Late in the afternoon, I called Ruthie. “Drinks and dinner at Rosie’s tonight?”

“What time?”

“How about six o’clock?”

“Sounds good. What’s the occasion?”

“There isn’t one. I heard a story I’d like confirmed.”

“Hope it’s juicy.”

“We’ll see about that,” I said.

• • •

At five, I locked the office and I was on my way out to the car when I turned around and went back. I let myself in, set my shoulder bag on the desk, and peeled back a corner of the wall-to-wall carpet. I opened my floor safe and pulled out the mailing pouch, locked the safe again, then headed for home.

I drove through town, taking State all the way down to Cabana Boulevard, where I turned right. It was one of those perfect Santa Teresa days I sometimes take for granted. The temperature was in the midsixties with clear skies, sunshine, and a light breeze. Nearing Bay, I got caught at the traffic light, and when I glanced to my right, I spotted Edna and Joseph toddling in my direction, he in his wheelchair, she pushing from behind. He had a basket affixed to the front of his chair and he was using it to tote a number of bulging plastic bags. I was momentarily annoyed that Edna intended to impose on Henry to ferry her back and forth on her weekly shopping trips when Joseph was more capable than he let on.

I kept an idle eye on them as I waited for the light to change. Edna and Joseph were apparently unaware of my observation. I watched her slow and then stop as they reached the motel trash bins set out at the curb. Joseph pulled himself upright, and while she lifted the lid, he removed one plastic bag from his basket and tossed it in. He resumed his seat. She pushed his wheelchair as far as the next bin, where the two of them did it again. The entire transaction took fewer than five seconds, so smoothly accomplished I thought I must be seeing things. Could they possibly be tossing their garbage in other people’s bins?

The light changed and I turned right onto Bay and then left on Albanil. Trash bins up and down the block had been moved to the curb, including the two Henry used. There was no bin in front of the Shallenbargers’ house, and now that I thought about it, I couldn’t remember seeing a bin out on the curb since the Adelsons had moved. I was still shaking my head when I pulled into Henry’s driveway and parked. Should I mention it to him? He’d as good as adopted them and I knew he’d be reluctant—if not wholly unwilling—to hear petty complaints about the pair.

Their actions bugged me nonetheless. Parceling trash into other people’s bins, while questionable, doesn’t constitute a crime. If Edna and Joseph chose to sidestep a bill from the waste management company, it was no skin off my nose. I put their cost-cutting measure in the same category as snitching discount coupons from someone else’s mailbox. I wouldn’t have done it myself, but as violations go, it wasn’t that big a deal.