The meeting with Erich the builder and Charlie the designer went about the way I expected. Grant told Erich all the windows and exterior doors need to be upgraded and actually had a company that he specified. He also said that the house needed to be wired with ethernet cables, despite Erich’s protest that wi-fi does everything anybody wants nowadays. Grant also wanted surveillance cameras facing the front and rear of the house, all of which got added to the construction list.

Charlie specified some things, too, but they were basically cosmetic. Replicate this moulding here for the other room as well, remove that wallpaper, so on. She and Emmy seemed to be on the same page as far as the redo of the interior was concerned, so that was a good thing.

Charlie really had nothing to talk about once we got down to the basement level and the kitchen, so she went back upstairs with Emmy to talk furniture. Grant, Erich and I discussed the lower front entry into the laundry room and how to make the exterior stairs down more secure.

I’d wanted to talk to Erich about redoing that entire end of the basement. “It seems to me,” I said, “that this old boiler is a museum piece and needs to not be here any longer. Modern, better systems exist, and are much, much smaller. Can we get rid of this monstrosity and reduce the size of this room to increase our useable space for the rest of the basement?”

Looking around, Erich said “Sure. A new combo unit for a house like this would really only take up about a quarter of the space of this old boiler, and wouldn't need nearly so much clearance around it. Fortunately, this old house is heated with forced air, so it’s an easy retrofit. A new A/C cooler unit on the roof would be much more efficient, too. In fact, some of the high-end units would pay themselves off in savings in no more than five years.”

“All right, sounds good. Put that on the list,” I said. “Now, I’ve noticed the hot water in the master bath is hot right away, so that tells me there’s a recirculating system. Let’s update to a tankless system and get rid of this beast, too,” I said, pointing at the giant hot water tank.

“It’d be good to update everything for better efficiency,” agreed Erich.

“Well, and there’s something else,” I said. “I want to bring that back wall in about five feet.”

“What for?”

“Last night, Emmy said she wanted a secret door in the library, leading to stairs that go down to the wine cellar. If I have my bearings right, the back wall of the library is up there,” I said, pointing to the ceiling off to my left. “And the front wall of the wine cellar is down there,” pointing down to my right.

“Wait- there’s a sub-basement?” asked Erich.

“Yeah, I found it by surprise the other day. C’mon- let’s go down there,” I said, leading the two men out of the boiler room and into the enormous restaurant-grade kitchen. They followed me into the storeroom next to the stairs going up, and when I opened what looked like a large cupboard at the back and they saw the spiral stairs, they were both as surprised as I had been.

“That’s incredible!” Erich said, peering down the spiral staircase. “It looks like it was meant to be hidden from the very start!”

Once at the bottom landing, I opened the door to the room with the elevator machinery. “Well, obviously that stuff has been here all along, and somebody has had to come down here to service it, so it wasn’t that secret.”

I opened the wine room door and went to flip on the light, but it was already on. Luisa, dressed warmly against the cold, had a laptop computer set up on the table along with a small desk lamp, working away on the wine collection. She waved as I stepped into the room, but continued snapping pics of a bottle’s label and entering the info on her computer.

Again Erich was amazed. “This is… I wonder if they hid the stairs during Prohibition? They had their own little speakeasy down here!” he said, looking around at the racks of wine bottles and the wet bar in the corner. “Seriously, this find makes the purchase of this house. It really makes it. This space is…”

“So my thinking is that the secret stairs would come in right there,” I said, pointing to the wall by the wet bar.

“I think it should be doable,” agreed Erich, distractedly. “This is so cool!”

“While we are at it,” I said. “Is is possible to upgrade the elevator mechanism? I mean, it works, but it’s creaky and rattles like crazy. It isn’t very confidence inspiring at all.”

“That’s outside my wheelhouse, but I can bring in some specialists,” Erich said, still looking around the cellar.

“This sub-basement could work really well as a panic room,” mused Grant. “If we reinforce the two secret doors leading down here and conceal them well, use that small storage room over there as a server room and surveillance center… Maybe that secret staircase can have a hidden entry into the laundry room and then outside…” he said to himself, as he tried to visualize how an escape route might work.

“I guess I’m going to need to figure out how to make it all fit,” said Erich, standing in the doorway and looking at the two sides of the wall. “But yes, I’m pretty sure it can be done. It won’t be cheap, though.”

“I didn’t expect it would be,” I said, trying not to roll my eyes. “But look- I bought this place for eleven million bucks because Emmy saw it and liked it. That’s it- she wanted it, so I bought it for her. If she wants a hidden stairway, she gets a hidden stairway.”

“Point taken,” agreed Erich.

“Just do the job right. Make it as hidden as possible.”

We found Grant in the sub-basement’s front storage room, looking thoughtful. “Make this the electronics room,” he told Erich. “If I understand it right, this end of this room should be under the boiler, so it’ll be easy to hide the cooling vents the electronics will need. Route all the ethernet lines, home entertainment cables and house automation into here.”

Erich looked at me for confirmation, and I nodded. “If Grant says this is the right way to do it, then do it that way.”

Our tour of the depths over, Erich, Grant and I returned to the main floor, where Emmy and Charlie sat at the fourteen-seat dining room table looking at pictures of furniture on Charlie’s iPad.

“Did you get things sorted out?” Emmy asked.

“Yeah, I think so,” I said.

“Well, I’ve got plenty to get going on,” agreed Erich. “I need to go and get the blueprints from the records office and start drawing up some sketches. Oh, and I’ll call my elevator guy and have him come take a look,” he added, before taking off.

“I’m going to take a look around the area, maybe talk to the next-door neighbors, said Grant, and he left also.

“I think we have some clear ideas on decoration and furniture,” said Emmy. “Would you like to take a look?”

“No thanks, babe,” I said. “You know that whatever you choose is fine with me. Unfortunately, I have to go do some work for a few hours,” I said, leaning in and giving her a quick kiss.

“Would you like to do anything this evening?” Emmy asked.

“I’d be up to go out if you want,” I said on my way out.

I was about done looking at the financials for an apartment complex in Cupertino when Emmy poked her head in my office. “Can you take a break?” she asked.

“Yeah, sure,” I said. “What’s up?”

“I would like to go out tonight, to have dinner and hear some music. Would that be O.K. with you?”

“Sure,” I said. “Sounds good. Do you have something in mind?”

“There is a famous jazz club in Greenwich Village. We could have dinner there and stay for the show afterwards,” Emmy said.

“I don’t really know anything about jazz, but that’s fine. Should we take Luisa?” I asked.

“If you do not mind, I would like to take her along, yes,” Emmy said. “If she wants to go.”

“What time should we head over there?”

“Whenever you are ready. The show starts at nine, but dinner seating starts at seven,” Emmy explained.

“Alright. Let me get changed- give me twenty minutes and I’ll be ready.”

“I will ask Luisa if she would like to go as well,” Emmy said.

I laughed as I passed her in the hall, waiting for the elevator. “I asked Erich to get an elevator specialist in here to look at upgrading. That old thing is kinda scary. I’m taking the stairs.”

“Yes, it is old and slow,” agreed Emmy. “But perhaps it needs the exercise as well!”

I kept my jeans, but threw on a white shirt and black blazer. I figured that was dressy enough for a jazz club, anyway. Emmy didn’t bother to change out of her black miniskirt and ankle boots, just layered a mesh tank over her spaghetti strap top, finishing it off with one of those little matador jackets that she loved so much.

I thought Emmy looked hot, and told her as much.

“Thank you,” she said, smiling. “I have one complaint about your outfit tonight, though.”

“What’s wrong?” I asked, checking to make sure everything looked O.K.

“Your butt looks so amazing in those jeans, but with that jacket on I cannot see it!” she complained, giving an exaggerated pout.

Laughing, I led her downstairs to wait for Luisa, who wasn’t far behind. Luisa was wearing a classic V neck little black dress, which is never a wrong choice- especially when you have a figure like hers.

Wally arrived about the same time, so we didn’t really have any waiting around. In the car we talked briefly about how the wine cataloguing was going, then the conversation turned to the club.

“I’ve never been,” admitted Luisa. “I have to admit I know nothing about jazz, and it’s an expensive way to spend the evening if you don’t know who’s worth seeing, or even know anything about the music.”

“I’m clueless, too,” I admitted.

Wally pulled up to the curb in front of the club, which had a surprisingly long line waiting outside. Once we stepped out of the limo, the doorman took one look at us and waved us over, indicating we should go right in.

“You made a reservation?” Luisa asked, surprised that we didn’t have to wait in line.

“No, I did not. Why do you ask?” Emmy replied.

“Seriously? Life is really different for celebrities, I guess,” Luisa said as we followed the hostess to a tiny little table right up next to the stage, crammed in tight amongst way too many other little tables. It wasn’t clear to me how the waiters could navigate the place, there was so little room between patrons.

“O.K., and we get just about the best seats in the house, too,” Luisa said, rolling her eyes. “Life just isn’t fair.”

“Maybe not, but you’re benefiting from it right now, and you did last night, too,” I reminded her.

“God, that dinner…” she said, a dreamy look in her eyes.

Dinner at the jazz club was not nearly so good. The salad was fine, but my chicken breast entrée was dry and Emmy hardly touched her fish. Luisa seems to enjoy her Cajun pasta, so at least that wasn’t a loss.

On the positive side, their bartender was excellent, and the Old Fashioned I had after dinner was very good. Luisa and Emmy said the sangria was tasty, and they each had several glasses.

I’d run out of things to talk about to keep my end of the conversation going before too long, but Emmy and Luisa seemed to have no problem chatting away. I was just sort of lost in my own head, thinking about the remodel and wondering how much money this townhouse was going to cost when all was said and done. As my thoughts wandered, I considered the possibility that Emmy was enjoying all of this so much, she may actually want to move to New York full-time. Maybe she was subtly trying to convince me too, I thought.

I was glad when the band took the stage, pulling me from my thoughts that Emmy might be trying to manipulate me away from Los Angeles. It isn’t that I didn’t think she was capable of such a thing, but I do believe that if she really wanted to move to New York instead of L.A. she would just outright tell me so.

Anyhow, the band was a bunch of older guys, led by an amazing trumpet player. As little as I know about jazz, I have to admit my ignorance really didn’t matter. The band was so smooth, so tight, and the sound so clean that it was impossible not to appreciate the talent and artistry.

I’d always thought of the saxophone as the most soulful instrument of all, but that old Cuban guy’s trumpet made me reconsider my preferences in that arena. Seriously, it was that good.

The show lasted almost two hours, and I wasn’t bored for even a moment of that time, and neither were Emmy or Luisa. I found new appreciation for a kind of music that truthfully I’d just never paid attention to in the past, but I could see more jazz in my future.

After the set, Emmy stood up and spoke with the band leader a bit (in Spanish, of course), then congratulated the others in the band on an excellent set, and they all seemed pleased to get the compliment.

As we left the club, Emmy said “It is too early to go home yet! What else can we do tonight?”

“There are a couple of comedy clubs around the corner,” Luisa offered. “I think they have shows until like two in the morning.”

“Is that O.K. with you?” Emmy asked me.

“Sure, it’s fine, if you guys are up for it,” I said. I mean, it was after my usual bed time, but nothing said that I had to get up early, so why not?

“The clubs are this way,” Luisa said, taking the lead. We walked down a half block, then turned right onto a street with ethnic restaurants, coffee shops and shoe stores- an odd mix of club district and working-class neighborhood. There were a fair number of people walking around, even though it was almost midnight on a weeknight. ‘The city that never sleeps,’ I though to myself.

Luisa was right- the comedy club was only a couple of blocks away, and even at midnight it was still pretty well packed. I didn’t know the comedians we saw that night, but both of them were pretty funny, and the contrast between the two added to the humor. The first guy was playing the part of a stereotypical Southern Good Ol’ Boy, speaking with a drawl and joking about fishing, hunting, and cooking meth. The last one of the night, however, was just as deep into her character of uptight, neurotic Middle-American housewife. Her jokes were rips on PTA potlucks, taking kids to soccer practice and talking about the neighbors’ new boat.

We had a great time, and Emmy laughed at almost all of the jokes, even though they must have been like watching a foreign movie for her.

After the blonde lady left the stage, the club manager came over to our table to talk to Emmy. He just wanted to schmooze, and that’s fine, but I was getting a bit tired and was ready to go hit the sack.

By the time we left the comedy club it was nearly three in the morning, and the street was almost entirely deserted. I texted Wally to let him know to come pick us up, but really, I should have done it earlier because it meant a bit of a wait.

Emmy and Luisa were chatting about the shows we’d seen that night when I noticed a guy walking towards us, and something about him seemed wrong. It was a warm night, but he was wearing a heavy coat, his hands stuffed deep in his pockets. He was looking nervously around, and he checked over his shoulder more than once in the time I was watching him.

I didn’t want to freak out Luisa or worry Emmy, so I just sort of casually stepped in front of the two of them, placing myself between them and the sketchy guy with face tattoos.

My instincts were spot-on, too. As soon as he got close, he pulled a gun from his pocket and pointed it at the three of us. “Gimme- gimme your money! And that watch!” he said, waving his gun at Emmy.

I took a small step towards him, drawing his attention away from the other two. The guy was obviously a tweaker, with bad skin and a hollow face emphasizing the shitty tattoos. He’d shaved his eyebrows and had some words inked in their place, but I couldn't read what it said in that brief moment.

Luisa made some kind of noise, making him look past me. This was all I needed- that lapse of attention gave me the time to step in and grab his hand on the gun and swing it away from myself and the two behind me. The gun went off, pretty much right next to my ear, but that didn’t matter. I had my hand wrapped around the cylinder and my thumb across the hammer so he couldn’t pull the trigger again. He tried to pull away, but I slammed him in the nose with the heel of my right hand and felt the crunch of bones and cartilage breaking under the impact. I spun, lifting his gun hand higher and grabbed his wrist with my free hand, then levered the gun away and back, ripping it from his fingers. Retaining possession of his wrist, I pulled him forward and off-balance, then clubbed him with the pistol in my left hand. I hit him a second time to make sure he was out of the fight, then let go and let him drop to the sidewalk.

I turned to check that both Emmy and Luisa were O.K. only to find Emmy in a ready stance and Luisa standing there with her hands to her face in shock.

“Luisa!” I said firmly to snap her out of it. “Call 911! Get your phone and call the police!”

She fumbled in her purse for a moment, got out her phone and called, while the club’s doorman came rushing out to see what was going on. “What happened?” he demanded.

“This guy tried to mug us,” I said, toeing the unconscious dude.

Taking a look, I saw his eyebrow tattoo spelled out “Stay Free,” which I found morbidly amusing. He started to rouse, so I put my foot on his neck and said “Stay down or I’ll fucking kill you,” which seemed to do the trick.

The police arrived moments after Wally did, and I asked the officer if Luisa and Emmy could wait in the car while I explained what happened. Since it seemed as if it was going to take a while, I sent the two home once they’d given their statements and told Wally to come back after he’d dropped them off.

“You really put the hurt on that guy,” a second officer said as they loaded the would-be mugger into an ambulance.

“Yeah, well, he pulled a gun on me,” I answered, just wanting to go to bed now the adrenaline was wearing off.

“It’s a really bad idea to confront an armed assailant,” the officer continued. “You shoulda just given him your cash- that way nobody woulda gotten hurt.”

“No, that wasn’t going to happen,” I said. “The moment he threatened my wife and my friend, he was going down.”

“What, you think you’re some kinda Wonder Woman or something? Lady, there ain’t no such thing as superheroes. You are not bulletproof. We coulda been loading you into the hearse.”

“Whatever,” I said. “You should be happy to have one less shithead on the street.”

“Sure, but I ain’t happy to have you running around thinking you're invincible, either,” he replied. “Next time, just give ‘em the cash.”

“Not going to happen,” I said. “Now excuse me- I have to get home.”

Wally was quiet on the drive, but finally he spoke up. “Miss Emmy told me what happened,” he said. “You could have been killed.”

“Honestly, I don’t think so. The guy wasn’t focused on what he was doing. He was probably high as a kite, so his reactions were slow and uncoordinated. Really, he was as much a danger to himself as he was to us.”

“But he had a gun!” Wally protested.

“And I knew what to do,” I said. “I’ve trained for just that situation. I don’t want to say I had it completely under control, but my threat assessment was that it was a situation I could deal with.”

When Wally opened the door for me, I told him “Sleep in a bit. Don’t worry about breakfast. I’ll text you when we need a ride.”

“Thanks,” he said, gratefully. “I could use it.”

“You and me both,” I agreed.

I found Emmy and Luisa in the kitchen drinking tea at the breakfast table. “Are you doing O.K.?” I asked.

Emmy nodded that she was fine, but really, it wasn’t her I was worried about.

“Luisa? You O.K.?” I asked again.

“It was so fast…” she said, her voice breaking. “I didn’t even realize what was going on and you were already pounding the shit out of the guy! Just, like, bam! The gun went off and like a second later he’s down on the ground, bleeding! At first I thought you shot him- I just couldn't figure out what was going on!” she said, fighting tears.

“Shh… it is alright now, we are safe,” Emmy said, stroking Luisa’s shoulder, which only seemed to open the floodgates to more tears.

I didn’t know what to do, so I kept quiet, but put my hand on hers on the table.

Eventually Luisa’s tears dried up, and she said in a shaky voice “I’m going to bed.”

“Sounds like a good idea,” I said. “Need any help?”

“In bed?” she asked, not understanding.

Chuckling, I said “No, not in bed. I meant getting upstairs. Getting to bed. You seem pretty shaky.”

“I- I’ll be O.K.” she replied, but then had a hard time standing up, so I helped her out of the chair.

“I’ll be in bed in a few minutes,” I told Emmy as I helped Luisa to the elevator. Since the elevator didn’t go up to the top floor (yes, I know there’s a joke in there) I helped Luisa up the final flight of stairs and into her little apartment. I was going to leave her there, but she just stood in the middle of the room, still in shock, trembling a bit, not making any move to take care of herself.

“Luisa, look at me,” I said, turning her to face me. “Don’t take this wrong, but I think you shouldn’t be alone tonight. Do you want to sleep with Emmy and me tonight? Would that make you feel safer?”

She just nodded, so I led her back to the elevator and then to the third floor. Emmy was already in bed when I entered with Luisa, but the lights were still on. I knew she’d turned them on for me, since she didn’t need them, and I appreciated it.

“Em, Luisa’s having a tough time,” I said. “I think she should stay with us tonight. Is that alright with you?”

“Yes, of course,” Emmy said, scooting over to make more room in the bed.

I sat Luisa down on the edge of the bed, then gently took her shoes off for her, since she was still having a hard time doing anything for herself. I stood her up again and unzipped the back of her dress, then pulled it off her shoulders and dropped it down. To my surprise, she was only wearing a pair of undies and no bra, so I quickly grabbed a T shirt for her out of my drawer and pulled it on her to cover her significant breasts. Leading her to bed, I tucked her in, then grabbed myself a T shirt to sleep in and went to the bathroom to change and brush my teeth.

I shut off the lights and climbed into bed, spooning behind Luisa, who I could feel was still shaking a little bit. It didn’t take long for her to fall asleep, though- all that stress was exhausting.

Once Luisa had dropped off, I whispered "Good night, Em. I love you.”

“Good night, Leah,” she whispered back. “What you did tonight was very brave. I am very proud of you.”

“Thanks,” I said. “I just didn’t want that guy to hurt either of you.”

“You were magnificent,” Emmy whispered. “Truly magnificent.”