Seven Minutes to Noon

color, kids!”
    They began to energetically fill in hollow outlines: a pirate ship, a miniscule Captain Hook, crazed bolts of lightning.
    “We really have to get going,” Alice said, earning a pair of raised eyebrows from Mike.
    “Well, excuse us for keeping you!”
    “Yeah, Mom, excuse us!” Nell had her hands splayed on her hips, sassing Alice with squinted eyes.
    “Excuse us, Mommy,” Peter said, missing the sarcasm altogether, reaching up to Alice for a hug.
    Judy Gersten was standing in front of the rose-covered fence when they came down Clinton Street and turned the corner. She was a prim woman in her middle fifties, Alice guessed, with neat iron-gray hair cut at an even length at her jaw. She wore a navy skirt that fell to just below her knees, with a crisp white blouse and a blue blazer that nearly, but didn’t, match her skirt. She clutched a large canvas shoulder bag tightly to her middle. When Alice got up close, she was surprised by Judy’s extra touch of bright blue mascara on an otherwise plain face.
    “You must be Judy.” Alice offered a hand to shake and Judy lightly squeezed it. Their eyes locked for a moment, acknowledging the innate discomfiture of their appointment, resulting as it did from the attack on Pam. “This is my husband, Mike, and our kids—”
    Just as she tried to introduce them, Nell and Peter ranpast the cascading roses, up the path and onto the front stoop. Sated by pancakes and television, they were ready for some action. Peter sat down in front of the door and revved his fire truck along the stone step.
    “I spoke with Pam’s husband this morning,” Alice told Judy. “He said she can’t have visitors yet, except for family. Have you seen her?” Knowing Pam had worked with Judy for many years, Alice wondered if she fell close enough into the family category to have been permitted a visit.
    “Yes, this morning.”
    “How is she?”
    “Same, I’d say.” Judy pinched her lips into a truncated smile clearly meant to end the conversation. Alice wondered whether the refusal to share details had any significance, if the visit had caused her some pain, or if the woman was simply a poor conversationalist.
    “By the way,” Alice asked Judy as they started up the stoop together, “did Pam ever get a call back from someone in the Buildings Department?”
    “Didn’t you ask me that once before?”
    “Did I?”
    The same pinched smile, revealing nothing.
    “Yes, I’m sure you did.” Judy frowned in thought. “No, she didn’t get any messages from Buildings, not that I know of.”
    Just as they reached the top of the stoop, Peter began to vigorously drive his fire truck up the gleaming oak door, running it back and forth, oscillating his voice in mimicry of a siren on high alert.
    “Hey hey hey, Peter!” Mike said. “Not on the front door.”
    “Daddy said to stop!” Nell tried to wrench the truck out of Peter’s hands, but he resisted.
    Mike pried the children apart. “One more problem with the fire truck, Petie,” Mike said, “and I’ll have to put it in my pocket for the whole day. Okay?”
    Peter became still, clutching the truck tightly in his hand, and nodded.
    Judy rang the buzzer and waited a minute to make sure no one was home before opening the door with her own key. She was very still, Alice noticed, hardly any movements for each action, a tight perfection in every choice. She stood aside for the family to file in after her.
    “There’s a two-bedroom rental unit on the ground floor,” she said. “They have their own entrance. We can go down there later if you’re interested. The rental income’s pretty good.”
    The kids raced ahead of them, right through the living room and into the kitchen. Alice heard their chatter studded with wow and what’s this and that’s my spot. At the table, Alice presumed. She wondered if they had already seated themselves, if they had served themselves a snack from a fruit bowl or even the refrigerator.
    They followed Judy into the living room, a parlor floor with separation walls removed, except where an archway offered distinction from the kitchen. Wide planks gave the floors a farmhouse feeling that was contradicted by an ornate marble fireplace. A simple but beautiful chandelier hung from a round molding in the center of the ceiling. Two windows stretched from floor to ceiling and let in a gentle light that seemed to dance across the room. The current owner had draped the windows with fabric the