I felt so much pity for Debbie. I have been through the hell of single motherhood. Her case seemed obvious to me. If this Philippine woman accused her new co-worker with such ease, she probably did something similar to other people before. In twenty years, she stepped on some toes. I had to find those people and talk to them. I needed to find a couple of witnesses who would testify against Gamma Woods.

Joe's voice boomed in my ears, "Get out there and talk to people, find as many as possible whose who can tell that Debbie is a nice decent lady. I don't want to paddle to court just to meet a material witness saying that Debbie stole before."

For his office, Joe used his own house, a two-story red brick townhouse with a lawn up front and a parking lot in the back. At two o'clock in the morning, the house looked spooky. All the lights were off. I knocked at the door, and it opened a crack, just enough for me to get in. Once inside, I was grabbed and pressed against the wall.

"Shish!" Joe put his fat fingers on my lips. "Don't talk." Moonlight in the entrance hall was just enough for me to see that he looked exactly like I left him in broad daylight. Which means he wasn't attacked or injured, just mildly paranoid.

"Did anybody see you coming here?"

"I don't think so…"

"Rachel, don't think too much!" he whispered and cleared his throat. "It's my job." He stood plastered on the wall, peeking out the door window in complete silence for a very long time before saying, "Okay, now, it's time."

He opened the door, let me outside, and ushered me into his car soundlessly. With his bulky body, he moved in the dark like a cat, reminding me he served some years as a Navy Seal, doing who knows what, who knows where.

Getting into the driver's seat, he didn't put a seatbelt on, just started the car and pulled off his driveway onto the street. There was something eerie in the way we were moving through the neighborhood, and it took me some time to realize he hadn't turned his headlights on. Plus, the car had tinted windows.

"What's going on?" I whispered. "What do you want to do?"

"I'll tell you in a minute," he whispered back at me. "Just do what I say."

After a couple of miles, he wheeled to the opposite side of the street and parked without turning off the engine. I got out, obedient to his command, while Joe was shifting his big body inside the car, trying to get out. Not having enough room, he put his left foot on the ground and pressed the car horn with his elbow. His honking woke up the whole neighborhood. Dogs barked, and the light went on and off in the next house up the street.

The house on the hill across the lawn from us remained dark and silent. Joe exhaled like a whale and proceeded to the car's rear. He popped the trunk up, pulled out an oddly shaped bag, and handed it to me. It was slippery. He, himself, got a heavy object that looked like a white box. He carried the box to the lawn and left it there. I put the slippery bag next to it. Shaking and sweating, I was trying to kill the thought that those objects were the remains of some annoying material witness who crossed my new boss.

Joe trotted back to his car, got another boxy white thing, and dumped it next to the first one.

"Get in the car," he commanded, though it took him more than a second to get inside and start the engine. He wheeled back to the right side of the road, turned on the headlights, and lit his cigarette.

"What did we just do?" I squeaked.

"Take this, you need it." He gave me his cigarette.

I don't smoke, but neither do I dump things on people's front lawns; so, the cigarette felt like the right thing to do.

"How was it?" my boss asked.

"Terrifying!"

"Yeah… Especially when I tooted my horn in the middle of the operation. Everything because it was so secretive."

"What was it?"

"My old toilet tank."

My cigarette flew out when I coughed. "Your toilet tank? You woke me up in the middle of the night to dump your toilet tank on other people's property?"

"You have to understand, I was too embarrassed to put them in front of my office. These rich people have so many kids, it's natural for them to throw out toilet tanks. Nobody would give a shit about it. And I'm a lawyer. I have clients coming. I have done so much work, by the way, since you left. I installed two new toilet tanks. Now, the toilet flush sounds like a military jet."

"So, that was the important business you needed to do. That's why you didn't come for dinner. That's why you didn't want to discuss Debbie's case with me!"

Toilet tanks did me in. From now on, I will investigate everything myself without Joe's help. I will just report the results. I will never let him know how I got my information. And I knew just where to start: Debbie's new house and her neighbors.

Next morning, I slept through my husband leaving for work, and didn't wake up for my children's breakfast. It was ten when I finally opened my eyes and dragged myself to the kitchen. After my nocturnal dumping trip, I felt out of place, as if I had just come in from Europe.

"Sleeping in today?" Larissa's voice had a sarcastic undertone to it. "You don't look good. You know, it's destructive for a woman of our age to spend nights out. Here, your cup of strong coffee."

"Thanks, Larissa. Did the girls behave this morning?"

"They were unusually quiet. I think your absence stressed them out. A daily routine is more important for children than anything else. They expected you to see them off, and as always, you weren't there for them. Have a piece of toast with your coffee. Don't just gulp it down. It's bad for your stomach." She gracefully put her fingers through her curly strawberry hairdo. She might be well into her sixties, but she insisted on looking forty-five.

I fixed myself toast and jam, watching how a secret thought was boiling inside the old lady like soda mixed with lemon juice.

"You know, Rachel," she finally gave up. "You know, I like to read before going to bed. I only read very good authors like Dan Brown. There is no point wasting your life on anything inferior. I mean horrors or mysteries."

I nodded in complete agreement.

"Though last night I was reading a very interesting historical novel about a great medieval artist. You wouldn't know his name, anyway.... Suddenly, I heard some noise. Heavy footfalls… It was two o'clock in the morning. Of course, I rushed to check on the girls. You know, I am a highly responsible and dependable person. And I got a glimpse of you, in this yellow jacket, getting into your red car and driving away." She wrinkled her lips disapprovingly.

"So?"

"It's not any of my business, of course, but I believe Alexander noticed your absence." Burning with curiosity, Larissa bent over the table and knocked down her cup with her skinny, sharp elbow.

"I'll talk to him." I stood up abruptly and left, leaving the poor old lady to brew in her own sauce.

Debbie's current address was written in my memory in huge letters, and yet, being an exemplary assistant, I gave my boss an unanswered phone call, and only then did I set off for my trip.

It took me about an hour to get there. Why Deborah got a job in Center City to drive from New Jersey remained a mystery to me. The town's main street had a shopping center and a used car dealership. I stopped at McDonald's to use a bathroom and to grab something to eat. Larissa had an amazing ability to poison mealtime, and after a couple of skipped breakfasts, the whole idea of having a grandmotherly figure in the family didn't look so wise anymore. But try to tell this to Alexander! To have a live-in grandma is part of a healthy and happy childhood, and nothing could change his mind. I went in, munched down chicken salad, and followed it with soft ice cream to get my daily sugar fix. No matter what they say, fast food is a mood-altering substance, and it always works for me in stressful times.