Mimi's eyes twitched. "Oh?" she said cautiously.

Cora caught it. She wondered what the woman was trying to hide. "So, the police figured if there was money there, that was something might be stolen."

"I see."

"Yeah. Unfortunately, it was a dead end. Turns out your husband liked to keep a couple of bills under the blotter for emergencies."

"A couple of bills?"

"Yes."

"Any chance it was more?"

"Why do you say that?"

"I don't know. It's just, if it was a lot of money, there might be a reason to break in."

Cora nodded. "That's a good point."

"And you think the prowler stole the money?"

"No. Apparently your husband spent the bills and never bothered to replace them."

Darlene chose that time to cry.

Mimi stooped, said, "There, there," and stuck a pacifier in her mouth, a little more abruptly than a candidate for Mom of the Year. "So, this bill you found. You had no reason to test it?"

"Test it?"

"To see if it was real."

"Why wouldn't it be?"

"I don't know. I just mean if it really was a clue. Wouldn't you want to test it?"

Cora shrugged. "Not my department. You'd have to ask the police."

"And the police told my husband about finding the bill?"

"Sure. That's how they know where it came from."

The baby squealed again.

"Oh, it's time for her nap," Mimi exclaimed. "I have to get her home."

Cora watched Mimi load Darlene into the car seat of her Chevy. She wondered which fender Mimi had damaged.

She also wondered about the baby. It had been crying almost every time Cora had seen it. She wondered why this time it meant the baby needed a nap.

Could it be that Mimi had gotten uncomfortable with the conversation? Had suddenly realized she was asking too many questions? Or saying too much?

It was hard to say.

But it was certainly interesting that Mimi wanted to know if the police had tested the money.

And thought there might be more bills.

Chapter 27.

HARVEY BEERBAUM WOKE up to the sound of breaking glass. The little cruciverbalist was dreaming. In his dream he had just won the American Crossword Puzzle Tournament, and Will Shortz was handing him the trophy. But he couldn't quite reach it. It was slipping from his fingers. The prize slipping away. Victory so near and yet so far. The glass trophy shattering on the marble floor. Dashing his elusive dreams.

Wait a minute. The trophy wasn't glass. And the floor of the Stamford Marriott wasn't marble. And yet the sound...

Harvey sat up in bed. It was glass. He was sure of it.

Harvey slung his legs over the side of the bed, pulled on his slippers, which were right where he'd left them, at the edge of the shag rug. He slipped on his dressing gown, the extra-large, let out a bit in the mid- dle to accommodate his portly frame. He carefully tied the sash around his waist in a bow, and padded to the top of the stairs.

A flashlight beam played around the living room.

A chill ran down Harvey's spine. He should call the police. But the phone was in the kitchen. He'd meant to put an extension in the upstairs bedroom, but it seemed an unnecessary expense, particularly when he had a cell phone. Only his cell phone was in his briefcase. And his briefcase was in his study.

Downstairs.

Harvey took a deep breath. What could he do? He didn't have a gun. No weapon of any kind.

His first thought was he could hide. But what if the prowler came upstairs? There was no lock on his bedroom door. Could he hide under the bed? Could he fit under the bed? Could he climb out the window? Could he yell for help? The neighbors were close enough to hear. But they'd be asleep. What was the chance they would wake up and get to him before a prowler could?

It came to him. The pool cue. He'd won it in a local tournament. A nontraditional prize, donated in someone's memory, given in lieu of cash. Harvey didn't play pool, knew no one who did. It made a strange trophy, a two-piece cue in a little case, not the type of thing one could hang on the wall. It was in the bedroom closet. On the highi shelf. Under a pile of sweaters and vests, put up until cooler weather.

There was a straight chair next to the door, where Harvey sat to tie his shoes. He fumbled for it in the dark, found it, picked it up, carried it quietly to the closet, set it down. As he stepped up he wondered, would it hold his weight? It always had sitting down, but that was different somehow. Harvey hadn't majored in physics, nor done well in math. Linguistics was his stock-in-trade. He knew all the synonyms for weight-bearing, just not the formulas.

Not to fear. The chair was sturdy. It didn't even creak. Standing on it, Harvey reached for the top shelf. His hand groped under the sweaters, and moments later he was climbing down with the case. Hard leather with two push-button snaps, the kind that locked, unlocked, thank God. He popped them open, careful not to make a sound, lifted the lid.

Inside lay the two halves of the pool cue. Harvey took them out of the velvet pockets, screwed them together, Fast Eddie about to take on Minnesota Fats. He gripped the cue in the middle, the handle up like a club, and tiptoed out the bedroom door.

The flashlight beam no longer showed. Maybe the prowler was gone. Harvey prayed it was so. He hesitated a moment, then started down the stairs.

They creaked.

Harvey automatically stepped back off the tread. It was so loud anyone would hear. He was like a freight train, coming down the stairs.

Harvey cocked his head, listened. There was no sound. Either the prowler had heard and was laying low, or there was no one there.

Harvey waited in the dark for what seemed like forever, but was probably less than a minute.

A car door slammed.

An engine roared.

It faded in the distance.

Harvey let out a sigh of relief. Even so, he held the pool cue at the ready as he crept down the stairs.

He reached the bottom, switched on the lights.

Harvey blinked in amazement.

His dining room chairs were gone.

Chapter 28.

HARVEY BEERBAUM WASN'T happy. "We have to go to the police."

"And tell 'em what?" Cora said.

"What do you mean, tell 'em what? My chairs were stolen."

"Why do you suppose that is?"

"I know why that is. Because of the stupid eBay auction."

"Are you prepared to tell Chief Harper that?"

"Why shouldn't I be?"

"It's probably a violation of sorts. Advertising things you don't own."

"You're the one who told me to do it."

"You're absolutely right. I'm undoubtedly as guilty as you. I'm sure that will be some consolation when we're both in the pen."

"Damn it, Cora!"

"Such language."

"I'm sorry."

"I'm kidding. Nice to know you've got a pulse. Harvey, we know who took your chairs. This s.o.b. at aol.com."

"Sbk," Harvey corrected. "That's right. So the police will know who to arrest."

"Yeah. You and me. Which, I think you'll agree, we don't want. We also don't want the police to arrest the guy who stole your chairs."

"Yes we do."

"No, we don't. You just want your chairs back. If we get them, what's the big deal?"

"My house was broken into."

"Which wasn't any fun. We should probably get a promise it won't happen again."

Harvey stared at Cora, then shook his head. "I can't even tell when you're serious."

"Does it matter? The point is, we don't want the police to arrest Mr. Aol.com."

"It could be the other guy," Harvey pointed out.

"What other guy?"

"The other guy who's bidding."

"Oh. Yeah."

Harvey's eyes widened in comprehension. "Cora!"

"Harvey, let's not get sidetracked."

"Sidetracked! You let me tell you about the other bid. Though totally unnecessary, I take it."

"Not at all. It was necessary for you to tell me so that I would know that you knew."

Harvey's blank stare could have meant anything from a total lack of comprehension to the contemplation of homicide. "So, if you were the other bidder..."

"We have only one to worry about. Because I didn't take your chairs."

Harvey looked sideways at Cora.

"No, I really didn't," Cora protested.

"How can I trust you?"

"Come on, Harvey. You may be upset, but don't abandon simple logic. Why would I take your chairs?"

"I have no idea why you do what you do."

"Harvey, don't be cranky. I know I didn't take your chairs, which helps me a great deal. The other guy did. I can concentrate on him."