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and up we went. I held my breath until the slight
glow of light at the top of the stairs came into view. I encouraged her to
hurry up and finish her work and soon we were on our way to dinner.
    When we were settled at a table and had ordered, I
returned to the topic of Harley. “Now I have to fire her,” I whined, “and I
have no one to take her place.”
    “Don’t jump to conclusions,” she said. “You are going to give her a chance to
explain, right?”
    “For lying to me all this time? What explanation could
there be?” My head hurt. My shoulders ached. “I’ll have to change the locks,
too.”
    We finished our meal and said goodnight. As I watched
Lisa drive away, I remembered my clothes were still at the Laundromat. I ran up
the street and threw my wet duds into a dryer, plugged in some quarters, and
cursed the fact that it would now be at least an hour before I could shower and
change into my PJs.
    Back inside my apartment, I grabbed a bag of M&Ms and
headed for the couch, as rain slapped against my window.   My cell phone rang; it was Sean Finnegan.
“Any news?” I asked.
    “No, but the police think I should hold a press
conference to get the message out about Ferdy’s disappearance. I’m a little
nervous; would you come and be there with me?”
    “I’d be happy to – when and where?
    “Tomorrow at noon. In front of the police station.”
    “I’ll be there.”
    I turned on the TV to see if there was any news about
Tony. Instead, I was treated to another pharmaceutical commercial using
diversion tactics to keep the audience’s mind off the list of possible side
effects that included swollen tongue, stroke, gas, loose bowels, and death
(watch the happy couple hike up a mountain – don’t listen to what the announcer
is saying). After the audience had been thoroughly warned, not to mention
disgusted, the news anchor reappeared with a report on the alleged bank robber,
Danny Stearns. Again, his picture was displayed on the screen and the reward
for information leading to his capture was repeated.
    Where was he? I wondered. Did he remember bumping into me
that day? He’d stared at me just as I had stared at him. If his face, his eyes,
had remained in my mind all these years; did he also have a clear mental image
of me? And how much of a stretch was it to think that if he did remember me, and thought I could
pick him out of a lineup, that he’d try and find me; that maybe he’d been
trying to do just that all this time? I stood up quickly and M&Ms went
everywhere, as my spin cycle revved up.

Chapter 7
    I slipped on a rain jacket and ran to the Laundromat, loaded
my dry clothes into a basket as fast as I could, and used the rear entrance of
my apartment to haul it upstairs, where finally I was able to shower and put on
my purple PJs. I hung up a few shirts and then dumped the rest on the bed to
fold, but my hands were shaking, and I was unable to get the image of Danny
Stearns out of my head. I retrieved Officer Morey’s card from my wallet and
dialed him up. He was at my apartment within 20 minutes. “Nice jammies,” he
said.
    “That’s unprofessional,” I bristled, tightening the belt
on my robe, “this is serious.”
    “Are you kidding me? I’ve been at two crime scenes with
you in the last couple of days. This is almost a date.” He looked at the candy
on the floor. “What happened here?”
    “Just…nothing. That’s not important. The thing is,” I
began, hating to relive the story, “I was watching the news and saw a picture
of the man that the police in Rochester think robbed a bank there a while
back.”
    “And?”
    I explained as best I could about the day I left
Rochester, leaving out the part about having been at my therapist’s. “Now,
seeing him again on TV,” I said, “it occurred to me that he might remember me
too, and that maybe he’s been looking for me all this time. He would know I
could identify him, right?”
    Officer Morey looked unconvinced. “He