The Merchant of Menace

the kids opened it by mistake. I saw the picture of them on the back.”
    Mel’s eyes widened. “Why doesn’t information find its way to me so easily?“
    “Do you suspect them?“
    “Because they were faking an identity? Nope. They told us right away who they really were and what they were up to. It was, marginally, a legitimate deception. Nothing illegal about it, at least.”
    Jane glanced at her watch. Quarter of five. And she still had to change her clothes and put on fresh makeup. “How’s your mother getting along?“
    “Mom! Dinner! Hell!“ he said, suddenly getting up. “I’ve got to go, Jane. I’ll give you a call later. Or drop by if I can.”
    As he was struggling into his coat, Jane asked, “Are you making progress with this investigation?”
    He hesitated for a minute. “Nope,“ he said with discouraged honesty. “Don’t take that to mean, however, that you and Shelley need to interfere.“
    “There’s that word again,“ Jane said with a smile. “We don’t ‘interfere.’ We just sometimes provide you with a more domestic view of things.“
    “Yeah, right,“ Mel said, giving her a perfunctory kiss and plunging out into the cold.
    Sam Dwyer had done a good job of being both father and mother, at least as far as the appearance of the house went. It wasn’t high style, but it was cozy and homey, with a lot of the niceties that men don’t often notice. There were lots of afghans tossed around on the furniture, throw pillows, pictures on the walls. The Christmas tree was huge and decorated almost entirely with things Pet had made or taken a fancy to. There were lots of little dolls, ornaments with globs of glitter, and unidentifiable stuff that had been made with love, if not artistic ability.
    Pet immediately took Todd off to see yet another new computer game she’d gotten. Jane followed the smell of chili to the kitchen. Sam turned and said, “Sorry I didn’t meet you at the door. I was cutting up some extra onions. Sit down. Make yourself at home, Jane.”
    Jane glanced around the kitchen. It was larger than that of most of the unrenovated houses in the neighborhood. Maybe that’s why Sam had chosen it. Judging from the smell of the chili and the expert way he was dicing onions, he was a serious cook. There was a rack of expensive cooking pans of every size hanging above the sink and on the windowsill there was a row of tiny pots full of growing herbs in miniature wooden crates.
    “I’m told my chili is only one chemical reaction away from lava,“ he said, “but I’ve tried to keep the spice to a minimum this time.“
    “It smells wonderful. You must be a good cook.“
    “My wife didn’t like to cook and she was awful at it, so I had to learn. Took some classes and discovered I was a fair hand at it. Would you like a drink? I have iced tea, sangria, coffee... ?“
    “Sangria would go well with chili, thanks.“
    “I think so, too.“ He poured two glasses after washing his hands thoroughly to get rid of the onion odor, and sat down across from her. “Do you cook?“ he asked.
    Jane almost laughed at the bluntness of the question. “I do. We’d starve otherwise. Actually, I cook a few things very, very well. But it’s the day-in-and-day-out, just-for-nourishment cooking that drives me crazy.“
    “We ought to consider trading off dinners,“ he said. “Save each of us half the trouble.“
    “Maybe so,“ Jane said uneasily.
    “Are you from this area?“ he asked.
    “No, I’m not from anywhere really,“ Jane said. She explained briefly that her father was in the State Department and owing to his downright spooky gift for picking up almost any language in a matter of days, she and her sister Marty had spent most of their childhood either traveling with their parents, or stuck in the nearest boarding school. “He’d be what they used to call an ‘idiot savant’ except that he isn’t an idiot,“ Jane said.
    “But you’ve lived here quite a while, haven’t you?“
    “Oh, yes. My childhood was interesting, but I wouldn’t wish it on anyone. When I married, I was determined to raise my kids in the same house for all their growing-up years. Fortunately, I married a man who had rock-deep family ties here, so there was never any danger of having to move.“
    “I thought you were a widow. Someone told me that.“
    “I am. But I’ve stuck in place anyway.“ She was a bit wary about being questioned and certainly had no intention of getting all chummy