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he
was on duty. His first words were the usual. “You okay?”
    “No, I’m not. You know Kelsey Fritz? You know
where she lives?”
    He knew because last year there had been an
uproar at the place next door. All that remained was a charred,
skeletal trailer, but Rick had been there when it happened.
    As briefly as I could, I told him about
Kelsey. “She might be okay, and it might be nothing, but there’s
something on that turret on top of the house. The door’s locked so
we can’t get in and I’m worried about her state of mind.”
    Rick didn’t need any further explanation.
    “How handy,” Cree said as I put away my
phone. “Your own personal nine-one-one.”
    I hadn’t thought of 911. Maybe I should have
tried that, but it would take a lot of explaining. I didn’t need
that for Rick.
    I kept my eyes on the bundle of peach-colored
cloth. I’d have felt better if I saw it move. It might be nothing.
I could be making an idiot of myself, but Rick had drilled into me
that it’s better to be safe than sorry.
    Cree watched it, too. “I didn’t know you
could get up there.”
    I never even thought about that. The turret
was just there, part of the scenery. It had a low iron fence around
the top. That, too, simply completed the picture. Until now.
    I heard sirens. That was quick. I looked to
see if it would make the peach thing move. It didn’t.
    I walked out to Fremont just as they came
around a bend in the road. Two police cruisers and a fire engine. I
hadn’t mentioned any fire but they might need it for the
ladders.
    There were four officers, including Rick and
his partner, Rosie. It was too cute, Rick and Rosie. She was cute,
too, with short dark curly hair, two kids, and no husband. I
couldn’t help wishing she had a husband, but I didn’t want to let
Rick know it bothered me.
    Rosie tackled the front steps, looking for a
hidden key. Another officer tried the back. No key. That meant a
ladder. I hoped it was high enough. While they set it up, Rosie
tried to jimmy open the door. It must have had a deadbolt.
    Rick gave me an encouraging nod. It was all
he had time for. Glyn was in worse shape than I was. She had guilt
added to her worry. So did I, but she didn’t know it. I’d never had
much use for Kelsey, and even less when she made all that trouble
for Ben. Even after I found out her neurosis was caused by a
childhood trauma, I still didn’t like her.
    I had to remember she was only four years old
at the time it happened. It was no wonder she misinterpreted what
she saw. She thought it was a man with no pants on, and a
skeleton.
    Part of that was true. It turned out to be
her slimy neighbor in the now burned-out trailer, flashing her. It
was Cree who discovered he had a death’s head tattooed on his butt.
Some people are just sick.
    What was taking so long? I couldn’t ask Rick.
He was in a huddle with the fire chief.
    Finally, they drove the ladder truck as close
to the house as they could. At the same time, an ambulance arrived.
I really hoped, if that were Kelsey up there, she would need its
services and not those of the medical examiner.
    The ladder went up. Cree huddled close to me.
“Glad I don’t have to climb that thing. I wonder how she got up
there.”
    “Inside,” I said. “Could be a skinny little
spiral staircase or a ladder and a trap door.”
    “But why up there? It’s so public.”
    “Maybe she didn’t think anybody’d look up. If
they did, maybe they couldn’t get to her. We couldn’t.”
    One of the firemen made sure the ladder was
firmly braced, and started up. Cree covered her eyes.
    “Do heights bother you?” I said.
    “I don’t much like them,” she admitted.
    He climbed fast. I wondered how often he’d
had to use that ladder. He took it as though it was nothing. Might
be part of their training.
    He grasped the turret’s railing, swung a leg
over, and then the other leg. He crouched down next to the
peach-colored bundle.
    I saw his hand go out and stay there