12After about fifteen minutes, Molly walked to the Gault house, figuring she’d given the men long enough to talk alone. She slipped in through the front door, not wanting to disturb them by knocking. She could hear their muffled voices coming from the back of the house, and she moved quietly down the corridor, stopping to glance in the living room.
It was very, very neat. Scrupulously so. Uncomfortably so. The sofa was an antique, with ornate woodwork but no throw pillows. On either side a small side table. A bookcase filled with books, and not a single one piled on top of the row as was the rule at Molly’s house. An armchair with a small round table beside it, three books precisely lined up, and an empty teacup in a saucer. It was spotlessly clean and completely without clutter of any ki
