Chapter 1

I sat behind the controls of the 1995 Oldsmobile 88, a road map unfolded on the passenger side and watching the numbers on doors and mailboxes increment as I drove down the block. Then I saw it -- a brick duplex with 375A over one door and 375B over the other. Pulling into the drive I parked the car and headed toward the stoop.

The key I had been given fitted the deadbolt for 375Aand I swung open the front door. The place was cluttered with stacks of newspapers and magazines on the floor. The kitchen sink was piled with dirty dishes and pots and pans. Upstairs I found more stacks of newspapers and magazines.

Shaking my head I headed down the stairs. The doorbell rang and I answered it. Standing on the stoop was a young woman, tall and slender. Her long, rectangular face was framed by shoulder-length soft dark blonde curls. Her eyes were blue with a hint of Asian influence, her nose was long and straight. She had a high forehead and her lips were full. She was wearing a tank top and cutoff shorts. I scanned her from head to toe.

At the same moment she stepped back from me and let out a gasp. "I ... I was expecting to see Al. I saw his car pull in."

"I'm Ethan Moore -- Al's nephew. Al, I'm afraid, has passed away." The color drained from her face and she put her hand to her chest. "Do you need to sit down?" I stepped aside and she staggered into the unit, collapsed into a chair and held her face in her palms. "Are you all right? I'll get some water."

When I returned with a glass she was sitting erect in the chair. "I'm sorry to give you such a shock," I said.

"Al ... gone? How? When? He was here just two weeks ago."

"He went to a funeral..."

"That's right -- I remember him telling me."

"At a reception he became engaged in an argument with a relative -- an in-law. He became too agitated..."

"Heart attack?" she asked.

"A fatal arrhythmia," I replied. "They tried to help him but..." She looked down and shook her head. "I'm here to wrap up his estate. Al didn't leave a will ... not one we can locate at any rate."

"My word," she gasped. "I hadn't thought about that. Al was my friend and neighbor but also my landlord. What's going to happen to this place?"

"That'll be up to the probate judge," I replied, "and, ultimately, the new owner. I'm his only surviving blood relative so the odds are it'll end up coming to me. We'll have to wait for the legal dust to settle. Do you have a lease?"

"Yeah ... It runs through February."

"Well -- a new owner would be obligated to honor that at least 'til it runs out."

"The reason I came over," she added, "was to invite Al to dinner. When I saw his car in the drive I put a frozen lasagna in the oven. I'm wondering if you'd accept the invitation -- in his honor..."

"I'd be happy to..." I looked into her blue eyes. "I didn't catch your name."

"Lize. Lize Furlow."

"As in an extended leave of absence?" I asked.

"It's spelled O - W, not O - U - G - H."

"Okay Lize. What time?"

"Say, six?"

"Can I bring something? A bottle of wine or some beer?"

"Oh, I can't drink," she replied. "Alcohol gives me a pain in my stomach."

"What sort of pain?"

"Burning ... hard to describe but downright awful. I'd have to lie down until it passes."

"How long does that take?" I asked.

"Half an hour ... forty-five minutes or so."

"That does sound unpleasant. So, I'll see you at six."

"I ... I'll be ... right next door." Lize stood and smiled pleasantly. She gave me a little wave and headed out the door.

I returned to my task at hand, which was to start clearing out Al's unit. From the looks of it I'd have to hire a three-yard dumpster and start hauling stuff to it. I figured I'd start at the top. One of the bedrooms he had used as an office. I figured that would be a good place to start, and with some luck I might even uncover some ledgers or bank statements that would give me a handle on what he had left behind.

I rang the bell on the unit next door. Lize answered it and smiled. The color had returned to her complexion with pink, apple cheeks. "Come in," she said.

"You're looking better," I remarked. "Earlier you were as pale as a ghost."

"It was quite a shock to get over."

"I was going through Al's papers and found something you might find interesting." I handed her an envelope.

She opened it and removed some pages on legal-sized paper. "Al's will..."

"Right ... dated 2012 and duly signed, witnessed and notarized. I think it's unlikely anyone can provide one to supercede it."

She read through the pages. "He ... he left everything to you."

"Not quite everything. There are some items enumerated toward the bottom."

"His first editions ... He knew I admired them."

"He wanted you to have them," I replied. "There's a first edition Tom Sawyer among them -- that alone is probably worth five figures. I never knew he collected first editions."

"I'm flabbergasted," she said.

"So am I," I replied.

"What, that he'd leave them to me?"

"No -- that he left everything else to me." I took the papers from her and stuffed them back into the envelope. "Al wasn't on anyone's favorites list. We all regarded him as an ornery, disagreeable, argumentative curmudgeon. I hadn't had any contact with him for ... for twenty years."

"He was nothing but sweet with me," Lize replied. "I'd have him over for dinner. When I started falling out with Jimmy..."

"Who's Jimmy?"

"My boyfriend ... ex-boyfriend. I caught him cheating on me. I found pictures and texts on his phone."

"He must have been crazy to cheat on you," I remarked.

"Well, he did and I threw him out."

"Good riddance to bad rubbish."

"That wasn't the end of it. He started harassing me ... threatening me. I was afraid to be alone at night and Al let me sleep on his sofa." I could see agitation in her expression. "One day he was waiting for me when I got home from work. He accosted me and got physical. Al heard the commotion and broke it up. He called the cops and Jimmy spent some time in jail. I have a restraining order against him."

"I'm sorry to hear about that," I replied. "It's over, now."

She drew in a breath to regain her composure. "Al was more than a neighbor and a landlord to me. He was a friend ... almost like my grandfather. He always was a perfect gentleman. That's why I was so shocked with your news ... I still can't believe it." The buzzer on her oven sounded. "Dinner's ready. "I have Coke and ginger ale."

"Either is fine with me."

"I made a salad. Is Italian dressing okay?"

"Italian is fine."

We sat across from each other at her kitchen table. Lize's unit was the mirror image of the other, but she kept her place as neat as a pin and with sparse furnishings. "This is very good," I remarked of her lasagna.

"Thanks." She gestured toward the envelope. "What exactly does that mean?" she asked.

"It means probate will go more smoothly. There are some relatives who might want to try disputing it ... but they'll have trouble arguing with this document."

"That means, this property will come to you, then."

"Almost certainly."

"What do you plan to do with it?" she asked.

"I'm thinking I might want to move in. This all happened during a life change for me."

"What sort of change?" she asked.

"I'm retired."

"Retired?" she said credulously. "You don't look that old."

"I'm fifty-five," I replied, "I was eligible for retirement from the force..."

"Force?"

"County sheriff ... I'm a detective ... was a detective. After twenty years I can retire with a full pension. I decided to take advantage. They let me keep my shield."

"May I see it?" she asked. I reached for my wallet and flipped it open. Lize's eyes grew wide." Wow..."

"It's gotten me out of a few speeding tickets." I slipped my wallet back into my pocket. "My divorce was finalized two years ago. I've been renting a townhouse, and I've been devoting my time to a small web-based business."

"You're starting Act Two," she remarked.

"Actually, Act Three. Being a sheriff's deputy was Act Two."

"What was Act One?" Lize asked.

"I wanted to be a doctor ... but I washed out of medical school in my second year. I ended up getting my R.N. and worked as a nurse for about ten years. We had a suspicious death in the hospital and I ended up testifying as an expert witness. I became interested in forensic medicine. It so happened that the sheriff at the time was a buddy of my dad. I enrolled in a law enforcement training program, met the requirements and was made a deputy. Sheriff assigned me to the county's forensics lab and I spent most of my career there working there. I made sergeant and eventually got promoted to detective."

"That's so interesting, Ethan," Lize remarked.

"Now I can retire at fifty-five with a decent pension and dedicate my time to my web business. This duplex would suit me perfectly. I could use the basement to store my inventory and one of the bedrooms as an office."

"What sort of business is that?" she asked.

"Alternative health products," I replied.

"Things like supplements and the like?"

"Yeah, supplements ... supplies and the like." I drained my glass of ginger ale. "What do you do for a living?"

"I'm still in Act One," she replied. "I work as a bank teller. I have a business degree in marketing but the only work I could find was as a teller. Now I'm head teller at my branch."

"Good for you."

"I've been there five years."

"What are you, then? Twenty-five?"

"I'm twenty-eight," she replied.

"I thought you looked younger." She gave me her pleasant smile. "Head teller is nothing to sneeze at."

"The bank has posted an opening for branch manager at another branch -- one that's actually closer to home. I've applied and I have an interview next week."

"Well -- good luck."

"Thanks. I'll need it."

I picked up my plate and carried it to her counter. "Thanks, Lize, for a delicious dinner," I said.

"You're very welcome. Ethan -- if you need help going through Al's stuff..."

"I may take you up on that. The basement is full of shelves groaning with canned goods. I have to believe most are way past their sell-by date."

"I think Al was a bit of a hoarder," she remarked.

"Ya think?" Lize escorted me across the stoop to my door and gave me a little wave.

I backed a U-Haul truck into the drive. Lize greeted me wearing a tank and running shorts. "How did the estate sale go?" I asked.

"I haven't seen the final figures yet ... and the agents will need to take their cut. The dumpster got hauled away yesterday."

"You have those first editions in a safe place?"

"Yes, I have them stashed."

"At some point you need to get them appraised and insured. I really do appreciate you taking care of things while I settled my affairs. You've certainly gone above and beyond the call of duty. I should give you a break on this month's rent."

"Well ... That is something I had wanted to talk to Al about. I was hoping I could convince him to give me a break in the rent ... now that I'm here alone."

"So with your boyfriend gone, you're having trouble making ends meet."

"I guess you could say that," she replied. "The lease is in my name -- Jimmy's credit record was too poor."

"That figures. How much are you paying?"

"Twelve hundred a month ... that includes heat and water."

"You could be telling me anything," I replied.

"That's the truth," Lize protested.

"I believe you. Remember -- I'm a retired detective. I know how to read people. How much can you afford?"

"Any break at all would be welcome," she replied. "I was thinking..." She bit her lip. " ... seven hundred?"

"Can you do eight?"

"I know it's a nice unit but ... how about seven-fifty?"

"You drive a hard bargain," I remarked.

"The worst thing about kicking Jimmy out ... I hate being alone."

"You're not thinking about taking the bastard back -- are you?"