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Wrangler past Suitcase just as he was entering the cinema. Angstrom parked several rows behind the Accord. He settled in to keep watch.
    Jesse was parked nearby. He carefully unwrapped a meatball sandwich from Daisy’s and ate it while he watched.
    Nothing happened.
    After all of the movies in the Cineplex had ended and the parking lot was emptying, Suitcase, Arthur, and Jesse each went their separate ways, calling it a night.
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    I t was close to midnight when Jesse finally got home, bonetired.
    He exercised caution before entering the house. Rollo Nurse caution, he deemed it. He carefully walked the perimeter. He determined that it hadn’t been invaded. He opened the door and went inside.
    â€œYou can’t be too careful these days,” he said, to no one in particular.
    He placed his gun on the kitchen counter, then went directly to the cupboard and took down a can of cat food. After emptying the contents into a bowl, he turned the porch lights on and stepped outside.
    He picked up the empty bowl and replaced it with the full one. He turned to go back inside but suddenly stopped.
    Sitting on the love seat, staring at him, was the cat. Jesse stood frozen in his tracks.
    â€œI’m Jesse,” he said to the cat.
    The cat didn’t say anything.
    â€œI’ll just step inside now,” Jesse said, as he walked gingerly toward the French doors.
    Although it didn’t attempt a getaway, the cat remained on alert.
    Once inside, Jesse watched it jump off the love seat, saunter casually to the dish, crouch down, and eat.
    Jesse smiled.
    He forced himself to climb the stairs. He lay down on the bed fully clothed. He was asleep the moment his head hit the pillow.

14
    T he Greyhound bus arrived in Boston on schedule. Rollo Nurse collected his things, stepped off the bus, and went inside the depot.
    The Paradise bus wasn’t scheduled to leave for another hour. Rollo bought a copy of the Paradise Daily News and sat down to study it. He leafed immediately to the “Rooms for Rent” section in the classifieds.
    â€œRoom to let in private home” caught his attention. “Walking distance to downtown. Nonsmoking. Clean. Quiet. Private bath. Contact Agatha Miller.” It listed a number.
    Rollo placed the call from one of the depot’s decrepit phone booths. It was the voice of an older person that answered.
    â€œHello,” she said.
    â€œIs this Mrs. Miller?”
    â€œThis is Miss Miller.”
    â€œMiss Miller,” Rollo said. “My name is Donald Johnson. I saw your ad in the paper. Is the room still for rent?”
    â€œIt is still for rent. Yes.”
    â€œHow much?”
    â€œA hundred and twenty-five dollars per week. It also comes with a refrigerator.”
    â€œCan I see it?”
    â€œWhat?”
    â€œCan I see the room?”
    â€œYou may.”
    â€œCan I see it this afternoon? I could move in right away.”
    â€œYou say you want to move in today?”
    â€œYeah.”
    â€œI see. What time were you thinking?”
    â€œAround three o’clock.”
    â€œVery well, Mr. . . .”
    â€œJohnson,” Rollo said.
    â€œJohnson. Yes. I forgot,” Miss Miller said. “The address is Twenty-four Compton Street. I’ll be awaiting your visit. Three o’clock.”
    â€œYeah,” Rollo said. He hung up.

    T he bus pulled into its slot in front of the Paradise Harbor Ferry Terminal. Rollo was the first to get off. He picked up his bag and went inside.
    He bought a Paradise street map at the newsstand. He paid for it, got himself a coffee, and sat down to study the map.
    He located Compton Street and traced the walking route from the terminal. He estimated he could make it in less than an hour. Although he would arrive earlier than expected, he set out immediately.
    Compton turned out to be more of a lane than an actual street, barely wide enough to accommodate two cars. There were a total of six homes