Brazen Virtue

had been so bland that no one had been interested.
    “According to this, Breezewood never had any visitors, almost invariably arrived home between four-thirty and six. She kept obsessively to herself. Last night, everything was quiet. Except 634’s dog, who went on a barking spree about nine-thirty. That fits if the guy parked a block over and cut through their yard. Wouldn’t hurt to check the next street over and see if anyone noticed a strange car or a guy on foot.” He glanced at his partner to see Ed staring steadily down the street. The curtains were still closed at the Breezewood house. It looked empty, but Grace was inside. “Ed?”
    “Yeah?”
    “You want to take a break while I check out the next place?”
    “I just hate to think about her in there by herself.”
    “So go keep her company.” Ben flipped his cigarette into the street. “I can handle this.”

    He hesitated and had nearly made up his mind to check on her when a cab drove by. It slowed, then stopped three doors down. Together they watched a man and a woman get out on opposite sides. As the man paid off the driver and grabbed a single bag, the woman started up the walk. Even with the distance Ed could see the resemblance to Grace, the build, the coloring. Then Grace herself was running out of the house. The woman’s sobs carried as Grace folded her into her arms.
    “Daddy.” Ed saw her reach out and clasp hands so that the three of them stood and, for a moment, grieved in public.
    “It’s rough,” Ben murmured.
    “Come on.” Turning away, Ed stuffed his hands in his pockets. “Maybe we’ll get lucky.”
    He knocked on the door himself, resisting the urge to turn back and look at Grace. Watching her now was an intrusion. In his business he had to do enough of that with strangers.
    “Lowenstein’s checking out the ex,” Ben put in. “She should have something for us when we get back.”
    “Yeah.” Ed rubbed a hand over the back of his neck. Sleeping in the chair had left it stiff. “It’s hard for me to buy the guy flying here, sneaking in the back door, and doing his wife.”
    “Stranger things’ve happened. Remember th—” He broke off as the door opened a crack. He had a glimpse of a mop of white hair and a gnarled hand studded with cheap glass rings. “Police officers, ma’am.” He held up his badge. “Would you mind answering a few questions?”

    “Come in, come in. I’ve been expecting you.” The voice cracked with age and excitement. “Move back now, Boris, Lillian. Yes, we have company. Come in, come in,” she repeated a bit testily as she bent, bones popping, and scooped up a fat slug of a cat. “There, Esmerelda, don’t be afraid. They’re policemen. You can sit down, sit right down.” The woman wound her way through cats—Ben counted five of them—into a dusty little room with lace curtains and wilting doilies. “Yes, I told Esmerelda only this morning that we should expect some company. Sit, sit, sit.” She waved a hand at a sofa alive with cat hair. “It’s about that woman, of course, that poor woman down the street.”
    “Yes, ma’am.” Ed stifled a sneeze as he sat on the edge of the cushions. An orange cat crouched at his feet and hissed.
    “Behave yourself, Bruno.” The woman smiled and rearranged the symphony of wrinkles on her face. “Now isn’t this cozy? I’m Mrs. Kleppinger. Ida Kleppinger, but you probably know that.” With some ceremony, she fit a pair of glasses on her nose, squinted, and focused. “Why, you’re the young man two doors down. Bought the Fowler place, didn’t you? Terrible people. Didn’t like cats, you know. Always complaining about their trash being strewn about. Well, I told them if they’d just put the lids on tight my babies would never dream of bothering with their nasty garbage. They’re not savages, you know. My babies, I mean. Glad to see them gone, indeed yes. Aren’t we, Esmerelda?”
    “Yes, ma’am.” Ed cleared his throat and tried not to breathe too deeply. It was more than apparent that litter boxes were placed liberally through the house. “We’d like to ask you some questions.”
    “About that poor Mrs. Breezewood, yes, yes. We heard it on the radio just this morning, didn’t we, darlings? I don’t own a television machine. I’ve always believed they make you sterile. Strangled her, did he?”
    “We wondered if you noticed anything last night.” Ben tried not to jolt when a cat leapt into his lap and dug in,