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  PRAISE FOR THE WRITING OF MICHAEL Z. LEWIN

  “Lewin is precisely what the mystery writer ought to be—alert to the real world, imaginative, observant and witty.” —Nick Kimberley, City Limits

  “Michael Lewin has just about the best private detective who has been around in many a day.… Lewin has brains and style.” —Los Angeles Times

  “Lewin is a witty and concerned writer, singing his song of social significant low-key.” —John Coleman, The Sunday Times

  “As witty as Robert Parker, as ingratiating as Sue Grafton and as crafty a plotter as either.” —The Washington Post

  “Ross Macdonald followers who want to switch loyalties will find Lewin devises more intricate plots and peoples them with more interesting characters.” —The Washington Post Book World

  Ask the Right Question

  “It is always pleasant to come across a promising talent, and Michael Z. Lewin is one. His first book, Ask the Right Question, is a smoothly written private-eye story.… Characters are finely drawn, plotting is logical, details are well worked out. You can be sure that we’ll be seeing more of Mr. Samson.” —The New York Times

  Called by a Panther

  “Imagine a private eye caper scripted by Tom Stoppard, with cameo appearances by the Marx Brothers. As the late Ross Macdonald once said, ‘Lewin is fast, funny, and brilliant.’” —Tom Nolan, The Wall Street Journal

  “The entertainment level is a perfect ten.” —Mystery Scene

  “Irreverent … Amusing … Ironic.” —The New York Times

  “Laconic but wildly funny Lewin [writes] up a storm.” —Booklist

  The Enemies Within

  “A neat puzzle deftly worked out.” —Publishers Weekly

  “Samson is a very human hero whose distaste for blood, as well as his sharp intelligence, make him easy to like.… A superior species.” —The Plain Dealer

  “Watergate wasn’t much better than The Enemies Within.” —National Review

  “Michael Z. Lewin writes a realistic mystery.” —The Washington Post

  The Silent Salesman

  “Packed with suspense, literate and funny. A swell book to sink back into the pillows with.” —The Boston Globe

  “Tough and clever.” —The New Republic

  “Samson has to deal with medical doctors, a secret laboratory, the FBI, the cops, heroin, radioactivity, fatherhood, and other crimes. He does so with a little bit of heroism and a great deal of common sense and wit.” —The New York Times

  Out of Season

  “[Readers are] going to enjoy Lewin’s way of giving even the most minor of characters vivid and unstereotyped personalities.” —Tony Hillerman for the Washington Post

  The Way We Die Now

  “Mr. Lewin writes with style and sensibility and wit.… He has a fine poetic sense of detail which lights up every page.” —Ross Macdonald

  “Excellent.” —The New Republic

  “Lewin is a skillful writer.… He creates a feeling of loneliness and even desolation.” —The New York Times Book Review

  Missing Woman

  “Lewin’s best book … the dialogue is authentic, the settings attractive, and the mystery real.” —Robin Winks, The New Republic

  “A pip of a mystery.” —United Press International

  “Lewin writes with style and sensitivity. His lean and sinewy prose propels the reader all too swiftly through a highly satisfying book.” —The Houston Post

  “The prose is full of pleasant surprises and felicitous phrases, the characterization is choice.” —Chicago Tribune

  Eye Opener

  “Savor this one. It’s an emotional roller coaster—bemused chuckles follow closely on the heels of horrified gasps—but it’s not to be missed.” —Booklist

  Night Cover

  “In the several days during which Mr. Lewin allows us to share his long waking hours, Leroy Powder becomes exhilaratingly alive.” —The New Yorker

  “Powder is an irritable, tough, honest cop, a real man. Lewin knows his routine, has a good ear for dialogue, and writes good, clear prose.” —The New York Times Book Review

  Hard Line

  “Unique and well told; Powder and his relationships with his son and with Fleetwood are well characterized. Good reading: Powder’s one of a kind.” —Library Journal

  “Lieutenant Leroy Powder is cranky, opinionated, abrasive and demanding. He is also very good at his job, which is head of the Indianapolis Police Department’s Missing Person’s Bureau.… Like all of Lewin’s work, Hard Line is an ingenious and ingratiating story.” —The San Diego Union-Tribune

  “[This] latest Powder story is another first-rate, fast-moving police procedural.… Michael Z. Lewin has done another very satisfying job.” —Publishers Weekly

  “Lt. Leroy Powder of the Indianapolis P.D. revs up again in this meticulously crafted police procedural. Several interesting cases tangle up in the Missing Person’s Bureau, which Powder runs by working his jaw.” —The Philadelphia Inquirer

  “This is a crackling good procedural with all the plots wired into each other and giving off electric jolts and ringing bells. But it has real staying power as a character study of the hard-liner, a man who suffers fools badly and makes enemies, does not distinguish between work and play (‘The only way I know how to live … is to combine the two’), but unlike most workaholics is less interested in keeping the job going than getting the job done.” —Fort Worth Star-Telegram

  Late Payments

  “With a complexity worthy of Ross Macdonald and the same concern for family and secret relationships, Lewin (The Way We Die Now) has crafted a first-rate book combining grit, humor and tough-minded caring. One hopes for more mysteries featuring sarcastic, abrasive, all too human and ultimately endearing Leroy Powder.” —Publishers Weekly

  And Baby Will Fall

  “Adele Buffington stands tall in the crowd of female sleuths.” —The New York Times

  “Adele Buffington is a complex, engaging woman, tough, bright and yet vulnerable.” —The Washington Post

  Family Business

  “I can think of no other series, anywhere, which features a family which owns and works from a private investigation firm.” —Deadly Pleasures

  “How these [plot elements] are connected and what the brilliantly characterised Lunghis, from the Old Man down to the school kids, separately get up to is very much the extremely funny Lewin’s business. Totally beguiling, with the lightest of dry touches.” —The Times (London)

  Underdog

  “An ironic commentator on the current state of Midwestern bizarre.” —The New York Times Book Review

  “A hilarious tale … A story that will keep readers in stitches.” —Publishers Weekly

  “Literate and funny.” —The Boston Globe

  “Bright, witty writing … Moro is a charming and poignant narrator.… Lewin is a clever stylist.” —The Plain Dealer

  “Entertainment and humor, a sympathetic and touching hero, and fine supporting characters.” —South Bend Tribune

  “Michael Z. Lewin’s offbeat thriller is amiable and amusing.” —The San Diego Union-Tribune

  “The surprisingly noble Moro … can be counted on to see everything with an astute eye.” —San Jose Mercury News

  “It’s a pleasure, with Moro figuring things out slowly enough to keep us baffled yet quickly enough to keep us hooked.” —The Charlotte Observer

  “A very good book.” —New Mystery Reader

  Also by Michael Z. Lewin

  The Albert Samson Mysteries

  Ask the
Right Question

  The Way We Die Now

  The Enemies Within

  The Silent Salesman

  Missing Woman

  Out of Season

  Called By a Panther

  Eye Opener

  The Lt. Leroy Powder Mysteries

  Night Cover

  Hard Line

  Late Payments

  Indianapolis Novels

  Outside In

  And Baby Will Fall

  Underdog

  Oh Joe

  The Lunghi Family Mysteries

  Family Business

  Family Planning

  Family Way

  Other Novels

  Cutting Loose

  Confessions of a Discontented Deity

  Story Collections

  Telling Tails

  Rover’s Tales

  The Reluctant Detective and other stories

  Family Trio

  Nonfiction

  How to Beat College Tests: A Guide to Ease the Burden of Useless Courses

  Novelization

  The Next Man

  Family Business

  A Lunghi Family Mystery

  Michael Z. Lewin

  CHAPTER ONE

  It was rare for Angelo to approach a family meal with trepidation, especially a breakfast. But his fears were confirmed when Rosetta appeared in the doorway. Angelo could see the trouble in her eyes.

  It was a normal breakfast until then. Or was it? How often did David and Marie stay at table instead of scrambling for schoolbags, books and completed homework? And how often did Mama and the Old Man come down to join the rest of the brood for breakfast? Not often.

  Coincidence today? Or did everyone want to witness whatever was to take place between brother and sister?

  ‘I think I can hear Rosetta in the bathroom,’ Gina said, warning her husband of approaching trials, as good wives did.

  ‘I’m leaving,’ Angelo said.

  The adults of both generations understood this to be a feeble joke. David and Marie were less certain until they saw their father reach for another piece of toast.

  Gina passed the honey.

  ‘Thanks,’ Angelo said.

  ‘Cheer up, Dad,’ David said. ‘Worse things happen at aquariums.’

  The Old Man frowned. ‘What’s at aquariums?’ he asked. When nobody answered he turned to his grandson. ‘What’s at aquariums, David?’

  David, who had merely been playing with words, was saved by his Aunt Rosetta’s arrival.

  Rosetta with the eyes. Focused solely on her brother. ‘Well?’ the eyes said. ‘Well?’ Rosetta said.

  ‘Sit, Rose. Eat,’ Mama told her daughter.

  Obediently the twenty-nine-year-old Rosetta sat in her chair. But she was not deflected from her purpose. She said, ‘I’m not hungry, Mama. I want to hear what Angelo has to say, now he’s had his night to sleep on it.’

  Angelo felt the family turn to him, as he’d known inevitably they would. He picked up a knife and rearranged the honey on his toast. He cleared his throat. He said, ‘Well, Rose, I think—no, I’m sure I understand everything you say. Last night I went through it all again.’

  ‘But you’re still against it,’ Rosetta said.

  ‘Yes.’ There. He’d said it. Angelo put his hands up in front of his face, as if defending himself. No one laughed. Rosetta’s eyes screamed at her brother across the breakfast dishes.

  ‘I’m sorry!’ Angelo said. He continued, tapping the table with each syllable. ‘It feels a wrong set of changes to make. It feels wrong.’

  ‘No changes, he says?’ the Old Man said. ‘Is this the same boy who couldn’t wait to reletter the office door when I retired? Who couldn’t wait!’

  ‘That was different, Papa,’ Angelo said.

  ‘Of course, different. God protect us from I should say something sensible. Huh!’

  ‘How are you this morning, Grandad?’ Marie asked. ‘Is your cold better?’

  The furrows above the Old Man’s eyes became rainbows as he turned to his granddaughter. ‘Better the cold, yes,’ he said. ‘But now I’m not sleeping so well, and at my time of life …’

  ‘Eat your cereal,’ Mama said. ‘You don’t want to be hungry at the solicitor. They don’t serve food at a solicitor.’

  ‘I’m eating, I’m eating,’ the Old Man said. He picked up his spoon.

  ‘So, you’re seeing the lawyer today,’ Angelo said, eager to peer through any window that might open on to an alternative conversational landscape.

  ‘Unless he comes to his senses,’ Mama said.

  ‘It’s my will,’ the Old Man said. ‘She wants my money on paper.’

  ‘If you believe that …’ Mama said.

  Rosetta slapped the table. ‘Don’t change the subject.’ The sharpness of her voice was uncommon at a Lunghi meal. The slap was unprecedented. Angelo felt it personally, as if she had slapped his cheek. Rosetta drew all eyes. Her own eyes aimed at her older brother. She said, ‘The real reason is because it was my idea. If it was your idea it would be all right. I don’t think Papa’s wrong. I think Papa’s right.’

  ‘Suddenly I’m right about something,’ the Old Man said. ‘I can die in peace.’

  ‘It’s not that, Rose,’ Angelo said.

  ‘What then?’ Rosetta asked.

  Angelo’s palms opened to the sky as he sought words for his feelings. ‘This … What we have …’ He looked from face to face, from generation to generation around the table. ‘It’s a family business, like a corner shop. Friendly. Papa started it that way, and that’s how it’s always been. It’s a personal service we give. They come to the office, we make tea, we talk weather. We only talk business when they’re ready. Then they tell us the problem, and we give satisfaction if we can. We work, they pay. It’s the kind of business that everybody understands.’

  Angelo paused, but only Rosetta’s unrelenting face spoke in silent response. Angelo said, ‘I said yes to the fax machine, right? I said yes to the photocopier. A computer in your office for the accounts? Of course! Makes sense, no problem. But to have computers everywhere, big computer eyes, blinking all over … Even in the office in front of the clients … To me that’s a whole change in our style, a change in how we do business. And to me it feels wrong, Rosetta. It just feels wrong.’

  ‘My old computer is slow,’ Rosetta said. ‘It’s inefficient and a waste of time, my time.’

  ‘Get yourself a new computer, no problem,’ Angelo said. ‘One super-quick.’

  ‘It makes no sense to go half-way,’ Rosetta insisted carefully. ‘Why should I have to walk all the way to the office to get handwritten case records? Why should you have to walk to my room to give me messages or ask for an invoice? We need to be more efficient. We need to have linked terminals. We need a complete, modern computer system.’

  ‘And where does it end?’ Angelo asked. ‘Terminals in the kitchen, in the bathroom? A terminal on the sideboard in the dining-room so when we talk business over dinner you can “access” the records from your chair?’

  ‘Don’t be stupid,’ Rosetta said.

  ‘I don’t think I am,’ Angelo said.

  Rosetta glared at her brother. Angelo began to eat his toast.

  Two people at the table were the family’s peacemakers, its lubricators. When it was clear that Angelo and Rosetta had exhausted their own capacities for compromise, one peacemaker, Mama, appealed to the other. She said, ‘Gina, you meet clients too. What do you think?’

  Gina was silent for a moment, running a finger over her lips as Angelo and Rosetta turned to her. Then Gina said, ‘I think if Rosetta says we need this equipment, then we need it.’

  Rosetta was surprised to hear such unequivocal support from her brother’s wife. She said, ‘Thank you for that vote of confidence, Gina.’

  Mama said, ‘All right. Good.’ She turned to her son.

  Thus unexpectedly confronted by mother and wife, Angelo shrugged. It was acquiescence.

  The matter was
settled.

  Marie felt freed to say, ‘Well, I think computers are yukky.’ She got up to look for her school-bag.

  The Old Man, preoccupied, turned to Mama and said, ‘What time again for the solicitor?’

  David, Marie’s younger brother, had not contributed to the substantive discussion. But his silence did not reflect disinterest. For David home access to a modern multi-terminal computer network with its mice, modems and megabytes represented nothing less than heaven on earth.

  David had followed the tides of the negotiation with acute attention. He had despaired when his father declared himself against Aunt Rosetta’s promised land. But when his mother made her unexpected intervention David’s faith in the power of agnostic prayer was renewed. With the matter now settled David could express his feelings. He punched the air with a fist and he said, ‘Yes!’

  At nine Angelo and Gina went through to the office as usual. It was their first private moment since breakfast. Gina spoke first. She said, ‘Don’t sulk.’

  Angelo settled behind his desk. He rubbed his hands together. He sighed. He opened a drawer and took out a pencil and a notebook. He caressed the pencil. He stroked the notebook. Then he looked up to see if Gina was watching. She wasn’t. ‘I’m not sulking,’ he said.

  Gina prodded the soil in the plant pots on the sill of the window which overlooked the street. She knew the plants did not need water, but it was a way of passing time while she waited for Angelo to find a way to express his displeasure.

  Angelo said, ‘I’m surprised, that’s all.’

  Gina turned to her husband. ‘At who?’

  The question was unexpected because Angelo thought that was obvious. ‘At you, of course.’

  ‘At me?’ Gina said.

  ‘You didn’t hesitate. Not even “either-or”. Just “I think”.’

  ‘You ought to be surprised at Rosetta,’ Gina said.

  Angelo considered this statement but couldn’t work out what she was getting at. ‘What do you mean?’ he asked.

  ‘When was the last time you saw Walter?’ Gina said.

  Now Angelo was really confused. ‘Walter? What’s Walter got to do with this?’

  Gina brushed specks of dust from the leaves of the scented-leaved pelargonium.