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said, glancing around. Clove wasn’t exaggerating about the house being filthy. “Let’s start in the bedroom.”
    “There’s not going to be creepy stuff in there, is there?” Bay asked.
    I had no idea. “What do you consider creepy?”
    “Dirty underwear.”
    “Well, I think we all know there will be dirty underwear in there,” I said. “Clove announced it to the entire street.”
    “I did not.” Clove realized she talked when it was too late to drag the words back into her mouth. Instead of acknowledging her mistake, she clapped both hands over her lips, determined to make sure I didn’t try to make her eat rotten food.
    “I’m not going to make you eat that food,” I said, giving into my sympathetic urges. What? They’re rare, but they do happen. “I was joking.”
    Clove didn’t look convinced.
    “If I punish you it’ll be with something a lot worse than rotten food,” I tried again.
    “She’s right,” Thistle said. “She’s not going to make you eat gross stuff. She’ll just make it so your pants don’t fit if you eat good stuff. You know that.”
    Clove marginally relaxed, although she didn’t drop her hands. I decided to let her be. “Let’s search the bedroom.”
    “I don’t want to see dirty underwear,” Bay said.
    “Do you want to find Mr. Hill?”
    “Yes.”
    “Do you want to save the Christmas party?”
    “Yes.”
    “Then shut up and follow me,” I ordered, striding in the direction of the dark hallway. “Just don’t … touch anything. I don’t want to have to explain how you guys inadvertently got crabs … or tetanus … or fleas from this place. No one wants that.”
    “What are we going to tell our mothers when we get back home?” Thistle asked. “They’re not going to be happy that your idea of babysitting was teaching us how to break into a house.”
    “We didn’t break into a house,” I said.
    “You just pushed Clove through a window and onto dirty underwear,” Thistle challenged.
    “That’s not what happened.”
    “We all saw it,” Thistle protested.
    “No. We were walking down the road and saw the door open and decided to check on Bernard because we wanted to make sure he was safe. We’re good Samaritans.”
    “That’s a lie,” Clove said. “We’re not supposed to lie.”
    “Well, I’m telling you to lie and you’re also supposed to listen to your elders.” Let’s see them get out of that one.
    “Mom said we’re only supposed to listen to our elders when it’s the right thing to do,” Bay said. “I’m not sure this is the right thing to do.”
    She was back to being a kvetch again. “If you don’t shut up, you’re all going on my list.”
    “Whatever,” Thistle said, peering into the bedroom. “This place really is gross. Now I know why Mom makes me clean up my room every day. Don’t tell her I said that, though.”
    Given the state of the room, it was hard to argue with her. The bed was unmade – and I had a feeling it had been that way for months. If those sheets had ever been l laundered they showed no sign of it. Clothes were strewn about the floor – and Clove wasn’t lying about the dirty underwear. The top drawer of the dresser was open and clothing hung over the edges.
    “Don’t touch anything,” I reminded them. “Look around and if you see something … out of place … call me over.”
    “Are you going to touch it?” Bay asked.
    “I’m going to make you touch it under my watchful eye,” I shot back.
    After searching the bedroom and coming up empty, I led the girls back into the living room. Unlike the family room at our house, this one was devoid of everything but a couch and television – and about three layers of filth.
    “There’s nothing here,” Thistle said, kicking a magazine and glancing underneath it. “If Mr. Hill is still living here, he hasn’t been here in a long time.”
    “If he moved, though, he left everything behind,” I said. “Most people take their belongings with them