They lived in an old three-story Vermont house, kept up as well as you could keep up a 150-year-old house. To me it looked like a spider breeding ground.

A rather nondescript man about my age answered the door—was that how people referred to me? He was shorter than me by a couple of inches and had wispy red hair, the edges trying to turn gray. He didn't look particularly friendly or unfriendly, just not interested why two people were at his door. He was holding a beer can.

"Yeah?"

"Mr. Flynn, my name is Delmore Honeycutt." The reaction was almost imperceptible—almost. He knew the last name. "And this is Sabrina Spencer." We had decided to go back to Sabrina's pen name—partly because he knew the name Worth from Izzy, and partly to see if her fame would get us further. So much for that. It didn't generate any response at all.

"Our great-grandfathers knew each other."

"How nice for them." He was trying to be uncaring, but when he licked his lips I knew that he was, in fact, nervous. He didn't say anything more.

A normal conversation would follow some form of politeness—"What can I do for you," or some such thing. The fact that none of that was forthcoming obviously meant that he knew—or suspected—why we were there.

Sabrina got it going. "You recently talked to my sister, Isobel Worth."

"Can't say that I did."

"Well, yeah, you did," I said. "We have her notes."

He went quiet again.

"Can we come in, Mr. Flynn?" asked Sabrina. "This is important."

With an audible sigh, he moved aside and let us pass.

Despite its ancient exterior, the inside was pretty modern and comfortable. No spiders that I could see. He motioned us to a couch. His wife came into the room from the kitchen. She was a female version of Bill—around the same height, with the same color hair. She even had the same lack of personality.

"Amanda, this is Delmore Honeycutt and … I don't remember your name … the sister of that woman who came by with all the questions."

"Oh, not again. Why can't you people just leave us alone?"

"We would … I'm Sabrina, by the way … but we are involved in something that we have to find the answer to."

"Your problem, not ours," she said.

"Not really," I said. "Like it or not, we are all involved. And it's become dangerous. If you can tell us what we need to know, we can be out of your hair for good."

"We saw on the Boston news that your sister was killed. Sorry." Was Bill opening up? "But she was killed by a mugger, right?"

"No. She was killed in connection to this," answered Sabrina. They looked at each other. "Look," Sabrina continued, "we didn't ask to get involved in this any more than you did. We were happy in our ignorance. But the fact is, we're stuck in the middle of it now, and unless we can solve it, all of our lives are in danger."