“And you didn’t have it fixed? Despite what’s going on. People throwing eggs at our house and walking around with hate signs.”

“It didn’t occur to me. I guess I always felt safe in our neighborhood. Besides, you live here too. Why didn’t you have it fixed?”

“I have a few other things on my mind, Thea! I’m not on sabbatical, and my work demands...”

“What about my work? Writing a book and helping Stefan start an organization too...”

Julie said, “Guys, guys, don’t take this out on each other...”

Ignoring her, I said, “Do you believe me now, Jep? This is a sign, it’s a sign from them that they know how to get to him anytime they want...”

“From who?” Julie said.

Jep said, “I’m calling the police. Now.”

I shouted, “No! What are the police going to do? Say it’s harassment? Duh! Dust for fingerprints? I assure you, they won’t find any.”

“I’m still calling.”

“Jep, just wait. Please, not now. Give me a little time to gather my thoughts. I think I know...”

Jep said, “You don’t know.”

“I’m going to find out!”

“And because you’re Sherlock Demetriou, nobody will bother you, of course.”

None of us noticed Stefan standing in the hallway arch until he said, “What fresh hell is this?” I couldn’t decide whether to acknowledge the old Dorothy Parker reference or try to block the view of the pictures. I had been away all day. So had Jep and Stefan. Suddenly I realized this meant that someone had been watching our house. How else would they know when no one would be here? I thought of the menacing hooded figure; but every time I saw him, he kept at a distance. The unquiet yet personal nature of the attack was repugnant to me: Marking out Stefan’s eyes was to make him blind—to the truth? To the future? It was a mutilation, and not just of the pictures. Our whole psychic space was polluted by the phantom presence of someone slipping through our own landscape, inspecting and handling our own things, ordinary objects rendered sacred by the breach.

Julie gave me a hug, then left quietly. Jep and I quit picking at each other, and the three of us huddled together. Then we made some tea with lots of sugar, the way they do in those BBC mystery shows. Half-heartedly, Jep suggested Jill McCormack might be behind this, and then the three of us exchanged looks. Jill hadn’t occurred to me, but Stefan said, “It’s just that, yeah, she hates me, but this seems a little bit...”

“Over the top,” I said. “Even for Jill.”

“Do you really think that Stefan’s in danger?” Jep said. He suggested then that Stefan might want to go stay with his grandparents for a while. They were just across town. He wouldn’t have to interrupt work.