They finished that round of conversation and took a break, both rocking gently in the cool shade of the front porch, as if time had stopped, neither bothered by the silence. Porch-sitting allowed great lapses while thoughts were gathered, or while there was no thinking at all. Finally Ray, still plodding through an unwritten script, mustered the courage to ask the toughest question of the day. "I need to know something, Claudia, and please be honest." "I'm always honest. It's one of my faults." "I have never questioned my father's integrity." "Nor should you now." "Help me out here, okay." "Go on." "Was there anything on the side - a little extra from a lawyer, a slice of the pie from a litigant, a nice backhander as the Brits like to say?" "Absolutely not." "I'm throwing darts, Claudia, hoping to hit something. You don't just find a hundred thousand dollars in nice crisp bills tucked away on a shelf. When he died he had six thousand dollars in the bank. Why keep a hundred buried?" "He was the most ethical man in the world." "I believe that."
