Thoughts of Max brought Lotty to the front of my mind from the back recesses where I’d been keeping her. I called over to the clinic and spoke to Mrs. Coltrain. Lotty was working with her new nurse in one of the examining rooms—not a good time to interrupt. Mrs. Coltrain assured me she would let her know I’d called.

I walked slowly back to my bedroom. The longer Lotty and I went without speaking, the harder it was going to be to get back together.

I changed the thin T-shirt I’d put on after my bath for a bra and a silk shirt in a dusky rose. A bra is almost as bad as a shoulder holster on a muggy day, but I didn’t want my elderly neighbors so startled that they wouldn’t talk to me. I started to put on the holster, then realized that meant a jacket, which meant I’d be a sodden wreck before I’d made it across the street. Surely I could walk around my own neighborhood in broad daylight without a weapon. I left the gun on the bed. On my way back out I started to knock on Mr. Contreras’s door, hesitated, then left without trying to rouse him. Peppy had let out a sharp bark as I stood there: if he wanted to see me he could open the door.

It dawned on me that I hadn’t seen any Chicago cops patrolling my stretch of Racine today. Maybe Conrad Raw-lings was so annoyed by my comments last night that he had withdrawn his protective arm. My pleasure at having my ability to look after myself put to the test wasn’t as strong as it might have been. I almost headed back up the stairs for my gun.

43

High-Voltage Marketing Plan

It took Mrs. Tertz so long to answer the bell that I thought she might be out. When she finally came to the door, her face flushed from the heat, she apologized, but said she’d been on her back porch writing letters. “It faces east, so by this time of day we get a bit of breeze back there. I practically live out there in the summer. What can I do for you, dear?”

“I wanted to talk to you about Mrs. Frizell’s situation. Do you have a minute?”

She laughed softly. “I suppose. But if you think a wave of your hand will solve Hattie Frizell’s problems, it only shows you have a lot of growing up to do. Come on in, though.”

I followed her along a minute, highly polished hall to the kitchen. The air in the house, heavy with Pine Sol and furniture polish, thickened in the kitchen to an unbreathable density. Little beads of sweat were staining the neck of my blouse by the time Mrs. Tertz had the back door unlocked again. I followed her thankfully onto the porch.