When they got to Kent’s apartment, the front door was wide open. Earl heard a lot of clunking. “Don’t they ever lock these doors?”

“Maybe the sheriff came after all,” Jenny said. “I bet he’s got people inside dusting for prints.”

“I don’t think so. They wouldn’t make so much noise.” Earl looked along the rows of doors to apartments. There was no one else in the hall.

He thought about the cranky old man from the night before who threatened to call the police. Had he done it? If the ruckus was enough to make two of the locals come out into the hall, surely others woke up and peeked out their doors. He thought at least one of them would have called to complain.

Earl strained his ears but could not hear any evidence of the other residents. Just the hum of the air-conditioning. One end of the hall led back to the main complex. The other led to the exit. Sunlight streamed in the glass door. Earl wondered whether a glass door like that was a deterrent to criminals.

Getting to the door of Kent’s apartment, they looked inside and stopped. Some of the big furniture was gone—including the couch and the entertainment center. The lamps were wrapped in bubble tape. Boxes were taped up, marked, and ready to be moved.

Earl carefully wheeled his way inside, navigating through the obstacle course. All the framed pictures were stacked together.

The plant Earl had “depotted”, was browning in the corner, roots exposed. The pile of dirt had been tracked through, revealing big boot prints.

There was noise from the back room, the rumbling of voices and the thumping of boxes being stacked roughly. Jenny whispered, “Mr. Walker, what if we—”

He waved her to silence, sniffing the air. There was the pungent odor of cleansers. “They’re trying to cover up the evidence.”

She frowned. “The sheriff?”

A fat man came out of the bedroom, huffing and puffing as he pushed a two-wheeler loaded with boxes. He stopped when he saw Earl and Jenny. “Oh.” Huff. Puff. “Hey.”

Earl grunted. “What’s all this?”

The burly man, shifting his weight, twitched his unkempt beard. “The dude who lived in here died.”

Earl waved the answer away. “Why are you taking away his things?”

“We got orders.” The man tilted back the two-wheeler and pushed it forward, trying to circle Earl’s wheelchair. All the same, Earl had to scoot out of the man’s way.

Two more large men came out carrying the bedroom dresser. They paused when they saw Earl and Jenny, nodded curtly, and got back to their carrying.

After all three were gone, Earl set his jaw. “Come on.” He gripped the tops of his wheels firmly and rolled himself through to the kitchenette. All the cabinet doors were wide open, their contents gone, no doubt shoved into the boxes already taped shut.

Earl checked the fridge—it was completely and thoroughly empty. Of course, Earl reminded himself, that had already been the case before.

Closing the fridge door, he turned his attention to the kitchen drawers. They were slightly open, one even crooked. Earl rolled up to it and pulled, but it was stuck. It seemed to be off its track.

He yanked harder, and the silverware inside jangled as he jerked the drawer open. Hmm. The movers hadn’t packed it up yet. Earl lowered his head and tried to see behind the drawer, but the angle made his head spin. So he stopped.

He tried to push the drawer back but found it difficult. He glanced at Jenny and grunted, “Shut this.”

While she took care of the drawer, he went to the bedroom. There was not much left to see—the movers had already emptied most of it. Earl wondered how much longer they had before the movers came back. He glanced at his wrist—he really should get a watch—and decided to just be quick about it.

He checked the closet. It still seemed to have all its contents—shirts, pants, big beige overcoat. Lined up on the floor were all kinds of footwear—slick dress shoes, slippers, galoshes. There was also a box of auto supplies. Jumper cables, jack, mini-shovel. A half-empty plastic jug of anti-freeze had leaked on the carpet.

“What are we looking for?” Jenny was standing in the door. “Look, those men will be back any second. I want to help Grant get his job back, but can’t we work on this from somewhere else?”

Earl pointed to the corner. To his relief, the boxes of record albums hadn’t been removed yet. “Check those.”

“Why? Did Mr. Kent borrow one of your records?”

Earl turned and looked at her. “All these records—and do you see a record player anywhere in the apartment?”

She glanced around and shrugged. “The movers took it.”

He shook his head. “There wasn’t one here last night.”

“It might be under something. I’m always losing my iPod.”

He looked at her. Waited. She looked back. Then her eyes widened. “Oh! Record players are big, aren’t they?” She looked at the boxes of LPs, then at the half-empty bedroom. “Then why—?”

Earl rolled himself closer to the boxes. Scratched behind his ear then pointed. “Take that one.”

“How can you tell? You can’t even—”

“It doesn’t have any dust on it. The other boxes are filthy.”

“Oh.” Jenny reached her fingers under the box and lifted. She let out a surprised grunt. “I didn’t expect it to be so heavy.”

“It’s not so bad.”

She chuckled. “Maybe you should try it.” Then she glanced at his wheelchair and blanched. “Um, that is—I didn’t—”

“Don’t worry about it.” He turned his chair for the door. “Let’s get out of here.”

“We’re taking it with us?” Jenny frowned, wrinkling her nose. “Can we do that? I mean, won’t that be stealing?”

Earl gripped the wheels and turned back. “I thought you wanted to get that young man his job back.”

“Well, the manager told us to file a protest—”

“Pfft. The manager.” Earl made a face like he wanted to spit. “Did it ever occur to you that this could all be connected to why Candlewick is being closed down? Like maybe management would rather that the place go out of business than let something get found out?”

“Um—” Jenny bit her lip. “Isn’t that a little paranoid?”

“Look around you! We saw a man collapse in front of us—and nobody thought that was worth investigating?”

“They said it was—”

“And then someone breaks into the man’s apartment that very same night? You’re going to tell me that was a coincidence?”

“Well, maybe you just—”

“And then the manager tries to deny anything happened?”

“Hmm.” Jenny shifted her weight again.

“And these movers—how do we know they aren’t the same people who were here last night?” Earl thumbed back to the door. “Either way, do you really want to have to explain to them why you’re stealing that box of record albums?”

Her eyes went wide. She twitched, as if undecided what to do with the incriminating box in her hands. “Wait, but I—”

Earl wheeled for the door. “Quick! I don’t want you to get arrested for theft.” He was already to the kitchenette by the time he heard her shriek behind him. He grinned and kept going. In the living room he navigated around the boxes. He checked his watchless wrist again—he really needed to get a watch. “We’d better hurry.”

“I’m coming, I’m coming.” There was a clunk and another shriek and then some kind of wa-a-a and then a whump. The girl had tripped and fallen.

Earl stopped and turned his chair. “What happened? Did you break the records?”

She sat on the carpet, rubbing her knee. “I’m going to be fine, thank you.”

“Well, get going.”

“Probably just a bruise, thanks.”

In the hall Earl looked both ways. To their left were the glass doors leading outside—likely the way the movers had gone. He pointed back the other direction. “This way.”

Jenny had a slight limp. But at least she was carrying the box. They had almost gotten away clean when there was a shout.

“Hey! What’ve you got there?” It was the fat guy with the two-wheeler.

Earl and Jenny shared a look. Earl shouted, “Go!” He gripped the rims of his wheels and pushed as hard as he could. The hall forked and they took the left. The hall behind them now out of sight, Earl heard the fat man giving chase. The halls shook with the rhythmic pounding of his boots, the air filled with the growing sound of his wheezing.

Earl ignored the fear clawing at his stomach. If the mover should catch them, what would he do? The big man was certainly a bruiser. And his quarry certainly wouldn’t be able to outrun him for long—Earl, just an old man in a wheelchair, and Jenny, a young girl carrying a heavy box. Earl had to give her credit—she hadn’t simply chucked it. When all was said and done, he hoped it would turn out to be worth the trouble.

They came upon an old man hobbling on his cane. The man shook his fist at Earl and Jenny, shouting, “Lousy beatniks!”

They reached the end of the hall. “I got turned around.” The girl was huffing. “Which way do we go now?”

Earl took a second to flex his fingers. They ached. “I don’t know.”

To their left was a crowd of old people. Milling around. Laughing. Didn’t they have someplace to be? To their right was a long straightaway.

If only he knew his way around Candlewick. Even their recent comings and goings had been too jumbled to keep in context.

When he was a bus driver, he had one route at a time and he stuck to it. Gloria was supposed to give him a tour of the place, but that was no help now.

Their hunter was no doubt going to be upon them soon. They didn’t have time to dawdle. Earl pointed down the right. “That way.” He had no idea where it led, but they couldn’t sit and wait for the big man to catch them. Jenny nodded and walked briskly down the way Earl had pointed. It occurred to him that she was pacing herself not to leave him. “You don’t have to wait for me.”

“Yes I do.”

Earl pushed his wheels harder. The hall was long—Earl got some speed up, the wheels on his chair turning faster and faster. That became a problem when a door opened and a woman stepped out of her apartment.

Earl couldn’t stop. He grabbed his wheels instinctively, but when he hit the friction, his left hand snapped back. His right hand kept contact a fraction of a second longer, and he lost his balance. He bounced off the wall, and the wheelchair turned over.

“Mr. Walker!” Jenny dropped the box of record albums and knelt down by Earl’s rag doll body on the hall floor. “Are you okay?”

He nodded. Felt more foolish than anything. “Help me back into the chair.”

The old woman watched them for a minute and shook her head. “The idea.” Then she shuffled away.

Jenny picked up the shawl and set the chair upright. She struggled to help Earl off the floor and back into his chair. He clutched it and used his arms to lift himself up as much as he could. The angle was awkward. It took a few careful seconds, but they were soon on their way.

But how close was their pursuer now? How much time had they lost? Earl chanced a look back.

“Hey, let’s go this way.” Jenny had the box again and was nodding toward an offshoot of the hall. It was a room full of people.

Earl flexed his sore fingers. Nodded.

Inside they found a group sitting on a floor mat taking some kind of stretching class. At the front of the room was a woman giving instructions. All the others in the room were following.

Jenny helped Earl wheel to the far back. She snatched the shawl off his knees, set the box down and sat on it, and threw the shawl over her head and shoulders. Then she looked at Earl, jumped up, and helped him out of his wheelchair and down onto the mat. She pushed the wheelchair against the wall.

Earl on the mat and Jenny on the box pretended to follow the class. They stretched their arms up and over, up and out, pushed this way, pushed that way. All the while stealing glances at the door.

A few minutes passed. When they saw the fat man again, he was walking with Nelson. The two men were speaking in low tones, eyes darting this way and that. Earl turned away, hoping they wouldn’t notice him. He glanced at Jenny, her eyes almost covered by the shawl. She had the makings of a spy.

The two of them stayed for the rest of the class. When the group broke up, they waited while the other old folks walked out.

Jenny breathed a sigh of relief and grinned. “I can’t believe we got away!”

“We didn’t. He stopped chasing us.”

“But I saw him—”

“He thought it was important to talk to the boss.”

“At least you got your wish. Someone’s bound to call the sheriff now.”

Earl grunted. “Can you help me off this floor?”