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childhood memories of a Canarsie much changed. The guy with the umbrellaed cart holding a block of ice and jouncing bottles of flavored syrups: he, she assured her father, still came around during the summer.
    Doug poured himself and Lola each a glass of seltzer. Lola felt the chilly fizz land on her hand. “Listen, Lo, at least take backup,” he said.
    “C’mon, hon, I’ll really be okay.”
    “No, I mean my mini-hard drive. You shouldn’t go around deleting willy-nilly without backing up.”
    “Good idea. Will do,” said Lola. “Bedtime snack?” Lola gestured toward a white bakery bag and the dedicated bagel toaster. (Wedding present.) “There’s garlic and rye.”
    Doug sighed. “Just be careful, okay?” He took some Gruyere out of the fridge and grabbed a $75 cheese knife with a special pointy nose like a spiny lobster. (They had each brought one to the marriage. Kismet.)
    “I totally will. And, sweetie, will you call me a car service?” Cabs didn’t just cruise Brooklyn. To leave the borough, you had to really want to.
     
Quentin had explained to Lola that the cops would be taking him home in the next while. That was the good news. “You wouldn’t mind if I looked around a little when we drop you off, would you?” Bobbsey had asked.
    “I couldn’t say no!” Quentin told Lola. “It’s not like I have anything to hide.”
    “Of course not,” Lola had said.
    “Except I do.”
    “Talk.”
    “Okay,” Quentin said. “You know how crossword puzzles have themes?”
    “Yeah, of course.”
    “Well, the one I’m right in the middle of writing?”
    “Yeah?”
    “Well, the theme of this one?”
    “Uh-huh?”
    “Is famous murderers.”
    “Oh,” said Lola.
    “Yeah,” said Quentin.
    “What’s a seven-letter word for ‘It just doesn’t look good’?” asked Lola.
    “So just go ahead and delete the entire Documents folder,” said Quentin.
    “I-M-H-O-S-E-D!” Lola exclaimed.
    “What?” asked Quentin.
    “Never mind,” said Lola. “But wait. The whole Documents folder? Isn’t that a little excessive?” asked Lola. “Wouldn’t deleting the Vaguely Incriminating Crosswords folder be sufficient?
    “It’s fine. I don’t need any of that stuff, really, and I don’t want to take any chances,” said Quentin. “Anyway, the doorman, he’s a stand-up guy. Used to be a woman who filled in on overnights, didn’t know her very well, but now she’s only once a week because she’s writing a book about being a lady doorman, I think, or something. Anyway, the guy and I, we’re close. Just say my name, and he’ll let you in. And Lola, could you hurry? Cops said they still have to do a bunch of paperwork first, but still.”
    “On it,” said Lola. “Just one thing, Quentin. Why me?”
    Quentin sighed. “Well, given everything that happened to you before with Ovum, and then your book, and that other investigative stuff you’ve done, I figured you were always up for a caper. You’ve got skillz, as they say!”
    “Thanks,” said Lola. Doug did call her “incident-prone.” And it was always nice to feel a little indispensable.
    “That’s skillz with a z, ” noted Quentin. “Plus . . .”
    “Uh-huh? . . .”
    “Well, it’s getting late, and—”
    “Uh-huh . . .”
    “Well, you’re still freelancing, right?”
    “Yes . . .” Lola knew where this was going.
    “I was also thinking you don’t, like, have to get up in the morning. So I felt less bad about—”
    “Oooookay, Quentin, I’m totally on it. Don’t worry about a thing. I’ll check in with you soon.”
    I actually do have to get up in the morning, thank you very much, thought Lola. Just because I do it wearing my giant tomato slippers doesn’t mean it’s not a job.
    At that moment, something gave Lola the vague feeling that she did have something specific to do tomorrow morning, something that did in fact require shoes, but she couldn’t place it.
    Anyway. She had to hurry.

Six
    “Mom, it’s the middle