There were bits of paper and old bottle caps at her feet, and for an instant Frank felt the impulse to sweep down and clear them away, to tidy things up a bit, the littered walkway she stood in, the rumpled sofa in his office, the cluttered desk and dank, stuffy closet. But it was too late, and so he simply nodded to her coolly, kept himself in check. “I’m surprised to see you here,” he said. Her eyes were only partially visible in the shadowy light, but Frank still had no problem sensing how lethally they rested on him. “When did you get out?” he asked. The Puri Dai watched him cautiously as he approached her, then passed by and stepped over to the door. “This morning,” she said crisply after he’d started to open it. “What was the bail?” Frank asked casually as he inserted the key and swung open the door. “Only that I must return,” the woman said. Frank looked back at her, surprised. “For murder, that’s all they asked?” The Puri Dai shrugged. “A document was delivered, that is all I know.”
