1 Breakfast at Madeline's by Matt Witten Page A

break into our house and—
    I stopped. "Andrea, where are the kids?"
    "Spending the night at Judy's. I got them the new Mighty Ducks video, so they should be fine—"
    "Honey, call Dave. The cop. Tell him to get over to our house now."
    Andrea understood immediately what I was getting at and grabbed the phone book. "What's his last name?"
    Damn. "Bass? Trout?"
    "Pickerel?"
    It was some kin d of fish, but which? Tuna? Had dock? "The hell with it. Call nine-one-one."
    She started to dial, then stopped. "And tell them what?"
    “ Tell them there's a burglary in progress at one-oh - nine Elm Street!"
    "But we don't know that."
    I grabbed her sh oulders. "No, we don't. But who ever broke in last night didn't get what he wanted. This is his first good chance to try again."
    "Come on, Jacob, you're being—"
    I swung my feet out of the bed and stood up. Fortu nately all of my tubes had been removed. "Let's go."
    "But—"
    "Hurry, before they try to feed me any more Jell-O."
    "Are you sure you're well enough to—"
    "Sweetheart, let's blow this joint."
    I threw on my cloth es and we snuck out to the hall way, where two nurses were deep in discussion about how unfair it is that Sean Connery is still considered sexy at sixty-eight, whereas a beautiful woman like Angela Lansbury is considered over the hill. Knowing how passionate women get when talking about this subject, I was confident they'd never notice Andrea and me even if we walked out right in front of them. And I was right. Easiest getaway since Ni xon got par doned.
    Andrea took the wh eel in deference to my question able medical status, but we didn't lose any speed be cause of it. She grew up in Brooklyn and can run red lights with the best of them. And despite her protesta tions she must have been feeling as anxious as I was, because we made it home from the hospital in five minutes flat, and jumped out of the car.
    But there were no signs of weirdness. No suspicious vehicles out front, and no house lights turned on. False alarm.
    "That's too bad," Andrea said as we walked up the driveway. "I was kind of looking forward to doing my Geena Davis female action hero imitation."
    I laughed. "As long as you don't expect me to do a Bruce Willis—"
    She stopped suddenly and I bumped into her. "Whoa," I said.
    And then I saw it: a dark shadowy figure. Our house seemed to be full of th em these days. This one was out side our side door and slinking away. "Hey!" I shouted.
    The shadow immediately stopped slinking and started running. It dashed into our backyard, with A n drea and me in hot pursuit.
    Her pursuit was hotter than mine, I must confess. I slipped in the wet grass—the rain had continued in termittently all day—and fell down. When I got up, the shadow had already vaulted over our back fence. But Andrea was vaulting right behind it. Go, Geena.
    I was about to do some vaulting myself when I no ticed a glittery object sticking out of the mud in our back garden. I reached down and grabbed it, then went over the fence, yelling, "Andrea!"
    "Over here!" I saw her in the distance, racing up Western Alley. I darted after her, looking all around for that shadowy figure.
    Andrea stopped at the top of the alley and I stopped beside her, breathless, my head pounding. She put her finger to her lips and we stood there listening. It was a quiet small-town n ight, with crickets, a dog bark ing ... and a car start ing up nearby. Oak Street proba bly. We dashed toward the sound.
    We turned the corner just in time to see a dark mid- size car speeding away into the night.
    "Oh, God," Andrea groaned. "I was so close."
    I put my arm around her. "Hey, even Geena has her bad hair days. Look at Cutthroat Island. Besides, we have a clue."
    She eyed me doubtfully. "A clue?"
    "You betcha." I held up the glittery object I had found in our back garden.
    It was a shoe.
    A spiked, silver-colored, high-heel shoe.

13
     
    "What must have happened," I said as we headed for home, "she took off her shoes so