The Merchant of Menace

she’d made up at the Chinese restaurant—that her daughter would take care of her when she was old and dotty and wanted to wear her panties on her head. At the rate she was going, that might be next week.
    She waited up, half watching television, half napping, playing (and losing) a few games of solitaire on her laptop until Katie and Mike had both come home. Then she went upstairs and took a long, soaky bath. When she got out, she was shocked to discover that it was only ten o’clock. It seemed like the middle of the night. Would this day never end?
    While she was soaking, she’d thought of some other things that had to be done tomorrow and went back downstairs to fetch her list. Note: Call Marty. Her sister Marty was living in Tupelo this year. Unlike Jane, who had vowed not to move out of the neighborhood, let alone move around the world once she no longer had to, Marty and her husband couldn’t stop moving. “It’s the only way I get my closets and drawers cleaned out,“ Marty told her.
    Jane had long since given up putting Marty’s addresses and phone numbers into her book in ink. Just pencil. But wherever Marty went, it was never Chicago. They hadn’t laid eyes on each other for at least five years. Marty and her jerk of a husband also always seemed to find someone to impose themselves on at holidays, so Jane had to call her the day before to pass along her good wishes.
    Note: Call Uncle Jim. He was a lifelong friend of her parents who had retired from the army and was a tough old Chicago cop now. Though he was no relation in blood, he was dear to her and she always had him over for holidays and any other time she could snag him. She needed to make sure he knew what time to come for Christmas dinner. Had she wrapped his present yet? She ran back downstairs to check. Yes, the big red foil package. It was a fine leather briefcase. He’d rumble about it, say she’d better start watching how she threw away her money, claim that if the punks on the street didn’t steal it, the punks in his office would. But he’d treasure it anyway.
    It was only 10:20. Jane was still too wound up from the long day to sleep. But if she got in bed and was ready to sleep, maybe it would creep up on her. She called to the cats, who insisted on sleeping in her bed, gathered up the coded messages, turned off the television and downstairs lights, and made her way slowly up the stairs, tripping over Max and Meow and dropping her pencil.
    Mike had his stereo booming out something awful. She tapped on his door, opened it, and asked him to turn it down. “I have to drown out Willard,“ he said. The big dog was sound asleep in the middle of the floor, his snoring almost as loud as the music.
    “Make sure you send him outside one more time before you go to bed,“ she said. “Unless you want a cleaning job in the morning.”
    Katie was, naturally, on the phone. Getting her a line of her own was among the smartest things Jane had ever done. Katie made a “wait, wait“ gesture and ended her conversation. “Mom, I was just thinking, since you have to have the pipes fixed in that bathroom, why don’t you redecorate it? It’s kinda ratty-looking. We could go out and look at wallpaper and sinks and stuff after Christmas while I’m out of school.“
    “I think that’s a great idea. I’ll get a bid from Bruce Pargeter when he comes back tomorrow.”
    Todd was already asleep when she peeked in his room. How could he sleep through Mike’s music!
    She went to her own room and the cats made a beeline for the bed. The Johnsons had turned off their Christmas lights and music, so she could have her curtains open again. It had been disconcerting these last few days to wake up in a darkened room.
    She pulled the curtains back and looked at the wreck of their backyard. The police had certainly churned up the snow with their rakes. As Jane’s eyes adjusted to the relative darkness outside, she noticed that one space between the houses must have been raked clear down to the grass. There was a dark area.
    She squinted her eyes. The dark area looked almost like a person.
    Actually, the dark area looked exactly like a person.
    She reached once more for the phone and dialed Mel’s number.

Twenty-two

    Jane woke at nine in a state of instant panic. Bruce Pargeter was coming over to work on the broken pipe. More important, Mel would certainly check in and she was desperately eager to hear what he’d have to say about the events of last