"Let me borrow your pen," I said. On another piece of paper I wrote down my name, and was about to put down my phone number, when I thought better of it. So far, I'd managed to shield Sarah from the knowledge that she was married to the biggest idiot on the planet. Clarification: It was possible Sarah already understood she was married to the biggest idiot on the planet, but she was still unaware of his most recent stunt. I'd confessed to stupid things in the past, but nothing approaching this. My attempt to teach Sarah a lesson had backfired on such a grand scale that I could see no good in letting her, or the kids, find out about it. The last thing I needed was Stefanie Knight phoning the house, getting Sarah, and asking for me so that she could get her driver's license - if she accepted my story as I'd related it to her mother - or her entire purse back.
So instead of a phone number, I put down my e-mail address. "Just have her contact me there and tell her I have something of hers." I left the piece of paper on the counter by the sink.
"Her driver's license."
"Sure. And a couple of other things. I think she'll know."
"Like I said, I don't think I'll be seeing her. She don't choose to drop by here."
"Maybe if you got a dog," I offered.
She scowled. I turned and went for the front door, stepping gingerly, scanning the floor from side to side, occasionally glancing overhead. There was no sign of Quincy. As I squeezed out the front door, I heard Jimmy shout from the back of the house: "Mom, get the darts!" I ran back to the car as quickly as I could.
Once behind the wheel, I looked at the slip of paper Stefanie's mother had given me. Rambling Rose Circle. When this was all over, and I'd pulled myself together, I was going to call that Carpington guy, our local councilman, and demand that a new bylaw be drafted requiring all future streets to be named "Main" or "South" or "Hill."
I opted to try her house, rather than the Valley Forest Estates sales office. It was, I suspected, long past closing time, and I didn't want this to be hanging over me until the next day. I looked in my map book again and found Rambling Rose, a cul-de-sac on the north side of Oakwood in another newly developed part of town that was even closer to the grocery store than our house. This, I was discovering, was what Oakwood was: one Valley Forest Estates after another. Thousands and thousands of acres stripped of trees and bulldozed flat so a seemingly infinite number of cookie-cutter homes could be built and moved into by families who had fled the city for the good life.
On the way, I stopped at a phone booth and looked for any Knights in the phone book on Rambling Rose, found an S. Knight at number 17, made a note of the phone number on the scrap of paper Stefanie's mother had given me, and got back into the car.
It was getting to be dusk, around 7 P. M., when I pulled up out front. It was everything you'd expect a new home in a new subdivision to be. An all-brick house devoid of any distinctive architectural touches, dropped on a thirty-foot lot. Accommodating the two-car garage and driveway meant that from the street, the house was one huge rectangular door with a couple of windows above it on the second floor. Cement patio stones ran down the left of the garage, leading to a front door.
Slim panels of opaque glass flanked the door, and the one on the left was smashed in halfway down. Someone had kicked it in, presumably, to reach inside and unlock the door. This wasn't, I told myself, as alarming as it might seem. Stefanie must have walked home, or gotten a lift, and without her keys couldn't get into her own house.
I would pay for the glass, I told myself. And any other damages, or cab rides. Whatever. Any expenses Stefanie Knight incurred as a result of my stupidity, I would make them up to her. In addition to offering blanket apologies.
I rang the bell. With the glass broken, I could hear the inside chime clearly.
When no one showed up after about ten seconds, I rang it again. Waited another ten seconds, and knocked on the door. Hard.
I crouched down and put my head in front of the broken glass. "Hello?" I shouted. "Ms. Knight? Anyone home?"
Nothing.
If I had learned anything in the last few days, it was to not go into people's homes unannounced. Even though the front door might be unlocked - even though I had a key that would open it if it wasn't - I was not setting foot in this house without an invitation.
I pulled out my cell phone and the scrap of paper with Stefanie Knight's phone number on it, and punched it in. I held it to my ear, and when I heard it ring, with my other ear I could hear a phone ringing within the house. It was like stereo.
After four rings, the machine kicked in. "Hi, this is Stef. I can't get the phone right now, so please leave a message." I opted not to.
I could have left the purse in the house, tossed it through the broken window, but anyone could break into her place now, so that didn't seem like a plan. Should I drive back to Mindy's and see if she was there, trying to get into her car? Maybe she had a spare set of keys, came home and got them after breaking the window, and had gone back for her Beetle. Or maybe she'd gone to the Valley Forest Estates office to get some help from someone there.
I could drive around trying to find her, but all roads led back here. Maybe it made the most sense to camp out front in the car.
Or, I thought suddenly, instead of a phone message, I could leave a note in her mailbox.