Mrs. Murphy said, wanting to avoid meeting Rosco again. As sometimes happens between parents, Mr. Murphy knew exactly what Mrs. Murphy was thinking and agreed immediately. So the four of them rambled through the mall, surrounded by trees in large ceramic pots and elaborate water fountains. Massive basins of tile caught the sprayed water on its downward tumble. Artificial flowers and real goldfish made their homes in the swirling water. Whitaker knelt down beside one of the water basins and snatched a goldfish. Just as he was about to place it gently in his bulging pocket, Mr. Murphy grabbed his hand and pried it open above the pool. The fish fell back into the water. “Why did you do that?” Whitaker asked. “Because it didn’t belong to you,” Mr. Murphy answered. “Could we find out who it belongs to, then, so I can ask them if I can have it?” Mr. Murphy simply sighed and said something about “kids,” in a muffled voice. Whitaker knew that that meant no. They passed a cookie shop, a candy store, a video arcade, and a pet shop.
