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at least kill some time and get his mind off of Edgar and whatever he was up to. So what that Edgar told him to lock himself in the house? He was an adult and could handle himself. Grateful that the rain had stopped, Jack attached the leather leash to Ollie's collar and the two stepped out onto the porch. A quick glance up and down Eldon Court told him that he was alone and he stepped down off of the porch and onto the empty sidewalk.

As he walked, Jack admired the handsome Victorians that lined their street, such beautiful, sturdy old houses. It was amazing that anyone would want to demolish the old gems, not to mention the well-manicured lawns and the sturdy old trees that lined Eldon Court. Jack considered a stand of Cypress in the distance and a thought occurred to him: if the residents of Eldon Court were unable to beat Danvers Converse through normal channels, why not pursue a more unorthodox route? Surely some organization would be opposed to the developers cutting down these magnificent trees and, hell, if the street's residents were lucky, maybe their street was the winter nesting ground for some endangered species! Jack smiled at his own cleverness. Okay, the endangered species, he realized, was probably pushing it. . . or was he? Jack started making a mental list: he would go online and research endangered species. . . maybe call the Sierra Club. . . god, he needed a pen and paper!

“Come on Ollie,” said Jack, tugging at the confused dachshund's leash. “We're going to go online and do some research.”

Just as he was turning back towards his house, movement in the back yard of Number Two Eldon Court caught his eye. Jack could hear Edgar's earlier admonishment to lock the door and answer it for no one, but curiosity got the best of him and he found himself veering from the sidewalk and onto the grass toward the backyard. As he got closer, he heard a familiar sound, although at first he couldn't quite place it. Then it occurred to him, the “hiss, chink” sound he was hearing was the sound of a shovel digging into earth and, as he peered around the shrubbery, his suspicions were confirmed. Standing in his back yard, shirtless and in flimsy-looking shorts, was Parker St. John, looking sweaty and gorgeous. In his hand was the shovel Jack had heard and Parker was standing in the midst of multiple holes, as if he had been digging all morning and looking for something. Jack didn't want to imagine what or who he was looking for but felt glued to the spot out of fear and, well, Parker was just so damned mesmerizing, especially with his shirt off, thickly furred chest on easy display. He stood there for a moment longer, finally reminding himself of his terrific idea to save their homes. As he turned to make a silent retreat, Ollie let out a single bark.

Shit, thought Jack.

Parker looked up from the hole he was standing over, unsure of where the barking had originated. He wiped his brow with the back of his forearm and stepped forward.

“Who's there?” he demanded.

To Jack's horror, Ollie let out another bark leaving Jack no alternative other than to play along.

“You're in big trouble when we get home,” he mumbled to the dog.

Then he dropped the leash and, as if on cue, Ollie darted into Parker's back yard. Jack waited a beat and then darted after him, feigning fatigue.

“Ollie!” he cried. “Come here, you bad. . .”

Jack stopped in his tracks, pretending to see Parker for the first time that day.

“Oh, Parker,” he said. “I'm so sorry. . . Ollie was chasing a squirrel and got away. . .”

“I didn't see any squirrel come this way,” replied Parker, obviously in a foul mood.

“Oh, well,” said Jack, snatching up Ollie. “Sorry to have bothered you.”

“Jack,” said Parker, calling after his neighbor, “don't you want to know why I'm digging up my back yard?”

“Not particularly, no,” replied Jack.

“Not even a bit?”

Jack narrowed his eyes at Parker.

“I'm assuming you lost something,” he said, pointedly. “But it's really none of my business.”

“No,” replied Parker, “it isn't your business.”

“Like I said,” replied Jack, “I'm sorry to have bothered you.”

With Ollie in his arms, he turned to go, but was stopped by Parker's voice.

“Where's Edgar?” he asked. “Off doing some more snooping?”

The question caused Jack's face to redden, but he didn't reply.

“Since you're all alone,” said Parker, winking insidiously, “why don't we make a fun afternoon of it?”

Parker may have been physically beautiful but this was enough for Jack.

“You may have fucked everyone else on this street into the sad state it's currently in,” he said, his voice steady and low, “but I happen to love my partner and we're going to get rid of you if it's the last thing we ever do.”

Parker, who was obviously not accustomed to having his advances spurned, looked truly shocked. Taking advantage of having the upper hand for the first time since being detected, Jack turned and marched back to his house.

Once inside, he locked the door.

* * * *

Edgar followed Miller into a cavernous room, which was dark save for the flashing lights just at the foot of a stage punctuated by brass poles. These reminded Edgar of the brass railings he had seen on his drive over, except he knew that these had a far different use than the ones in the front of apartment buildings. Wall sconces, positioned here and there on mirrored walls provided the only other light in the room. As soon as they were seated a twenty-something brunette with a pierced septum approached them carrying a tray.

“What can I get you?” she asked, smiling.

“Scotch,” replied Miller. “Neat.”

He looked their server up and down like an old dog sniffing out a ham bone, but his face remained expressionless.

“And you?” she asked Edgar.

“A draught,” he replied. Then, as soon as the server was gone, “I have

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