BETHANY GLEESON LIVED in a three story walkup with peeling siding and old red brick that was blackened from time and auto exhaust. Near the Indiana State Fairgrounds, the complex had one concrete footing in an older neighborhood of once stately homes that young professionals were slowly restoring to their former glory, and another on the edge of a much poorer neighborhood, where the houses were small and cupboards were sometimes bare.
Her walkup seemed to be leaning toward the poor side, but the late model cars parked along the street in front of it were doing their best to balance it the other way.
Percy and Clovis climbed the age-worn wooden steps to the third floor and Clovis knocked in his usual, less than gentle way. The painted metal door vibrated in its frame under his assault.
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