• • •

I was home by 7:15. Henry’s kitchen was dark, and I assumed he was up at Rosie’s. I let myself in and checked for messages, but there was no winking red light. Ruthie’s appointment with the IRS had been scheduled for 1:00, and I was hoping she’d call to fill me in. I’d done what I could to help, and while she wasn’t obligated to report, it would have been nice. On impulse, I leaned across the desk, picked up the handset, and punched in her number. She picked up after three rings.

“Hey, Ruthie. It’s Kinsey. How’d it go today?”

“How did what go?”

“Your appointment. I left a message earlier.”

“I didn’t have any messages.”

“Are you sure your machine’s not on the blink? I called to ask how it went with the IRS.”

“Oh. He never showed.”

“You can’t be serious! After the horseshit he put you through?”

Abruptly, Ruthie said, “Is there a chance you could get over here? Something’s come up.”

“I can do that. Are you okay? You sound odd.”

“Someone’s been in my house. The police just left, and I don’t want to be here by myself.”

“Shit. Why didn’t you say so? Absolutely. I’ll be right there.”

• • •

I didn’t break any speed laws, but I’ll admit I slid through two stop signs and a yellow light that turned red while I was still under it. Ruthie’s house was only ten blocks away, so it didn’t take me long to get there. When I pulled up in front, there were so many lights on, the place looked like it was on fire. In rooms downstairs and up, every lamp and overhead fixture was ablaze. I could see Ruthie standing at the front window, peering from behind the sheers. When she spotted my car, she disappeared from sight. I didn’t even have to knock because the door opened before I reached it. She grabbed my hand and pulled me inside as though I might be pursued by demons. Her face was pale and her hands were icy.

“What’s going on?”

“I don’t know. Maybe nothing, but I’m freaked out.” She twisted the key in the dead bolt on the front door and moved through the hall to the kitchen. I followed, looking over my shoulder in the same furtive manner she displayed.

She pointed to a seat at the kitchen table where she’d set an open bottle of wine and two glasses, one half full and a second one empty. I settled in the chair while she poured wine for me as though I’d need to fortify myself. She pushed the glass in my direction, picked hers up and drained it.

“What happened?”

She sat down and then she got up again and began to pace. “When I got home from work, the back door was standing open. I will swear to you someone was in here. Not right then, but earlier. I turned around and went straight next door and called the police. Two officers showed up six minutes later.”