“A couple of what?” Ford said and got the fish eye from Cilla.

“Vicky, would you mind if we just looked around on our own for a few minutes? Talked about it?”

“Of course not! Take all the time you want. I’ll just step outside and make some calls. Don’t rush on my account!”

“Why does she say everything in exclamation points?” Ford asked when Vicky was out of earshot. “Is it fear? Excitement? Does she have multiple, spontaneous orgasms?”

“Cute.”

“Cilla, I think that pile of what may have once been clothing in that corner just moved. There may be a body in there. Possibly an army of cockroaches waiting to ambush. We should leave. And never come back.”

“If there was a body, it would smell a lot worse than it does in here.”

“How much worse?” he muttered. “And have you ever actually smelled a body?”

She gave him the fish eye again. “Cockroaches may be a factor, however. If the seller had any brains, he’d have cleaned this place out, ripped up this incredibly smelly carpet. But his loss could be our gain.”

“You’ve got to be kidding. The only thing we could gain from this place is a rampant case of typhoid. Or bubonic plague.” He kept a wary eye on the pile of rags. He wasn’t entirely sure it hadn’t moved. “Cilla, this place has no possible redeeming value.”

“Because you don’t know where to look. Deal was, you don’t want to risk it, you don’t. But let me give you the idea first. There’s hardwood under this carpet. I checked when I went through before.”

She walked over, crouched to pull up a loose corner. “Random-length oak, and in surprisingly good shape.”

“Okay, it’s got a floor.”

“And a good foundation, a nice-sized lot.”

“That looks like a minefield. Probably booby-trapped by the atomic spiders.”

“New sod,” she continued, undaunted, “some plantings, a pretty little deck on the back. Gut the bathroom.”

“Wouldn’t it be more humane to bomb it?”

“New tub, new sink, a nice ceramic tile. For a room that size, I could probably find enough of a discontinued style, neutral color. All the carpet goes. Replace the closet doors, add shelves. Redo the ceilings, paint. You’ve got a couple of nice kids’ rooms.”

“And where would the parents sleep?” He slid his hands into his pockets rather than risk accidentally touching something. “In a hotel if they have any sense.”

She crooked her finger. “This wall moves out fifteen feet.”

“It does?”

“It will and, running the width of the house, will hold the master suite, overlooking the backyard. Walk-in closet, attached bath with soaking tub and separate shower. Double sinks, granite countertop. Maybe slate tile. Have to price that out.”

“What holds it up? Hopes and dreams?”

“The new kitchen/great room.”

“Oh, that.” But oddly enough, he began to see it as she did. Or as he thought she did.

“Horrible carpet treads out, oak treads in,” she said as she started down the steps. “Replace skinny banister. Carpet goes, ceilings redone, new trim, some crown molding. New windows throughout. Gut kitchen.”

“Thank the Lord.”

“Half bath and laundry room here. Kitchen, dining area and family room, open floor plan, breakfast bar for the casual, family meal, all leading out through atrium doors to the nice little deck. Exterior paint in a cheerful color, replace the cracked concrete walkway with pavers, plug in some plants, a little dogwood tree. And that’s about it.”

“Oh, well, that’s hardly anything.”

She laughed. “It’s a lot, but it’ll be a lot. Poor, sad thing. Sixteen weeks. It could be done in twelve, but not with juggling, so I’d say sixteen. With the top offer I’d make and materials and labor, mortgage payments for, we’ll say, five months, and the market value after improvements in this neighborhood, you could see between forty and forty-five K in profit.”

“Seriously?”

“Oh yeah. Depending on the market when it’s done, that could be closer to sixty thousand. The neighborhood’s on an upswing.” She began ticking items off on her fingers. “Younger couples, small families moving in, prettying things up. It’s in a good school district, only about ten minutes from a shopping center. Master suites, kitchens and baths- that’s where the sales are made and you get your biggest return on your investment.”

“Okay.”

“No, you have to be sure. Take a little time to think about it. I’ll draw up some floor plans.”

“No, I’m sold. Let’s go make Vicky’s day.” And get the hell out while the cockroaches and spiders have their moratorium.

“Wait, wait. We need to let her suffer more. You’re going to steal this place, Ford.” He found the sly delight on her face infectious. “It deserves to be stolen because the seller couldn’t even be bothered to make an attempt. We’re going to tell her, very unconvincingly, that we’ll think about it. Then we’re going to walk away. In a week, ten days, I’ll call her back.”

“If somebody buys it in the meantime?”

“When it’s been sitting here for over four months, even with two price reductions? I don’t think so. We’re going to go give Vicky the disappointment she’s expecting. Then I want to go home, soak in your hot tub and relax.”

RELAXING PROVED PROBLEMATIC because of the half-dozen reporters camped at her wall.

“Not much interest, you said?”

“This is nothing.” And hardly more than she’d expected. “Just a spillover from the statement. They’ll mostly be local, or out of D.C., maybe. We’re close enough for that. You go inside. I’ll handle it.”

“You’re going to give them interviews?”

“Not exactly. A few crumbs. They’ll take the crumbs and fly away. There’s no reason for you to be involved in this. And you’ll just give them another angle.”

But the minute they stepped out of the car, cameras lifted. Like one entity, reporters surged across the road, shouting Cilla’s name, calling out questions. As it struck Ford as a kind of attack, he moved instinctively to Cilla’s side.

“Georgia Vassar, WMWA-TV. Can you tell us your thoughts on the altercation yesterday with James Robert Hennessy?”

“How serious are your injuries?”

“Is it true Hennessy believes you’re the reincarnation of Janet Hardy?”

“I’ve already issued a statement about the incident,” Cilla said coolly. “I don’t have any more to say.”

“Isn’t it true that Hennessy threatened you previously? And, in fact, assaulted Steve Chensky, your ex-husband, while Chensky lived with you? Was that assault the reason for your failed reconciliation?”

“To my knowledge, Mr. Hennessy hasn’t been charged with the assault on Steve, who was visiting me for a short time this spring. We’ve been friends before, during and after our marriage. There was no reconciliation. ”

“Is that due to your relationship with Ford Sawyer? Mr. Sawyer, how do you feel about the attack on Ms. McGowan?”

“There’s speculation that you and Steve fought over Cilla, and he was injured. How do you answer that?”

“No comment. Gosh, you guys seem to be on my property. We’re pretty friendly around here, but you’re going to want to step off.”

“I won’t be as friendly if any of you trespass on mine,” Cilla warned.

“Is it true that you came here in an attempt to commune with the spirit of your grandmother?” someone shouted as she turned with Ford toward the house.

“Tabloid crap,” Cilla stated. “I’m sorry. Most of that was tabloid crap.”

“No problem.” Ford shut the door behind them, locked it. “I’ve always wanted the opportunity to say ‘No comment’ in a stern voice.”

“They’ll give up. It won’t play more than a day or two, and most of that’ll be in the supermarket sheets alongside stories of alien babies being homeschooled in Utah.”

“I knew it!” He shot a finger in the air. “I knew that was the reason for Utah. How about a glass of wine with that soak, while I figure out how to get my dog back?”