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staring directly down at her.

T HREE
    â€œI tell you, Arthur, it was her ,” Gert Gorin was saying, eyes pressed against binoculars that were in turn pressed against the glass of the Gorins’ picture window. “It was the same girl who the cops once thought was involved in that drug-and-porn ring.”
    â€œGet away from the window, Gert,” her husband told her. “Somebody’s going to see you.”
    Gert looked over at her husband, the binoculars having left red rings around her bulging brown eyes. “She arrived in one of Todd Bennett’s company cars. I know it was a company car because it had New York plates and I’ve seen very similar ones pick him up before when he doesn’t drive his own car.”
    â€œYou really should have pursued a career in the FBI, Gert,” Arthur said, sitting in his overstuffed armchair and reading the sports pages of the Daily News .
    â€œShe had a child with her, a little girl.” Gert’s face was red and splotchy. She stood barely more than five feet, and was almost as wide as she was tall. “That’s the baby she had with that guy Deetz. I don’t know if they ever got married.”
    â€œIsn’t that what you spray on to ward off mosquitoes ?”
    Gert made a face. “What?”
    â€œDeetz.”
    â€œYou numbskull, that’s Deet. This guy’s name was Deetz. Emil Deetz. I remember because he killed a guy. Don’t you remember, Arthur? He slit a guy’s throat behind one of those dives over in Port Chester.”
    â€œAll I remember is it’s past lunchtime, and I’m getting hungry. How about a bologna sandwich on rye?”
    Gert had replaced the binoculars to the window and was peering out through them again. “I wish I could see the old Clarkson house better. That damn new monstrosity the Bennetts built is in the way. God, is that an ugly thing. I can only make out the side of the old house, but I think I can see some movement upstairs. There’s another woman with the Clarkson girl and her kid—”
    Gert suddenly made a sound in her throat and pulled away from the window.
    â€œWhat is it?” her husband asked. “You see somebody naked?”
    â€œI just thought of something,” Gert said, returning her eyes to the binoculars. “Maybe she’s gone lesbo or something. You know, after all the problems she had with men. You know Bryan Pierce down the street dumped her, right? That was before she took up with Deetz. So maybe she’s gone gay all of a sudden. Because there were definitely two women that got out of the car and went up to the house. And the other one, the one who wasn’t the Clarkson girl, seemed kind of mannish to me.”
    â€œAs opposed to your delicate femininity, I take it.”
    â€œDamn,” Gert said, adjusting the focus on the binoculars. “I think they’ve drawn the blinds.”

F OUR
    â€œM ommy, there’s a little girl at the house down the street,” Piper Pierce announced as she ran into the kitchen, her pink shorts green with grass stains. “I saw her get out of the car. I want to go up and play with her. Maybe she has toys I don’t have.”
    Heather Pierce looked up from the table where she was planning the seating arrangement for tonight’s dinner party. “I doubt she has toys you don’t have,” she told her daughter. “That would be impossible. You have every toy ever produced.”
    â€œI do not!”
    Heather just rolled her eyes.
    â€œI want to go up there!”
    â€œNo, you are not going up there,” she told her daughter.
    â€œBut Mommy—”
    â€œPlease don’t throw another tantrum. I don’t think I can take another. Just go outside and play with your brother.”
    The redheaded seven-year-old made a face in frustration, but did as she was told.
    â€œWhat house down the street?” Heather’s husband, Bryan, asked