. Ike did their tax work and was paid in part with a free lunch five days a week.
    His wife divorced him after he was disbarred. He was lonely and generally unpleasant, and Theo did not always enjoy stopping by every Monday afternoon. But Ike was family and that mattered, according to Theo’s parents, though they spent almost no time with him.
    “Hello, Theo,” Ike called out as Theo opened the door to a long, cluttered room and stepped inside.
    “Hello, Ike.” Though he was older than Theo’s father, he insisted on being called Ike. Like Elsa, it was part of his effort to stay young. He wore faded jeans, sandals, a T-shirt that advertised beer, and various beaded bracelets on his left wrist. His hair was long, wild, white, and gathered in the back in a ponytail.
    Ike was at his desk, a wide table stacked with files. The Grateful Dead played softly on a stereo. Cheap funky art covered the walls.
    According to Mrs. Boone, Ike had been the typical dark-suited, buttoned-up corporate tax man before he got into trouble. Now he fancied himself as an old hippie, anti-everything. A real rebel.
    “How’s my favorite nephew?” he asked as Theo settled into a chair across the desk.
    “Great.” Theo was the only nephew. “How was your day?”
    Ike waved at the debris littering his desk and said, “The usual. Just sorting out the money problems of people with no money. How are things over at Boone and Boone?”
    “The same.” Though he was only four blocks away, Ike seldom saw Theo’s parents. They were somewhat friendly, but the past was