"Well, this isn't so bad," I said to Petrucci. "I've been wanting to redecorate. I just wish the bathroom had gone."

"What, you don't like orange and brown?"

"Do you think it's too late to burn the bathroom?"

Petrucci looked pained. Like I'd asked him to fart in public "You have insurance for all your stuff?"

"Yes." Maybe.

Mrs. Karwatt was waiting in the hall with Rex. "Are you okay? Do you have some place to stay? You could sleep on my couch tonight."

I took the cage from her. "That's nice of you to offer, but I'll probably go home to my parents. They have a spare bedroom."

Old Mrs. Bestler was in the elevator. "Going down," she said, leaning on her walker. "First floor, ladies' handbags."

The doors opened to the lobby, and the first person I saw was Dillon in his superintendent coveralls.

"I was just going up to take a look," he said. "Guess I'll have to get the paintbrush out."

"Gonna take a lot of paint." My lip was trembling again.

"Hey, don't worry about it. Remember when Mrs. Baumgarten set fire to her Christmas tree? The whole apartment was burned to a crisp. Nothing left but ashes. And now look . . . good as new."

"It's worth a case of Guinness for you to take a sledgehammer to the bathroom."

"What, you don't like orange and brown?"

I WAS GLAD I'd parked the Buick on the street, out of sight of the fire-blackened building. Out of sight, out of mind. Sort of. The Buick was quiet and womblike. Nice and insulating against the outside world. The doors were locked, and the activity was all in front of me, half a block away.

Rex and I sat in the car and tried to collect our thoughts. After a while Rex started running on his wheel, and I assumed his thoughts were all collected. My thoughts were taking longer to come together. My thoughts were running in frightening directions. Someone wanted me scared and maybe dead. There was a remote possibility it was the same someone who was chopping off fingers and whacking off scalps, and I didn't like the idea that this was in my future.

I rested my head on the steering wheel. I was exhausted, and I was on the brink of tears. And I was afraid if I started crying I wouldn't stop for a long, long time.