It was closer to fifteen minutes from the time they’d left Jason’s house to the moment when they actually pulled up in front of the building that housed MaryJo Gaffney’s condo, but he’d allowed them some extra time, so they were still a little early.
The building had obviously once been a house, probably built around the turn of the twentieth century, or maybe in the 1920s. Hadn’t a lot of San Francisco burned down after a big earthquake around then? Laurel thought she remembered reading about that in history class, but she had to admit that her knowledge of the exact dates involved was a little hazy. This house must have been built after that, or maybe this part of the city had escaped the disaster mostly unscathed.
Jason glanced at the clock on the dashboard — 3:29. “I suppose it’s oka
