When I received no reply, I treated myself to a tour of the place. The interior looked like it had been gutted in advance of a demolition. Doorknobs were missing, switch plates had been removed, and the wall-to-wall carpeting had been pulled up, leaving the concrete floors spotted with patches of black mastic. The kitchen cabinets were scuffed and the backsplash at the kitchen sink was some kind of wallboard, scored to look like ceramic tile. There were no lightbulbs in any of the overhead fixtures. Maybe Ethan was the kind of tenant who believed his rent entitled him to anything that wasn’t nailed down, including the toilet seat, which was nowhere in evidence. The laundry room was edged in black mold that crept along the seams like grout. Leaking water had loosened the hinges on the bathroom vanity, and the rust streaking from the faucets looked like the run of mascara on a weeping woman’s face. All the rooms smelled of mildew, animal dander, and pee.

“Any information I can offer you about the place?”

I shrieked and whipped around, clutching my chest to prevent my heart from tearing through my shirt. “Shit!”

I stared at the man who’d shortened my life by years.

He was in his early thirties, with a cresting wave of dark hair cutting across his forehead. His eyes were dark and his eyebrows were thick, while his mustache and beard appeared to be a recent undertaking that, so far, wasn’t a success. He wore an oversize black shirt that hung down over his jeans in a style that was meant to disguise his weight. I put him a good thirty pounds over the line, though it didn’t really look bad on him. I was going to tell him so and decided I’d best not. Men sometimes mistake a compliment for an invitation to become better acquainted.

His smile was apologetic, his teeth white, but cluttered. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you. I saw you go around the side of the house as I was driving up. I figured you noticed the For Rent sign and wanted to check it out.” He’d smoked a cigarette at some point in the past fifteen minutes.

“Actually, I’m looking for Ethan Dace.”

“Too late. He pulled up stakes a week ago. At least from what the neighbors say.”

“How long did he live here?”

“I don’t know. Eighteen months? Might have been less.”

“I take it he left without giving notice.”

“He also left owing two months’ rent. Are you a bill collector?”

I shook my head. “I’m here on a personal matter. His father died. I figured someone should let him know.”

“Why you?”

“We’re distantly related.”

“How distant?”

“Second cousins, once or twice removed. That’s a guess on my part. I’ve never understood the distinctions.”

“I take it you never met Ethan.”

“I’ve never had the occasion.”