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very worried.” No more purr.
    “Dr. Schumacher is convinced she is being stalked,” said Charles, repeating his wife’s words. “We need your help—”
    “We want to apologize to Mr. Pradt,” said Patience. “We overreacted when we saw him down by our boathouse. We thought he was my stalker.”
    “This certainly changes things,” said Lew, closing the file and scrutinizing the faces of the two people in front of her. Before she could say more there was a knock at the office door.
    “I’ll get it,” Osborne said, rising from his chair.
    “That’ll be Ray,” said Lew.
    Osborne moved to cross the room as the door flew open and Ray, looking quite civilized in black gabardine slacks, a brown leather belt with a bronze walleye for a buckle and a red and black checked Pendleton shirt, rushed in. He waved his right hand, which was clutching sheets of paper. Like a stiff wind out of the north he blew by Osborne—but not so fast that his neighbor couldn’t see that something had changed. Something wasn’t right …
    “Here you are … all … the facts,” said Ray, slamming the papers down on Lew’s desk without a glance at Patience Schumacher and her husband. “I Googled ‘wildcat scatterings’ and …,” he said, his voice rising as he spoke, “this printout proves that a wildcat scattering …,” he paused to raise his right index finger and say, “is a … totally legitimate way to dispose of human ashes. Wildcat scatterings are very common and no one gets arrested. Even the FDA and the EPA say there’s no health hazard—ashes are mineral based.
    “Right here,” he stabbed an accusing index finger at a spot on the first printed page, “it tells you right here that not only do forty percent of people today want to be cremated … but last year at least one hundred and thirty five thousand families scattered ashes … . … wherever they chose. Power back to the people for their loved ones.
    “And that … is what my visit to your property was all about.” Only with his last words did Ray turn defiant eyes on Patience and her husband.
    “For heaven’s sake, people,” he said, “all I scattered at your place was five pounds of an elderly widow whose family was trying to follow her wishes that she be able to join her beloved late husband. She and her children had already scattered his ashes over the lake where he loved to fish—”
    “Mr. Pradt,” said Patience, holding both palms up in surrender, “will you please calm down? We came to say that we’re sorry about last night. We were just explaining to Chief Ferris that someone has been breaking into our house so when we saw you—we overreacted.”
    “Really?” said Ray, relaxing as he let a smile spread across his face.
    Oh, no, thought Osborne, realizing what it was that had seemed off kilter: Ray was clean-shaven. He had shaved off his beard.

C HAPTER 11
    “I f that’s settled,” said Patience, getting to her feet, “I’m afraid I have to leave. I have a meeting in twenty minutes. Charles can answer any questions you might have.”
    “Excuse me, Dr. Schumacher—but you are not leaving,” said Lew. “Please, sit down and we will continue this discussion.” Before Patience could argue, Lew raised a hand and said, “Look, I understand you may have a busy day. We all do. But right now I need both you and your husband to answer questions. You do not rush in here, allege someone is stalking you, and then dash off to a meeting.
    “Now …,” said Lew, pausing as Patience remained seated on the edge of her chair as if still planning to leave, “you have made a serious allegation that could lead to a felony arrest. So I suggest you call your colleagues and have them cancel that meeting or at least move it back a couple hours. You are president of Wheedon Technical College, correct?”
    “Yes, I am but—”
    “Need a phone?”
    “Good, I’m glad that’s taken care of,” said Lew. Patience had used her own cell phone to