Ina sat on one of the white resin chairs on her small stoop, watching Mains with raptor-like interest. Ina was four-feet-ten and never left the house without wearing lipstick. She had soft blue-white grandma curls and snappy green eyes. Her appearance deceived people into believing that she baked cookies and cooed over babies. Nothing could be further from the truth. Mains smiled at her. That was his first mistake.

Before we could slip inside, Ina’s high, baby robin voice called, “India, dear, aren’t you going to introduce me to your friend?” She leaned over the wrought iron fence that divided the stoop into hers and mine.

Mains looked at me expectantly with a hint of a grin.

Successfully trapped, I made introductions. “Ina, this is Richmond Mains,” I said, purposely omitting detective. Not sure what to call Mains, I turned to him. “And this is my neighbor, Ina Carroll.”

Ina reached over the railing. “Nice to meet you, young man. It’s been such a long time since India’s had a nice-looking male friend over. Of course, that Bobby is always here, but no need to worry. They’re just friends, you see.”

Mains produced a full-fledged smirk.

I think my heart stopped. “Well, I’ll see you later, Ina,” I said.

“Oh, I see.” She gave me a dramatic wink. To Mains, she added, “Have India show you her studio. She’s a real talent.”

Safely inside, I leaned against the door. I fake laughed. “Ina’s a character.”

“I like the leprechauns. Yours?”

“Ina’s.” My face was still unbearably hot. “Please have a seat,” I said, motioning to the couch.

Templeton was MIA. Mains turned from me and moved toward the couch but stopped dead when he saw my living room. As he gawked, I tried to look at it with new eyes.