After Laurie had her things ready, she and Jack took Tom’s Styrofoam casket into the backyard. In the far corner of the garden where there was loose loam, they dug a deep hole. The chance discovery of a rusted spade made the job easy, and Tom was put to rest.

“My word!” Jack complained as he hauled Laurie’s suitcase out the front door. “What did you put in here?”

“You told me to pack for several days,” Laurie said defensively.

“But you didn’t have to bring your bowling ball,” Jack quipped.

“It’s the cosmetics,” Laurie said. “They are not travel size.”

They caught a cab on First Avenue. En route to Jack’s they stopped at a bookstore on Fifth Avenue. While Jack waited in the taxi, Laurie dashed inside to get a book on Equatorial Guinea. Unfortunately, there weren’t any, and she had to settle for a guidebook for all of Central Africa.

“The clerk laughed at me when I asked for a book on Equatorial Guinea,” Laurie said, when she got back in the cab.

“That’s one more hint it’s not a top vacation destination,” Jack said.

Laurie laughed. She reached over and gave Jack’s arm a squeeze. “I haven’t thanked you yet for coming over,” she said. “I really appreciated it, and I’m feeling much better.”

“I’m glad,” Jack said.

Once in Jack’s building, Jack had to struggle with Laurie’s suitcase up the cluttered stairs. After a series of exaggerated grunts and groans, Laurie asked him if he wanted her to carry it. Jack told her that her punishment for packing such a heavy bag was to listen to him complain.

Eventually, he got it outside his door. He fumbled for his key, got it into the cylinder and turned. He heard the dead bolt snap back.

“Hmmm,” he commented. “I don’t remember double-locking the door.” He turned the key again to release the latch bolt and pushed open the door. Because of the darkness, he preceded Laurie into the apartment to flip on the light. Laurie followed and collided with him because he’d stopped suddenly.

“Go ahead, turn it on,” a voice said.

Jack complied. The silhouettes he’d glimpsed a moment before were now men dressed in long, dark coats. They were seated on Jack’s sofa, facing into the room.

“Oh my God!” Laurie said. “It’s them!”

Franco and Angelo had made themselves at home, just as they had at Laurie’s. They’d even helped themselves to beers. The half-empty bottles were on the coffee table, along with a handgun and its attached silencer. A straight-backed chair had been brought into the center of the room to face the couch.

“I assume you are Dr. Jack Stapleton,” Franco said.

Jack nodded, as his mind began to go over ways of handling the situation. He knew the front door behind him was still ajar. He berated himself for not being more suspicious to have found it double-locked. The problem was he’d gone out so quickly, he couldn’t remember which locks he’d secured.