it, Dave?”
“Sure.”
“What happened to your head?”
“I hit it when I was working on the truck. Not too smart, huh?”
Her eyes looked at me curiously, then she put her hand in mine and swung her weight on my arm.
“I forgot,” she said. “Miss Regan said to give you this note. She said she’d call you anyway.”
“About what?”
“About the man.”
“What man?”
“The one at the school yard.”
I unfolded the piece of paper she had taken from her lunch box. It read: Mr. Robicheaux, I want to have a serious talk with you. Call me at my home this afternoon—Tess Regan. Under her name she had written her phone number.
“Who’s this man you’re talking about, Alafair?” I said.
A bunch of children ran past us on the sidewalk. The sunlight through the maple trees made patterns on their bodies.
“The other kids said he was in a car on the corner. I didn’t see him. They said he was looking through, what you call those things, Dave? You got some in the truck.”
“Field glasses?”
“They called them something else.”
“Binoculars?”
“Yeah.” She grinned up at me when she recognized the word.
“Who was he looking at, Alafair?”
“I don’t know.”
“Why does Miss Regan want to talk to me about it?”
“I don’t know.”
“What time was this guy out there?”
“At recess.”
“What time is recess?”
“First- through third-graders go at ten-thirty.”
“Is that when he was out there?”
“I don’t know, Dave. Why you look so worried?”
I took a breath, released her hand, and brushed my palm on the top of her head.
“Sometimes strange men, men who are not good people, try to bother little children around schools or at playgrounds. There’re not many people like this, but you have to be careful about them. Don’t talk with them, don’t let them give you anything, don’t let them buy you anything. And no matter what they say, never go anywhere with them, never get in a car with them. Do you understand that, little guy?”