“About what?”
Shrugging, Abbie said, “I don’t know. Maybe it will come to me. Let’s go back to the living room.”
“What about the living room?”
“There’s something about the living room that’s wrong.” Abbie walked through the kitchen door into the tiny dining room and on into the living room. She stood as still as she could, letting her eyes sweep around the room, checking every table top and nook. Finally, steeling herself, she glanced through the room, studying the carpeting, the sofa, the chairs, and the coffee table.
“Something is missing,” she finally said. “But I don’t know what it is.”
Defensively she met Officer Martin’s glance. “Look, I was in this room for only a short time. And most of that time I was sitting in a chair behind the open door, keeping an eye on the roofers, doing what Mrs. Merkel wanted me to do, so I really wasn’t paying attention to the room.”
Abbie sank into one of the upholstered chairs. She was so tired her body ached. Even her brain hurt. “Will you help me?” she asked Officer Martin.
“Help you? How?” The police officer took a step toward Abbie.
“Not that way. I don’t mean I’m going to pass out or anything like that. Sit down … please. I need to tell you something.”
Abbie told Officer Martin about throwing the rock through Jamie Lane’s window and about the judge and what he had promised if she succeeded, and about Mrs. Wilhite. “I know she made it tough for me on purpose because I don’t fit in with the rest of her model students,” Abbie said. “She’ll count this as all my fault and make it even harder on me. She may even refuse to assign another Friend to me. Please, if you write any reports that will reach the judge, will you recommend that I continue to visit Mrs. Merkel in the hospital? And could you tell him that you think it might help Mrs. Merkel come out of her coma and get better?”
Abbie bent over, resting her head in her hands. “I can’t face getting thrown out of the Friend to Friend program like I was some kind of criminal no one cared about. And I can’t even face another assignment.”
For a long moment there was only silence. Then Officer Martin said, “Throwing a rock wasn’t smart, but it doesn’t make you a criminal, Abbie. And the idea behind Friend to Friend was to give elderly women the help they need, not punish a girl who is trying to make amends for what she did.”
Abbie looked up. “If you knew Mrs. Wilhite—”
“I know Mrs. Wilhite.” The officer paused, then said, “Your idea of visiting Mrs. Merkel and talking to her is a good one. One of those TV news feature shows did a whole program about how some doctors think that people in comas can probably hear what’s going on around them. The hospitals play music to calm them—things like that.”
“Then will you write this in whatever kind of report you have to fill out?”
Officer Martin smiled. “Better than that. I’ll talk to the judge myself.”
She held out a hand to Abbie and pulled her to her feet. “And you keep trying to remember what is missing from this room. If you do, give me a call.” She handed Abbie her business card.
Tucking it into the pocket of her jeans, Abbie turned toward the front door. As she did she saw a man’s face pressed against the window. With narrow, squinting eyes, he stared into the room.
Abbie screamed.
Officer Martin threw open the door, gun in hand.
“Hey! Don’t shoot me!” a man yelled. “I’m looking for my aunt Edna. Edna Merkel.”
Gun lowered, Officer Martin asked, “What’s your name?”
“Charlie Merkel,” the man said.
Her heart still loudly pounding, Abbie walked out to the front porch to join Officer Martin. Standing there, facing her, was a square-built man of over average height. His dark hair had thinned, leaving a bald dome that gleamed in the dim light from inside the house. He wore wire-rimmed glasses and a thin mustache and was probably somewhere between fifty-five and sixty, Abbie guessed. His polo shirt was frayed, and on the area that stretched across his stomach Abbie could see what looked like food stains, even in the faint light. Mrs. Merkel had called him a bum, and the description seemed to fit.
“Step inside, please,” Officer Martin told him.
She stood aside as Charlie entered the house, then followed him in, remaining between him and Abbie. “I’d like to see some ID,” she said.
“Sure, sure,” Charlie said. He tugged a wallet from his hip pocket and pulled out a driver’s license. Glancing around, he remarked, “What a mess. Why is all that police tape outside? What happened here?”
“Did you drive to Buckler?”
He nodded. “I drove from Dallas. I just got here.”
“Have you been in contact with anyone from the Dallas or Buckler police department during the past few hours?”
“No.” He absentmindedly scratched at one arm. “I’m not in any trouble, am I? That parking ticket … I plan to pay it as soon as I get a few bucks ahead.”
“Mr. Merkel, we’ve been trying to find you to inform you that your aunt was attacked by persons unknown at some time today. Are you telling me you’re here just by coincidence?”
Charlie gasped and stepped backward. “My aunt’s dead? Murdered? Oh, that can’t be! I was just coming to see her.”
“Edna Merkel is not dead. She has a fractured skull and is in a coma, but basically she’s stabilized. She’s in the intensive care unit of Mercy Hospital.”
Finally Charlie was able to speak. “So she’s not dead,” he said.
“That’s correct.”
He suddenly seemed to notice the stains on the rug. “Did it happen here? Did somebody break into her house? Why?”
“At the present time, we think it was robbery.”
“What did they take?”
“We don’t know. Will you please take a careful look around the room to see if you notice anything that might be missing?”
Charlie turned awkwardly, and Abbie could hear the crunch of a glass figurine under his left heel. “She didn’t have anything worth stealing in here,” he said. “Just a lot of junk.”
For the first time he took a good look at Abbie. “Who’s this?”
“She’s a friend of your aunt’s—Abbie Thompson,” Officer Martin said. “I brought Abbie over to check the house, to see if she could notice if something is missing.”
Charlie studied Abbie with curiosity. “Do you know where she keeps her jewelry?”
“No,” Abbie said. “I was only inside the house with her a few times.”
“Well, I know,” Charlie told Officer Martin. “I’ll run upstairs and have a look.”
“Lead the way,” Officer Martin said. Abbie realized she wasn’t going to let Charlie out of her sight.
Abbie followed them up the stairs. She felt too shaky to stay in that creepy living room with the bloodstains on the carpet.
There were two bedrooms and a bath upstairs. Charlie walked ahead of them into the bedroom at the back of the house and said, “This was … is … Aunt Edna’s room. She kept her jewelry in a box …” His voice trailed off as he pointed toward the top of a high chest of drawers on which lay a small wooden jewelry box.
Abbie glanced around the room. Nothing seemed to be disturbed or out of place.
Charlie hurried to the chest and dumped out the contents of the box on the starched linen cloth that covered the top of the chest of drawers. Abbie couldn’t see what had been inside the box, because Charlie was in the way, digging through the contents.
Officer Martin stepped up to join him, but he quickly turned and said, “Her rings are gone. One was a large pearl surrounded by diamonds, which Uncle Alf brought her from Hong Kong. The other he got in Australia. A gold dragon holding a big opal, with a small diamond at each side. Uncle Alf was in the merchant marine, but I guess you know that.”
Officer Martin examined the rest of the jewelry. “This all seems to be costume jewelry,” she said.
“That’s right. Aunt Edna
doesn’t have much real jewelry. Just those two rings. She never wore them. They didn’t do her or anybody else any good.” He turned and leaned his back against the chest of drawers. His lower lip slid into a pout as he shoved his hands into his pockets. “But what she did have is gone.”
“Do you have any idea of the value of the rings?”
Charlie shrugged. “I can only guess—maybe ten thousand, twelve.”
“Do you know if they were insured?”
“I know they weren’t. Aunt Edna came to hate those rings because Uncle Alf gave them to her. After he left her she never wore the rings again.”
Officer Martin made a note, then asked, “Do you know why she kept jewelry of that value in her house? Didn’t she have a safe-deposit box at one of the local banks?”
“No,” Charlie said. “As I remember, she asked about a safe-deposit box, but when she found she had to pay a yearly rental fee on the box she said it was a rip-off and she wasn’t going to be suckered into it.”
Officer Martin became businesslike again. “Will you please check her dresser drawers and closet to see if anything else might have been taken?” she asked.
Charlie bent to open drawers one at a time, then stood, shaking his head. “Nothing in them but clothes—blouses, underwear, stuff like that.”
Abbie remembered that Mrs. Merkel had said she had two good places to spy from—the front window of the coffee shop and her back bedroom window. While Officer Martin’s attention was on Charlie Merkel, Abbie walked to the back window, pulled the curtain aside, and looked out.
The window overlooked the backyards of two houses on the street behind Darnell Street: the house directly behind Mrs. Merkel’s house, and the house just west of that one.
Abbie realized that a young family must live in the nearest house. Behind the wooden fence that divided the properties were a sandbox and a swing set. Toys were scattered throughout the yard. In the bright moonlight she could see that the house needed painting, and some of the shingles on the roof were so old they had cracked and curled.
The house next to it was very different. Although it was of the same vintage as the other houses in the neighborhood, it had been modernized in a number of ways. The entire back of the house had been enlarged and glassed in with wide sliding doors. There were no draperies to cut off the view, and lights were still on, so Abbie could see inside. Expensive lounge furniture in white wicker with puffy, colorful cushions and glass-topped tables decorated the room. The backyard, although smaller because of the expansion of the house, was beautifully lighted. Even in this late hour Abbie could see that the trim flower beds were part of a lovely, well-cared-for garden.
Which house had Mrs. Merkel been spying on?
The first house had no lights. The inhabitants were probably asleep. While the second house was well lit, there were no people about. Abbie let the curtain fall back into place. She had no idea what Mrs. Merkel might have been talking about.
Charlie strode to the closet and rummaged about on the shelves. Then he walked down the stairs—Officer Martin and Abbie with him—and examined the contents of the highboy in the dining room. Finally he stood in the middle of the living room. “Nothing else is missing,” he said. “Just the rings.”
“Thank you,” Officer Martin said. She tucked her notebook away. “Now, if you don’t mind, I’d like you to come with me to headquarters and sign a statement.”
“You mean about the rings being gone?”
Abbie noticed that Charlie had begun to sweat and wondered why. It wasn’t that warm.
“We’ll also need to know what time you arrived in Buckler, and why you were here,” Officer Martin said.
“I already told you—I came to visit Aunt Edna, and I just got into town. Came right to her house. That’s when I looked in the window to see who was inside, and you scared the … you scared me by pulling that gun.”
Officer Martin went on as if she hadn’t been interrupted, “We’ll also need an address in Buckler where you can be reached.”
“I thought I’d stay right here. I’ve got a key,” Charlie said. He glanced down at the stained carpet. “Only not tonight. Can I get the place cleaned up tomorrow?”
“I think so,” Officer Martin said. “The crime lab is through, so there should be no problem. While we’re at the station I’ll check with the primary detective on the case.”
Charlie’s nervousness seemed to grow. “Can this trip to the station wait?” he asked. “You’ve given me the bad news about my aunt. I’m concerned about her. I want to see her.”
Officer Martin hesitated, then nodded agreement. “Just tell me where I can reach you.”
As Charlie named an inexpensive motel down near the waterfront, a thought struck Abbie and she gasped.
“The coffee!” she said. “I remember! Mrs. Merkel told me she hates coffee. She never drinks it. She drinks tea.”
Officer Martin stared at Abbie, her pen held in midair.
“The coffee cup in the kitchen,” Abbie said. “It wasn’t hers. Someone else drank half that cup of coffee. You need to take it in for fingerprints.”
Abbie had watched Charlie Merkel carefully as she told the police officer about the coffee, but Charlie hadn’t reacted. He calmly watched Officer Martin walk to the kitchen to get the cup, then looked at Abbie as if he were seeing her for the first time.
“Just who are you supposed to be? Nancy Drew?” he asked.
“Officer Martin told you. I’m a friend of your aunt’s.”
One corner of Charlie’s mouth turned down wryly. “My aunt doesn’t have any friends.”
“I’m in a program in which high-school girls are matched with elderly women. I drive your aunt wherever she wants to go.”
Charlie didn’t comment. He slowly and carefully removed a folded handkerchief from the pocket of his slacks and wiped it across his face, his forehead, and the back of his neck. “Where is that policewoman? When is she going to let me get out of here?” he muttered. He shoved his handkerchief back into his pocket, keeping his hand in the pocket too.
Just then Officer Martin walked back into the living room. She carried a plastic bag from Buckler’s supermarket. Abbie could see the empty coffee cup inside. “Thanks for the tip,” Martin said to Abbie.
“Is it okay if I go to visit my aunt at the hospital now?” Charlie asked the officer.
“Yes,” she said. “Just come by police headquarters before nine A.M. Ask for either Detective Kraft or Detective Doheny. You know where the station house is?”
Charlie nodded. He even smiled at Officer Martin. And he had stopped sweating, Abbie noticed.
Officer Martin watched Charlie lock the front door and walk to his van. As he drove off, she said, “Come on, Abbie. This all took a little longer than I’d thought. Sorry. It’s time to take you home.”
“Will it be all right if I visit Mrs. Merkel tomorrow after school?” Abbie asked.
“Sure.” Officer Martin smiled. “I’ll make it all right.”
When she arrived home, Abbie explained to her mother, “We’re late because Mrs. Merkel’s nephew showed up.”
“Just hurry off to bed,” Mrs. Thompson said, and gave Abbie a hug. “You need your sleep.”
As soon as her mother had closed the door of her own bedroom, Abbie tiptoed to Davy’s room. He was asleep, so Abbie showered and climbed into bed. She would have liked to talk to Davy about what had happened. She desperately wanted to talk to someone.
The coffee cup puzzled her. A person or persons unknown, as the police liked to say, had been in the house with Mrs. Merkel. Only Mrs. Merkel didn’t have visitors. She didn’t like them. She didn’t want them. Her nephew, Charlie, apparently was the only person who was free to come into her house.
But Charlie hadn’t drunk that coffee. He hadn’t reacted when Abbie talked about fingerprints on the cup. He’d been nervous earlier when he thought he might have to go to the police station to be questioned and sign a statement. Why? Was it because �
�?
Abbie sat up in bed, staring into the darkness. Because he had the rings in his pocket, she thought.
The jewelry hadn’t been stolen earlier by whoever had attacked Mrs. Merkel. Charlie had fished the rings he’d described out of the costume jewelry immediately after he’d entered Mrs. Merkel’s bedroom. And he’d slid the rings into the pocket of his slacks.
Abbie remembered Mrs. Merkel telling her that Charlie needed a quick loan and she wouldn’t give it to him. Was that why he took the rings? To get some quick cash? He’d said he didn’t have enough money to pay a parking ticket. And he expected to stay with his aunt—maybe even hit her up for a loan again. Staying in a motel and eating out would cost him. It was easy to see why he’d want to sell the rings.
Everyone would think the rings had been taken by the attacker. No one would suspect Charlie. Should Abbie call Officer Martin and tell her what she thought?
She had no proof. She couldn’t accuse Charlie on guesswork. Also, if Charlie actually had taken the rings, he would have hidden them somewhere by this time or found a buyer for them.
Abbie had to learn more about Charlie and about what Mrs. Merkel knew. She got out of bed, reached under the mattress, and pulled out the envelope Mrs. Merkel had given her. It didn’t matter now that Mrs. Merkel had ordered her not to read the notebook. It might tell her what had happened.
As she turned the pages, Abbie saw that Mrs. Merkel’s scrawl didn’t make whole sentences. There were a few words here, a few there. They were hard to read, and they made no sense.
Maybe in the morning, when she wasn’t so tired, the words in the notebook would be easier to understand. Abbie placed the notebook on her bedside table, then turned off the light. Sliding down in the bed, she turned on her side, pulling the blanket and sheet up to her chin. Maybe tomorrow everything would fall into place and she’d know what to do. She relaxed and soon slid into sleep.
In her dreams a dark shadow crawled onto her legs, holding them down. “You’ve got only fifteen minutes,” a voice whispered in her ear.
Abbie struggled to get away. “Let me go!” she moaned.
Nobody's There Page 11
