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reporting.’
    His face creases in a puzzled frown as if something isn’t quite right.  ‘Are you two … like … you know,’ he moves his pistol between us with one hand.
    ‘Well …’ Anna smiles coyly.
    ‘Damn, really?  Tad and the Ice Cream Queen.  Wow!’
    I shrug my shoulders, but m ake no move to put the shirt back on.
    ‘What hap pened to … you know …’
    ‘ Kate?’
    ‘ Yeah, Kate.’ 
    ‘She left.’
    Gerlach nods his head as if that makes perfect sense.  As if every woman is destined to leave me.  Perhaps they are.
    ‘I thought … well, I thought she might settle down with you.  I guess not.  What happened to your head?’ He asks, pointing with his pistol.  I wish he’d use his free hand.
    Shit.  What did happen to my head? 
    In big white lie land, not reality. 
    My mind’s gone blank.   ‘I …’
    ‘I accidentally hit him with a spade,’ Annabelle says.  ‘We were gardening and, well, his head got in the way and … clunk.’
    ‘A spade?’ Gerlach repeats.
    ‘It hurt like hell,’ I offer, pointing at my lump.
    He doesn’t look convinced by the explanation.  He turns and heads back towards the front door.  ‘Is it okay if I take a look around?’
    ‘No!’ Anna and I say simultaneously.
    The last thing we need right now is him searching the place.  Goddamn neighbors; why can’t they mind their own business instead of being good citizens? 
    ‘There’s no need,’ I continue.
    ‘I have to make a formal report now I’ve been called out,’ Gerlach says over his shoulder.
    ‘But nothing’s been taken.’
    ‘Doesn’t matter; I still have to file a report.’ 
    For flip’s sake .  The tyranny of bureaucracy.
    ‘Always preparing damn reports,’ Gerlach continues.  ‘There was a gun battle out at the interstate truck stop earlier tonight.  Sheriff Hanratty will be filling out forms until the cows come home.’
    I follow him into the hallway and set off up the stairs.  ‘I’m going to get changed,’ I mutter.  ‘I’m freezing.’
    I hurry into the bedroom .  It looks fine.  Lived in, but not died in.
    I open the closet and stuff the t-shirt deep inside, hiding it behind some sweatshirts.  I yank out a long-sleeved shirt, tug it on and head back downstairs, buttoning it.
    Gerlach is chatting to Annabelle in the front room.
    ‘I was just saying it’s strang e that they never took anything; that they didn’t turn the place over and smash everything up.’
    ‘Maybe they realized we were in the house and left?’
    ‘You didn’t hear them?’
    ‘That’s why we got up.  I heard something.  It woke me up.’
    ‘But you didn’t see anybody?’
    ‘No.  As I said, they must have left once I switched on the lights.’
    Gerlach doesn’t look convinced. 
    The doorbell rings.
    My heart does a triple beat with a double back somersault.  Who the heck can that be at this hour?  The grim reaper?
    I shrug my shoulders.  ‘Excuse me a second.’
    Paavo Poukkanen is standing on the threshold, looking as serious as he always does.  He’s six feet five, rake thin, with thin sandy hair and a slightly slavic face.  He stoically carries the weight of the world on his narrow shoulders.
    ‘You need a van,’ he says as a statement, not a question. 
    When I shake my head no, he continues: ‘To move a mattress.’
    ‘No t now,’ I hiss.  I mouth: ‘Come back later.  Later.’ I motion with my hand in front of my chest for him to leave.
    ‘What?’
    ‘Is everything okay?’ Gerlach asks from over my shoulder.
    ‘Everything’s fine,’ I answer.  ‘A misunderstanding.’
    ‘No mis …’ Paavo trails off.  He moves his gaze from my face to Sergeant Gerlach then to Anna who’s stepped into the hallway and is shaking her head.
    Understanding finally dawns.  ‘A mistake,’ he says.  ‘Sorry.’
    Shit. 
    ‘I’ll talk to you later, Paavo, okay?’ I say.
    ‘Okay.’  He glances between us all quizzically then turns on his heels, heading