CHAPTER SIXTEEN A — THE WOMAN WITH THE RED BUCKET

Denise Porter returned to my house after speaking with Detective Lin.
She had a receipt from the cleaning company showing the date Patricia hired her to move supplies.
“The detective has a copy,” she said.
“I wanted you to know I didn’t keep quiet this time.”
I invited her to sit on the porch while I made tea.
Denise declined the tea but accepted a glass of water.
“My supervisor asked why the police called our office,” she said.
“I told her the truth.”
“Was she angry?”
“She was worried about the company.”
Denise looked down at her hands.
“I was worried about my job.”
I waited.
“Mrs. Hollen asked whether I would say the red paint belonged to me,” she continued.


“She said she’d pay me for the inconvenience.”
“What did you tell the detective?”
“Exactly that.”
“Did you accept any money?”
“No.”
She took a breath.
“I didn’t know she was going to damage your house when I moved those supplies.”
“I know you told the detective what you saw.”
“I keep thinking I should have recognized it.”
I looked toward the blue door.
“Most people carry paint for ordinary reasons.”
Denise nodded slowly.
“That’s what I told myself.”
She stood to leave, then stopped at the gate.
“My daughter asked why I was scared of telling the truth,” she said.
“What did you tell her?”
“I told her I was scared of what would happen afterward.”
She looked back at me.
“Then she asked whether I was less scared now.

”
“Are you?”
Denise considered the question.
“Not yet,” she said.
“But I can sleep.”

CHAPTER SIXTEEN B — THE COST OF THE KEY

Ruth Keene arranged for an independent locksmith to rekey the workshop after the board voted to change access rules.
Patricia objected that she had personally managed the keys for more than a decade.
“That doesn’t make them yours,” Ruth replied.
The locksmith arrived on a Tuesday morning with a case of tools and a printed authorization signed by the board.
Graham stood nearby with the new training coordinator.
Patricia appeared before the first lock had been removed.
“You’re destroying the neighborhood,” she told Ruth.
“We’re changing who can authorize entry.”
“I built this program.”
“You helped build it,” Ruth said.
“Other people helped too.”
Patricia turned toward Graham.
“After everything I did for you, this is how you repay me?”
Graham looked at the workshop windows.
“You gave me a room where I could teach,” he said.
“Then you told me I couldn’t teach unless I agreed to keep students out.”
“There have to be standards.”
“There are standards for welding,” he replied.
“We teach them every day.”
The locksmith finished the first cylinder and handed the old hardware to Ruth.
Patricia reached toward it, but Ruth stepped back.
“These are the organization’s records and property,” Ruth said.
“We’ll keep them with the inventory.”
Patricia’s face changed.
For a moment, she looked less angry than bewildered.
The door had always opened when she turned her key.
Now she stood outside watching someone else test the new lock.
Ruth handed a new key to the coordinator and asked him to sign for it.
Graham received one for scheduled class hours.
A third key went into a sealed emergency cabinet controlled by the building owner.
Patricia received none.
She walked away before the locksmith finished packing his tools.