By and large he was right, thought Lucy. Fore-closures and evictions were a thing of the past since several churches and social service agencies had gotten together and formed a committee that provided financial assistance to people who needed occasional help with rent or mortgage payments. They’d discovered it made a lot more sense, and was a lot more economical, to help people stay in their homes instead of helping them find scarce affordable housing after they’d been evicted.

“He must have some connection to Mimi,” said Phyllis. “Otherwise why would he go to her funeral?”

“That’s what I can’t figure out,” said Lucy. “Fred said Mimi had no family except for him and the boys.”

“Even if he is some long-lost relation, how would he have heard?” asked Phyllis. “It’s not like he’s a subscriber to the Pennysaver.”

“There was a brief in the Sunday Globe,” said Ted, referring to the Boston paper. “Homeless people use discarded newspapers for bedding, for padding their clothes when it’s cold, for stopping holes in their shoes—he could’ve seen it.”

“So how’d he get here?” asked Lucy. “Hitch-hike? I wouldn’t pick him up.”

“Some trucker might’ve been glad for some company on a long overnight haul. Or maybe he took the bus. He could have got the fare panhandling.”

“I wish I could have talked to him,” said Lucy. “Maybe I could have helped him. He seemed really upset.”

“You better be careful, Lucy. He might be crazy,” said Phyllis. “Forgot to take his meds and found himself at a fu…”

Phyllis was talking but nobody could hear a word she said thanks to the fire truck that was screaming down the street, horn honking and siren blaring. It was followed by an ambulance and a couple of police cars. As soon as they’d passed, Ted raised the volume on the scanner and as the wail of the siren receded they heard the dispatcher announce the Stantons’ home address.

“I’ll go,” said Lucy, grabbing her purse.

Ted was so absorbed in his editorial that he didn’t object. “Let me know what’s happening,” he said.

“I will, just as soon as I know,” promised Lucy.

When she got to Prudence Path, the little cul-de-sac was filled with emergency vehicles. The sound of their throbbing diesel engines and rhythmic flash of their roof lights triggered Lucy’s emotions; these accompaniments to disaster never failed to fill her with dread and she found her pace slowing as she approached the Stanton house on foot. An officer had been stationed at the end of the road and was turning everyone away, so Lucy had parked in her own driveway and taken the path through the lilac bushes that separated her property from the Prudence Path development.