Love for Sale

car.
    “Someone’s driven it lately,“ Lily said. “Think. Did you hear the garage door open recently?“
    “No, but I wouldn’t. I keep the hinges well oiled.“
    “I think you should call the chief of police.“
    “I’d hate to bother him with this. She probably just gave the car keys to some friend of hers to use while she was gone.“ Miss Jurgen thought about this a moment, frowning.
    So did Lily. “Can you name three of her friends? Or even one? Miss Jurgen, if someone has her car keys, they might also have her house keys. You really should call Chief Walker.”
    “Chief Walker, this is Amelia Jurgen. I know you’re probably very busy but I hope you can come to my house sometime soon.“
    “I can come right now. Give me your address.”
    Walker arrived just as Lily and Miss Jurgen came around the far side of the house, after checking that Miss Langston’s entry door was locked.
    They explained what they’d discovered. He didn’t seem to take it very seriously. “You think someone is living in her part of the house?“
    “Someone I don’t know? Yes. And I don’t feel good about that. Who knows who it might be.“
    “Let’s check then. I presume you have a duplicate set of keys. Would you write a note authorizing me to go inside with you?“
    “Of course.”
    She fetched the keys, wrote the permission note, and all three of them went into Miss Langston’s part of the house by the side door.
    “Don’t touch anything,“ Walker warned the women.
    Miss Langston must have had very simple tastes. For all Lily could tell, it was a vacant house, sparsely furnished. No pictures on the walls. No personal ornaments. No items left on the flat surfaces. No books. No radio. The bed was neatly made with fresh-smelling sheets and a bedspread. There was no makeup in the bathroom. No dressing gown. Just tooth powder, a toothbrush, a bar of soap, and a plain glass on the rim of the sink. A dry towel and washcloth were draped neatly over the edge of the tub.
    Walker had a jackknife in his trouser pocket. He edged the drawers of the chest in the bedroom open rather than touching the knobs. One drawer held a sparse amount of underwear, one nightgown, and a cord and tiny wooden clothespins to hang the items out to dry in the bathroom when they were washed. Odd, he thought. He hadn’t seen washing powder anywhere. Maybe she cleaned her clothing with the bar of soap. Another drawer held a sweater, a pair of women’s trousers, and one neatly folded blouse.
    The rest of the drawers were empty. “How old do you think this woman is?“ he asked Miss Jurgen.
    “Hmm. Probably thirty. Maybe late twenties. I saw so little of her that I never really thought about it. Why do you ask?”
    Walker paused, forming a tactful reply. “Shouldn’t a woman of childbearing age have other things in her bathroom?“ he half mumbled.
    Miss Jurgen wasn’t as prissy as he. “Maybe she’d had a hysterectomy. Or more likely she took them along with her, wherever she went.”
    Walker nodded gratefully, then asked, “You say you shared a house and you never saw her?”
    Miss Jurgen explained about their business arrangement and their living conditions.
    “You were business owners and never saw or spoke to each other?“ Walker asked.
    “No. She was an employee. Piecework of a sort. We each had a door with a different lock to the common work area. She’d leave her designs on the worktable. I’d decide which ones to use and market them, sharing a part of the profits on the ones I liked. Do you want to see the room?“
    “Maybe I should,“ Walker said. This was becoming yet another little mystery he ought to be able to solve. “Let’s look over the kitchen first.”
    In the icebox, there was still a tiny bit of ice and the water had either evaporated or been emptied. But the icebox was a sturdy insulated wooden one that probably kept cold for a long while.
    Inside was a loaf of bread that was quite dry. A small ham wrapped in waxed paper. Three apples. An orange. A brown banana. In the pantry there was only a small skillet that hadn’t seen much use, a toaster, several dusty cans of soup and beans, and a box of stale crackers. In the shelf next to the sink there were two plates, two drinking glasses, one set of silverware, and three napkins, one slightly frayed and stained.
    “I was telling Miss Brewster earlier that I thought Miss Langston seldom cooked,“ Miss Jurgen said. “What little is in the icebox is probably