Later that day the couple attended Bible study at Margaret Reed's home. Eleanor had been looking forward to two hours of conversation that had nothing to do with leases, but she spent much of the afternoon checking her phone. When they returned at four thirty, the apartment door stood slightly open. James stopped so suddenly that she nearly walked into him.
"I locked that," he said.
He pushed the door inward with two fingers. No one answered his call, but something inside the apartment felt wrong even before they crossed the threshold. The umbrella stand had moved. A drawer in the hallway cabinet stood open a few inches. One of James's framed awards lay facedown beside the bookcase, its glass cracked at a corner.
In the bedroom, Eleanor discovered her jewelry box open and her mother's pearls mixed with costume earrings. Nothing obvious had been stolen, which frightened her more than a theft might have. Whoever entered had not come to take valuables. They wanted her to know that the private spaces of her life were within reach.
The dining table held files from Eleanor's study, scattered among papers she usually kept in a locked cabinet. She had never stored active patient records at home, but the old folders contained research notes, personal correspondence, and some sensitive historical material from years of hospital work. Someone had handled them and left them displayed as if to say that no boundary mattered. Eleanor stared at the folders until James gently led her away from the table.
"Call the police," she whispered.
Officers David Mitchell and Elena Torres arrived within minutes. Mitchell was an experienced officer with a careful manner and an expression that changed as he moved from room to room. Torres photographed the door, misplaced objects, and damaged frame. Both asked whether the couple had authorized entry, whether there was an emergency, and whether anything was missing. Eleanor answered each question while James showed them the intact lock and the new access keys.
"There have been other problems with management," Eleanor said. "I have a log."
Mitchell read the first pages. "Keep that. Make another copy, too."
Richard arrived before they finished. He entered with his master key and the brisk expression of someone annoyed that a routine task had attracted unnecessary attention. He produced an emergency access notice supposedly posted three days earlier, claiming a possible gas leak required inspection. The paper bore his company letterhead and a date, but no photograph of a posted notice, no utility-company reference, and no report of the alleged leak.
"Safety comes before convenience," Richard announced. "I did exactly what a responsible owner should."
Officer Mitchell examined the document. "Who inspected the gas line?"
"My maintenance people."