“An American girl took the flat—loose one, I’d say. Probably dodging a fellow.” Mrs. Stiehl was leaning on a broom out front with Edith.

“Goodness” Edith mused. “But she’ll have a new boy in her bed by Friday!” Mrs. Stiehl predicted. “Oh my!” Mrs. Stiehl, smug, felt clever.

“Another American moved in with Lena,” Mrs. Stiehl stated. “A boy!” “Worse: bubbly girl.” Edith shuddered and warned, “That’s trouble.”

“Tell me about them for the station file.” “I don’t watch tenants, Constable” Mrs. Stiehl fussed. He waited; he knew. “But I will say...”

“They came in late by taxi—selling kisses for drinks.” Edith said, “I saw. Karl drove.” Mrs. Stiehl: “Ah, let’s ask him.” Edith smiled.

“Ladies! It’s against cabbie code.” They moaned. Karl sipped tea; winked at Edith. She blushed. “They argued over a boy.” “Ha!” “Oh my.”

“What’s his name?” Karl paused: “Hans.” “Not Müller?” Edith asked. “One said he’s boring.” The women nodded confirmation. Karl chuckled.

“They were singing this morning, out here.” “Were they drunk?” Edith asked. Mrs. Stiehl spouted “When aren’t they?” “Be nice!” “Always.”