“Well, I’m saying it again! This is the son of a bitch who stole my twenty dollars in Penn Station!”
“Evangeline, not everyone is accustomed to your gangland charm,” Uncle Will chided after a pause. “Is that true, young man?”
Sam offered a reassuring smile. “Now, see, that’s all a big mix-up, Professor.”
“So’s your old man,” Evie spat out.
Sam adopted a pained expression. “I didn’t want to say this and get the young lady in trouble, but she stole my coat.”
“And you’re not getting it back until I have my twenty dollars.”
Jericho came to stand beside Evie, looming over Sam.
“Hi there, big fella. You her brother?” Sam asked.
“No.”
Sam glanced from Jericho to Evie. “You married?”
“No!” Evie and Jericho said, but not before Sam noted the blush creeping into Jericho’s cheeks.
“Listen, sister, I don’t know what kind of situation you’ve got going on here. I’m not the judging type. I’m glad to see you’re safe and sound here with your uncle and your”—he nodded to Jericho—“large friend. I was only trying to do a good deed, but I see that no good deed goes unpunished. So if you’ll just hand over my coat, we’ll call it even and I’ll beat it. I won’t even charge you with stealing my property.”
Evie sputtered for a second, then took off after Sam, chasing him around the long table, knocking over stacks of books as she did. “I’m going to kill him. Who wants to watch?”
Jericho raised his hand.
Will stepped into Evie’s path, stopping her. “Pardon me, but I’m rather confused, and I am also”—Will checked his watch again—“six and a half minutes late for my lecture. I don’t mind thieves, but I do abhor liars and people who keep me from conducting my affairs in an efficient manner. Now. Did you, in fact, steal her twenty dollars? Answer carefully, young man.”
For the first time, Sam appeared nervous, raking a hand through his hair and inching just a bit closer to the door. “Well, sir, a great man once said, ‘Subjectivity is truth; truth is subjectivity.’ ”
“Kierkegaard,” Will said, surprised. His tone softened. “Still. Facts are facts.”
Sam looked down at his shoes. “I’m sorry. I was planning on paying her back when I saw that fella at the pawnbroker’s and gave him my last dime to get that knife back. I thought maybe it could be a peace offering.”
“Oh, dry up,” Evie muttered. “He probably stole it himself.”
Sam forced himself not to look up. “I’m so broke I had to jump the turnstile to take the train. You can call a cop if you want to. In fact, I wouldn’t blame you a bit. But I’m as honest as a senator about finding your fenced goods, sir. I hope that counts for something.”
“I hear they feed you in Sing Sing,” Evie muttered. “Three squares a day.”
“Evangeline,” Will said with a sigh. “Charity begins at home.”
“So does mental illness.”
Will drummed his fingers on the back of a chair. “It was wrong to take Evangeline’s money, no matter how dire your straits at the time. However, you acted quite nobly in returning the museum’s property when you didn’t have to. I’d never thought about security for the museum before.” Will scratched his head, looking around at the precious books.
“If you don’t mind my saying, sir, you can’t be too careful these days.”
“I’ll say.” Evie glared at Sam.
Will nodded, thinking it over. “Very well. How would you like an honest job at the museum? There’s plenty to be done, and you could stay here at night to thwart any unwanted thieves.”
Evie whirled around to face Will. “Unc! He’s a thief!”
“Yes. So he is. Are you a good thief, Sam?”
Sam smiled. “The best, sir.”