based-including hard work, honesty, goal-oriented instead of denial, and
the freedom to be whatever one wanted to be. Ironically, their great
success was partly due to the fact that many born Americans had become
cynical about those same ideals.
The kitchen was open to a family room that was furnished as humbly as
the rest of the house.
Tuong said, “Oldest Farris girl found here by sofa. Seven teen.
“Very pretty girl,” Chinh said sadly.
“She, like mother, was bitten. So our neighbor says.”
Julie said, “What about the other victims, the youngest daughter and
Mrs. Farris’s brother-were they bitten too?”
“Don’t know,” Tuong said.
“The neighbor didn’t see their bodies,” Chinh said.
They were silent for a moment, looking at the floor where the dead girl
had been found, as if the enormity of this crime was such that the stain
of it should somehow have reappeared on this brand-new carpet.
Rain droned on the roof.
Bobby said, “Doesn’t it sometimes bother you to live here?
Not because murders took place in these rooms, but because the killer
was never found. Don’t you worry about him coming back some night?”
Chinh nodded.
Tuong said, “Everywhere is danger. Life itself is danger. Less risky
never being born.” A faint smile flickered across his face and was
gone. “Leaving Vietnam in tiny boat was more dangerous than this.”
Glancing at the table in the adjoining kitchen, Bobby saw the four kids
still deeply involved with their studies. The prospect of a murderer
returning to the scene of this crime did not faze them.
“In addition to dry-cleaning,” Chinh said, “we remodel houses, sell
them. This is fourth. We will live here maybe another year, remodeling
room by room, then sell, take a profit.” Tuong said, “Because of
murders, some people would not consider moving here after the Farrises.
But danger is also opportunity.” “When we finish with the house,” Chinh
said, “it won’t just be remodeled. It will be clean, spiritually clean.
Do you understand? The innocence of the house will be restored. We
will have chased out the evil that the killer brought here, and we’ll
have left our own spiritual imprint on these rooms.” Nodding, Tuong
said, “That is a satisfaction.”
Removing the forged driver’s license from his pocket, Bobby held it so
his fingers covered the name and address, leaving the photograph
visible.
“Do you recognize this man?”
“No,” Tuong said, and Chinh agreed.
As Bobby put the license away, Julie said, “Do you know what George
Farris looked like?”
“No,” Tuong said. “As I told you, he died of cancer, many years before
his family was killed.”
“I thought maybe you’d seen a photo of him here in the house, before the
Farrises’ belongings were removed.”
“No. Sorry.”
Bobby said, “You mentioned earlier that you didn’t buy the house through
a realtor. You worked with the estates”
“Yes. Mrs. Farris’s other brother inherited everything.”
“Do you happen to have his name and address?” Bob asked. “I think
we’ll need to talk to him.”
DINNERTIME CAME.
Derek woke up. He was groggy but hungry too. He leaned on Thomas when
they walked to the dining room. Food got eaten. Spaghetti. Meatballs.
Salad. Good bread. Chocolate cake. Cold milk.
Back in their room, they watched TV. Derek fell asleep again. It was a
bad night on TV. Thomas sighed with disgust. After an hour or so, he
stopped the set. None of the shows was smart enough to care about. They
were too stupid-silly even for a moron, which Mary said he was. Maybe
imbeciles would like them. Probably not.
He used the bathroom. Brushed his teeth. Washed his face. He didn’t
look in the mirror. He didn’t like mirrors because they showed him what
he was.
After changing into pajamas, he got in bed and made the lamp go dark,
even though it was only eight-thirty. He turned on his side, with his
head propped on two pillows, and studied the night sky framed by the
nearest window. No stars. Clouds. Rain. He liked rain. When a storm
came down, it was like a lid on the night, and you didn’t feel like you
might float up in all that darkness and just disappear.