The cat stared at her as if she were a complete moron before hopping onto the counter and slipping through the open window. “No good deed goes unpunished,” she called after him, then, in the bathroom, did a quick change into black pants and turtleneck. She threw on a jacket and grabbed her purse, complete with her cell phone and canister of mace, and was out the door.

The weather had let up a bit, though her defroster was still making visibility difficult. She had to use her hand to clear a spot in the windshield, but she saw no dark, malicious van idling in the alleys. Still, she was on alert as she took her car the short distance to campus, another means to make it appear that she wasn’t home tonight, though “inviting” the pervert into her home bothered her a little.

What little daylight there was quickly faded as Kristi parked behind Wagner House. The museum was set to close in ten minutes, but she wanted to check the place one more time.

The gate was unlocked and the front door swung open without a creak. Kristi stepped inside, where a gas fire was burning cheerily. Lights, with their colored Tiffany-style shades, glowed like jewels. Victorian settees, carved mahogany tables and club chairs were clustered in groupings, the dining table set with crystal and silver, as if a dinner party were planned for later in the evening.

Three fiftyish women were oohing and aahing over the furniture and knickknacks while a younger couple with a baby who was strapped to the father in some kind of sling were strolling through the lower rooms.

“Hello.” A slim woman, with an easy smile and streaked hair that swung to her chin, greeted Kristi. She was wearing a long skirt, boots, and a cowl-necked sweater. Her name tag read: Marilyn Katcher. “I’m Marilyn, the docent, and I was about to give a little tour of the house before we close. Would you like to join the others?”

Kristi looked around at all the expectant faces. “That would be great.”

After that, she followed along and listened as the docent, with more enthusiasm than Kristi would have believed possible, walked the small group through the lower floors, explaining the history of the family, making a big deal of old Ludwig Wagner and his heirs, telling how he’d donated this portion of his vast holdings around the Baton Rouge area to the church for the express purpose of starting a college. She led the way upward to the bedrooms, explaining about the children who had resided within and how the current Ludwig descendants had spent much of their own fortunes restoring the house to the way it had been when Ludwig and his children, including his wheelchair-bound daughter, had lived here. Some of the pieces were authentic, others used to add to the feel of the home, not all necessarily period-true.