Randy kissed her hand when I introduced them. Another woman charmed right out of her socks.

“Don’t mind him,” I said.

“I don’t mind him one bit, Alex,” she said.

“What in hell happened to your husband?” I said. “Randy said he fell off the roof?”

She rolled her eyes and pointed behind her. There was an open door on the other side of the kitchen, and through it I could see Leon lying on the bed with both feet propped up on pillows. There were casts on both ankles. “Alex!” he called when he saw me. “Bring our client in here!”

The lights were off in the bedroom. There was a computer monitor set up on one side of the double bed, and Leon was bathed in the blue glow off the screen. It made his unruly red hair look downright frightening. He had a plaid flannel shirt on and gray sweatpants. The keyboard from the computer was in his lap.

“You must be Mr. Wilkins,” he said, extending his right hand.

“Call me Randy.” He shook Leon’s hand.

“Leon,” I said, “did you actually fall off the roof and break both your ankles?”

“I was trying to get the ice out of the gutters,” he said. “Ellie’s been carrying me around for the last week. Good thing I’m as light as a ballet dancer.”

“Make that three ballet dancers,” Eleanor said as she came into the room. “I should have just left him out in the snow.” She was carrying a big wooden kitchen chair in each hand as casually as a pair of dinner plates. “You’ll be wanting some chairs in here,” she said, “seeing as how my husband isn’t going anywhere.”

When we were sitting on either side of the bed, he finished tapping something on the keyboard. From somewhere behind me, a printer sprang to life.

“Okay, then,” he said. “I’ve put in a good twenty hours on the case, and here’s what I’ve done so far.”