Annie's Neighborhood. Roz Fox Denny

snapped, snatching self-righteousness from the air that sizzled between them. “Martial arts moves aren’t an effective defense against a group of hoodlums packing heat.”

      “You’re right,” Annie said. Backing down at once, she bent to retrieve her fallen sander. “I’m sure you didn’t intend to scare me half to death, and I’m just as sure you didn’t drop by to get involved in a shouting match. To what do I owe this visit, Chief?”

      Needing to buy time for his reeling nerves to settle, Sky bent and scooped up his sunglasses out of a patch of weeds, where they’d flown during his somersault. Her sudden graceful capitulation surprised him—and provoked him at the same time. He studied her obliquely through the dark lenses, and found himself liking the fact that she was a woman of contradictions as well as the fact that she could admit to being wrong. That reaction immediately flip-flopped and her apologetic demeanor suddenly annoyed him. Because seeing her contrite left him wanting to untuck all that gorgeous black hair under the Dodgers baseball cap.

      “I came by to see your neighbors,” he said gruffly. “This morning I managed to run down their stolen televisions. The other items they lost I doubt we’ll ever recover. It’s fortunate that George and Mike had paperwork on their TVs, which gave me serial numbers. Other run-of-the-mill household articles rarely provide cops with a workable trail.”

      Annie nodded. “I’m so glad you got their TVs back. Neither family can afford to replace them. George is on disability, and Mike works on commission. He and Missy are still paying off their wedding. I asked if either family has theft insurance. Both carry basic fire coverage, and that’s all.”

      “What about you?” Sky asked abruptly. “To my knowledge you never gave us any information on what you lost.”

      “Gran’s TV was old. She was a lifelong reader, so she didn’t have any other electronics. The intruders did dump everything on her bookshelves. Gran also pieced and sewed quilts her church group passed on to a family crisis center. She was passionate about making a new kid-sized quilt for every child who ended up with their mom in an abuse shelter. But from what I could tell, her sewing supplies are intact. One thing that might be missing is her good silver. Truthfully I can’t say. I hadn’t seen it since I got here. But knowing Gran, she might have given it away. Although it meant a lot to her since it belonged to her mother.”

      “Huh, you may be in luck,” Sky said, moved by the way her whole demeanor softened when she spoke of her grandmother. “The same guy who pawned the TVs left a chest of silverware. I have it in the car. I picked it up on the off chance it belonged to one of you three. If you can identify the set, the pawnbroker is out a bundle of cash.” He shook his head. “Who would’ve thought old silverware would be worth so much?”

      “Wow, getting it back when I wasn’t even sure it had been stolen would be lucky.” Annie set her sander on the porch and prepared to follow him. “Solid sterling is costly in today’s market. Gran had a full service for twelve people. The pattern is La Perle. Some pieces are stamped with the maker’s name. If I recall, it’s Reed and Barton. Gran Ida didn’t own a lot of nice things. But in keeping with her Southern heritage, she always set a formal table for holidays.”

      “Hmm. My mom’s not Southern. She’s a born and bred New Yorker, and she whipped us into shape for big family gatherings, too. I hope the silver is yours. If not, I’ll have to drive back to the pawn shop across the border.”

      “Is that what the gang does? Shuffle what they pilfer out of state?” Annie matched his longer stride, seeming interested in hearing his answers.

      “Unfortunately, they run an efficient underground,” Sky said as they reached his cruiser. He faced her home as he popped open the trunk of his car. “So I guess you’re doing a facelift, hoping to sell the house for a higher price,” he said, jerking a thumb toward the Victorian. “Not that you asked for my advice. However, it’s free. Renovating isn’t worth your time and money. Our housing market stinks. It wasn’t great when I moved here a little over a year ago. I shouldn’t have bought, and wish I’d rented instead. Only I needed to prove to... Oh, never mind,” he muttered, drawing her attention to the contents in the trunk.

      Annie’s brain skipped from his question to his comment about the house and on to his abruptly cut-off revelation that might have revealed something personal. “Oh, that is Gran’s silver,” she exclaimed, letting his comment go. “I recognize the chest. But maybe we should check inside to be sure.”

      Sky raised the lid and the broker’s guarantee lay on top of the first tray. It verified that the contents were sterling, the maker Reed and Barton and the pattern La Perle. “You nailed it,” Sky said, handing the guarantee to Annie. “Pawn shop owners have to know a lot about all kinds of merchandise, or they’d lose their shirts lending money to people they hope will come back to reclaim their goods, but rarely do.”

      “I hadn’t thought about that. Isn’t it against the law to deal in stolen property?”

      “If they have reason to suspect it’s stolen. Certain pawnbrokers have a backroom fencing operation, so to speak. This guy volunteered information about the silver, which I didn’t have on my list, so I figure he’s on the up-and-up.”

      “Oh, then I’m sorry he got taken.” Annie lifted the chest out of the deep trunk of the aging Ford Crown Vic.

      “Here, let me get that for you,” Sky said. “I’ll carry it to the house.”

      “That’s okay. It isn’t that heavy and you have two TVs to deliver. George Gilroy has a bad back, and Mike Spurlock’s at work. I’m not sure if Missy is pregnant. Something she said the other evening made me think she might be. She broke down after the vandalism debacle and cried about the thought of raising children in this neighborhood.”

      “Huh,” Sky snorted. “I’m an authority when it comes to that concern. My ex-wife’s attorney drives it home every time they haul me into court hoping to derail my bid for joint custody.”

      “You have children?” Annie asked as he hefted the larger of the two TVs and slammed the trunk lid shut with more force than necessary.

      “One,” Sky answered. “Zachary’s five.”

      Annie saw his jaw tense. She recognized his not-quite-checked anger. She’d seen similar reactions on numerous occasions during her work with broken families. She didn’t know this cop well enough to sympathize, however. Besides, she was trained to remain neutral. “Just before you showed up, I was thinking of taking a break to have a glass of cold lemonade,” she said lightly. “If you can spare a few minutes to join me on the porch after you deliver those TVs, there’s something I’d like to run by you—in your official capacity.”

      For a split second Skylar felt uneasy. But then, after glancing at his watch, he gave a brief nod.

      Annie left to climb her porch steps. At the door she turned and called out, “Hey, thanks for getting back as much stuff as you did. I doubted you’d make the effort. My apologies for misjudging you, Cordova.”

      Sky nodded again, this time looking away. He hoped her apology was sincere. But if he went by past experience, it was entirely possible that she was trying to butter him up for some other reason. Not exactly an unfamiliar experience for him, since manipulation was a habit of his ex-wife’s, he thought irritably as he rapped on the Gilroys’ front door.

      It took Sky twenty minutes or more to return the TVs and break away from the Gilroys’ and Missy Spurlock’s vociferous thanks. Almost wishing he’d turned down Annie Emerson’s invitation for a cold drink, he checked in with Koot, hoping for a minor crisis that would give him an excuse to leave. As bad luck would have it, the lieutenant said all was quiet in the precinct.

      Returning his cell phone to its holder on a leather work belt weighed down with a nightstick, a stun gun, handcuffs and a Glock, Sky trudged up Annie’s steps. He saw several changes on the porch since his last visit. An old glider swing sported new cushions, as did four wicker chairs clustered around a glass-topped table. A pitcher filled with frosty lemonade sat there, along with