Condensation dripped from a window AC to the left of the door. A lawn mower whined in the distance. Hip-hop drifted from somewhere up the block.

Slidel banged again. A dark crescent winked from his gray polyester armpit.

“Anyone home?”

The AC’s compressor kicked on. A dog barked.

Slidel yanked the screen.

Whrrrrp!

Pounded on the wooden door.

Bam! Bam! Bam!

Released the screen. Barked his demand.

“Police! Anyone there?”

Across the street, a curtain flicked, dropped back into place.

Had I imagined it?

A drop of perspiration rol ed down my back to join the others soaking my bra and waistband.

At that moment my cel phone rang.

I answered.

That cal swept me into a vortex of events that ultimately led to my taking a life.

2

“TEMPEBRENNAN.”

“Pig pickin’!” My daughter gave a series of guttural snorts. “Barbecue!”

“Can’t talk now, Katy.”

I turned a shoulder toSlidel , pressing the cel phone tight to my ear to hear Katy over the static.

Slidel knocked again, this time with Gestapo force. “Mr. Banks!”

“I’l pick you up at noon tomorrow,” Katy said.

“I know nothing about cigars,” I said, speaking as softly as I could. Katy wanted me to accompany her to a picnic given by the owner of a cigar and pipe store. I had no idea why.

“You eat barbecue.”

Bam! Bam! Bam!The screen door danced in its frame.

“Yes, bu—”

“You like bluegrass.” Katy could be persistent.

At that moment the inner door opened and a woman scowled through the screen. Though he had an inch on her in height, the woman hadSlidel hands down in poundage.

“Is Gideon Banks at home?”Slidel barked.

“Who askin’?”

“Katy, I’ve got to go,” I whispered.

“Boyd’s looking forward to this. There’s something he wants to discuss with you.” Boyd is my estranged husband’s dog. Conversations with or about Boyd usual y lead to trouble.

Slidel held his badge to the screen.

“Pick you up at noon?” My daughter could be as unrelenting as Skinny Slidel .

“Al right,” I hissed, punching the “end” button.

The woman studied the badge, arms akimbo like a prison guard.

I pocketed the phone.

The woman’s eyes crawled from the badge to my companion, then to me.

“Daddy’s sleepin’.”

“I think it might be best to wake him,” I jumped in, hoping to defuseSlidel .

“This about Tamela?”

“Yes.”

“I’m Tamela’s sister.Geneva . LikeSwitzerland .” Her tone suggested she’d said that before.

Genevabackhanded the screen. This time the spring made a sound like piano keys.

Removing his shades,Slidel squeezed past her. I fol owed, into a smal , dim living room. An archway opened onto a hal directly opposite our entry point. I could see a kitchen to the right with a closed door beyond, two closed doors to the left, a bath straight ahead at the end.

Six kids. I could only imagine the competition for shower and sink time.