“Any questions?”

“What about Solana?”

“I’m not harassing her,” I said.

“You know that’s not what I mean.”

“Yeah, well, I’ve got that under control. Peggy’s going to make a call. I gave her the rundown on the situation and she suggested a plan just about guaranteed to send Solana scurrying. Mind if we use your phone?”

“Be my guest.”

I wrote Gus’s number on the scratch pad Henry kept by the phone and I watched Peggy punch in the numbers. Her expression shifted when the line was picked up and I tilted my head close to the handset so I could hear the conversation.

“May I speak to Ms. Tasinato?” she said, smoothly. She had a lovely phone manner, pleasant and authoritative, with a hint of warmth in her voice.

“Yes, this is she.”

“This is Denise Amber. I’m Mr. Larkin’s assistant at Santa Teresa Savings and Loan. I understand there was a problem about the funding of your loan. He asked me to call and tell you how sorry he is for any distress it might have caused.”

“That’s right. I was very upset and I’m thinking about changing banks. You can tell him I said so. I’m not used to being treated like that. He told me to come in and pick up the check and then that woman-the pregnant one-”

“Rebecca Wilcher.”

“That’s her. She handed me another form to fill out when I’d already given Mr. Larkin everything he asked for. And then she had the nerve to tell me the funds wouldn’t be available until the judge approved.”

“Which is why I’m calling. I’m afraid Mrs. Wilcher and Mr. Larkin got their wires crossed. She wasn’t aware he’d already cleared the matter with the court.”

“He did?”

“Of course. Mr. Vronsky’s been a valued customer for many years. Mr. Larkin made a point of expediting the approval process.”

“I’m happy to hear that. I have a contractor coming here on Monday with a proposal all drawn up. I promised him a deposit so he can start the electrical work. Right now, the wiring’s so frayed, I can smell the scorches. I plug in an iron and the toaster at the same time and all the lights go out. Mrs. Wilcher didn’t even express her concern.”

“I’m sure she had no idea what you’ve been dealing with. The reason I called is that I have your check at my desk. The bank closes at five o’clock, so if you like I can tuck it in the mail and save you the trip through rush-hour traffic.”

Solana was silent for half a beat. “That’s very kind of you, but I may be going out of town soon. The mail in this neighborhood is slow to arrive and I can’t afford a delay. I’d prefer to pick it up in person and deposit the money in an account I set up especially for this purpose. Not your bank. This is the trust company I’ve been dealing with for years.”

“Whatever’s most convenient. If tomorrow works better for you, we open at nine.”

“Today’s fine. I’m tied up with a little something at the moment, but I can set that aside and be there in fifteen minutes.”

“Wonderful. I’m leaving for the day, but all you have to do is ask at the teller’s window. I’ll have the check in an envelope with your name on it. I’m sorry I can’t be here to deliver it personally.”

“Not a problem. Which window?”

“The first. Just inside the door. I’ll walk the envelope over as soon as we finish our conversation.”

“I appreciate this. It’s a great relief,” Solana said.

Peggy hung up, smiling with satisfaction. I was happy to introduce her to the joy of telling fibs. She’d been worried she couldn’t pull it off, but I told her anyone who lied to little kids about Santa Claus and the Easter Bunny could surely manage this.

Henry positioned himself at the dining room window and kept an eye on the street. Within minutes, Solana appeared and hurried to her car. As soon as Henry signaled that she’d pulled away, I was out the back door and slipping through the hedge. Peggy pushed through the bushes after me, doing god knows what damage to her panty hose. “Who cares?” she said, when I cautioned her.

“You have your car keys?” I asked.

She patted her pocket. “I locked my purse in the trunk so we’re good to go.”

“You have a talent for skulduggery, I admire that. What sort of work do you do?” I asked, as we climbed the porch steps.

“I’m a stay-at-home mom. We’re a rare breed these days. Half the mothers I know hang on to their jobs because they can’t handle being at home with their own kids full-time.”