The old man was just shutting the back door on Peppy when I got down to the landing. He gave me a harassed look through the glass and disappeared for a minute. When he finally opened the door he held an old workshirt out to me.

“Put this on before you come inside.”

I waved the shirt away. “This is my old sweatshirt; I’m not worried about what I may get on it.”

“And I ain’t worried about your stupid wardrobe. It’s what you’ve got underneath it I care about. Or what you ain’t got underneath it.”

I stared at him, astounded. “Since when do I need to put on a bra to look after the dog?”

His leathery face turned a dull crimson. The very thought of female undergarments embarrasses him, let alone hearing their names spoken out loud.

“It’s not because of the dog,” he said, agitated. “I tried telling you on the phone, but you hung up on me. I know how you like to go traipsing around the house, and it don’t bother me any as long as you’re decent, which generally speaking you are, but not everybody feels the same way. That’s a fact.”

“You think the dog cares?” My voice went up half a register. “Who the hell else—Oh. You brought someone home with you last night from the gambling den. Well, well. Quite an evening for you, huh?” Normally I wouldn’t be so vulgar about someone’s private life, but I felt I owed the old man a lick or two after all the snooping he’d done on my male visitors during the last three years.

He turned a deeper mahogany. “It ain’t what you think, doll. It ain’t like that at all. Fact is, it’s an old buddy of mine. Mitch Kruger. It’s been a real struggle for him, making ends meet since him and me retired, and now he’s been tossed out on his rear end, so he come home crying on my shoulder last night. Course, like I told him, he wouldn’t have to worry about his rent if he didn’t drink it first. But that’s neither here nor there. Point is, he’s never exactly kept his hands to himself, if you know what I mean.”

“I know just what you mean,” I said. “And I promise that if the guy feels inflamed by my charms I will put him off without breaking his arm—in deference to our friendship and his age. Now, put your jacket away and let me see how Her Serene Dogginess is.”

He wasn’t happy about it, but he grudgingly let me into the apartment. Like mine, it had four rooms arranged boxcar style. From the kitchen you went into the dining room and then into a little hall that fed the bedroom, bath, and living room.