The woman hesitated. “We have a cave…down below. My husband…he wanted to be more…in touch with the elements. He excavated this room from the wall of the mountain.” She made a face. “It’s his pride and joy. He did it all himself. But it isn’t up to code.”

“I promise I won’t report him to the building commission. How do I get down there?”

She told Decker to follow her. She led him into a wide, open caterer’s kitchen, filled with stainless steel appliances, stainless countertops, and white, lacquered cabinetry. In the middle sat a leather and steel dining set, the table being round and balanced on a pedestal that looked more like a giant spring than something designed to support. The chairs had black leather seats and were also balanced on spring-looking bases. Perhaps if one bounced hard enough, one could catapult across the room.

“This way,” the woman told him.

“Thank you, Mrs. Frammel.”

“Doreen.”

“Thank you, Doreen,” Decker repeated.

“I suppose I should answer ‘you’re welcome,’ but I don’t know if that would be answering truthfully.” She sneered. “God, why does he play that music at ear-splitting level?”

“To annoy you.”

“Well, it’s working.” She opened a drawer and took out a key. Then she brought him into the service porch. A Miele washing machine was tumbling wet, soapy clothes. Doreen stared at the rotary drum for a moment. “Sometimes I think it’s better than network TV.”

“It’s certainly more dynamic.”

Doreen managed a small grin. “She’s a real screwed-up kid. I’m the first to admit it. But she doesn’t deserve to go to jail because she, like my sister, has lousy taste in boys.”

“Lousy taste isn’t punishable by imprisonment. But aiding and abetting a criminal is.”

“She’s stupid,” Doreen insisted. “Cut her slack.”

“Why don’t you let me talk to her first?”

The woman rubbed her eyes and unlocked a door. She flicked on a wall switch, and a beam of narrow yellow light revealed a narrow staircase. “Watch your step, watch your head. I hope you’re not claustrophobic.”

“No, I’m not.”

“Then you’re one step above me. I hate this. Frankly, I think my husband’s crazy.”

The steps going down were wooden and rickety and too small for his feet. Decker had to tiptoe on a few of them. He also had to stoop to descend the steps. By the time he was close to the bottom, he was almost entirely bent over. The passageway ended in another door. Heavy metal music escaped from the rocky walls. It was muted, so all Decker could hear was the thumping of the bass line.

Doreen knocked. “Erin, honey, open up, it’s me.”

No answer.

She knocked again. “Erin?”

Nothing.

“Come on!” She pounded.