“Yes, I read about your husband in the Daily Press. He’s in quite a bit of trouble. I’m not sure I can help him. Why are you here?”

“I know without a doubt my husband is guilty,” she said. “He will get the chair. It’s not my husband I am concerned about.”

I lit another cigarette. “Want a smoke?” I asked.

“No thanks. I don’t smoke Winstons.”

“Well, if it’s not your husband you are worried about, then why…”

“It’s his son, Harvey Junior,” she said. “I need you to help me with Junior.”

“What’s wrong with Junior?”

She sat upright in the chair and looked at me. “Well, Blaze…may I call you Blaze? Junior is crazy and needs to be committed to Bellview.”

“Why do you say he’s crazy? What’s he done?”

“Last night he came into my bedroom and tried to get in bed with me. Don’t you think that’s a little strange?”

“Oh, I don’t know. Children need comforting sometimes. I don’t think that sounds so crazy. Do you?”

She slumped back into the chair. “Junior is 19 years old,” she said.