He jumped a little at the sharp sound of the voice. Turning around, he came into the full glare of a skinny elderly woman in denim overalls and a blue Dodgers cap. A wild head of gray hair fell to her shoulders. Standing in the yard a few feet back from the stoop, she carried what looked like an ax handle, hefting it and making small circles with it like it was a baseball bat and she was getting ready to swing for the bleachers.

Mendez started to reach inside his coat.

“Don’t even think about it, pervert!” the woman snapped, shouldering the axe handle. Her accent was British, he thought. She came a couple of steps closer to the stoop, her wrinkled little mouth knotted up like a prune.

“I’m a law enforcement officer, ma’am,” Mendez said. “I’ll show you my badge if you’ll let me.”

“How do I know you’re not packin’ heat?”

“I am packing heat,” he said, trying to keep a straight face.

“Show it to me, then,” she demanded. “And don’t try anything funny. This is a hickory handle and I know how to use it.”

Mendez gently opened his sport coat so she could see both the badge clipped to his belt and the nine millimeter in his shoulder holster.

The old lady deflated with a big sigh and lowered her weapon. “Crikey,” she said. “What are you doin’ skulkin’ ’round back here? You scared the livin’ piss out of me!”

“I could ask you the same thing, ma’am. What are you doing back here? Do you live in this house?”

“No,” she said. “I live right over here. I’m on the neighborhood watch. I keep an eye on things around here. You never know what might go on, considering.”

“Considering what?”

“Considering the pervert that lived here.”

“Roland Ballencoa?”

“That’s him,” she said. “I couldn’t believe he moved right in next to me, bold as brass,” she said with absolute disgust. “Outrageous.

“I had read all about him in the Santa Barbara paper,” she went on. “I take four papers and read ’em front to back: The LA Times, The New York Times, The Tribune, and The Santa Barbara News-Press . A person should be informed, I say.

“And I know they never arrested him or nothin’ down there, but I can read between the lines. He done somethin’ to that poor girl, sure as anything.”

Hicks came around the side of the house, missing a step as he caught sight of the old lady. His eyes got big for a split second.

“There’s no one home,” he said.

“He moved out,” the woman said, and she spat on the ground. “Good riddance.” She looked up at Mendez and tipped her head at Hicks. “Is he a copper too?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Detective Hicks, ma’am.” He showed her his badge.