I stared at her unseeingly, barely listening to her monologue. Chrissie Pichea let in the animal control unit? How had she gotten keys? That question was immaterial at this point. She and Todd had simply outflanked me. They’d somehow made sure I was away, then gotten the county to come for Mrs. Frizell’s dogs.

I left Mrs. Tertz in mid-sentence and tramped down some zinnias as I sprinted across the Picheas’ yard. My finger shook as I stabbed their polished brass doorbell. Todd Pichea came to the door.

“Oh, it’s you.” The trace of a smirk flickered across his mouth, but he looked a little uneasy, his fists tightly bunched inside his linen slacks.

“Yes, it’s me. Nine hours too late, but on the trail nonetheless. How did you and your wife get a key to Mrs. Frizell’s front door? And who gave you the right to send the county to pick up her dogs?”

“What business is it of yours?”

“You made it my business when you came to my building the other night. How did you get her key?”

“The same way you did: I helped myself to one lying in the living room. And I have a lot more right to what goes on in that house than you do. A lot more right.” He swayed forward on the balls of his feet, trying to look intimidating.

I moved forward, not back, and planted my nose about an inch from his. “You’ve got no rights to anything, Pichea. I’m going to call the county and then I’m going to call the cops. You may be a lawyer, but they’ll still be glad to arrest you on a B&E.”

The smirk became pronounced. “You do that, Warshawski. Go home and do it, or better still, come in here. I’d love to see you with egg all over that self-righteous face of yours. I want to be in the front row watching you when the cops show up.”

Chrissie came up behind him, skintight jeans showing off her trim thighs. “What is it, Todd? Oh, that busybody up the street. Did you tell her we got appointed guardians?”

“Guardians?” My voice rose half an octave. “Who was deranged enough to appoint you Mrs. Frizell’s guardian?”

“I called the son Tuesday morning. He was glad to turn his mother over to a competent lawyer. She isn’t capable of handling her own affairs, and we—”

“There’s nothing wrong with her mind. Just because she chooses to live in a different world than Yuppieville—”

He cut me off in turn. “The court doesn’t agree. We had an emergency hearing yesterday. And the city emergency services people agreed that those dogs constituted a menace to Mrs. Frizell’s health. If she’s ever able to live at home again.”