Tom couldn't help thinking that if that wail had
been sung, it would have raised the hackles of even the greatest opera
devotee, a majestic solo of anguish and a thousand angry paper-cuts.
"Sorry," muttered Tom.
"The police won't do anything until he's been gone twenty-four hours!"
Betty exclaimed. "Twenty-four hours! And he disappeared while he was
playing in that band of his!" She went on to explain how Alona had
called after she received a letter from Kurt -- how he hadn't been at
home or with the band -- how, according to the other members of the
band and a half-dozen other witnesses, he had disappeared the night
before from a bathroom with no windows. Tom listened to most of this
and nodded. He kept nodding even after he stopped listening. Once his
mother was done talking, he stopped nodding. She didn't seem to notice
the difference.
The TV across the room was on a little too loud, so he decided to shut
it off, grab a sandwich, and sneak out of the house again. Maybe he
should go into work, even though he had the night off. Maybe get a
second job. He had to earn enough to move out of here.
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