T Is for Trespass

needed: house keys, car keys, compact. The wallet she could do without. Thankfully she carried no cash, but it wouldn’t take the woman long to check the address listed on her driver’s license. She should have left the Other’s address as it was, but it seemed wiser at the time to change it to the apartment where she herself had been living. Once before, she’d applied for a job, retaining the Other’s address instead of substituting her own. The patient’s daughter had gone to the real address and knocked on the door. It didn’t take a minute for her to realize the woman she was talking to was someone other than the woman who was caring for her aged mother. Solana’d been forced to abandon that job, leaving behind additional precious cash she’d hidden in her room. Even the late-night trip back had netted her nothing since the locks had been changed.
    She pictured the Klein woman talking to the police, weeping hysterically and babbling the story of her grammy and the larcenous companion hired to care for her. Solana didn’t have a record, but Athena Melanagras had been arrested once for drug possession. Just her bad luck. If she’d known, she never would have borrowed the woman’s identity. Solana knew complaints had been filed against her under her various aliases. If the Klein woman went to the police, the descriptions would add up. In the past, she’d left fingerprints behind. She knew now that was a terrible mistake, but it hadn’t occurred to her until later that she should have wiped down each place thoroughly before she moved on.
    She hurried through the parking lot to her car and headed back to the freeway, taking the 101 south now to the Capillo off-ramp. The bank was downtown and despite the upsetting incident at the store, she wanted her money in hand. Luggage she could buy somewhere else. Or maybe she wouldn’t bother. Time was running short.
    When she reached the intersection of Anaconda and Floresta, she circled the block, making sure no one was following her. She parked and went into the bank. Mr. Larkin, the manager, greeted her warmly and showed her to his desk, where he seated her graciously, treating her like a queen. Life was like this with money, people fawning; bowing and scraping. She held her purse in her lap like a prize. It was an expensive designer bag and she knew it made a good impression.
    Mr. Larkin said, “Will you excuse me for just one second? I have a phone call.”
    “Of course.”
    She watched him cross the bank lobby and disappear through a door. While she waited she took out her compact and powdered her nose. She looked calm and confident, not like someone who’d just been attacked by a lunatic. Her hands were shaking, but she breathed deeply, working to appear nonchalant and unconcerned. She closed the compact.
    “Ms. Tasinato?”
    A woman had appeared behind her unannounced. Solana jumped and the compact flew out of her hand. She watched the arc of its descent, time slowing as the plastic casing hit the marble floor and bounced once. The refillable disk popped out and the hard circle of compressed powder broke into several pieces. The mirror in the lid of the compact shattered as well and fragments littered the floor. The one shard of mirror that remained in the case looked like a dagger, pointed and sharp. She pushed the broken compact aside with her foot. Someone else would have to clean up the mess. A broken mirror was bad luck. Breaking anything was bad, but a mirror was the worst.
    “I’m so sorry I startled you. I’ll have someone take care of that. I don’t want you cutting your hand.”
    “It’s nothing. Don’t worry about it. I can get another one,” she said, but the heaviness had descended. Things had already gone wrong and now this. She’d seen it happen before, calamity piling on calamity.
    She turned her attention to the woman, trying to suppress her distaste. This was no one she knew. She appeared to be in her thirties, definitely pregnant and probably in her seventh month, judging by the taut mound under her maternity smock. Solana checked for a wedding ring, which the woman wore. She disapproved nonetheless. She should quit her job and stay home. She had no business working in a bank, flaunting her condition without a hint of embarrassment. In three months’ time, Solana would see the ad she placed in the classifieds: Working mom needs experienced and reliable baby nurse. References required. Disgusting.
    “I’m Rebecca