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The same model lamp post we’d seen entering the neighborhood highlighted a paved path to Mr. Dickey’s entrance. The house was large, but not ridiculously so, painted white with black shutters and second-story dormers that gave it a traditional air. The bulk was one big chunk, with a smaller chunk to the right that was likely a later addition. A porch ran the length of the big chunk, wrapping around the corner to dead-end at the addition.
Mounting the front steps, recessed lighting illuminated ceiling fans and several wooden rockers that looked attractive but uncomfortable. Heavily curtained windows gave off a soft interior glow and a sense of occupation, but no revelations of movement.
Roger’s arm stretched for the doorbell, the sleeve of his impeccable suit jacket rising to expose h
