“In the neighborhood,” I said.

“Let her in, Mom. It’s about to storm.”

I realized why his voice was muffled when I peeked around Robin. He was wearing his surgical mask.

“Sorry to be rude,” she said. “Come in. Nice to see you again.” She opened the door, and I stepped into her ultra-tidy living room. No dust lived here, that was for sure.

“Is someone sick?” I asked, as Robin led me through her living room to the kitchen.

Jack walked beside me, and he rolled his eyes and shook his head.

Robin removed her gloves and pulled out a kitchen chair for me. She said, “Sick? Why would you-”

Jack pointed at his mask.

Her eyes widened in understanding. “Oh. No. I’m doing a little extra cleaning today. Those chemicals can be very harsh on the immune system.”

Jack removed his mask. “You’re finished cleaning for now, right, Mom?”

Robin glanced behind her. A bottle of Clorox Clean-Up sat by the sink. “Yes. I suppose.”

She looked like she hadn’t slept in days, which was probably true, what with the cow and the professor and the stakeout. “You look tired, Robin. Having trouble sleeping?”

Robin looked at her son. “Um, Jack? Would you mind leaving us alone for some girl talk? You can use your computer for one hour, okay?”

His eyes lit up. “Cool. Bye, Miss Jillian.”

He took off, and I felt like I’d already accomplished something. He could have a little fun.

“What can I get you to drink?” Robin asked.

“Water would be fine,” I answered.

She opened the refrigerator, took out a glass bottle and poured water into a spotless glass. “It’s filtered,” she assured me. “And I don’t like to keep the water in that plastic pitcher. Plastic is very bad for your health.”

“You’re not having anything?” I said.

“My stomach’s a little queasy,” she said.

I sipped my water. “You’re upset, right? Because you heard about the professor’s death?”

“Yes. I can’t help but think that if I hadn’t called Candace, if I’d left him alone and let him just take the milk-”

“Let him come on your property without permission and continue to steal from you? No. You did the right thing, Robin.”

“But he’s dead, and see, there’s more. He called me. And I wasn’t very nice to him. And I am so sorry for that.” Her eyes brimmed with tears.

I reached across the table and placed my hand over hers. They were clenched together in front of her and icy cold. “I can tell you’re the kind of person who takes on a lot of responsibility. But you don’t have anything to be sorry for. The man stole from you.”

“And I forgave him, but then on the phone, I just didn’t like what he had to say, and-” She pulled her hands from beneath mine and stood. “I forgot the coaster.”

Indeed, my glass was weeping and had left a wet spot on the table. I was the one who felt sorry now-for her and for Jack. Had she ever been treated for her over- the-top anxiety? Did she realize how much her behavior must be affecting her child?

She took her time wiping the wet spot, making sure the table was completely dry. She then placed a stone coaster decorated with a picture of the White House beneath my glass.

Thinking she might need to calm down before we continued talking about the professor, I said, “Have you been to the White House?”

“Jack met the vice president. My ex-husband even made the trip. My wonderful, brilliant son wrote an essay on saving the environment, and he got to read it to the vice president.” She shook her head, and the tears returned. “He is so special, and I am such a failure as a mother. I drove his father away because I do this crazy stuff, and-”

“Jack is amazing. Do you think a crazy mom could raise a boy like him? You’re doing a fantastic job.” She certainly admired her boy, that’s for sure.

Robin took a tissue from her pocket and blew her nose. “You think so?”

I smiled. “I know so.” In some ways, I added to myself. “Now, tell me about this phone call-and pretend you don’t feel guilty, even though you do.”

She pulled a small bottle of gel hand cleaner from her pocket and started cleaning her hands. “He called late Friday afternoon. At first I thought he wanted to apologize again. But he never said he was sorry. And you know how he was stuttering when you and Candace caught him?”

“Right,” I said.

“None of that,” she said. “He sounded like a different person. Like a not-so-nice person.”

“What did he say?” I asked.

“He wanted more milk. Said I’d promised him milk and I should come through.” Robin’s cheeks reddened. “Did I promise him that? Because I don’t think that’s what I said, and I told him as much.”

“You didn’t promise him anything. You said you would have given him milk if he’d asked, but that’s not the same thing. And after what he did, I wouldn’t have given him the time of day. He scared you silly.”

She sighed. “Whew. That’s what I thought, but then he died and maybe I should have told him we could barter like he wanted to. But I never got the chance, really.”

I narrowed my eyes. “Huh? He wanted to barter?”

“He said he would give me cat food for Lucy-high-quality cat food, he called it-if I would give him raw milk.”

“But you didn’t take him up on this, I assume?” I said.

“I don’t think I would have, but see, I heard his doorbell ring then, and he said he had to go, that he’d get back to me. And today I find out that he’s dead. I feel so awful because I could have been more generous and understanding.”

“You and I should write a book-The Guilt-Lover’s Manual. I go overboard in the guilt department myself. I don’t believe I would have handled that call with generosity and understanding if I’d been in your shoes, though.”

She smiled for the first time. “The Guilt-Lover’s Manual. I like that.”

“Do you recall what time he phoned? This could be important information for the police.” I was wondering whether Professor VanKleet’s killer had actually come to his front door that day. Whoever freed the cats didn’t ring any doorbells; otherwise, they wouldn’t have had to cut the fence.

Robin said, “He called late in the afternoon, because Jack was home from school. Of course Jack started asking me questions when I hung up. I could tell he was upset.”

“Because you were upset, right?” I said.

“Yes, but I didn’t tell him anything. And now I still have to keep quiet. Jack shouldn’t hear about people being murdered in our town. He’ll have nightmares.”

But Jack already knows, I thought. Via the Internet? Probably.

“So VanKleet called in the late afternoon?” I said, but didn’t add that he was dead not long after. “The police will probably be looking at the professor’s phone records. Your number will come up, and they might want to talk to you. For now, I can tell Candace about this call when I see her. Would that be okay?”

Robin’s face relaxed, and I swear she looked ten years younger. “Would you do that? I hate bothering Candace all the time, and the rest of the police force is sick to death of me.” She covered her mouth with her fingers. “Oh. Not sick to death. That’s a horrible thing to say right now.”

“Remember our Guilt-Lover’s Manual? Are you writing another chapter this minute?” I said.

She smiled again. “You’re right. Thank you, Jillian. Amazing you came by at the right time to reassure someone who needed reassurance.”

Not as amazing as you might think, I thought. “I noticed a little guy with sad eyes when I got here. Can I offer a suggestion?” Jack had reached out to me, and I wanted to help him.

“Certainly,” she said.

I saw a wariness in her eyes that almost made me rethink what I was about to say. And then I realized that this had been Tom’s intent with Kara-to help, not to overstep. And that insight made me understand that I had to speak up for Jack. “This is just my opinion, but a child might not feel comfortable coming to the door wearing a surgical mask unless you’ve had a tuberculosis outbreak in the house.”