“Well, the ones Mr. Dooley picked yesterday still look pretty fresh. Daisies and lupines wear well.” Mrs. Havermann went out into the service porch. “I’ll be sorting laundry while you do the hall.”

Karen went out of the kitchen, and Mrs. Havermann heard her at the mop and broom closet in the pantry. When the sound of Karen’s steps had quite died out Mrs. Havermann went quickly into the back yard. She walked around inspecting the grass, which somehow upon close view didn’t show the disorder she had noted from a distance. It was hard to see any definite markings; the old tough growth of Bermuda lawn grew every which way, with patches here and there devastated by moths or by inadequate watering. She made up her mind to speak to Mr. Dooley. He had charged her last week for insecticide and manure, and heaven knew the water bill was big enough. There should be a luxurious green carpet here.

She went over and glanced in at the small side door of the garage. It was dim inside and smelled musty. Her old-fashioned Packard limousine sat on its blocks. She never used it any more. The car hadn’t even had a license renewal for the past two years. Probably the tires were rotted, she thought, looking at the dust on them.

She went back into the yard, and some feeling which another person would have identified as a hunch took her over toward the windows in Stolz’s room. Old Mr. Dooley had turned the earth here, wet it deeply, and scattered zinnia seeds. The bed was in an excellent state to retain impressions, and Mrs. Havermann could see quite clearly the twin marks made by the feet of the ladder and a man’s shoeprint. The shoeprint was that of a ribbed rubber sole such as a tennis shoe.

She felt frozen, locked in panic, hanging there over the marks in the earth while the blood pounded in her throat and temples. Her hands turned cold. Her knees shook. This was nightmare.

After a moment she hurried back to the garage, went inside, and snapped on the light. The ladder sat in its usual spot. No, not quite. Mr. Dooley had used the hose yesterday, and now one of the feet of the ladder was placed on a stray end of the hose, squeezing it flat. The ladder must have been moved since Mr. Dooley had put the hose in the garage. Had Dooley himself used the ladder? She was certain he had not. Nor would he have left it like this, possibly to damage the plastic hose by its pressure.

Mrs. Havermann knelt down and rubbed shaking fingers around the bottom of the ladder and some crumbs of earth came off. She rubbed the crumbs to powder between her fingertips, and the earth still held a trace of moisture, as it would if it had come from the wetted bed of zinnia seed.