Norma Snape knew damn well what her youngest was doing. Caught with her purse in his hand, the last of her money clutched between his fingers, Nicky Snape was adding to a long list of petty crimes and misdemeanors. But before she could reach him, Nicky was out the door, quickstepping across the rubble-strewn yard, waving the bills as he disappeared down the alley and into the street. Doris Netherfield was cradling her husband, still trying to shield him as the intruder brought the iron bar down like a club, smashing Doris's skull as if it were a piece of overripe fruit, turning a simple job of breaking and entering into a question of murder. Nicky had scrubbed everywhere, and still the water in the bowl ran red.