Free No Neighborhood for Old Women (A Kelly O'Connell Mystery) by Judy Alter

Mike worried about, but I said nothing except, “I’m so sorry but with the girls, I can’t help you in patrolling. I’ll help with emails and phone calls if you want.”
    He smiled. “That would be a big help. I’ll keep you posted.”
    We didn’t linger over lunch and parted cordially, but this was a lunch I wouldn’t be telling Mike about.
    ****
    When I left the office early that afternoon, Keisha fixed me with a raised eyebrow. “Something special planned for tonight?”
    “Mike’s taking me out to dinner.” I think I must have blushed when I said that.
    “You need a chaperone?” She grinned.
    “Nope. I’m a big girl. I can take care of myself.”
    “But will you?” she asked, and I slammed out of the office.
    I dressed carefully, showering, shaving my legs, washing my hair and even trying to tame it just a bit with a big brush, lingering in the closet and choosing first this and then that, until Maggie cried out, “Mom, what are you doing in there?”
    “Just getting dressed,” I called. “I’m going out tonight. Claire’s going to stay with you girls.”
    ‘Where’re you going?”
    “Mike is taking me to dinner.” By then I chose a beige linen shift, loose and comfortable, with turquoise jewelry, and what I called my dressy beige tennis shoes. When I came to Maggie’s room, where both girls were watching TV, Maggie said, “Wow, Mom. You look nice.”
    “I want to go with Mike!” Em’s arms were folded across her chest and a scowl was on her face.
    “Sorry,” I said. “This is an adult evening. I have a date with Mike.”
    “I want a date with him,” Em said, while Maggie gave her an elbow in the ribs and said, ‘You can’t have a date with him. You’re five years old.” Em howled and then said, ‘I don’t care. It’s not fair.”
    Claire appeared about then and called out, “Grilled cheese sandwiches, potato chips, and pickle slices for supper!”
    Em forgot about her date and ran to the kitchen. “Can I help cook?”
    Maggie followed, after giving me a smile and a soft, “Have a good time, Mom.”
    When Mike came for me, the girls were seated at the kitchen table, half-eaten sandwiches in front of them, the pickle jar on the table, and their plates empty of chips which, of course, were eaten first. I kissed them goodnight, gave Claire my cell number, which she already had, and we left.
    We went to Lili’s, a bistro in the Fairmount district that featured weathered brick walls, sleek metal tables, and excellent food, including a wonderful wedge salad with blue cheese and bacon. Mike urged me to order whatever I wanted, so I bypassed the small plates to order quail stuffed with zucchini. He had beef tenderloin medallions, and I felt we were very elegant.
    Over dinner he told me about his day, including a call from an elderly woman on Chase Court who thought she’d seen a suspicious man in her backyard about noon.
    My mind clicked into business. Chase Court was one of the most interesting areas in Fairmount, just on the edge of the district where it verged into a disintegrating neighborhood. Chase Court was its own little world, but now the unpaved circular drive was filled with potholes and the stone wall around the court was broken into huge pieces. The place gave off a seedy air. If anything cried out for renovation, Chase Court did. But, sigh, I would never have the financing to be able to undertake that project. And I would have to have houses to renovate to make it worthwhile. Nobody on Chase Court sold a house.
    “Kelly, where are you?” Mike asked.
    I shook myself back to the conversation. “Sorry, my mind drifted to Chase Court. It’s such a charming piece of property.”
    Mike sort of frowned. “Yeah, if you like seedy. I thought it all looked run down.”
    “No, not if you look at the houses. The grounds are pretty awful, but the houses are wonderful. Mike, any chance the man she saw could have been the homeless man?”
    He sighed. “Kelly, are we going to