But...it was unintentional! Skweeker said...wait, why should I trust everything Skweeker says to be true? The story she just told me was passed to her by Marconi. I rested my head in my hands. It was all too much for me to take in at once. Suddenly, a thought hit me.

Wait...Marconi seems like the type that has a lot of enemies. What if...what if the "Snake Eyes Murder" was duplicated by one of those enemies? It doesn't even have to be an enemy...it could be just someone who was itching to kill, who had heard of that murder and decided to mimic? Or was it...Marconi?

At the time, I didn't want to admit to myself that the evidence against Marconi was too strong for me to deny his guilt. He had gotten me out of the Refuge, after all. So, whether or not he was guilty, I felt obligated to help him, and I promised myself then and there that I would help him somehow. It was at that moment that another thought came to my mind: Why would anyone of authority listen to Skweeker and I, even if we have good arguments in Marconi's favor? Both of us have criminal records, though I'm sure that McCain's is larger than mine, and she and Marconi are a known team in this city. There is no way that the police, a jury, a judge...anyone...would even take our pleas into consideration!

I sighed and stood up on the steps. Right now, all I needed to do was find McCain again and talk with her about the problems that were all too quickly arising in my mind.

I re-entered the lodging house, and on my way up the stairs, Twiggy stopped me. "Are ya on her side?"

I just looked at her before she clarified herself. "I mean, da whole Marconi t'ing. Ya gonna defend 'im 'er what?"

I shrugged. "I have to."

With a pained expression on her face, Twiggy whispered, "Okay, den," and turned around, leaving me halfway up the stairs, knowing that I was in a very bad situation.

I continued up the stairs and into the girls' bunkroom. Skweeker wasn't in there, so I ventured into the forbidden boys' room. There I found her, curled up on one of the bunks.

"Skweek...I need to talk to you."

She rolled over to face me. "What 'bout? I already told ya enough."

"No...I mean, do you know how many problems this will cause?"

"What will cause?"

"The two of us siding with Marconi."

She looked thoughtful for a moment, but then just shrugged it off. "I don't know an' I don't care."

"Fine, well...well, I can't exactly side with the others. You know, he got me out of the Refuge and everything..."

"Exactly. See, both of us owe 'im somethin', 'cause he saved both our necks. From now on, when people question us, that'll be our number one reason fer helpin' 'im. Agreed?"

"Agreed," I sighed. "But no one is going to listen to us! We both have criminal records - "

"Listen, we'll deal wid that prollem when we come to it, McCartney," she cut in. "Right now all I'm concerned about is findin' Marconi before da bulls do."

"But where is he? Do you even know?" I questioned her.

She shrugged. "I can name a few places."

"Well? Name them."

"Atlantic City is a possibility. Chicago, Detroit - "

"No, no, we can't travel the whole country looking for him! That's unrealistic!" I exclaimed.

She sat up and looked me in the eye. "Well, whaddo ya suggest we do, huh? Write out a million letters that say we're lookin' fer a convicted murderer? 'We gotta find 'im before th' bulls do, please reply if you've seen 'im!' Come on, Monkey!"

I sighed. "Well, we've got to think of something, and it can't be here. Everyone in this place is sided with the police."

After a few minutes, Skweeker came up with an answer. "We'll go to my place in the Bronx."

"But...won't the police have it staked out, waiting for Marconi?" I asked.

"Nope, they shouldn't. Besides, why would a murderer wanna come home, anyway?"

I almost smiled. "You've got a point there, McCain."