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first?” She smiled crookedly, reminding me of Granny Clampett from The Beverly Hillbillies .
    “No, thanks, I’m okay.”
    Dot stood and held out her hand to Anna. “We might leave you to it. Anna and I have some chores to do at home, but come and see us when you’ve finished with Valentina, Tobi.”
    After they left, Valentina moved her chair closer and said in a stage whisper, “Can I tell you something off the record?”
    “Um, sure.” I leaned back to reclaim my personal space.
    “I think this gnome business is all over Dot’s son.”
    “Simon?” Those midnight-blue eyes flashed in my mind.
    “Mmm hmm. I’d bet a pretty penny that it’s that ex-girlfriend of his. I thought she was a bit cuckoo when I saw her and there’s nothing like a woman scorned, you know.”
    A cuckoo ex? That could spice the story up nicely. I tapped my pencil against my teeth. “But what about the gnomes at number three? They were smashed on the same night.”
    “Well, that’s his father-in-law, you see. It was an attack on the entire clan, perhaps for not accepting her into the bosom of their family.”
    I started scribbling it down—it was plausible.
    “It’s the Feng Shui of his house.”
    I paused mid-scribble. “Pardon?”
    “It’s all about Feng Shui, since the poison arrows travel down the street, bypassing us, going straight to his house. It brings him bad luck with women—first, that sad business with Isabel, his wife, and now this.” She splayed her hands in front of her as if that was the end of the matter.
    “Thanks, I’ll look into it.” Yep, my instincts were spot on—the whole street had a tenuous relationship with reality. “Have you got any other theories?”
    “Why would you need them, my dear? It’s her, I tell you.” Her expression suddenly changed and she gave me a once-over. “You know, you’re far too thin. Why, you’re practically skin and bone. You have pretty eyes, dear, and your complexion has a lovely peaches and cream tone, mmm,” she nodded, “you’d be a good-looking girl if we could fatten you up a bit. Here, have another cookie.”
    “Er, okay.” I took one, as much for something to do with my hands as the delightful offer, then changed the subject before I could tell her what she could do with her unsolicited opinions. “Tell me a bit about some of the other residents. Who lives across the street from here? On the other side of Simon and Dot.”
    “Number six. That’s the Sinclairs—Martin and Beverley and their son, David.”
    I made a note on the map I’d drawn. “Any of them home?”
    “Beverley and David are there. Do you want me to take you over?”
    It all depended on the definition of “want”, I supposed. What I wanted was to finish this story, because I wanted to get back to the scandal-making senator. And I wanted to file the best story I could to minimize the damage it’d cause my credibility. So yeah—I sighed—I guessed I wanted her to take me over.
    “If you don’t mind …”
    “No trouble at all. I’ll just put these cups away and get a cardigan. You have a look at the gnomes in the front yard, if you like—I’ll come out to you there.”
    Fresh air sounded good—especially now the antihistamines were patrolling my blood stream. I wandered back past the spooky cat pictures in the hall. Even though I knew in my mind the eyes weren’t following me, there was still something very Scooby Doo about that hallway.
    Out in the front yard, there were four gnomes standing in a circle beside the letterbox, as if in discussion. On closer inspection—I am a journalist—they were standing around a pinecone. Why would four gnomes want to talk about an overgrown seedpod? Seriously, it wasn’t as if the pinecone had any special features. Oh, for mercy’s sake—was I really looking at this from a gnome’s point of view? If I wasn’t careful, I’d become as bad as the residents.
    I’d turned to walk back to the front door to wait for Valentina