He had spoken to Mrs. Emerson the previous day. There remained a family named Kahler, owners of a two story Tudor style house on the south side of the Andrus home. Their names had not come up in any discussions with Laura, and he had no idea what they would be like. McFeeley noted the immaculate lawn and gardens: each blade of grass cropped, bright and firm; each shrub glazed with good health.

The door was answered by a slender man in his sixties -- straight backed, somewhat clerical in manner, wearing rimless glasses. When Joe identified himself, he nodded, unsmiling, and ushered him into a sedate living room. Mrs. Kahler joined them. She had a dried-out quality -- a gray, lean woman, not unattractive. Both were dressed rather formally. The man wore a vest and a tie, the woman had on a dark green dress and three strands of pearls.

``Funny thing,'' Mr. Kahler said, when they were seated, ``when I heard you ringing, I figured it was that guy down the block, Hausman.'' McFeeley looked puzzled. Kahler continued: ``I fixed his dog the other day and I guess he's sore, so I expected him to come barging in.'' Mr. Kahler went on to explain how Hausman's fox terrier had been ``making'' in his flower beds. The dog refused to be scared off, so Kahler had purchased some small firecrackers. He would lay in wait in the garage, and when the terrier came scratching around, he'd let fly with a cherry bomb. ``Scared the hell out of him,'' Kahler grinned. ``I hit him in the ass once.'' Both grinned at the detective. ``Finally, all I needed was to throw a little piece of red wood that looked like a firecracker and that dumb dog would run ki-yi-ing for his life.''