X (Kinsey Millhone 24)

Henry was sitting at his usual table, working on the Los Angeles Times crossword puzzle and helping himself to freshly popped corn. He had a Black Jack over ice on the table next to him. “Oh good. Are you having supper here? I could use the company. Now that my water line has been repaired, I feel a burden has been lifted.”

“I’m not much in the mood to eat,” I said. I sat down and settled my shoulder bag on the floor by my chair. “We have a problem.”

“Of what sort?”

“I did some checking today and discovered that the Adelsons are still the legal owners of the house next door. The Shallenbargers put the water service in their name and possibly other utilities as well, though I’m not sure about that. The point is, they have no agreement with the Adelsons to rent, lease, or otherwise occupy that house. They’re squatters.”

He blinked. “Are you sure?”

“I called the Adelsons in Richmond and discussed the situation with Trish. She proposed flying out, but I said we’d have a conversation with them first.”

“How did they have the nerve?”

“It’s possible they knew the Adelsons had moved out of state and thought they could slip in without anyone knowing the difference. The real estate market isn’t exactly booming. Trish says their agent hasn’t showed the house in months. God knows what would have happened if she had come by with prospective buyers. I guess the Shallenbargers would have claimed they had a bona fide rental agreement. Their agent would be furious to think they’d rented the place after she so strongly advised them against the idea, but she wouldn’t be able to confirm or refute the arrangement without making a long-distance call the way I did. In the meantime, the Shallenbargers would probably just come up with another bogus claim.”

“How’d they get in in the first place? I’m sure the Adelsons left the place secure.”

“They probably called a locksmith and claimed they’d locked themselves out.”

“What made them think they could get away with it?”

“They did get away with it, at least to date. And while we’re on the subject of getting away with stuff, I can testify Joseph’s no more disabled than I.”

“Well, this certainly can’t go on.”

“My feeling precisely. You want to go over there and talk to them?”

“I don’t see that we have a choice.”

I waited while Henry paid for his drink and then we walked the half block to the Shallenbargers’ house. As Henry rapped on the door, he murmured, “You want to talk to them or shall I?”

“Do you have a preference?”

“I should probably handle it. I’m the senior statesman,” he said.

The door swung open and Edna appeared holding a paper napkin in one hand. The air was scented with meat, onion, and ever so faintly a suggestion of burning hair.

Henry cleared his throat. “I’m sorry to interrupt your supper.”

She lowered her gaze, which in some people would signal humility. With Edna, it could mean anything, and none of it good. “We didn’t expect to see you again so soon.”

“May we come in?”

She stepped back and admitted us. She and Joseph were eating their evening meal at a card table set up in the living room. They’d arranged their chairs so both could see the television set, which was tuned to a game show that had been in syndication for a decade or more. At each place setting, there was a tin plate of the TV dinner sort, divided into compartments, which still held traces of mashed potatoes, green beans, and some sort of ground meat patty covered with gravy. Really, I don’t cook at all, but I don’t want to eat shit like that when I get old.

Joseph was solidly packed into his wheelchair, a paper napkin tucked into his collar. The footrest on the chair had been flipped up, so maybe he was using his feet to scoot himself around the room. He seemed uncomfortable, which is more than I could say about Edna.

She said, “I’d offer to share, but we barely have enough to feed ourselves. Would you care to have a seat?”

Henry said, “No, thank you. We’re hoping this won’t take long.”

We remained on our feet. Edna stood near Joseph’s wheelchair, one hand on his shoulder. My guess was she’d squeeze the bejesus out of him if he said a word.

Henry went on, his tone mild. “Kinsey spoke to the Adelsons this afternoon.”

“Who?”

“The Adelsons. They’re the legal owners of this house. They told her they don’t have a rental agreement with you.”