T is for Trespass

“Maybe not an excuse so much as a purpose. Not to get into the issue one way or the other, but Charlotte seemed to think Solana had a hand in putting the two of you at odds. I was wondering why she’d do that. I mean, if she’s up to something, how would either of us know?”

“I wouldn’t set too much store by what Charlotte says, although to be fair about it, I don’t think what she did was necessarily wrong, just opportunistic.”

“Is there any chance you’ll patch things up?”

“I doubt it. She’s not going to apologize to me and I certainly won’t apologize to her.”

“You sound just like me.”

“Surely not that stubborn,” he remarked. “At any rate, on the subject of Solana, I thought you did a background check and she was clean.”

“Maybe so, maybe not. Melanie asked me to take a quick look and that’s what I did. I know she doesn’t have a criminal record because I researched that first.”

“So you’re going over there to snoop.”

“More or less. If it comes to nothing, it’s fine and dandy with me. I’d rather make a fool of myself than have Gus at risk.”

When I got back to my place, I put the container of frozen soup in the kitchen sink and ran warm water around it to thaw. I found a bowl and set it on the counter, then took out a saucepan. I was already thinking of myself as a domestic little bun. While I waited for the soup to heat, I started a load of laundry. As soon as the soup was ready, I put it back in the Tupperware container and trotted it over to Gus’s next door.

I knocked and Solana appeared from the hallway a moment later. A quick glance showed that the red-rimmed envelope was still in the box and I left it where it was. Ordinarily I’d have plucked it out and handed it over with a quick explanation, but given her paranoia, if I made reference to it, she’d think I was spying on her, which of course I was.

When she opened the door, I held up the container. “I made a big pot of soup and thought Gus might enjoy some.”

Solana’s demeanor was less than welcoming. She took the container, murmured a thank-you, and was on the verge of closing the door when I spoke up in haste, “How’s he doing?”

I got the dark flat stare, but she seemed to reconsider the urge to snub me. She dropped her gaze. “He’s napping right now. He had a rough night. His shoulder’s bothering him.”

“I’m sorry to hear that. Henry talked to him yesterday and he was under the impression Gus was doing better.”

“Visitors tire him. You might mention it to Mr. Pitts. He stayed longer than he should have. By the time I got here at three, Mr. Vronsky’d taken to his bed. He dozed much of the day, which is why he slept so poorly last night. He’s like a baby with his days and nights mixed up.”

“I wonder if his doctor would have something to suggest.”

“He has an appointment Friday. I intend to mention it,” she said. “Was there something else?”

“Well, yes. I’m on my way to the market and wondered if you needed anything?”

“I wouldn’t want to trouble you.”

“It’s no trouble at all. I’m going anyway and I’d be happy to help. I can even sit with Gus if you’d prefer to go yourself.”

Solana ignored that offer. “If you’ll wait here, I have a thing or two you could pick up.”

“Sure.” I’d invented the supermarket errand on the spot, desperate to prolong the contact. She was like the keeper at the gate. You couldn’t get to Gus unless you went through her.

I watched her move into the kitchen, where she set the soup container on the counter and then vanished, probably finding pen and paper. I stepped into the living room and glanced at Gus’s desk. The cubbyhole that had held his bills was empty, but the passbooks for his two savings accounts were still where I’d seen them before. It looked like his checkbook was wedged in there as well. I was panting to scrutinize his finances, at the very least making sure his bills were being paid. I shot a glance at the kitchen door. No sign of Solana. If I’d acted right then, I might have had my way. As it was, my hesitation cost me the opportunity. Solana appeared two beats later, her purse under her arm. The list she gave me was short, a few items scribbled on a piece of scratch paper. I watched her open her wallet and remove a twenty-dollar bill that she held out to me.

“Place looks better with that old ratty carpet gone,” I said, as though I’d spent the time she’d been gone admiring her latest handiwork instead of plotting to steal Gus’s bankbooks. I was kicking myself. In seconds I could have crossed the room and had the records in hand.