“You were a big help, Mrs. O’Dell. It’s my fault, really. I’m just trying to put everything in order,” Mel continued, slipping into the cluttered living room as she spoke. “I hate to bother you again, especially since you were so helpful before.”

Mel almost choked on that. Mrs. O’Dell had been suspicious, unfriendly, and curt. Just, Mel thought as she warmed up her apologetic smile, as the lady was going to be now.

“I looked at your picture.” Mrs. O’Dell jiggled her daughter on her hip. “I told you everything I know. Just like I told the police.”

“I know. And I’m sure it’s inconvenient to have your busy day constantly interrupted.” Mel stepped over a platoon of G.I. Joes that had been overrun by a miniature fire truck. “But you see, your living room windows look right down on where the perpetrator was allegedly parked.”

Mrs. O’Dell set her daughter down, and the little girl toddled toward the TV and sat down hard on her diapered bottom. “So?”

“Well, I couldn’t help but notice how clean your windows are. The cleanest ones in the entire building. You know, if you look up here from down on the street, they shine like diamonds.”

The flattery smoothed away Mrs. O’Dell’s frown. “I take pride in my home. I don’t mind clutter—with two kids you’re going to have plenty of that. But I don’t tolerate dirt.”

“Yes, ma’am. It seems to me that to have windows looking like that you’d have to keep after them.”

“You’re telling me. Living this close to the water, you get that salt scum.” With a mother’s radar, she shot a look over her shoulder. “Billy, don’t let the baby put those dirty soldiers in her mouth. Give her your truck.”

“But, Mom …”

“Just for a little while.” Satisfied that she would be obeyed, Mrs. O’Dell glanced back. “Where was I?”

“Salt scum,” Mel prompted.

“Sure. And the dust and dirt that comes from having cars going up and down the road. Fingerprints.” She nearly smiled. “Seems I’m always chasing somebody’s fingerprints.”

Yeah, Mel thought. Me, too.

“I know it must take a lot of work to keep your place up like this, raising two kids.”

“Not everyone thinks so. Some people figure if you don’t carry a briefcase and commute to some office every day you’re not working.”

“I’ve always thought holding together a home and family is the most important career there is.”

Mrs. O’Dell took the dust rag that was hanging out of the back pocket of her shorts and rubbed at the surface of a table. “Well.”

“And the windows,” Mel said, gently leading her back. “I was wondering how often you have to wash them.”

“Every month, like clockwork.”

“You’d have a real good view of the neighborhood.”