Seven Minutes to Noon

eye?” Alice looked from Frannie to Giometti to Dana, her new triumvirate of protection.
    “Watching you,” Frannie said.
    “Okay, college friend.” Alice held out her hand and Dana shook it.
    “So, where did we go to school?”
    “Sarah Lawrence College in Bronxville, New York.”
    “Got it.”
    “What did we major in?”
    “I majored in film. You majored in... dance.”
    Dana nodded. “Sure, dance. Why not?”
    “We’re going to stay with our friend Simon,” Alice said. “Maggie spends time there, even though they’re separated—”
    Frannie and Giometti chuckled; they knew.
    Alice felt a flush of defensiveness on Maggie’s behalf. She knew how it sounded — it sounded like just what it was: confusing and contradictory — but Maggie was her best friend.
    “My point is,” Alice continued, “that Maggie won’t buy the old friend story. I’ve known her way too long.”
    “I don’t know about that.” Frannie sat back and crossed her hands behind her head. “You’d be surprised what people are willing to believe.”
    It was nearly four when the police finished with Alice. She walked with Dana in the dappled shade of Clinton Street toward Simon’s house, carrying the overnight bag she had packed earlier. Ribbons of humidity were beginning to choke what had started as a cool day. They climbed the stoop of the house Simon had shared with Maggie predivorce, rang the bell and waited in front ofthe double door flanked by large Italian clay planters overflowing with red geraniums and slips of ivy.
    “Nice place,” Dana said.
    Mike flung open the door with Nell and Peter by his side. Peter clenched a fistful of popcorn. Alice noticed a dribbled trail of popcorn up the blue carpeted stairs that led from the foyer to the second-floor family room, where Simon and Ethan spent a fair amount of their time.
    “Mommy!” both kids shouted at once, assaulting her with hugs. The ardent grasping of their soft arms around her legs and bulging middle felt heavenly.
    “We’re having a sleepover!” Nell announced.
    “Me too?” Peter asked.
    “Everyone,” Mike said, winking at Alice.
    She handed him the overnight bag.
    “Do you have pajamas in there for me?” Nell demanded.
    “What about for me?” Peter seconded.
    “Yes and yes,” Alice said.
    Mike opened the front door wider, letting Alice slip in past him as the children fled back upstairs. She heard sounds of cheering coming from the family room; the television was on.
    “Is Ethan home?” She couldn’t remember if it was Simon’s night or Maggie’s.
    “Sylvie’s got him over at Maggie’s, but they’re all coming over here later for dinner. I have to run out to the store. I’ve been waiting for you.” He kissed Alice, then extended a hand to Dana. “Mike Halpern.”
    “This is Dana,” Alice told Mike, raising her voice to add, “my old friend from college.” She winked, and leaned in closer to Mike to whisper: “Homicide. She’s working with Frannie and Giometti. No one else can know.”
    “Oh boy,” he said. “This is going to be fun.”
    Dana had a warm, ready smile. “Nice to meet you, old friend.”
    “Coming in?” Mike moved aside to clear the doorway.
    “Love to.” Dana stepped into the house and stood in the archway that separated the foyer from the living room. Alice recalled the first time she came here, for a playgroup with Maggie, Lauren and a couple of other mothers when the boys were babies. It was impossible not to be overcome by the richness of every detail in every room, though by now Alice had spent enough time here to have noticed flaws.
    There were few changes to the house since Maggie had moved out, leaving behind her stamp of oversized furniture, extravagant colors and even some original art commissioned for the walls that had failed to hold in the passions of a marriage. Simon’s baby grand Steinway dominated the living room, beneath an ornate crystal chandelier Maggie had bought in Austria. White walls, oriental rugs on glowing walnut floors, modern light fixtures recessed into the ceiling’s ample Victorian detail. Maggie had loved this house. In a dramatic gesture, she had insisted Simon keep it, underscoring her ability to afford her own condo in a frothy new set of houses on Warren Street, and his inability to pay for much of anything.
    Shouts and more cheering emanated from upstairs.
    “What’s happening up there?” Alice asked Mike.
    “Yankees and Red Sox, four-four, top of the