People with flashlights in a darkened building tend to shine the circle of light square in the faces of people nearby. They expect to see neighbors, and maintenance men, and they have a sudden bright suspicion of people they don’t know. Mouser edged back toward a column. Two older women were standing in the lobby, miffed at the inconvenience of ruined dinners, and one kept pointing a light in his direction. ‘I’m sorry,’ she finally said. ‘Do you live in the building?’ ‘No, ma’am, my friend does and she asked me to wait in the lobby.’ ‘Who’s your friend?’ ‘Grace Crosby.’ The answer seemed to satisfy the woman. ‘Well, they better get the power back on. We got half-cooked pork chops sitting in a skillet.’ ‘Told you we should have baked them,’ the other woman said. ‘Oven would have finished the job, kept ‘em hot.’ The first woman growled in annoyance and agreement. But she performed a valuable service for Mouser - she flashed her light toward every entrant into the lobby from the stairwell, as regular as a sentry.
