Lyle thought it had rained for a couple of minutes in the night, but by the time the sun had risen, there was no way to tell if it’d been a dream or if it had rained.

Through the kitchen wall, Kelly Clarkson was playing on full volume from the neighbouring apartment; Odette was studying for exams. He walked to the kitchen cupboard and took out a book on the Thai language; he’d been doing some translations for Jones from a recording of a telephone conversation between a husband and a wife; he’d promised to have them done by today.

He replaced the book in its place in the cupboard, and poured himself a glass of water from the kitchen sink and placed it down in the centre of the table. He’d go to the bathroom for his medications and come back and have something to eat for breakfast.

As he was walking to the bathroom, he thought about what he’d have for breakfast. He wasn’t hungry, so he decided to just have toast. At the bathroom, he found that he’d run out of herbal capsules, and his vitamins were getting low.

He put a hand on the wall and stared for a long time at the spider painted there.

He walked back into the kitchen in time to hear Odette replay the song she’d just listened to, and sat down at the table to take his pills with the glass of water he’d set aside; it was still in the middle of the table, where he’d left it.

He poured himself another glass of water at the sink and frowned, looking out of the window onto the street. A car from the police station?

He placed the glass down on the metal draining board, half full. The car wasn’t Jones’, he decided. A different station; it was from the station on the other side of town.

An urgent banging started up outside in the corridor; Odette’s music fell silent after a couple of bangs.

Lyle started to walk towards his apartment door, breakfast forgotten. Had one of the other neighbours complained about the noise?

From the other side of the door, he heard an unfamiliar female voice. “To your best knowledge, your neighbour is home, Miss Smith?”

“Yes, but-”

The unfamiliar female voice: “Your assistance in this matter is appreciated-”

Odette: “What is this ab-”

“I’d advise that you return to your home, Miss Smith.” A male voice; the female’s partner?

“I don’t-”

“If you’d give us some privacy, Miss Smith,” the female voice interrupted.

“He’s an American, I swear! He’s not… foreign, or anything. I mean, to my best knowledge. He told me he was from the country, as a kid.”

Lyle frowned; he’d never told Odette that, they’d never spoken before.

“I’d appreciate if you returned to your home,” the female voice relayed stiffly.

“He’s one of us-”

Lyle walked the few paces to his door and unlocked it. Two plain clothes law enforcement officers; Odette in a Hannah Montana tracksuit. “Odette, please… do as the Officers say.”

Odette’s eyes widened on his face: Oh, he’d come to rescue her, that was… nice. She turned about and fiddled with her doorhandle; she hurried inside, forgetting to nod to the officers.

The woman’s cool gaze adjusted direction. “Are you Lyle Parker?”

“I am,” Lyle replied. “May I ask what this is in relation to?”

The woman’s cool eyes hardened.

Lyle turned away and walked to Odette’s door. He knocked a few times; the door was opened hastily, as though Odette hadn’t been far from it when he’d knocked. “It’s early; maybe leave the rest of the wine for lunch, hmm?”

Odette’s face flamed. “Yeah, it’s kinda lame with Cornflakes,” she admitted. She lowered her voice. “Are you in trouble?”

He nodded. It looked that way, so far.

“I didn’t say anything!” Odette assured him in a quick, quiet voice.

He smiled; there was no need to alarm his neighbour. “What would you say, Odette? We don’t know each other. We’ve never spoken before; today is the first time.”

“Yeah,” Odette agreed. She supposed it was, too.

“Mr. Parker,” the woman’s voice had taken on an impatient edge; she didn’t like him.

Odette’s pink face scrunched in worry; the woman was antsy.

“Goodbye, Odette,” Lyle told her. “I know you’ll be terrific; don’t let it get you down.”

Odette smiled.

He took the doorhandle and closed the door for her, and turned back to the woman and her partner.

“Detective April Young.” She had her gun out, and aimed. “Lyle Parker, you’re under arrest for suspicion of involvement in the murders of Chiyo Hakamora and Tazu Iakawa. You don’t have to-”

Lyle stepped past her quickly, and hurried toward the four-year-old boy who’d just stepped out of one of the apartments. One of his little yellow Crocs fell off when Lyle picked him up; they were a size too big for him. Lyle knocked on the door quickly. “Ada, don’t lock your brother out.”

The door opened in a flash. “You don’t know what he did!” Ada howled furiously, shooting out a hand to grab her little brother.

Lyle stepped back, in a hurry.

Ada glared at her little brother; he was dead. Running to the neighbour for help was for chickens, and sooo pathetic!

“What did he do?” Lyle asked calmly.

“The little bastard put my cell phone in the freezer. He did it on purpose. And now it doesn’t work! He broke it!” She made a disgusted voice. “Just because we watched my movie instead of his last night!” It wasn’t fair!

Lyle sighed. “Ada, take Roger back inside. And please, be nice to him. Those are police officers over there.”

Ada’s eyes widened in fright. She reached out her arms to take the little boy, and shuffled backwards, back inside, slamming the door after her.

“Mr. Parker!” Young’s gun had been put out of sight, but that didn’t mean she wouldn’t take it out again.

“Just let me lock up.”

The door to Ada’s apartment opened as he was passing and Ada poked her head out. “Does Hannah Montana steal your mail? She’s been stealing our stuff!”

“No, Ada, I haven’t had any mail stolen of recent,” Lyle told the 13-year-old. “I don’t think Odette has had time to steal anyone’s mail; she’s studying for exams.”

Ada rolled her eyes. “Whatever!” she grumbled. “And don’t be home late!” She slammed the door shut.

Young glanced at her partner.