CHAPTER FOURTEEN S: A CALL FROM EVELYN

Evelyn called Paul on a rainy evening and asked whether he would come over.
Paul had not been inside her house since the inspectors arrived.
He agreed to visit for half an hour.
Evelyn opened the door wearing an old sweater and slippers.
The front room looked exactly as it always had, except that the shelves beside the window were empty.
She offered him tea.
He declined.
“I heard you had a meeting without me,” she said.
“We discussed how to share neighborhood notices,” Paul answered.
“I used to organize those meetings.”
“I know.

”
“Nobody even called to ask whether I wanted to attend.”
Paul sat in the chair opposite her.
“You know why people are uncomfortable right now.”
“I have spent twenty years helping this street.”
“You have,” Paul said.
“And you also gave somebody information that didn’t belong to you.”
Evelyn gripped the arm of her chair.
“I believed Gordon was helping us.”
“Did you ask the people on those lists whether they wanted his help?”
“They would have said no.”
“Then you knew you didn’t have permission.”
Evelyn looked away.
Rain tapped against the window.
Paul waited without filling the silence.


“When I first started organizing things, people asked me for help,” Evelyn said at last.
“Later, they stopped asking, but the problems didn’t stop.”
“That doesn’t mean the people stopped being able to make decisions.”
“I thought I could see what they couldn’t.”
“Maybe sometimes you could,” Paul answered.
“You still had to tell them what you saw.”
Evelyn wiped her eyes angrily.
“I don’t know how to live here if everybody thinks I’m a criminal.”
“You can start by telling the truth about what you did.”
“You make it sound simple.”
“I didn’t say it was easy.”
Paul stood to leave.


Evelyn followed him to the door.
“Will you tell Trevor I asked about him?” she said.
“You can speak to Trevor yourself if he wants to listen.”
“He won’t.”
“Then respect that,” Paul said.
He walked home in the rain, feeling older than he had when he arrived.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN T: THE VISITOR AT THE COUNTER

A stranger entered Sima’s grocery the following afternoon and asked for the owner.
He wore a neat blue jacket and carried a tablet.
Sima introduced herself.
The man said he represented a regional retail support service and wanted to discuss the store’s online reputation.


Sima asked for a business card.
He handed her one printed on thick white paper.
The company name meant nothing to her.
“We monitor community concerns that can affect customer confidence,” he said.
“Your store has appeared in some neighborhood discussions.”
Sima looked toward the refrigerated case.
Two customers were choosing drinks.
“What concerns?” she asked.
“Complaints about how you handle customer information.”
“Who complained?”
“Our service doesn’t disclose sources.”
“Then I don’t need your service.”
The man smiled.
“A proactive response can prevent misunderstandings.”
Sima handed back the card.
“You can prevent one by leaving my store.”
He hesitated and then walked out.


Sima waited until he was gone before calling Trevor.
She described the visit and read the company name from a photograph she had taken of the card.
Trevor did not recognize it.
He suggested she keep the photograph and tell Ruiz if she believed the visit related to the investigation.
Sima called the inspector herself.
Ruiz asked for the exact words the man had used and the time he arrived.
She did not speculate about his employer.
Sima ended the call and went back to work.
The encounter had unsettled her, but she refused to close the store early.
That evening,

she put a handwritten sign beside the register.
It read, WE DO NOT COLLECT CUSTOMER NAMES FOR NEIGHBORHOOD REPORTS.
A regular customer read it and asked what it meant.
Sima explained in two sentences.
The customer nodded and bought a loaf of bread.
The ordinary exchange made her feel steadier than any grand statement could have.