Angela shrugged. "I don't want to think about it anymore. How was your day? Has Marjorie's death been on your mind?"

"I haven't had time to dwell on it," David said. "I've got John Tarlow in the hospital and he's scaring me."

"What's wrong?"

"That's just it: I don't know," David said. "That's what scares me. He's become apathetic, much the way Marjorie was. He has a lot of functional GI complaints. That's what brought him into the hospital, and they have gotten worse. I don't know what's going on, but my sixth sense is setting off alarm bells. The trouble is I don't know what to do. At this point I'm just treating his symptoms."

"That's the kind of story that makes me glad I went into pathology," Angela said.

David then told Angela about his visit to Werner Van Slyke. "The man was more than rude," David complained. "He hardly gave me the time of day. It gives you an idea of the doctor's position in the new hospital environment. Now the doctor is just another employee, merely working in a different department."

"It makes it hard to be a patient advocate when even the maintenance department isn't responsive."

"My thoughts exactly," David said.

When David and Angela arrived home, Nikki was happy to see them. She'd been bored for most of the day until Arni stopped over to tell her about their new teacher.

"He's a man," Arni told David. "And real strict."

"I hope he's a good teacher," David said. He felt another stab of guilt about Marjorie's passing.

While Angela started dinner David drove Arni home. When David returned, Nikki met him at the door with a complaint. "It feels cold in the family room," she said.

David walked into the room and patted the radiator. It was blisteringly hot. He walked over to the French doors leading to the terrace and made sure they were closed. "Where did you feel cold?" David asked.

"Sitting on the couch," Nikki said. "Come over and try it."

David followed his daughter and sat down next to her. Immediately he could feel a cool draft on the back of his neck. "You're right," he said. He checked the windows behind the couch. "I think I've made the diagnosis," he said. "We need to put up the storm windows."

"What are storm windows?" Nikki asked.

David launched into an involved explanation of heat loss, convection currents, insulation, and Thermopane windows.

"You're confusing her," Angela called from the kitchen. She'd overheard a portion of the conversation. "All she asked was what a storm window was. Why don't you show her one?"

"Good idea," David said. "Come on. We'll get firewood at the same time."

"I don't like it down here," Nikki said as they descended the cellar stairs.

"Why not?" David asked.

"It's scary," Nikki protested.

"Now, don't be like your mother," David teased her. "One hysterical female in the house is enough."

Leaning against the back of the granite staircase was a stack of storm windows. David moved one away from the others so Nikki could see it.

"It looks like a regular window," Nikki said.

"But it doesn't open," David said. "It traps air between this glass and the glass of the existing window. That's what serves as insulation."

While Nikki inspected the window, David noticed something for the first time.

"What is it, Daddy?" Nikki asked, aware that her father had become distracted.

"Something I've never noticed before," David said. He reached over the stack of storm windows and ran his hand over the wall that formed the back of the stairs. "These are cinder blocks."

"What are cinder blocks?" Nikki asked.

Preoccupied with his discovery, David ignored Nikki's question.

"Let's move these storm windows," David said. He lifted the window he was holding and carried it over to the foundation wall. Nikki tipped the next one upright.

"This wall is different from the rest of the basement," David said after the last window had been moved away. "And it doesn't appear to be that old. I wonder why it's here."

"What are you talking about?" Nikki asked.

David showed her that the staircase was made of granite. Then he took her back beneath the stairs and showed her the cinder blocks. He explained that they must be covering some kind of triangular storage space.

"What's in it?" Nikki asked.

David shrugged. "I wonder." Then he said: "Why don't we take a peek. Maybe it's a treasure."

"Really?" Nikki asked.

David got the sledgehammer that was used along with a wedge to split the firewood and brought it over to the base of the stairs.

Just as David hefted the sledgehammer Angela called down the stairs to ask what mischief they were getting themselves into. David lowered the sledgehammer and put a finger to his lips. Then he shouted up to Angela that they'd be coming up with the firewood in a minute.

"I'll be upstairs taking a shower," Angela called down. "After that we'll eat."

"Okay," David called back. Then to Nikki he said: "She might take a dim view of our busting out part of the house."

Nikki giggled.

David waited long enough for Angela to get to the second floor before picking up the sledgehammer again. After telling Nikki to avert her eyes, David knocked out a portion of a cinder block near the top of the wall, creating a small hole.

"Run up and get a flashlight," David said. A musty odor wafted out of the walled-off space.

While Nikki was gone, David used the sledgehammer to enlarge the hole. With a final blow a whole cinder block came loose, and David lifted it out of the wall. By then Nikki was back with the flashlight. David took it and peered in.

David's heart jumped in his chest. He pulled his head out of the hole so quickly he skinned the back of his neck on the sharp edge of the cinder block.

"What did you see?" Nikki asked. She didn't like the look on her father's face.

"It's not a treasure," David said. "I think you'd better get your mother."

While Nikki was gone, David enlarged the hole even more. By the time Angela came down the stairs in her bathrobe David had a whole course of the cinder blocks dismantled.

"What's going on?" Angela demanded. "You've got Nikki upset."

"Take a look," David said. He handed Angela the flashlight and motioned for her to come see.

"This better not be a joke," Angela said.

"It's no joke," David assured her.

"My God!" Angela said. Her voice echoed in the small space.

"What is it?" Nikki asked. "I want to see too."

Angela pulled her head out and looked at David. "It's a body," she said. "And it's obviously been in there for some time."

"A person?" Nikki asked with disbelief. "Can I see?"

Angela and David both nearly shouted, "No."

Nikki started to protest, but her voice lacked conviction.

"Let's go upstairs and build that fire," David said. He took Nikki over to the woodpile and handed her a log. Then he picked up an armload himself.

While Angela phoned the town police David and Nikki worked on the fire. Nikki was full of questions that David couldn't answer.

Half an hour later a police cruiser turned into the Wilsons' driveway and pulled up to the house.

Two policemen had responded to Angela's call.

"My name's Wayne Robertson," the shorter of the pair said. He was dressed in mufti with a quilted cotton vest over a plaid flannel shirt. On his head was a Boston Red Sox baseball cap. "I'm chief of police and this is one of my deputies, Sherwin Morris."

Sherwin touched the brim of his hat. Tall and lanky, he was dressed in uniform. He was carrying a long flashlight: the kind that took four batteries.

"Officer Morris stopped by to pick me up after you called," Robertson explained. "I wasn't on duty, but this sounded important."

Angela nodded. "I appreciate your coming," she said.

Angela and David led the way. Only Nikki remained upstairs. Robertson took the flashlight from Morris and poked his head into the hole.