Jack walked across the lawn to peer down between Yuri’s house and his neighbor’s. The separation was only about six feet, and it was bisected by the chain-link fence. After another glance at the elderly man, Jack walked between the buildings to emerge in Yuri’s tiny backyard. There he found what looked like a metal furnace vent issuing forth from a recently patched hole in the house’s foundation. The vent angled upward to extend higher than Jack could reach. By touching the vent and feeling the vibration Jack could tell he’d at least found the exhaust for the fan. Considering the size of the house, the kind of furnace the vent suggested seemed like overkill.

Jack continued to circle the cottage. On the side facing the garage was another door where Jack again knocked. Cupping his hands around his face, he peered through one of the small glass panels. He could see an L-shaped room that served as both living room and kitchen.

Leaving the door, Jack walked along the garage toward the front of the house. As he arrived at the patch of lawn, a bearded man appeared walking along the alleyway carrying a bag of groceries. Jack hadn’t seen him until the last possible moment because the garage had blocked his view.

This sudden appearance of the individual within arm’s reach made Jack start. He hadn’t realized quite how uneasy his trespassing had made him. But as startled as Jack was, it was apparently less than the stranger. The man dropped his groceries while trying vainly to get his right hand out of his jacket.

“I beg your pardon,” Jack intoned.

The man took a moment to recover. Jack used the time to come out through the gate and help retrieve some of the man’s purchases, which had fallen out of the bag.

“I’m awfully sorry to have startled you,” Jack said as he picked up several boxes of cake flour, a frozen dinner, a tin of cinnamon, and a bottle of vodka, which miraculously had not broken.

“It’s not your fault,” the man said. He squatted down, righted the bag, and began repacking his groceries. At the same time his eyes kept nervously darting around as if he was afraid someone else might startle him.

Jack handed over what he’d picked up. He couldn’t help but have noticed the man’s strong Slavic accent. It seemed appropriate given his dark beard and Russian-style hat.

“Are you a resident of this enclave?” Jack asked.

The man hesitated for a moment before answering. “I am,” he said.

“Do you happen to know Yuri Davydov? He lives here in number fifteen.”

The man made a point to look around Jack and study the building.

“Vaguely,” he said. “Why do you ask?”