“This is a bad idea,” I told Jane.
We stood next to our cars, staring at a split-level house. Compared to its festive neighbors, the Anderson residence looked dull. No fall decor, sports logos, or anything adorned the front lawn. A single black SUV parked in the driveway and a light on the inside confirmed Belinda was home.
The only thing that justified this as being Snake Lady’s residence was a Medusa statue. Her head was mounted next to the front door. From afar, the fixture looked evil, but as Jane and I walked up, it embodied a sense of beauty. The snakes wrapped around her head, except for one, hissing in our direction. Medusa had a blank stare, giving the impression of being lonely rather than wanting to turn visitors into stone. I wondered if Medusa also represented how Belinda fe
