Officer Lewis appears in the window behind Alice and picks her up. He makes her do a little wave at me in the window, until she leaps out of his arms.

“Look at that, Marv!”

“Very cute.”

A couple of minutes later the cops come out the front door. Lewis is sneezing almost uncontrollably. He runs by, coughing and sneezing, and leaps into the squad car. Officer Tarrant walks over to us, grinning broadly. I can’t figure out what’s going on.

“Nice cat,” he says to me.

“What happened?”

“My partner found out he’s allergic.”

I look over. The white cop is in the throes of a sneezing fit. “Is he okay?”

“Might have to shoot him.” Tarrant laughs, and so does Marv.

“What did you find upstairs?”

“It’s fine, ma’am. Everything is absolutely fine. It looks untouched.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

“No one’s there or anything?”

“No.”

“It’s totally safe?”

“Unless you’re allergic to cats.” He bends down to peer into the squad car at Lewis, still hacking away.

I can’t make sense of this. “But the door was open.”

“Come on in with me. We’ll take a quick walk through and you tell me if anything is missing.” Tarrant opens the front door for me.

“Would you mind going first?”

“Age before beauty, huh?” he says, and walks ahead of me. It all seems so strange; I’ve never left the door unlocked before. When we reach the door to the apartment, he swings it open wide and we go in.

Everything looks normal. A small living room, with a paisley sofa and a scrubbed-pine coffee table. The TV is in place and the VCR under it. The stereo sits on the shelf. As usual, Alice doesn’t even look at me. I reach for her, but she jumps from my arms with a soft thud.

“This how you left it?” Tarrant asks.

“It looks the same.”

“Let’s check the bedroom.” He walks in front of me and flicks on the bedroom light. The bed’s unmade, my clothes are piled on top of the computer, and there’s a stack of paperbacks beside the bed on the floor. Neat, it’s not. But it looks like it always does.

“Take a look at your jewelry box,” he says.

I walk to my bureau obediently and look into the open jewelry box. I don’t have a lot of jewelry, but there are a few gold chains, a set of pearls, and my gold power earrings for client meetings. “Everything’s here.”

“You’re lucky. You have a lot of expensive things lying around. The TV, the VCR, the computer. You ought to think about a safety deposit box for the jewelry.”

“Did you search the whole apartment? I mean, am I alone?”

Tarrant nods. “We even checked under the bed.”

I think he intends this as a joke, but it sends a shudder up my spine.

“Like I said, you’re lucky, ma’am. I’ve seen places turned over, cleanedout. Next time make sure you lock your door.”

“You sure you looked everywhere? I mean, I’m not doubting you, it’s just that lately some weird things have been happening to me.”

“Like what?”

His eyes are a deep, friendly brown, and his manner is professional. I feel like I can trust him. I take a deep breath and let it rip.

“Wait a minute,” Tarrant says. “Did you report any of this?”

“No. If I did, you’d investigate.”

“That’s the point, isn’t it?”

“Well, what would an investigation involve?”

“We’d start with your statement. Then we’d interview anyone you suspect, any witnesses to the incidents with the car.”

“There aren’t any witnesses.”

He purses his lips. “Do you suspect anyone?”

“I think it’s someone at my firm.”

“I see. What did the note say exactly?”

“It said,Congratulations on your partnership.”

He laughs. I see my credibility fall off the table. “That’s all it said? Why do you call it a hate note?”

“It was sarcastic, because I-”

“No threats of bodily harm?”

“No.”

“A note like that, it could be from a friend of yours, a practical joke.”

“But the car doesn’t fit, does it?”

Tarrant shakes his head. “No. So come down and file a report. Bring the note. We’ll send it down to the Document Unit. They’ll test the paper, analyze the handwriting.”

“But I can’t file a report.”

“Why not?”

“I can’t have an investigation of the people at work right now. It’d look terrible. I’d lose my job.”

“Our hands are tied unless you do.”

“It’s out of the question.”

He shrugs. “Then my advice is to be cautious. Don’t go places alone. If you see the car again, call 911.”

“Okay.”

“And don’t be suspecting every little thing that happens to you, like today. I think you slipped up and forgot to lock the door.”

“I don’t know. It’s not like me.”

He nods, a final nod that tells me our conversation is over. “Listen to Uncle Dave. Nine times out of ten, it’s a gag. Or an old boyfriend. Some guy you jilted or didn’t have time for. They get over it.” He claps his hands together. “Now I got to see if my partner is still alive.”

“Maybe if I took him something to drink. Water, or a soda.”

“I don’t usually treat him that nice, but if you want to, it’s not a bad idea.”

“Good.” I head into the kitchen, where the light is already on, and look around briefly before getting a Coke. Nothing has been disturbed. My eyes flit automatically over to the magnetic knife rack. Four steak knives, all accounted for. Plus one lethal-looking chopping knife, Mike’s favorite when he played samurai chef. It all looks fine. Maybe I did leave the door open. Maybe I wasn’t thinking. I get the Coke and walk downstairs with Tarrant.

Outside, I’m surprised to see Marv still around, leaning on the squad car and talking to Officer Lewis. Lewis’s face is covered with hives and his eyes are swollen almost shut.

Tarrant breaks into laughter, staggering backward comically when he sees his partner. “Oh, man. You look good, Jimmy. What are you doin’ Friday night?”

“Come on, Dave. I gotta get to a drugstore before I croak.”

Tarrant is laughing too hard even to respond. I hand the Coke to Lewis. “I’m really sorry. Maybe this will help.”

He accepts the can miserably. “I can’t see it but I can tell it’s good.”

“Stay cool, Jim. It’s not a brew. It’s a diet Coke.”

“I know that,” he scoffs. “Thanks, ma’am.”

“Thank you for your help.”

They get into the car, with Tarrant driving, and pull away. I’m left standing there with Marv. Even though I’m tired, I’m in no hurry to go back upstairs.

“You musta left the door open,” Marv says. He’s taken off his pith helmet, and his hair is plastered against his head in a ring.

“I guess. Thanks for the use of the chair.”

“Listen, I stuck around ’cause I want to tell you something.” He leans over. “You gotta think about protectin’ yourself.”

“I can’t get a dog, Marv. I’m never home.”

He looks furtively around. “I’m not talking about a dog. I’m talking about this.” He looks down and so do I. In the middle of his calloused palm is a small black gun. It has an embossed black trident on its handle. It looks like a shiny new toy.

“Is that real?”

“It’s a Beretta.”

“Marv, what are you doing with that? Are you nuts?” I look around wildly. The guy with the Bianchi is gone from the window. So is the Bianchi.

“Shh. Shh. I’m tryin’ to tell you somethin’.”

“You can’t just carry that around in your pocket, for Christ’s sake. Is it loaded?”

“Can’t drill no holes if it ain’t.”

I step back. “Jesus, Marv, are you crazy? That’s a concealed weapon!”

“It’s legal. I got a permit.”

“That doesn’t mean you can carry it around! Did you have that when you were talking to the cop?”

He smiles slyly. “Right under his nose and he didn’t even know it. I’m telling you, Mary, you need one of these. You live by yourself. All you got for protection is that scrawny cat. Wise up.” He shoves the gun into my hand.