Warrun’s eyes glinted with determination from the headlights of the oncoming traffic. His sight flicked back and forth from the dark road lit up by the streetlights placed at regular intervals to the road signs that came at every intersection. Every sign that glinted green in his vision brought him another street closer to his destination.

What was his destination? It was nowhere special. An apartment building and a room number echoed in his mind. Well, the building was in his mind. The number had practically gone in one ear and out the other. Warrun silently stewed in annoyance as he drove along. It wasn’t that out of the ordinary that he’d be called in outside of his typical hours to work. Being first officer of the Manhattan Police Department was not a career that afforded the luxury of set in stone hours.

Still, it was a greater hassle than it had been before. A year ago, he would have come in without batting an eye or asking a question. Now, every move he made had to be carefully planned, or he would risk leaving his daughter alone. The very thought caused Warrun to groan. His baby girl was too young to be alone like she was. He hoped that whatever Lt. Thompson had called him in for was important. Then again, he also hoped it wasn’t.

Warrun turned his car at the appropriate street and shivered. The chill of the dark autumn night coupled with images of potential homicide victims was not his ideal way to spend an evening he was supposed to have off. He wasn’t even sure why he was being called in. All Thompson had to say was that it was important, and that he ought to get there as soon as possible. “Knowing Thompson, he isn’t jerking my chain. I hope it’s good news. God knows I’ve had enough to deal with today.”

Warrun found the building and parked his cruiser. He stepped out of the vehicle and grimaced as he recalled the day’s earlier adventures. He’d been called on the scene when an accident in an intersection had caused the biggest pile up of car’s he’d ever seen. Thirteen damaged vehicles, twenty two people injured, and seven dead. And, as bad as that was, he had to add a murder in the first degree. A lover’s quarrel had gone wrong over on Beck Street. Three gunshots to the chest and one to the head. The poor wife had been executed. The only consolation Warrun felt was in the fact that they’d caught the suspect before he could disappear. That added to the multitude of other things he had to deal with on a daily basis was enough to exhaust him.

Warrun opened the propped door into the building and came to a stop. His eyes bounced between the hallway directly ahead of him and the stairs leading upwards. He muttered to himself, “God damn it. What was that number?” His hand fell to his personal flip phone on the outside of his belt. He pulled it out and was about to call the lieutenant when his memory kicked in. He snapped his fingers saying, “Room 404! That’s it.” He started up the stairs and couldn’t help but say, “I wonder if I’ll find it.” His laughter echoed through the hallways.

By the time he reached the door on the fourth floor, his laughter had stopped, and he was again overtaken with a sense of somberness. The 404 plated over the door gave him less humor than he’d hoped. It stood as a bitter reminder that he was here for business, and it was not likely to be the business he’d enjoy. Nevertheless, his duty was there, and he would never quit doing his duty.

He reached down and opened the door. It swung open to reveal a small, single bedroom apartment. Warrun couldn’t help but immediately notice how barren the kitchen and living areas were. He also noted the stale stench of urine permeating the air. Two white couches with the cushions pulled out and an island with grocery bags was all he could see aside from two figures, one familiar and another less so. The familiar figure was that of Lt. Thompson bent over the one of the couches, grinding his hands along the insides of the cracks. The other that was of a newly commissioned cadet whose name Warrun hadn’t yet learned.

At hearing the door open, Lt. Thompson popped his head up. He gave the first officer a stern look and stated, “You’re late, Officer Slavinski.”

Warrun lifted his wrist to his face and checked the time on his analog wrist watch. The day was creeping towards his preferred bedtime, and he wished again that he was back home with his daughter. His answer came in equal seriousness, “By my watch, I’m a good ten hours early, so you can quit your bitching.”

Lt. Thompson snorted and rebuked, “I never did know a pollock that could keep time.”

“Yeah?” Warrun retorted. “And I’ve never seen a jew that couldn’t smell one from a mile off!”

Lt. Thompson opened his mouth to continue the banter but couldn’t contain his laughter as he saw the expression of horror creeping on the cadet’s face. Warrun joined his laughter as he strolled over to the couch and took a seat on its back. His gaze rolled over the room again until it stopped over a bucket of ice cream melting on the floor that he hadn’t seen before. His tone again became serious as he asked, “But really, why did you call me in? It’s not like you to be so Goddamned cryptic. Are we looking at a homicide? Is the body in the next room or something?”

The lieutenant shook his head and stood from the couch. He reached a hand up and scratched his short cropped, brown hair while explaining, “No, Warrun. There was no homicides, arson attempts, or anything else really colorful this time. We were actually called in here on a tip from the neighbor complaining about a domestic disturbance.”

Warrun frowned, “A domestic disturbance is usually a pretty clear cut case. Unless someone died, that shouldn’t be any reason to call me in. Even then, you should be able to take care of this yourself. Hell, you could have had someone beneath you deal with this.”

Lt. Thompson threw up his hands defensively and explained, “I know. I’m getting to that.” He gestured towards the twenty something cadet standing in the kitchen and said, “I was giving a training run for our newest deputy. He just came out of the academy.”

Unamused, Warrun stated, “You’re not a trainer.”

“He’s my nephew,” he answered with a disarming smile.

The youth stepped forward and saluted with eagerness while saying, “Cadet Thompson, sir. I’m honored to make your acquaintance, Officer Slavinski. You’re a hero at the academy.”

Warrun responded with a chuckle and said, “Is that what they’ve been calling me? I do believe you are trying to flatter an old man. If you call me a hero, then I might have to live up to the name.”

“Sir?”

“Flattery will get you nowhere here, cadet.” Warrun reached into his breast pocket and pulled out a carton of cigarettes and a lighter. He smacked the unopened pack of Marlboros in his palm while explaining, “If you want to get to be a lieutenant like your uncle here, you’re going to have to prove yourself with hard work and success. If you’re smart enough to manage yourself and the people around you and can bring in the bad guys, then you might just have a chance here.”

The cadet smiled and answered sternly, “I hope so, sir.”

Warrun nodded and pulled a cigarette out of the pack. He lit it up and took a long draw, exhaling slowly as the nicotine rushed through his system and calmed him while waking him up. He took another puff before turning to Lt. Thompson and asking, “Alright, so you took your nephew on a little tour and decided to show him his first domestic squabble. What did you find that was so special you had to drag me in here?”

“Well,” Lt. Thompson started, “we knocked on the door but got no answer. Hardly so much as a peep was made inside, but we were pretty sure they were in here. What’s more, the neighbors had said that there had been what sounded like an incredibly violent attack. A woman was heard screaming for her life.”

“So,” Warrun interjected, “you decided to force entry without a warrant. Am I right?”

The lieutenant’s face flashed a bright red as he said defensively, “I made a call. I stand by it.”

Warrun nodded and responded, “I understand.” He turned to the cadet and explained, “You can’t be afraid to make the call sometimes. One day, you’ll learn when to follow your gut. It could save lives one day. It could also ruin yours. The key is being able to stick by that decision, whatever it may be.” He turned back to his friend and bade, “Continue.”

Lt. Thompson cleared his throat and went on, “Well, as I was saying, we entered only to find nobody here. Whoever was here left out a window in the bedroom.”

“Out a window?” Warrun wondered aloud. “But this is the fourth floor. Did he use a rope or something?”

“No,” he answered, shaking his head. “That’s the disturbing thing. We think whoever it was just jumped out and ran away.”

“Hmm,” Warrun mumbled, inhaling another puff from his cigarette. “By rights, any man falling that far should hurt himself pretty badly, maybe even kill him. And you’re saying he just got up and ran away? He must have done something really bad to act so boldly.”

“We think we know what he did, sir,” the young cadet suddenly broke in.

Warrun and Lt. Thompson turned to see the cadet turn red and his countenance meeken. He folded his latex glove covered hands in front of him and cleared his throat to apologize. The lieutenant stopped him saying, “That’s fine, Charlie. You may explain what we think happened to Officer Slavinski. It was your idea after all.”

Young Charlie smiled and turned his eyes to Warrun to explain, “We were thinking that it was a robbery gone wrong, not a domestic disturbance.” He gestured about the barren kitchen and living area as he said, “The first thing we noticed was that this place didn’t look lived in.”

Warrun assented saying, “I noticed that too. There’s hardly anything here.”

The cadet nodded and said, “Well, we checked the registry with the manager of this building, and he said that no one was renting this room. He’d had the door locked.”

The first officer turned to Lt. Thompson and noted, “A squatter? No wonder you don’t think it was some domestic disturbance. How did he get in then? How long has he been here?”

Lt. Thompson shrugged his shoulders saying, “There’s no sign of forced entry. Best we can figure is that he either filched a key or picked the lock. Whatever the case, he was subtle. If he took a key, he replaced it before anybody noticed, and if he picked the lock, he didn’t leave any indications.”

“Whatever the case may be,” the cadet interjected, “he wasn’t here long. He brought a suitcase tote but didn’t unpack anything. And these groceries,” he said, throwing a thumb over his shoulder, “were purchased today. As far as we can tell, we disturbed him in the middle of gorging on some ice cream.”

“Ice cream, eh?” Warrun said, taking another draw on his cigarette. He stood from the couch back and walked over to the kitchen. He bent down to his haunches and inspected the assortment of foods. Soups, boxed meals, canned goods, and two buckets of opened ice cream. He noted that they were just beginning to melt, one being half empty and another with only a spoonful carved out of it. He took one last draw on his cigarette before discarding it on the island and asking, “So you interrupted him, and he jumped out the window. That’s a nice story, but I want to know how he fell four stories without leaving a peep or a corpse.”

“That’s what I’m getting to,” young Charlie piped in. “We think he used something to break his fall. Or, more specifically, someone.”

Warrun arched a bemused eyebrow and beckoned, “Elaborate.”

“Well,” he said with a small degree of enthusiasm, “the neighbors had said there had been a violent sounding scuffle earlier. That’s the reason we were called here in the first place. We think that scuffle resulted in a murder and whoever was here was afraid of getting caught with the body. It seems possible that the suspect heard us and threw the body out the window and jumped on it to cushion his own fall.”

The first officer’s face puckered at the explanation and he stood up to ask, “That’s an awfully macabre conclusion to draw. A corpse cushioned his fall? Do you have any evidence to support this aside from your imagination?”

The cadet nodded and pointed down the short hallway to the single bedroom. “Come have a look out the window.”

The lieutenant and Warrun followed Charlie into the bedroom containing nothing save for a tote case and a barren bed. The window, still open from the defenestration, ushered a chill breeze that permeated the small room with the cold autumn air. Warrun followed the cadet to the open window and directed his eyes to the ground over thirty feet away. A pile of trash bags lined the wall of the apartment building to his left. Warrun briefly considered the perp having jumped into the pile to break his fall but disregarded it. It was too much of a jump. The garbage bags were not the only thing he noticed however.

Spread throughout the vast majority of the alleyway was hundreds of sheets of paper. Some spun in circles as the breeze caught them and scattered them. Warrun looked away from the paper to ask the cadet, “What am I looking at?”

Charlie smiled and explained, “I believe you are looking at the result of a frantic search for a body bag. It fits right into the story. After the suspect broke his fall on the body, he ravaged for a body bag as quickly as he could. He emptied one out and shoved the body in before making a quick escape, most likely to his vehicle. He was gone before we even opened the apartment door.”

Warrun scratched the shadow on his chin and mused. It wasn’t the most solid story he’d ever heard, but it at least seemed plausible. He wasn’t one for entertaining guesses though. Besides, there were a couple things that didn’t seem to fit together quite right. He turned away from the window and walked back into the kitchen. The two Thompsons tailed him as he bent down to reinspect the buckets of ice cream. A part of him wanted to scoop up the rocky road and devour some himself. “The wife wouldn’t like that,” he thought to himself. “Then again, she’s not here to keep my heart healthy.”

Lt. Thompson squatted down next to him and peered into his eyes. Warrun did not regard him but continued to stare somewhat listlessly at the ice cream. The lieutenant broke the silence, saying, “What are you thinking?”

Without losing focus on the rocky road, Warrun stated, “There’s two different flavors here.”

Warrun’s friend gazed at the jars and asked, “So? Does that mean something?”

“Well,” Warrun wondered aloud, “why would somebody get two different flavors of ice cream? Wouldn’t it seem like one flavor would be enough?”

Silence ruled for a moment before the young cadet hovering from behind remarked, “Maybe the other person living here liked a different flavor from the suspect.”

Warrun turned to give the youth a small smile and said, “Very good. We’ve got a quick one here.” He reached into his pocket and withdrew another cigarette to light up. As he did so, he continued, “Now, do you see the slightest problem with that reasoning?”

Again, silence fell as Warrun lit his cigarette and took a deep draw. He received only confusion from the cadet and annoyance from the lieutenant as he waited for an answer. Seeing none forthcoming, Warrun prodded with another question, “How long did it take the two of you to respond to this call for a domestic disturbance? I assume you didn’t come straight here.”

Lt. Thompson shook his head answering, “No. We didn’t arrive until about an hour and a half after the call was made. We don’t usually rush to these scenes.”

Warrun nodded knowingly and explained, “So, if a murder did occur, then why did the suspect leave to purchase groceries? What’s more, why did he shop like he was feeding someone other than just himself? Why would he get two buckets of ice cream and open them at the same time if he was the only one to eat? You must have called me in quickly or this ice cream would be more melted than this. The pieces here just don’t add up to a murder.”

“You’re right,” the cadet muttered in astonishment. “How come I didn’t think of that?”

Lt. Thompson chuckled and noted, “That’s why he’s the first officer.” He turned back to Warrun and muttered, “So much for our first guess.”

The first officer nodded and turned to his friend to ask, “Now that I’ve thrown a wrench into your little schematic for what happened, do you mind telling me why I’m here? If you called me in because you thought this was a homicide and it couldn’t wait to be discussed until morning, I’m going to be severely disappointed.”

“Hey, Warrun,” he responded lightheartedly, “don’t you have just a little more faith in me than that?”

Again unamused, the first officer answered after taking another draw on his cigarette, “I did. I hope I still do.”

Lt. Thompson sighed, his demeanor suddenly becoming far more serious. His hand came up to scratch his short cropped, brown hair as he explained, “There is a good reason why I called you in. I believe I know who the suspect is.”

“Oh,” Warrun begged, more interested than before. “Is it somebody I know?”

The lieutenant stood up and solemnly stated, “I’m afraid it might be. Come look at this.”

Warrun got up and followed him back to the entry. Beside the door, on the ground, he saw something he hadn’t seen when he first entered the apartment. At first it seemed like nothing but a bundled-up pile of black cloth. On closer inspection, Warrun realized it was actually the top to a pinstripe suit. The discovery froze him in his tracks as he turned to his friend and asked, “Is this?”

From behind, the lieutenant answered him, “Yes. It’s a pinstripe, Armani suit jacket.”

Warrun stood stiffly and clenched his fists. The Thompson’s could see his neck clench and could almost hear his teeth grind. With uncompromising ire, the first officer grunted, “He was here.”

“It appears as such,” the lieutenant confirmed with a defeated sigh.

The young cadet’s head turned from his uncle to Warrun and back again in confusion. He asked, “Who was here?”

“‘Who’ indeed,” Warrun seethed, turning suddenly to face the cadet. “‘Who’ is the big question. ‘Who’ is what we’ve been asking ourselves for years. ‘Who’ has been what I’ve sought after for a generous portion of my life.” He took several large strides up to the young Thompson, scaring him back with his bold determination. “Unfortunately, I have come to the conclusion that ‘who’ is the wrong question to be asking.”

More than just a little intimidated, the cadet asked in a rather meek voice, “What do you mean?”

Warrun flashed an angry smile that was present for as long as it took to create. He let out a hollow, almost erratic laugh before answering nonsensically, “I do mean what.”

The young man darted his eyes from the seemingly manic man before him to his uncle to say, “I don’t understand.”

The lieutenant opened his mouth to answer, but Warrun cut him off saying, “I’ll help you to understand.” He turned away from the cadet and stomped back to the coat. He reached down to grab the lapel, ignoring the moist and sticky residue that coated it, and presented it to Charlie. The youth grimaced at the sight as Warrun indicated the length of the jacket with his free hand while explaining, “This here is the calling card of perhaps the most monstrous man I’ve ever had the pleasure of not meeting.”

“It belongs to someone you know?”

The lieutenant answered before Warrun could continue, “It does not belong to anyone we know personally. Rather, we believe it belongs to a man the first officer here has been chasing for, uh. How long have you been chasing him, officer Slavinski?”

“Twenty years,” Warrun whispered, lowering the jacket to his side before dropping it to the floor. He noted the stickiness on his hand and brought it to his face. He sniffed at the faint orange discoloration staining his fingers and flinched back at the odor.

His questioning gaze fell on his friend who answered, “The suit jacket is covered in what we believe to be both vomit and urine. I was going to warn you, but you picked it up too quickly.”

Warrun grimaced and walked over to the kitchen sink. He fell to rinsing his hands in silence. The silence was broken by the young cadet who beckoned, “What did this guy do? If you’ve been chasing him for twenty years, then he must have done something really bad. Right?”

The first officer finished washing his hands and wiped them off on his pants. He reached into his chest pocket and took out another cigarette, his third one that evening. Before lighting it, he answered in a solemn voice, “He’s done more evil than I have ever seen any other man do. On paper however, he does not have a single offence we could link to him.” He lit the cigarette and took a puff before snorting and finishing, “Hell. There isn’t a parking ticket or a petty theft to his name. As far as the law is concerned, he’s not done a single punishable thing that we can link him to. He’s probably got a cleaner record than you do. In fact, I guarantee it. We’d have to have an identity confirmation before we could put anything on a record aside from unknown suspect.”

“Wait,” cried the cadet, throwing up his hands in confusion. “So, you’re telling me that this guy you’ve never seen is the most evil person you’ve ever met, but he hasn’t done anything illegal? That doesn’t make any sense! What has he done?”

“It’s difficult to explain,” Lt. Thompson interjected. “He has never participated directly in any crime, but he has been instrumental in over three hundred incidents these past two decades. Many of them involve murder in the first degree, manslaughter, or tragic accidents that result in injuries for multiple people. And those are just the ones we’ve confirmed he had some part in. There could be countless more we don’t know about.”

“Yes,” the cadet asked, “but what does he do exactly? How does he cause all these things to happen?”

“He’s the catalyst,” Warrun answered, continuing to smoke his cigarette. He tapped the ashes on the expensive suit splayed across the floor. He gave the soiled jacket a look of disgust before continuing, “This guy is somehow always at the right place at the right time to cause problems. It doesn’t matter whether it’s big things or small. He tricks people by lying to them. And, by lying to them, he provokes them to do things that have disastrous consequences.”

“Can you give me an example?” Charlie prodded.

“I could give you a dozen!” Warrun shivered and took another puff. “We have eyewitness accounts of him pretending to be the most unbelievable things. He once walked into an office building of a larger corporation based out of Texas on a day when the manager was absent and hadn’t phoned in sick yet because he was oversleeping. He immediately produced falsified forms under an imagined alias and ‘took control’ of the office. He then used this power to rearrange the staff. In one morning, he fired thirty seven employees who then unionized and had contacted a law office. Lawsuits were flying around before lunchtime.”

The cadet gawked, “That’s ridiculous! He couldn’t have gotten away with all of that. Surely the real manager came by the day after and cleared the mess up. Right? I mean, nothing he did could have held any water.”

Warrun nodded and explained, “You’re right. Nothing did hold any water. Unfortunately, we can’t say the same for the consequences. The next morning came, and the real manager showed up to one hell of a mess. The office was in an uproar and nobody knew exactly what was happening. There was panic in all of the employees over who was getting fired next. Talk of the branch closing entirely was rampant as the imposter offered no real explanation as to why the employees were being let go. There was picketing at the front door from those who were fired plus several dozen sympathizers. It got fed to the press and a news story was put up that morning as the real manager was driving in.

“And it only got worse from there! You know the recession we’re in. The news traveled almost immediately to every other branch of the company. This caused a huge scare that made investors extremely uneasy. The stock value for the company started to fall drastically as everyone was coming to the conclusion that the company was failing. Thousands of shares were sold at a fraction of their value and the liquid assets of the company dropped. In less than twenty four hours, a good public image was sullied and bad press ran rampant. The fallout cost the company millions, and ironically, they were forced to downsize. Over 600 employees were eventually let go in the months that followed.”

Charlie couldn’t believe what he was hearing. It didn’t seem possible that one man could cause so many problems so quickly. He silently absorbed the implications of what the first officer said before asking, “And he wasn’t caught? What were his motivations? What did he benefit? I could guess he made a fortune off of knowing all this would happen.”

Warrun ran a wet hand over his balding head and answered in loud frustration, “That’s the most messed up part of this whole story! An eight month investigation into the company’s assets turned up nothing. Any hints of shady dealings were uncovered quickly and only turned up a few small timers. There was no bigger conspiracy. There was no one making significant money out of this. Even the competitors were at a loss because of accusations thrown their way! If anybody stood to profit from the company crumbling as it did, it certainly wasn’t our suspect. He has been seen dozens of times since, living the exact same conning lifestyle he had before.” His hand almost instinctively went into his pocket for another cigarette, but he stopped himself thinking, “I’ve had enough for today.”

Cadet Thompson watched as his senior officer walked over to a couch and pulled a cushion off the floor to sit on. His head fell back in evident exhaustion, as though this was not the first time he’d had to explain this story. The cadet walked over and grabbed a cushion for himself. His uncle followed suit and they found themselves all staring into an empty white corner of the room where a resident would most likely place a television. The following silence was broken when Charlie asked, “So, why did he do it? Was he fired from the company or something?”

The lieutenant answered with a shake of his head, “There’s never been any recorded affiliation between the company and this man. If it were an isolated incident, we would just write it off as too deep for us to figure out. With this man however, we know that’s probably not the case. We believe he caused that whole fiasco for the sole purpose of watching the chaos unfold. That’s what he does with everything. We have positively identified him hundreds of times in crime cases and the only thing that he is ever attributed to doing is saying the right things at the right times in the right places to ruin as many people’s lives as possible. The best we can gather is that he enjoys watching other people suffer.”

Again they came to silence as all three of them felt shivers crawl up their spines. It was again interrupted by the cadet who asked aloud, “What can cause a man to be so evil?” When no one answered his question, Charlie pressed, “In a weird sort of way, I kind of want to meet him. I bet he has the most erratic and fascinating personality in existence if he does things as complicated as that for fun. Someone could write a book on the psychology of such a man.”

Warrun grimaced and stood quickly saying, “A bullet to the head is all a man like that deserves. I will find him one day. I will find him and make him answer for everything he’s done. I will find him, and I will kill him.”

Warrun turned and walked to the door. He opened it wide and said over his shoulder, “You did well in calling me in, lieutenant. Have your men look into this as much as you can. I’d stay, but I left my little girl at home alone. I’ll check what you have for me at the office in the morning.” With that, he exited, shutting the door behind him.

The cadet turned from the door to the lieutenant and asked, “Uncle Phillip, does this man have a name? I never heard you call him anything.”

Lt. Thompson chuckled, lightening the atmosphere a bit, and answered, “The media have come up with several creative names over the years though most of them don’t realize they all belong to the same guy. We usually call him the Man in the Armani Suit.”

Charlie snickered in turn and pointed at the soiled jacket on the floor and said, “He doesn’t seem to have it anymore. What else do you call him?”

Somberity returned to the lieutenant’s face as he answered somewhat painfully, “We also call him The Devil.”

“Well, that’s a grim title.”

“It seemed appropriate.”

With Manhattan behind him, Warrun pulled his cruiser up the drive and into his two story home’s garage and parked. As he turned off the engine, Warrun settled his head on the steering wheel and sighed. He’d been hoping to at least have a pleasant evening after such a hectic day, but even that wasn’t afforded to him. He glanced at his watch and saw the time nearing 9:00 PM. His contemplation was going to have to wait until his daughter was in bed. He’d told her to be asleep by 9:00, but Lord knows that wasn’t going to happen.

He left his car and entered his house to a greeting he both expected and hoped for. As the door shut behind him, he heard a squeal of pitched delight echo from the adjacent living room. Warrun was caught untying his shoes when a little girl with brunette hair streaked with gold came rushing around the corner. The girl launched at her father who caught her into a huge hug.

Warrun’s smile reached for his ears and suddenly his world was beautiful again. Murder and tears stopped at the door when he was confronted with his little girl’s toothy grin. He stood up with her in his arms, bringing her crystal blue eyes to his, and demanded, “What are you still doing out of bed, sweetie belle? I told you to be asleep by now. You should at least be in bed.”

The girl giggled and answered boldly, “I’m nine years old now, daddy. I should be able to stay up later.”

Warrun rolled his eyes and started towards his favorite chair in his living room. As he walked, he said dramatically, “Ugh! She thinks she’s already a teenager for Christ’s sake. Why should you get to stay up later when I don’t even stay up later?”

The little girl frowned as her father took a seat in his large recliner and positioned her on his lap. “Well, Suzie’s mom lets her stay up until 11:00. That’s two whole hours! I could watch like ten cartoons in two hours.”

Warrun groaned and answered her, “I don’t care what Suzie’s mom lets her do. You’re not Suzie, and I’m not Suzie’s mom. I can’t just let you go running around the house when I’m asleep. You’ll eat all the chocolate sauce.”

She promptly responded by sticking out her tongue and saying, “No, I wouldn’t.”

“Yes, you would! I caught you doing it three nights ago. I swear, who has to put up with kids like you. How can you stand to swill the chocolate straight from the bottle?”

Warrun’s little girl flashed her toothy grin and answered, “It tastes good.”

“It’s not even real chocolate!” he interjected. “It’s just corn syrup mixed with cocoa powder.”

“It still tastes good,” she answered in indignation.

“Well, keep that up, and you’ll turn into a proper lush.”

Curious, she asked, “What’s a lush?”

Warrun chuckled and answered, “Don’t you worry about that, sweetie belle. You should be going to bed. We should both be going to bed.”

“Can’t I have some ice cream first?” she pleaded with big, moist eyes and a pout on her face.

With a sly grin, Warrun answered her, “Only if you answer this question.”

“What?” she asked hopefully.

Warrun put on a very serious expression and asked, “Is there or is there not chocolate sauce hidden all the way in the back of the cupboard, underneath the sink, next to the Q-tips?”

With stern conviction, she replied, “No.”

Her father broke into a maniacal laugh and shouted while standing and throwing her playfully in the air, “Haha! I got you. How would you know there wasn’t any chocolate there unless you were already digging around for it?”

Shocked, she could do nothing but shake her head frantically with her mouth hanging wide open. Warrun responded by laughing again and hugging her close while saying, “Yes, you were. That’s okay though. You can have ice cream tomorrow if you behave yourself at school. Now, we have to get you to bed. You need a fresh start for monday.”

Warrun’s sweetie belle argued against the idea of a fresh start for monday, but he ignored her pleas as he ascended the stairs to her room. Her arguing diminished noticeably as he entered her dark room. A small night light plugged into a corner socket gave just enough soft blue light to outline the several dressers stacked with toys and games. He followed the light to her bed and laid his baby girl in. At the feel of the soft covers, she stopped talking altogether and snuggled in, pulling a teddy bear to her chest. Warrun noticed peculiarity in the action and asked, “You’re not sleeping with Owlowiscious tonight?”

The girl stiffened at the question and said, “No. I lost him while I was visiting mommy.”

Warrun sat on her bed and beckoned, “How did you do that?” When no answer came he waved his hand dismissively and said, “You don’t worry about it. We’ll go there tomorrow together and find him again. I would like to visit mommy too anyways. Okay?”

Warrun’s daughter smiled meekly in the darkness and answered, “Okay.”

Her father smiled and stood up to leave. As he got to the door, she whispered, “Good night, daddy.”

Warrun smiled at her in the darkness. He could just make out the twinkle of her eyes in the light emanating from the hallway. The sight made him smile with a hint of fatherly pride. “She’s so beautiful,” he marveled to himself. “I don’t deserve anyone as special as her.”

“Goodnight, Maria.”