“They probably called a locksmith and claimed they’d locked themselves out.”

“What made them think they could get away with it?”

“They did get away with it, at least to date. And while we’re on the subject of getting away with stuff, I can testify Joseph’s no more disabled than I.”

“Well, this certainly can’t go on.”

“My feeling precisely. You want to go over there and talk to them?”

“I don’t see that we have a choice.”

I waited while Henry paid for his drink and then we walked the half block to the Shallenbargers’ house. As Henry rapped on the door, he murmured, “You want to talk to them or shall I?”

“Do you have a preference?”

“I should probably handle it. I’m the senior statesman,” he said.

The door swung open and Edna appeared holding a paper napkin in one hand. The air was scented with meat, onion, and ever so faintly a suggestion of burning hair.

Henry cleared his throat. “I’m sorry to interrupt your supper.”

She lowered her gaze, which in some people would signal humility. With Edna, it could mean anything, and none of it good. “We didn’t expect to see you again so soon.”

“May we come in?”

She stepped back and admitted us. She and Joseph were eating their evening meal at a card table set up in the living room. They’d arranged their chairs so both could see the television set, which was tuned to a game show that had been in syndication for a decade or more. At each place setting, there was a tin plate of the TV dinner sort, divided into compartments, which still held traces of mashed potatoes, green beans, and some sort of ground meat patty covered with gravy. Really, I don’t cook at all, but I don’t want to eat shit like that when I get old.

Joseph was solidly packed into his wheelchair, a paper napkin tucked into his collar. The footrest on the chair had been flipped up, so maybe he was using his feet to scoot himself around the room. He seemed uncomfortable, which is more than I could say about Edna.

She said, “I’d offer to share, but we barely have enough to feed ourselves. Would you care to have a seat?”

Henry said, “No, thank you. We’re hoping this won’t take long.”

We remained on our feet. Edna stood near Joseph’s wheelchair, one hand on his shoulder. My guess was she’d squeeze the bejesus out of him if he said a word.

Henry went on, his tone mild. “Kinsey spoke to the Adelsons this afternoon.”

“Who?”

“The Adelsons. They’re the legal owners of this house. They told her they don’t have a rental agreement with you.”

“That’s because we aren’t renting from the Adelsons. We signed a rental agreement with Calvin Sanchez.”

“I see. I’m not familiar with the name.”

“I have a copy if you don’t believe me.”

“We’d appreciate it.”

Henry and I exchanged a quick look as she crossed to a cardboard box jammed with files. She withdrew a sheaf of papers clipped together, which she handed to Henry. The top document was five or six pages in length, with a carbon copy of a receipt clipped to the front. Henry removed the paper clip and handed me the bottom sheet, which looked like a rental application.