X (Kinsey Millhone 24)

“I’ll give someone a call,” he said. He continued to stare at the water in the hole, which was, so far, stationary. He shook his head, disheartened.

“Yoo-hoo, Henry. Excuse me . . .”

Both of us turned to see a small round face rising like a moon above the wood-plank fence that separated Henry’s driveway from the house next door. Henry lifted a hand in greeting.

“Edna. Good to see you. This is Kinsey.”

“How do,” she said. “I heard voices and wondered if there was a problem.”

Her face was framed by a thin braid she wore wound around her head. Her teeth, even at a distance, looked like a replacement set. She had thin shoulders and thin arms that she rested on the fence support. Her dress was black with tiny white dots and a wide white collar edged with lace. Under her collar, a red grosgrain ribbon was tied in a perky bow. I was surprised she was tall enough to peer over the fence.

“She’s standing on a box,” Henry said, half under his breath. And to her, “I’m explaining my water conservation plans.”

“I hope you’ll share the information,” she said. “Our water bill’s been going up. I wish someone had told us how expensive it is living here. It’s been a shock.”

“Where were you before?” I asked.

“Perdido. My husband worked for the city. He took early retirement because of an injury. He receives his social security and disability checks, of course, but his pension doesn’t go as far as we thought, and now we’re feeling the pinch. Are you Henry’s daughter?”

“His tenant. When he built his new garage, he converted the old one into a rental unit.”

She blinked. “Well, that’s a wonderful idea. Our garage is sitting empty. Joseph isn’t allowed to drive, and I’m much too nervous on the road these days. With gas prices so high, it made sense to sell our car. A tenant would be a nice way to add to our income.”

“I doubt you can get the necessary permits,” Henry said. “Zoning laws have changed, especially with drought conditions getting worse. The city’s tough on new construction.”

“I don’t know what we’re to do,” she said. “If an item’s not on sale, I have to take it off the list. I never thought I’d see the day when I’d be clipping coupons.”

“I do that as well,” he said. “I make a game of it, seeing how much I can save from week to week.”

“Sometimes I serve chili with chopped onions over corn bread as our main meal of the day. Fine as far as it goes, but eighty-nine cents for a can of chili beans is too much,” she said. “So-called ‘land of plenty,’ and here you have little kids and old folks going hungry. It’s not right.”

“If you need to go to the market, I’ll be happy to give you a lift the next time I go,” Henry said, riding right over her complaints.

Her small face creased with a tremulous smile. “That would be wonderful. I have one of those wire carts, but it’s too far with my bad ankle.”

“You put a list together. I’ll be making a trip in the next couple of days.”

She turned to look at the house as though in response to a sound. “Joseph’s calling,” she said. “I best go see what he needs. Nice meeting you, Miss.”

“You too,” I said.

She disappeared, and moments later we could see her struggle as she climbed her back porch stairs, clinging to the rail.

“Bit of a sad sack,” I remarked.

Belatedly, he frowned. “Aren’t you home early?”

“I promised Ruthie I’d look for Pete’s financial information. She’s got an IRS audit tomorrow and any relevant documents would be a blessing. I doubt I’ll find ’em, but I said I’d try. There are some old Byrd-Shine files I need to sort through anyway.”

“You need help?”

“Nah. It’s one box. I should have done it days ago, but I forgot.”

He glanced back at the hole. “Water’s still sitting there.”

“Bummer,” I said. “Anyway, I told Ruthie I’d get back to her within the hour. Will I see you later at Rosie’s?”

“I’m attending an adult education water conservation workshop at seven, but I’ll stop by afterward.”

I headed for my front door. I glanced back, noting that Ed the cat had taken himself inside and now sat on Henry’s high bathroom windowsill, his mouth moving mutely in what I took to be a plaintive cry to be let out.

“You just stay where you are. I’m not letting you out,” Henry said.