"Have a nice trip!" the stocky young woman called after her departing guest. Closing her apartment door, she looked across the large living room toward the platformed alcove. At the top of four shallow steps, a dining table held the coagulating remains of the farewell dinner she had prepared for her neighbor, Dr. Baker.

"Wish I were going to Paris tomorrow, too." She pouted. "Oh, well. It will be my turn soon." She waltzed gracelessly around the sparsely furnished room singing, "Then there is . . . Venice. . . and London. . . awaaaay. . . we. . . goooooo. . . oh. . . oh?"

Although vivid colors were unbecoming to her sallow skin, she wore a long, orange hostess gown with huge gaudy flowers. Its skirt brushed the back of the black leather couch that faced the fireplace as she spun toward the alcove. When she came to rest at the foot of the steps, she was panting and there was a flush on her cheeks.

"Always supposing that creep brings the money," she muttered, regaining her balance. Some of the color drained from her face, leaving it pasty and mottled.

One hand on the banister the other hiking her skirt, she slowly mounted the stairs. Humming a tuneless melody, she began scraping and stacking the dessert dishes. Loud, sleepy squawks answered her from a large, ornate wicker birdcage at the bottom of the steps. Her arms laden with dishes, she listened a moment. "Thats right, Big Bird." She threw back her head and laughed. The myna bird fell silent. "Sing out for the good life!" With a final spin, using her elbow to turn off the living room lights, she swept into the kitchen. "No more drudging at that damn dental lab. Im getting out of my cage."

She added the new load to the overflow in the sink. Wordlessly humming, she pulled a plastic drain-board from the cabinet, placed it on the counter top, and turned on the water.

In the darkened living room, the brass doorknob on the front door turned. Slowly, the door opened. A gaunt, big-boned man, his shaggy white hair covering the collar of his black turtleneck, placed his gloved fingertips on the inner knob and softly shut the door. He allowed his eyes to adjust to the dim light while he pocketed the laminated credit card he had used as a jimmy. His face twisted in a sour grin as he heard the off-key humming and the sound of water splashing. The triangle of brightness on the steps to the alcove were like a beacon. Without making a sound, he moved toward it. Suddenly the bird screeched at him, flapping its wings.

He froze, unable to restrain a sharp intake of breath. The humming stopped in the kitchen. The man stood perfectly still, poised for a forward rush.

She remained at the sink, calling out, "Right on, Big Bird! Sing your heart out, cause were on our way now."

Cautiously balancing his weight on each step, he crept up the stairs and sidled to the kitchen door. The clatter of forks dropped into a drain-board was followed by the sloshing of a suds-filled rag on a plate. He peered around the doorframe. Her right elbow moved like a piston as she scrubbed. He stepped into the doorway.

"Joanna!"

She spun around, her face obscured in a swirl of bright red hair. Her eyes bulged. Her hand clawed at the dripping plate as the gasped, "You!"

Thus Dr. Baker's troubles began.