Chapter 24: Where Were You Sitting

The woman on the stairs stood up when she heard my key.

She was about forty, in a coat too thin for the weather, with a car key clenched in one fist.

"Mrs. Kershaw?" she said.

"Not for a while now." I unlocked the street door. "My divorce was final on Friday. It's Laurel Rourke."

I had written that name on the form myself, and it looked strange and right.

Frances had beaten us there. She stood in the front office in her cardigan, with the lamps on and the kettle going.

On the wall behind the desk hung my framed license, newly printed, ACTIVE in small capital letters.

I took the drawing out of my bag.

Three stick figures and a purple scooter. I stuck it to the side of the filing cabinet with the strawberry magnet.

Nobody said anything, and Frances turned to the kettle so I could have the moment alone.

Duncan came up the stairs a minute later with a paper tray of coffees and a briefcase under his arm.

He stopped in the doorway when he saw the woman, and he put the coffees down on the nearest desk.

"I'll wait in the back," he said.

"You can stay," I said. "Frances and I made you a desk."

"I have a desk?"

"It's the one by the radiator. Frances says the radiator is yours."

He looked at the desk for a long moment, and then at me.

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