“If he comes back, please do not let him in,” I said.

“I won’t,” Vance said.

“But you might want to double-check your locks.

The latch on that back alley door has been sticking again.”

“I will,” I said.

“He had a silver key ring in his hand,” Vance added, tapping his own pocket.

“Kept spinning it around his finger while he was talking to me.

Kept saying he knew you lived here because he recognized your car.”