Then they hurried over to Mr. Walther, while the four police officers took Murph's gun and put the handcuffs on him.
"Are you both all right?" Mr. Walther asked, hugging his wife and daughter.
"Sure," his wife said. "Tip-top."
"Mom got a nose bleed," Joyce said.
"Well, I hit the floor pretty hard."
"What on earth happened?" he asked.
"Nothing much," Joyce told him. "I just made up a new story, and Mom acted it out."
"That Bud was a great audience," her mother said, grinning.
Her father looked puzzled. "I don't get it."
"You tell him, Mom," Joyce said. "OK? I don't want to miss anything."
Stepping away from her parents, Joyce watched the police search Murph. The man looked shocked, but at least, she thought, he was better off than Bud, who was still out cold in the kitchen.
"Have you read him his rights?" Joyce asked.
"Not yet," said one of the officers.
"Would you hang on for a second, then, while I get my tape recorder? It's research, you know. I'm a writer."
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