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"Oh, well, she doesn't sign anymore. Her daughter-in-law has power of attorney, so you'd need to talk to her."

  "Of course. Could I trouble you for her information?"

  She gave me the name, Lisette Donovan, and a phone number. I asked for the address as well, but she wouldn't give it, saying that if I sent something to the nursing home for Mrs. Donovan, it'll get forwarded to this Lisette and she'd take care of it. I thanked her and tried Lisette Donovan's number. There was no answer, and I decided a road trip ought to be in my immediate future.

  I remembered that Audrey and I hadn't gotten around to eating the fortune cookies that came with our meal. I opened the packet and broke the first cookie I touched. There was no fortune in it.

  Chapter 13

  Today was Wednesday, the day salaried folk call the hump of the week. I've never felt that way, though, seeing the work week as level all the way until Friday, when you get your unmistakable downslope into the weekend. It felt good to be working.

  After greeting Porrocks I worked steadily in the boathouse until there was nothing more for me to do except haul trash. When I reported this to her she had me start removing old linoleum and tile in the upstairs bathroom of the main house. I'd gotten faster at the work and made good progress, and as I went along I thought more about Porrocks and the treasure. Without more information I truly was stalled. Casually, I tapped on the walls upstairs but couldn't tell a thing.

  At the day's end before I unlocked the Caprice, I looked up at Audrey Knox's window. It was dark.

  What to make of her? Was I in love with her? She was on my mind, sure, but there was so much else on it that I couldn't tell whether I was thoroughly infatuated, or just responding to her prettiness. I liked the feelings she stirred in my pelvis. I did a heart check: inconclusive. Well, I'd get to know her better. We hadn't yet done a life-story dump. Usually, those come on the second date, the first being the date where nobody wants to monopolize the conversation for as long as it takes to tell her deluxe version, which is the only version worth telling.

  When you do finally get the life story out of the way, then there's the compatibility part where you compare major likes and dislikes: politics, religion, hang-ups, goals, and so on. Then the day-to-day reality sets in, and that's where you learn the important stuff: how considerate? how receptive? how honest? how passionate about things other than sex?

  For now, I wanted to keep my relationship with Audrey Knox in the fling category, though I didn't know how long I could. On some sub-skin level, she was working on me. I was beginning to feel protective toward her, though it seemed she believed I was the one who needed protecting—checking up on me over at Porrocks's, bringing food to my place. She seemed so vulnerable, really. Her guardedness about her past must have kept her pain—or shame, perhaps, same thing—at bay. Maybe I could ease her pain somehow, with patience and back rubs and long walks on driftwood-strewn beaches.

  One thing I wondered: gay or bi? Because with a butch, let's face it, you know. But with a femme, you can take nothing for granted. Why should I care? I didn't, exactly, but I wondered. I felt I could stand up to any female challenger, but if somebody decides to go for a guy over you, then it's not specifically personal, is it? So it's out of your hands, you have less to do with it, frankly. And if you really care for her, you want to be able to compete apple-to-apple.

  I wanted to take care of Audrey Knox as Calico Jones would take care of someone special, if she ever had one for long. Her girlfriends kept getting killed by bad guys, or they'd fail to withstand the rigors of the Calico Jones lifestyle. I mean, you need to know how to rappel and clear a jammed cartridge and analyze trace elements if you're going to hang very long with Calico.

  As I say, Audrey Knox was working on me. After I fantasized about solving with her what I was convinced was the strange crime in the boathouse, I daydreamed about the two of us going grocery shopping, a sure sign I was in deep. I decided to try to cool it emotionally for a little while, just sort of chill down my heart so I could concentrate.

  When I got home I spent time with Todd, petting him and trying out the laser pointer. I made the garish red dot dance on the floor in front of him, but he just turned and gave a little sideways blink. The game was ridiculous compared with, say, Find Punkin', which we played with our usual enjoyment after I put away the pointer. To play Find Punkin', you take the potholder with a pumpkin embroidered into it that Aunt Rosalie made and gave you for Christmas ten years ago, and you tuck it into the back waistband of your jeans, and you say, "Where's Punkin'?" Todd, nobody's fool, hops around to your rear bumper, periscopes slightly on his hind legs, seizes the potholder, gives it a good chomp, and heads down the hall with it. You follow, get around in front of him, retrieve the potholder, and begin the game anew at that spot. You cover quite a bit of ground this way, so it's good exercise.

  After that, I prepared a little dinner for the two of us, then played some old comforting songs on my mandolin, "Wildwood Flower"—Todd's favorite—"Shepherd's Hey," "Greensleeves," "Captain Jinx." Todd listened, his black button eyes shining up at me.

  ----

  I showed up for work at eight the next morning, but Porrocks didn't answer the door. I waited and rang again, thinking she was in the shower or something. She didn't come to the door. Her Dodge was parked in its usual spot. Maybe she was out for her morning walk.

  I sat on the front porch and waited half an hour, then tried the doors: locked. I went to the boathouse and looked around for something to do, but I'd picked the work clean there. I noticed some robust weeds growing around the shrubs in the backyard, so I got down on my hands and knees and pulled them, making a pile on the gravel walk. I went to the water's edge and picked up some rocks that were slumping from Porrocks's breakwater and repositioned them, kicking them more solidly into place. I cut a twig from the willow tree with my pocketknife and tried to make a whistle, but it was the wrong time of year; the bark was too tight on the pith. I found a moldering stack of split firewood next to the fence line, and two baby mice under one of the chunks. I left them alone, telling them, "Mama'll be back soon." And sure enough, the grass parted and there she came, tail high, hurrying to them with cheek pouches full.

  At noon Porrocks hadn't come. She'd said, "See you tomorrow," so this absence wasn't planned. I inspected the house more carefully but saw no jimmied window, no scarred doorjamb. I drove to the White Castle, got some lunch, brought it back, and ate it in the boathouse. At around one o'clock I heard an engine in the drive. A man got out of a blue truck and said, "Satcom. I'm Andy."

  He was there to put up Porrocks's satellite dish; when I told him she wasn't here, he said, "Well, I'll go 'head and put up the dish, she said chimney. Then when she gets home I'll run the wire in." So he got out his ladder and started work.

  I crossed the street to see if Audrey was home; she buzzed me in.

  "I have a funny feeling about Porrocks." I told her Porrocks hadn't shown up and asked to use her phone. Immediately she was concerned too.

  "Of course," she said, and withdrew to the kitchen as I dialed Lieutenant Ciesla's direct line.

  "Oh, hello," he said. "You got my message?"

  "No, Tom, I'm calling about Erma. I'm afraid something—"

  "That's what I called you about. She's in the hospital. Somebody barreled through a stop sign and ran her over at six o'clock this morning. Hit-and-run."

  "Oh, my God. Is she—"

  "She's gonna be all right but she's banged up pretty good—broken leg, broken pelvis. They're gonna operate on her."

  "Oh, God, how terrible! Oh, Tom. Where'd it happen? Have they picked up anybody yet?"

  "No, nobody saw anything. It happened at a crosswalk at the gate to this park down there—"

  "St. Edward's?"

  "Yeah. They don't have a plate, they don't have anything, just Erma's description of the vehicle, which isn't much."

  "What did she say?"

  "Black Chevy Blazer, she thinks, late model."

  "T
he driver?"

  "Didn't see the driver or any passengers. Listen, I gotta run."

  "Where is she?" I asked.

  "Wyandotte General."

  "OK, I'll go right over."

  I turned to Audrey, who had come back into the room as I hung up, and told her what happened. She said exactly what I'd said: "Oh, my God."

  "Yes, poor Erma."

  "It sounds like she's really badly hurt. Very serious." Audrey bit her lower lip and shook her head, her eyes drooping with sadness.

  "I'm afraid it is. I've got to go and see what I can do for her." I picked up my keys.

  "Do they know how long she'll be in the hospital?"

  "Well, I don't know—I mean, it just happened! I guess if they have to—what difference does it make?" I opened the door.

  "Come over when you get back, OK?"

  "OK."

  ----

  They'd patched Porrocks up in the ER and moved her to a regular room to wait for her surgery the next day.

  She lay almost flat, very quiet beneath bandages and medical equipment and IV things, in a pool of soft light from an oblong fixture above the bed. The air in the room smelled of the standard hospital chemical mix: antiseptic, slightly bitter. Evidently, Porrocks had gotten some bad scrapes and cuts as well—swaths of gauze bound her forehead and most of one arm.

  "Erma." I laid my hand on her nonbandaged arm.

  She turned her head a tiny bit.

  "Lillian." She licked her lips and swallowed.

  "I'm so sorry."

  Slowly, she murmured, "I'll be all right."

  "Are they gonna put some pins in or something?"

  "Yes." Her voice was weak, her skin gray next to the white sheets, but her eyes were fairly clear.

  "Have they given you enough for the pain?"

  "Yes."

  "Look, don't talk. Ill just sit with you for a while, OK? And I'll do anything you need, OK?"

  But she wanted to talk."I don't know how it happened."

  "Tom said you didn't see the driver."

  "I looked both ways, started across. Then I realized there was something bearing down on me. Not going very fast, maybe twenty-five. But accelerating."

  "Goddamn." Accelerating.

  "I tried to jump out of the way. Guess I'm not as agile as I used to be." The bandages crisscrossing Porrocks's forehead somehow gave her a wise look, like a nun who's seen a lot. She looked tinier than ever in that bed, her shoulders so narrow beneath the blanket.

  "Black Blazer, right?"

  "I just caught a glimpse. Black for sure."

  "And not little, like a Jeep Wrangler?"

  "No, a big one. I think it was a Blazer, but it could've been a different SUV."

  "Oh, dear God, what a terrifying experience for you."

  "I'm glad I'm alive."

  "Yes. Do you have any family around?"

  "My sister and her lads are in Wisconsin. Tom called her, I think. She probably won't be able to come. I'll be all right." She licked her lips again.

  "Would you like some water?" I reached for the pitcher and cup on her table and helped her drink.

  I heard heavy, hesitant footsteps and turned to see Lou standing at the door looking pale and distraught.

  "Lou!" I exclaimed. "Well, come in."

  Tears rolled down her cheeks when she saw Porrocks.

  "How did you hear about this?" I asked quietly, still holding the cup of water.

  "Police radio. I got off duty as soon as I could." She looked at me with undisguised jealousy.

  "Hi, Lou," Porrocks said.

  "Detective Porrocks," Lou said, her voice cracking, "I swear I will kill whoever did this to you." She moved toward the bed, her face twisting in anguish.

  I stepped back, and Lou sank into the chair next to the bed and sobbed.

  Porrocks pressed her lips into a line.

  "Lou, Lou," I said. "Take it easy." I handed her Porrocks's tissue box.

  A nurse came in to check the IV, ignoring Lou, who began to pull herself together.

  "Erma," I said, "is there anything I can bring you from home, and would you like someone to stay with you here overnight?"

  She shook her head slightly. "Would you do something special for me?"

  Lou started to speak, but Porrocks went on, "Stay in my house while I'm in here, Lillian."

  "Of course. I'll look after everything. The satellite guy was starting work outside when I left."

  "All right. I think my keys came here with me. They were in my pocket."

  "I'll ask the nurses."

  "My purse is on the kitchen counter."

  "Don't think about anything but getting through that surgery and getting well. I'll see you tomorrow."

  She closed her eyes.

  "I think she needs to sleep," I murmured to Lou, who didn't move from the chair. She gazed mournfully at Porrocks. I motioned to her to follow me into the corridor.

  "You can do a lot to help her, OK?" I said. "Like the satellite guy's going to need some direction inside. She'll need that satellite dish when she gets home. Want to come with me and deal with that?"

  "Yeah. It'll be really important for her to have her connectivity when she's at home recovering."

  "That's right. You can come back tomorrow, OK?"

  I got Porrocks's keys and Lou followed me over. The satellite guy was still working, having had to drill into the chimney masonry, so I unlocked the doors for Lou and went over to fill in Audrey Knox.

  "I'm going to be your neighbor for a while," I announced.

  "What?" She looked at me as if I'd touched her with an electric wire.

  "Porrocks asked me to move in while she's gone."

  "Oh!" She took a measured breath.

  "I was hoping for a little more enthusiasm."

  "Uh, well, it's just so sad. You know."

  "Yeah. I guess she'll be in the hospital for at least a few days. Then she'll need a lot of help at home while she recovers. Well, I'm going to go and get some of my stuff and Todd. Lou'll wait until I get back."

  That night I changed the sheets on Porrocks's bed, found clean towels, and laundered everything from her hamper in her nice new Kenmore machines down in the basement. I put newspapers in the comers of one of the spare rooms, since Todd liked to mark new territory, and got him settled in there. The room had a window seat and a nice shaded lamp.

  I felt peculiar in that big empty house, furnished so sparsely with Porrocks's condo stuff. I walked all around restlessly turning on lights, my breathing sounding exaggerated. The more I tried to breathe normally, the more exaggerated my breathing sounded. I tapped on the walls and ceilings, and wondered whether a metal detector would prove anything, given all the copper wiring and plumbing. I looked out the kitchen window at the backyard. The blank black night looked back at me. Out on the river a buoy pulsed a pinpoint of white light, on and off, on and off.

  A dog barked on the street, and I practically bit through my tongue. I looked for beers in the fridge; there were none. I was too cowardly to go out to the boathouse in the dark and retrieve the Galliano. I checked on Todd three times; he hunkered peacefully in his box, seeming to enjoy the change of scene from home.

  I went to the living room picture window and pulled back the drape. Silhouetted in her window, Audrey Knox looked down at me. Golden light surrounded her. I lifted my hand, and she lifted hers. I beckoned to her, and she turned from the window.

  Chapter 14

  As soon as Audrey crossed the threshold from the shadowy porch into Porrocks's gloomy living room, my heart strengthened. She brought light with her. I suppose it was her smile, her quick sparkling eyes, so glad to be there. Suddenly the house wasn't gloomy at all. She wore her elfin-green outfit tonight.

  "You weren't," she said, "scared to be alone here, were you?"

  "Of course not. I'm especially not scared now that you're here."

  As soon as we kissed hello Audrey wanted to see the house, so I gave her the tour just as Porrocks
would have done. "And this is the dining room. Look at that built-in buffet, original finish. And aren't these oak floors beautiful?"

  "Yes." In spite of her good humor, she seemed tense. There wasn't anything obvious enough for me to question her about it yet, though.

  I showed her the work I'd been doing in the upstairs bathroom.

  "Nice job," she said. She picked up my wrecking bar and turned it over in her hands.

  "Ever use one of those?" I said.

  "Uh, no, not exactly like this one." She hefted the bar, then set it down with a thoughtful expression.

  "Is something wrong?"

  "No, far from it."

  "I like using tools. You get such a satisfaction."

  "I agree."

  "Well, there's no pressure to finish this bathroom now, Porrocks won't be using it for a long time. I'm going to see if Lou and I can carry her bed downstairs." Talking to myself now, I said, "I ought to bring some books for her—some books and CDs."

  We finished the tour back in the living room where I'd left the drape askew. A black triangle of night sliced in on us. I nudged the drape closed.

  We lounged on the couch. Audrey nestled into me and said, "Don't you think Porrocks is a killer anymore?"

  "She might be. But I feel so goddamn sorry for her, lying there so racked up. Moreover, if that accident was in fact an assault, she might be as innocent as Drooly Rick was. If someone hurt her deliberately, it means someone wanted her out of this house."

  Audrey looked up, her brown eyes wide. Slowly, she said, "I hadn't thought of that—at all. Lillian, you're—and I don't mean this sarcastically, I mean this sincerely—you're a genius."

  "Well, thank you, but although I feel quite smart at times, I know I make bad judgments. I'm not always a good judge of people, for instance."

  "Oh, I can't believe that!"

  "It's true," I insisted. "You'd be amazed at the mistakes I've made."

  She laughed, "Ha ha ha!"

  "But you, you're so easy to talk to, you're so easy to be with. I really enjoy your company. Did you notice how the house went from cold to warm as soon as you walked in?"