She knows, he thought, she knows about Bobbi. He avoided her, content to play along in silence — if they were all silent and pretended nothing happened, nothing would be revealed and he could pretend that nothing had actually happened. Couldn’t he? “Would you like your fish fried or broiled?” he asked pleasantly. “Strung up by the neck,” she mumbled. “What, love?” “The pair of you stealing, somehow, some way, you are stealing,” she said. He watched her pace the length of the room, scratching her head and hugging her elbow as she worked it out in her mind. She threw her hands up and covered her face. She cried softly and warned him that he was going to get found out one way or the other. This couldn’t continue for much longer. “Stealing,” she whispered. Jack threw the fish in the sink, got in his new car, and drove off by himself.
