Cobb is stationed on the next street, with a partial view of the back of the house. She doesn’t look for Cabel, but she knows where he is—

around the corner.

She slams her car door and walks up the driveway to Mr. Durbin’s front steps, hoping Stacey shows up soon. She knocks and hears footsteps. Mr. Durbin opens the door and ushers her in.

“Hey, Janie,” he says, letting her in and closing the door behind her.

“Looking good, Mr. Durbin,” Janie says with a grin, glancing around.

He’s rearranged the furniture, set up extra folding chairs, and added two card tables to the great-room area.

“You too, Janie,” he says, looking her up and down. “You can call me Dave outside of school, you know.”

She turns and gives him her full attention, and watches his eyes move to her chest. “Dave,” she repeats. “I should probably keep this refrigerated,” she says, indicating her dessert. “Mind if I poke around your kitchen so I know where to find things? I figure I can help you out with the food and drink distribution once everybody gets here.”

“Be my guest,” he says. Not a hint of apprehension.

Strike one, Janie thinks. He follows her and shows Janie where he keeps extra dishes, glasses, silverware, and napkins.

“The fridge is packed pretty tightly,” he says, “but there’s room on the bottom shelf, if you move a few beer bottles around.” He stands behind her while she bends over and shoves her dessert inside. “You want a beer or something? I’m making punch, too.”

“Are you having one?” she asks.

“Sure.”

On the fridge, holding—what else?—two snapshots of Mr. Durbin himself, is a magnet. The magnet, with the Fieldridge Crimebusters hotline number. Janie’s heart pounds. He screwed himself, she realizes, thinking of the blurred, anonymous person in the kitchen, making the call.

Swiftly, Janie pulls out two bottles of beer and Durbin shows her where the bottle opener is, when from the hallway comes none other than Mr. Wang. He’s barefooted and his hair is wet.

“Mr. Wang,” Janie says, controlling her surprise. “I didn’t know you were here.”

“Ms. Hannagan,” he says with a nod.

Mr. Durbin grins. “So formal, you two. Chris, Janie,” he says. “Janie, you want to grab a beer for Chris? I’ve got to get this punch going.

Chris came early to help me with the tables and chairs, and then we ended up in a rather competitive game of one-on-one. Basketball,” he adds.

“I see. Well it’s very nice to see you, uh, Chris.” She winks and he looks nervous.

“Likewise, Janie.”

Janie hands Mr. Wang a beer. He looks around the room to see what needs to be done, and finally, rather helplessly, he goes to the stereo and starts rummaging through the CDs. “I’ll take my usual spot as the DJ,” he says.

The doorbell rings, and Stacey lets herself in with a shriek of “Woo hoo!” Janie raises her eyebrow.

“Hey, Stacey,” Janie says when Stacey brings her Crock-Pot to the kitchen’s island.

“Janie!” Stacey smells like beer already. “Are you ready to party?” Mr. Wang has Coldplay on now, and he cranks the volume. “Now I am,” Janie says, holding up her beer. Wonders how wild the party has to get before Mr. Wang moves to hip-hop.

She takes the paper cups and beverage napkins to the great room, where Mr. Durbin is pouring a bottle of cranberry juice into a punch bowl that already has a clear liquid in it. He adds a bottle of Ruby Red Squirt to the mixture as Janie sets up the table display, and then he goes to the sink to get an ice ring, and plops that in as well.

Janie opens the package of napkins and lays them out in a spiral design. “What goes on the other table?” she asks.

Mr. Durbin stirs the punch with a ladle. “I figured we’d put some munchies out there. You want to be in charge of keeping that going?” He takes a cup and pours a little of the punch in it, tasting it, nodding approval.

“Sure. I saw some stuff on the counter. I’ll get serving bowls and put those things out here.”

“I have a little apron you can wear if you’d like,” he says under the noise of the music, so only she hears it.

Janie raises her eyebrow and glances at him. He’s grinning.

Stacey comes over to the punch table. “Is this the same stuff you made at the last party, Dave? And if it is, I should probably test it, don’t you think?” She gives him an innocent look.

“Absolutely,” he says, pouring a glass for her.

Janie goes to the kitchen and begins to distribute the munchie items into various-size bowls. When she takes them to the table, Mr. Wang is downing some punch too. “How about it, Janie?” Mr. Durbin offers her a glass.

“After my beer,” she says with a grin. “What’s in that stuff, anyway?”

“Just a little vodka. You can’t even taste it,” he says.

“But you can feel it.” Stacey giggles.

Mr. Wang is beginning to loosen up now, and by seven p.m., Mr.

Durbin, Mr. Wang, and Stacey are bantering comfortably.

Janie takes advantage of the moment to pour some of her beer into the sink before the doorbell starts ringing. It doesn’t stop for the next hour.

She plays hostess.

8:17 p.m.

Everyone has arrived, and the party is beginning to pick up speed.

Janie works the kitchen, arranging the dishes as people bring them in.