A frail, stooped figure passed across one broken square of light and disappeared back into the recesses of the antebellum labyrinth.

Eliza was home.

Two shiny, dark-colored cars were parked as inconspicuously as unmarked police cars can park. Their bulk lurked partially hidden by the big troll trees, but their hoods and bumpers poked out from either side of the monstrous trunks. It wouldn’t do me any good to sneak up—they’d seen me long before I’d seen them. Besides, I hadn’t done anything wrong—at least, I hadn’t done anything illegal. Why should I feel forced to sneak anywhere?

Feigning confidence, I zipped the Death Nugget around the circular driveway and stopped it in front of the door, ignoring the cop cars with conscious effort. I slammed my car door closed, making a show of the noise. See? I’m not trying to sneak or skulk. See? Just minding my own business, paying a visit to an elderly relative. Innocent as can be.

I rang the doorbell.

From the other side I heard footsteps too heavy to be hers. Two great, resounding clacks echoed as the bolts were drawn back and the door swung inward. A large man greeted me. He was too old to be middle-aged but wasn’t yet a senior citizen, and he was tall enough to be staring down at the top of my head, but not so wide that he could be called fat. I lifted my eyes from his chest and planted them squarely on his somber face.

“Can I help you, madam?”

“Yes sir, you can. You can tell Eliza her niece is here to see her.”

One of his bushy, salt-and-pepper eyebrows lifted as he scanned me from curly head to black-booted foot. “I think perhaps you are mistaken.”

I pressed my fingertips to my chest in faux astonishment. “What? Tatie didn’t tell you she had a nigger in the family woodpile? I assure you that we are in fact near and dear relations, and I think she might be interested in talking to me.”

The doorman hesitated, but he did not withdraw. He recovered his composure and said, with carefully measured dignity, “Ms. Dufresne is not receiving visitors at this time. Perhaps if you were to leave a message and return, she might give you an audience at a later date. Since you are family, you no doubt know about the unpleasantness with her nephew—your cousin, I suppose. She’s quite elderly, you understand, and she’s not taken the news well.”

It was all I could do not to laugh in his face, but he seemed perfectly nice, and being rude wasn’t likely to get me half so far as manners might. “Malachi? Of course I know. I’m the reason he was in jail to begin with.” I let that sink in before following it up with the rest. “I’m the kid he tried to kill fifteen years ago. And a couple of nights ago, too, come to think of it.”