“Are you trying to say he did something?” Albright jabbed her cigarette into the bottom of the ashtray. “Lady, you really ought to get out of here before he comes through that door. He’ll be real mad at me just for letting you in.”

Hearing the other woman’s suspicion, Eden thought of her own mother. Madeline Somers of Ridgefield, Connecticut, lived under one guiding principle of upper-middle-class manners—other people’s private lives are their own affair. Here was her oldest daughter poking into a couple’s life. “Did Mr. Partridge say anything when he came home Monday night?”

“He said he saw the Giants game at the bar.”

“What was his mood like?”

“His mood? How the hell should I know? You’re just like Win said. He told me law enforcement has it out for him. They’re always after him for something.”

“How long have you known Mr. Partridge?”

“A long time. Twelve years or so. Win’s an honest man. He has a job and works hard. He made a mistake years ago, is all. He told me all about it.”

Eden looked at a poster on the living room’s other long wall. It was a colorful, ornate print of a man sitting cross-legged, hands in his lap. “That’s an unusual picture,” Eden said.

Albright turned to look. “Creepy, if you ask me. But it’s kind of a big deal for Win. Something called Kundalini. When Win got out of prison, a friend started him on it. Gives him power, Win says.”

Eden wrote on her pad.

“Now what’re you writing?”

“Just some notes.”

“Listen, Detective whatever you are, I wouldn’t be here asking all these questions and writing stuff when Win comes home. I already told you he doesn’t like you cops. It’s just the way he is.” Albright walked to the door and opened it.

Eden stood. “I notice, Ms. Albright, you have an unusual accent, not like the other Californians I’ve met. May I ask where you’re from?”

“Where I’m from? I live here.”

“I mean originally. Where’d you grow up?”

For the first time, Albright smiled. “Oh, my family’s from Fresno. That’s where I used to live. My mom and grandma are still there, on Arden Drive. They grew up in Oklahoma, so that’s why I talk like this, I guess. I go over to Fresno when I can. Holidays, things like that.”

“Fresno? That’s in the Central Valley, isn’t it?” Eden stepped to the doorway and crossed under the threshold. Suddenly she remembered Tom Woodhouse’s advice to follow where Partridge had gone. She struggled to calm herself. She smiled at Albright. “That sounds nice. Does Mr. Partridge go with you?”

“Win? Oh, sure. He loves it. Sometimes we go for a whole week.”

“Really? When was the last time you and Mr. Partridge were there?”