CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
Half an hour later, I was cruising past Mabel Forbes’s house, which had a forest green front door that didn’t quite jibe with the sky-blue color of the siding. I wondered if she took shit from the homeowners association over that somewhat incongruous mismatch.
The house sat atop a small hill and had a driveway that led to a one-car garage. Both driveway and garage sat low enough to suggest they led to the basement. No vehicles were parked in front of the house. In fact, the entire street was empty. But it was only 3:30. Maybe, as people returned home from work, I’d have better luck blending into the neighborhood.
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