E Is for Evidence

place was a pigsty and all the furniture was gone. Maybe a card table in the living room, but that was it."
    "That's all he's got," I said. "It looks like Janice took him for a bundle and she's clamoring for more."
    "She can clamor all she wants, Kinsey, the man is gone. His next-door neighbor saw me peering in the win-dow and he came out and asked me what I was up to. I told him the truth. I said I worked with Andy and we were worried because he left the office in a snit without telling us what to do about his appointments. This guy claims he saw Andy going down the steps yesterday morning with two big suitcases banging against his legs. This was maybe nine-thirty, something like that. He must have come straight to the office, packed up his stuff, and taken off. I called his place every couple of hours last night and again this morning. All I get is his machine."
    I thought about it briefly. "Did the newspapers carry an account of Olive's death?"
    "Not till this morning and he was gone by then."
    I could feel a surge of energy, part restlessness, part dread. I pushed the covers back and swung my legs over the side of the bed. "I've gotta get out of here."
    "Are you supposed to be up?"
    "Sure. No problem. Check the closet and see if Daniel brought me any clothes." The green cocktail dress was gone, probably dissected by a pair of surgical scissors in the emergency room the night before, along with my tatty underwear.
    "It's empty, except for this," she said. She held up my handbag.
    "Great. We're in business. As long as I've got my keys, I can get some clothes when I get home. I assume you've got a car here."
    "Can you leave without a doctor's permission?"
    "I got it. She told Daniel I could go as long as he looked in on me, which he said he would."
    Darcy studied me uncertainly, probably guessing what I said was part fib.
    "God, don't worry about it, Darcy. It's not against the law to check out of a hospital. It's not a prison sentence. I'm a volunteer," I said.
    "What about your bill?"
    "Would you quit being such a stickler? My insurance pays for this so I don't owe them anything. They've got my address. They'll find me if they need to."
    Darcy was clearly unconvinced, but she shrugged and helped me into the wheelchair, pushing me down the cor-ridor toward the elevators. One of the nurse's aides stared at us as we went by, but I gave her a little wave and she apparently decided she didn't need to concern herself.
    When we got downstairs, Darcy lent me her coat and left me in the glass foyer while she went to fetch the car. There I sat in my borrowed coat and little paper slippers, handbag in my lap. If my doctor walked by, I wasn't sure what I'd do. People passing through the foyer gave me cursory glances, but nobody said a word. Being sick is bullshit. I had work to do.
    By 3:15 I was letting myself into my apartment, which already seemed to have the musty smell of neglect. I'd been gone one day, but it felt like weeks. Darcy came in behind me, her expression tinged with guilt when she saw that I was still shaky on my feet. I perched on the couch, momentarily clammy, and then set about getting dressed.
    "What next?" she asked.
    I was easing into my blue jeans. "Let's go into the office and see if Andy left anything behind," I said. I pulled on a sweatshirt and went into the bathroom, where I brushed my teeth. My reflection in the bathroom mirror showed a face marked by astonishment where my eye-brows used to be. My cheeks looked sunburned. I could see a few scrapes and bruises, but it was no big deal. I kind of liked having frizz across the front where my hair once was. I opened the medicine cabinet and took out my trusty nail scissors. I clipped the tape off my right arm and unwound the gauze, inspecting what was underneath. Looked okay to me. Burns do better in the open air, anyway. I took a painkiller just in case, and then waved dismissively at the sight of myself. I was fine.
    I snagged the file folder I'd made after raiding Andy 's trash. I put on some sweatsocks and tennis shoes, grabbing a jacket just before I locked up again. Santa Teresa usually gets chilly once the sun goes down and I wasn't sure how long I'd be gone.
    Outside, it felt more like August than January. The sky was clear, the sun high overhead. There was no breeze at all, and the sidewalks were functioning like solar panels, absorbing the sunlight, throwing off heat. There was no sign of Daniel, for which I was grateful. He would no doubt