“No, there’s more. At least fifteen others who have gone missing, I think, but I don’t know any of the details. I heard about the others at bingo during conversations that were casual. While I said we don’t gossip, we don’t. But when someone . . . ah . . . passes on, we talk about it, or when someone new moves in, we talk about welcoming them. That kind of thing.”

“Would you be comfortable giving me the key to Ellie’s apartment, Mrs. Gossett? I’ll be sure to return it, and I will keep it safe until I do.”

“I don’t have a problem with that, dear. I keep it in my jewelry box. I’ll fetch it for you.”

Maggie was ready to jump out of her skin. Dennis shifted from one foot to the other. “Holy crap, Maggie, what did we just step into?”

“I wish I knew,” Maggie mumbled as her mind raced at warp speed.

“Here you go, young lady,” Frances Gossett said as she held out a shiny brass key. “You should talk to Porter. He lives right next door. I can call him if you like. Otherwise, he might not open the door when you ring his bell. He’s a very nice man. He lives to play chess, and he’s lost without his partner.”

“Absolutely,” Dennis said.

They waited while Mrs. Gossett returned to the kitchen to make the call. She was smiling when she returned. “Porter said he would be happy to talk to you. Thank you for stopping by,” she said primly as she held the door open for Maggie and Dennis.

Maggie and Dennis stood for a minute outside the door as they heard all three locks snap into place. “I think it’s the apartment to the left,” Dennis said.

He was proved right when they saw the door open and a man with gray hair and stooped shoulders step out. He looked to be in his mid-seventies. He wore a Vegas T-shirt that said WINNER on the front, baggy jeans, and boat shoes. “Come on in,” he said cheerfully.

Maggie and Dennis were both stunned to see that the apartment was spotless. Delicious aromas wafted from the kitchen, including the smell of fresh-brewed coffee. “What?” He cackled. “You think only women know how to keep a tidy ship? My wife taught me everything I know.” He cackled again. “I know how to cook, and I know how to clean. Coffee? I grind the beans myself. Ester says I make the best coffee she’s ever had. Take a load off,” he said, motioning to the chairs at a round oak table. “Tell me how I can help you. I can multitask—something else my wife taught me,” he said as he got cups from the cabinet and poured coffee.