"Oh, I can't even talk to you right now. You go on, and you leave that dog be. I want my stoop cleaned, and that's the end of it."

"Yes, ma'am." Ripley hung her head, let her shoulders droop as she walked away. And winked at the dog.

Zack, she decided, couldn't have done it any better.

She tracked downPete, read him the riot act. He would go without lunch, the Macey stoop would sparkle, and the dog, who already laid claim to a snazzy red doghouse complete with a heated blanket, would get a stronger chain to keep him on the Stahr property when no one was home.

And that, Ripley thought, would likely wrap up the keeping of the peace of Three Sisters Island for the day.

On her way back to the station house, she spotted a small figure climbing through the first-floor window of a clapboard saltbox.

Okay, she decided with her hands on her hips, maybe there was a bit more peace to be kept.

Her brows lifted, then knit. It was the home of one of her cousins, and the bright blue jacket on the B and E man was very familiar.

"Dennis Andrew Ripley, what the hell do you think you're doing?"

She heard his yowl of pain when he bumped his head on the window, and felt no sympathy. He was twelve, and any boy of twelve who didn't own a hard head should, in her opinion, develop one.

He went still for a moment, half in, half out, battle-scarred hightops dangling. Then, slowly, he wiggled to the ground. His hair was pale blond and stuck out in tufts around his ski cap. Freckles exploded over his face and stood out in sharp relief against his bright flush.

"Ah ... hi, Aunt Ripley," he said innocently.

He was, Ripley thought with admiration, an operator. "That's Deputy Todd to you, you little weasel. What're you doing crawling in the window?"

"Um. I don't have a key?"

"Dennis."

"Well, I don't. Mom and some of her lady friends went over to the mainland to shop and stuff. She must've locked the door."

"Let's try the question this way. Why are you crawling in the window of your own house instead of sitting at your desk at school?"

"Because I'm sick?" he answered hopefully.

"Is that so? Come on, then, I'll take you over to the clinic right now. Your mother has her cell phone, doesn't she? We'll just give her a call and let her know her sweet baby boy's feeling poorly. I bet she'll come home on the next ferry."

Ripley had the satisfaction of watching his face blanch. "Don't call her. Okay? Please? I'm feeling a lot better. It musta been something I ate is all."

"I just bet. Spill it, kiddo, and if you try to bullshit me again, I'm hauling you to the clinic and telling them to get out their biggest, dullest needle."

"We're having a history test," he blurted out, and talked very fast now. "History's the pits, Aunt Rip. It's all about dead people, anyway. So, you know, who cares? And it's like European history crap, and we don't evenlive there. I mean, hey, do you know the capital of Liechtenstein?"

"Didn't study, did you?"

He shifted from foot to foot-Jeez, what was it with boys and their big clown feet, she wondered-and attempted a pitiful look from under his lashes. "I guess maybe not."

"So you decided to blow off the test and hook school."

"Just one stupid day. I could take the test later. I was going to hang out in the woods today, and study," he added, with quick inspiration. "But it's too cold."

"So you were going to go inside ... and study."

"Um. Yeah! Yeah, I was going to hit the books. Couldn't you just pretend you didn't see me?"

"No."

"Aw, Aunt Rip." He sighed, recognizing the look on her face. "Deputy Todd."

She hooked him by the ear. "You're getting a police escort to school."

"Mom's going to kill me."

"That's right."

"I'm going to fail the test."

"Should've studied for it."

"I'll get in-school suspension."

"Kid, you're breaking my heart."

When he muttered "shit" under his breath, she gave the back of his head a quick tap. "Watch the mouth, peewee. We're going to pay a visit to the assistant principal, you'll make a full confession, and take your lumps."

"Like you never hooked school."

"When I did, I had enough brains not to get caught. Therein, young Skywalker, is the power of the Force."

He snorted out a laugh. And because he did, because he was hers, she walked him the rest of the way to judgment with her arm companionably around his shoulders.

The morning's workand her replay of both incidents for Zack put her in a much better frame of mind. She strolled into the bookstore, looking for lunch, and gave a quick wave at Lulu.

"Put your belly on hold a minute and come over here."

"About a minute's all my belly can wait." But Ripley detoured and walked to the counter. "What's up?"

"I got a letter from Jane."

"Yeah?" Ripley thought of the cafe's former chef. She and her man had taken off for New York so he could have a shot at a part in an Off Broadway play. "How're they doing?"

"Well enough. Sounds to me like they mean to stay." Lulu glanced toward the stairs, lowered her voice. "Guess who strolled, big as life, into the bakery where Jane's working?"