Dance with the Devil

“Excuse me?”
        Patiently, she explained, “It could be possible that the intruder had a key to Owlsden. I understand that a number of your acquaintances have keys and that-”
        “Not acquaintances, though,” Alex said.
        His mother amplified his meaning, “They're friends, not just casual acquaintances.”
        “Just the same,” Katherine insisted, “isn't it conceivable that one of them might be a member of the cult, without your knowledge?”
        “No,” Alex said quickly.
        “You didn't even give the notion a chance,” Katherine said. “You didn't even pause to consider the people who have keys.”
        This time, more to humor her than to give it any real thought, he waited a few moments before speaking. “None of them would get involved in something that silly; They're all realists.”
        “And, from what I saw,” Katherine said, “they're all pessimists as well. Isn't it within reason to conjecture that someone so depressed with the state of the world might turn to odd hopes, unusual beliefs from which they could hope to salvage the future?”
        Lydia put down the pastry she was nibbling at, patted her lips with a linen napkin. “I'm afraid I'd have to agree with Alex,” she said. “His friends are just not the type for foolishness like this.”
        “Yours, then,” Katherine said, turning directly to Lydia and giving up the previous line of argument. She wondered, as she pressed the point, if she had already said too much, gone too far. No one enjoyed having their friends put down, even by inference.
        “My friends?” Lydia asked.
        “You said a couple of people close to you have keys,” Katherine said. She had stopped eating too. She no longer felt hungry.
        “Yes, but they aren't the sort to-”
        “Of course they aren't,” Alex said. “Besides, they're not young, not a one of them. I can hardly see them stomping about in deep snow, risking jail by breaking into a house-all to pull off some foolish prank.”
        “I suppose,” Katherine said. “But it was something I thought we should consider, at least.”
        Now, Lydia and Alex relaxed. “Of course,” he said. “Consider every angle. That's the only way to handle it.”
        “Do you think I should inform Constable Cartier?” Lydia asked.
        “Hardly,” Alex asked. “We don't want him bumbling around the house, getting in everyone's way. Besides, what laws did they break-aside from illegal entry? They didn't harm anyone or take anything. And what damage they did to the door of Katherine's bedroom was taken care of with a rag and water. The police wouldn't have much interest in expending a lot of man-hours to come up with the culprits.”
        “The locks really ought to be changed,” Katherine said.
        “Only if they came in with a key, and we've already decided that-”
        She interrupted him, somewhat frustrated with both of them. Her good humor had not returned with the sun, and she was as agitated about circumstances in Owlsden as she had been the previous night. She had never liked people who were gloomy, who faced the future with negative expectations, and she had always felt that only disaster could result from that attitude. Yet, since finding the bloody circle on her door, she had adopted that very outlook. She supposed she would not like herself now, if she were someone else meeting her. She could somehow sense approach of disaster, like a cold wind or the fall of rocks from a clifftop. She had to regain her optimism or become a victim of the swamps she was helping to create. She said, “We only decided that none of your friends could be involved. But suppose one of them left his key somewhere, on a dresser at home or a desk at the office, perhaps on a restaurant table or in a store. It is conceivable, don't you think, that someone could have lifted the keys long enough to duplicate them before returning them to their rightful owner?”
        “That's a thought,” Alex agreed.
        Lydia was enthusiastic about such an explanation, and she agreed to authorize Yuri to phone a locksmith and have the doors changed that very afternoon. New keys would be made, and their friends would be given copies-with a special warning about the care to be taken with the key.
        It all sounded very positive and efficient. Somehow, though, Katherine felt that it wouldn't do any good at all, because she was increasingly certain that the