"Burglars," I said.

Carolyn stared.

"They beat us to the punch."

"Are they still around, Bern? We better get out of here."

I went back to the front door and checked it. I'd relocked the locks when we were inside, fastening an additional chain lock for good measure. The three locks had been locked when I found them, the chain bolt unengaged.

Strange.

If burglars had come through that door, and if they'd locked themselves in as I had done, wouldn't they put the chain bolt on as well? And if they'd already left, would they bother locking up from outside? I generally do that sort of thing as a matter of course, but then I'm not apt to leave a room looking as though it had been visited by the Gadarene swine, either. Whoever tossed that room was the type who kicked doors in, not the type who took extra time to lock up afterward.

Unless-

Lots of possibilities. I eased past Carolyn and began tracking the radio to its source. I passed through the dining room, where a mahogany breakfront and buffet had been rifled in fashion similar to the living-room desk, and entered a kitchen that had received a dose of the same treatment. A Panasonic stood on the butcher-block counter beside the refrigerator, blaring its transistorized heart out. I turned to Carolyn, raised a finger to my lips for silence, and switched off the radio in the middle of a rant about the latest increase in the price of oil.

I closed my eyes and listened very carefully to the ensuing silence. You could have heard a pin drop, and I was certain no one had dropped one.

"They're gone," I said.

"How can you be sure?"

"If they were here we'd hear them. They're not the silent type, whoever they are."

"We better get out."

"Not yet."

"Are you crazy, Bern? If they're gone, that just means the cops are on their way, and even if they're not, what are we gonna find to steal? Whoever did this already took everything."