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Mrs Jent’s one-story house was plain, a typical 1950s construction that would probably hop off its foundation at the next big earthquake I hoped her insurance prehborhood was affluent, there was the occasional house like hers tucked aious properties Once disaster struck, soet their hands on the lot

In the h stucco painted a melon color with a low-pitched roof covered with rocks the size of popcorn ereen and the landscaping ell designed, which lent the house race than would otherwise have been in evidence

When I rang the front bell, I found lass panes in the door The design must have been one of his early ones, a silass, shaped like a U on a stick and half filled with red wine This was a portent since the wolass erprints In her other hand she held a cigarette Her eyes were brown and her hair was a dark carroty red, cut into short wispy strands that curled up around her head like flaht have been younger and suffering the aging effects of booze and sreen silk kimono

"Mrs Jent?"

"I am"

"Felix suggested I talk to you"

Her movements were liquid and she swayed in my direction "Sure I can do that You have a naht me at the cocktail hour Would you care to joinfor a reply, she turned and the kimono blossomed out around her like a matador’s cape Fortunately, she had her back tounsee underpants? She padded down the hallway, talking over her shoulder while I followed in the wake of smoke and alcohol fumes

Surreptitiously, I checked et," she said, apparently catching my reat"

"White or red?"

"White"

"Chardonnay or Sauvignon Blanc?"