Henry looked at the clock. It was eight thirty. “Milk is good. I’m a lightweight. Anything too hard and I’ll fall asleep.”
“Me too, then,” she said and took down two glasses. “Here, you pour.” She backed up so he could get to the refrigerator and held the glasses while he poured. She took them to the living room and he followed with the plate of pumpkin bars.
“A movie?” Polly asked. There were still a lot of films she wanted to share with him.
“That sounds great. Will you be able to stay awake?”
“I had a nice nap. I’ll bet you fall asleep before I do.” She walked over to the bookshelf and looked for the movie she wanted to watch. “Have you ever seen Labyrinth?” she asked.
“No, have I missed something important?”
“I didn’t expect you had. It’s with David Bowie. It’s kind of old, but still one of my favorites.” She put the DVD in the player and sat down beside him with the remote. Obiwan jumped up on the other end of the sofa and when she got comfortable, tucked in beside her.
“We’re going to have to let him out at some point tonight,” Polly said. “But not now.” She started the movie and picked up a glass of milk and a pumpkin bar. “This is living,” she giggled. “Good heavens, we’re old.”
“What do you mean by that?” Henry was offended.
“We don’t go out on dates, we stay in, eat pizza and watch old movies. We might as well be married.”
“Well …” he began.
“Don’t start with me. Not tonight,” she laughed.
“So tomorrow night?”
Polly elbowed him in the belly and said, “Shhh. It’s beginning.”
At one point, Henry whispered to her, “Are these muppets?”
“Yes. They’re made by Henson. Now watch.”
They’d finished the pumpkin bars and milk and she had snuggled onto his lap. He reached over her to the back of the sofa and pulled the blanket down to cover them and the dog. Just as they were both relaxing, Obiwan sat straight up and growled, struggling to get out from under the blanket.
Polly tried to figure out what was happening and paused the movie.
They both heard glass breaking. Once, then again.
“What in the hell?” she said, jumping up. Obiwan was right beside her.
The dog started for the back stairs.
“Where did that sound come from?” she asked Henry, who was already tying his shoes.
“I think it came from the back. Maybe the kitchen. You stay here. I’ll go check.”
Polly scowled at him. “I’m coming. And so is Obiwan. Don’t even think that we’re not.” She slipped into a pair of clogs in her room and followed Henry down the steps. Using the app on her phone, she turned on all the lights on the lower level, as well as the outdoor lights and the lamps along the lane.
“That ought to surprise whoever is out there,” she said.
Henry opened up the door at the bottom of the steps and Polly grabbed Obiwan’s leash, just in case. They went into the kitchen and looked up. Three of the glass panes had been broken in the eight-foot windows, all of them above her head. She reached down and caught Obiwan’s collar to stop him from walking forward into the broken glass on the floor.
“Better call the police,” Henry said. “I’m going outside.”
“I’m coming with you,” she said as he opened the door.
“Please, Polly. Just call the police and let me do this?” he pleaded.
“Fine. But I don’t like it.”
Fortunately, the back yard was brightly lit and she didn’t see anyone out there. Henry went on out and she watched as he turned the corner around the garage. She dialed the phone.
“Bellingwood Police Department,” said a now familiar voice. Polly wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or not.
“Hi, this is Polly Giller over at Sycamore House and I need to report more vandalism.”
“What happened, Polly?”
“Someone just threw rocks through the windows in my kitchen and broke the glass.”
“Anything else?”
“That’s all I know for now. We were upstairs and heard the glass break and came down. Henry Sturtz is outside checking the rest of the building.”
“I’m sending someone over.”
“Thanks. I’ll meet them out front.”
She hung up. In her wildest dreams, she never imagined having a relationship with both a Sheriff’s department and a local police department. But she was becoming friends with people in both. Somehow in Bellingwood, that didn’t seem odd at all. Polly locked the back door. Henry had access to all the doors at Sycamore House, so she wasn’t worried about him getting back in.
She opened the front door and stepped outside. Obiwan stood beside her and she looked to the left and to the right. In the light, she saw Henry walking back from the barn. He waved at her and veered off to the other side of the building. She went back inside, closed the door and sat down on a bench.
“You’re a good boy, Obiwan,” she said, scratching his head. “You’ve got pretty good ears.” He looked up at her and then set his chin on her knee. “Tomorrow night we’re going down to Des Moines for therapy training. Are you going to be good there too?” she asked.
His tail thumped on the floor. Even if he didn’t understand all that she said, he certainly knew when she was talking to him.
Polly saw flashing lights through the window and went back to the front door to open it. Henry was coming up the sidewalk.
“Hi, Bert,” he said to the young man getting out of the car. “Night shift this week, eh?”
“Hi Henry. I hear you had some trouble here tonight.”
Polly took a deep breath. She gritted her teeth. Henry took one look at her and smiled, a coy look crossing his face.
“I did have trouble,” he said, “but that has nothing to do with why you’re here. Have you met the owner of Sycamore House?”
The young man looked up and had the decency to blush, “No, I haven’t. I’ve heard a lot about you, though, Miss Giller.”
“Great,” she said. “My infamy precedes me?”
“What?” he asked. “Oh no! Not from the station, though I’ve heard that, too. My aunt and uncle own the hardware store. She’s your mailman, Lisa Bradford?”
“Come on in,” Polly said. “The kitchen is back here.”
“I was here for the barn raising last January,” he said. “That was quite a day.”
“It was a lot of fun,” she agreed. Henry winked at her behind the young man’s back.”
Obiwan followed them and when she told him to sit and stay in the corner of the kitchen, he stopped and watched while they picked their way through the glass.
“Here’s one of the rocks,” Bert said, leaning over to pick it up.
“Fingerprints?” Polly asked, essentially stopping him.
“I suppose so.” He dug in his pocket and pulled out a glove and a plastic bag.
“Here is another one,” Henry pointed under the prep table.”
“And I have the third one,” Polly stopped beside the sink.
The young officer picked them up and scrawled on the bag before dropping it into his pocket. “I’ll fill out a report, but I don’t think there’s much we can do. May I sit here and write?” He pointed to the trestle table.
“That’s fine. Would you like something to drink?”
“No thank you, ma’am. I’ll just finish this and let you get back to your evening. Do you have a way to cover those holes?”
Polly looked at Henry, who said, “I’ll take care of it. If you’ll be here for a few minutes, I’ll go home and get some wood. We’ll close them up until the glass company replaces them.”
“I’ll wait,” Bert nodded.
“Guys, I’ll be fine. I don’t need a babysitter.” Polly protested.
The young policeman looked to Henry for help.
“We’re not babysitting,” Henry said. “I promise. But, I’ll be back soon and I
’ll take Obiwan with me. He can use my backyard while I get what I need. Then you don’t have to walk him.” He took the leash from her and walked over to Obiwan and snapped it on.
Polly followed him. “I know what you’re doing.”
“What’s that?”
“You don’t want me walking around the property tonight. You’re making me stay inside.”
“I’m trying to be as efficient as possible. That’s all.”
“Whatever.”
“You sweep up the glass. I’ll be back.”
She heard him chuckling as he led Obiwan to his truck.
“He is such a brat,” she muttered and took the broom with her back into the kitchen.
“Can I help you with that,” Bert asked.
“No, I’m fine. By the way, what’s your last name?”
“It’s Bradford, too. My dad and Paul are brothers.”
“Did you want to come back to Bellingwood to work in the department?”
“Yes ma’am. It’s a good place to live.”
Polly had about had it with being ma’amed. She knew he was just being polite, but enough was enough. She sat down across the table from him, still holding the broom.
“Officer Bradford?” she said.
“Yes, ma’am.”
“About that ma’am thing. You really should try to control it.”
“What do you mean, ma’am? We’re taught to be polite.”
“Most young women don’t like to be ma’amed. I’ve been known to pour coffee down a guy’s front for it.”
He blanched a little, and then asked, “What would you prefer?”
“You can call me Miss Giller if you need to be formal. Now that you’ve met me, Polly works just fine, too.”
“Am I offending every woman when I say that?” Both his face and his voice were quite sincere. He was so young.
“Probably not. Older women …” she stopped and giggled, “much older women are probably fine with it, but if you think they’re under forty, you might want to be careful using it too often.” She winked at him and stood back up. She’d seen a glint of light on a piece of glass and wanted to make sure she’d completely swept the room clean.
“Yes, ma … Miss Giller,” he corrected himself. His face was bright red and he went back to his report.
“Your father would have your head for being so mean,” Polly said quietly to herself and laughed out loud.
Bert looked up. “Ma’ … Miss Giller?”
“Yes?”
“Oh, I didn’t know if you needed something.”
“No. I was just thinking about my dad. It made me laugh.”
He stood up and brought the paperwork to her. “If you could just sign this here and here,” he pointed to the form. “I’ll get it filed. I’m sorry we can’t do any more for you tonight.”
“I suppose it would have been too much to ask for the ground to be wet so you could take casts of footprints.”
He laughed at her. “Yes. Probably. Chief Wallers will come out tomorrow.” He sat back down at the table and slowly went through the motions of putting things away.
“You’re waiting for Henry to get back, aren’t you?”
The poor young man looked up at her, obviously unsure of what to say or do.
“Do you men have some kind of code where you know that the other one is asking you to protect the poor female?”
“No?” Then he sighed. “I can’t leave. He’d kill me.”
She laughed. “I’ll make it easy on you and let you stay. I have some pumpkin bars upstairs. Would you like something?”
“Really, I’m fine. Mindy brought chocolate chip cookies to the office. I’ve already had too many.”
Polly dumped the glass into the trash and returned the broom to the storage room. She hoped she had everything, but since she was the only one who ever wandered around Sycamore House in bare feet, she wasn’t too worried.
The front door opened and both she and Bert Bradford jumped up. She heard footsteps going up the stairs and said, “Must be Lila Fletcher coming back in for the night.”
“Lila Fletcher?”
“One of my guests upstairs.”
“Oh.”
They heard another door and footsteps approached the kitchen. Natalie Dormand looked in and saw him and her eyes grew wide. “Is everything okay?” she asked.
“We had a little vandalism,” Polly replied. “Nothing to worry about. Officer Bradford is just finishing up and about to be on his way. Can I get something for you?”
“I’m having trouble settling down, so I thought I’d see what there was to eat in here.”
“Come on in. I think Sylvie has chocolate chip cookies in the freezer. How does that sound?”
“Amazing! I never get home cooked food, especially baked goods.”
Polly strode over to the freezer and took out a container filled with cookies. She filled the plate and handed it to Natalie, saying, “If this doesn’t do, come back for more.”
“Thank you,” Natalie replied. “I’ve been working all day and this will be perfect while I read. Good night.”
“Pretty busy around here tonight,” Bert Bradford observed.
“I suppose it is. The guests know they can wander around all they’d like. They know how to reach me if they need anything. Are you sure you don’t want a cookie while I have them out?” she asked, holding out the container to him.
“No. I’ve had too many already.”
Obiwan came in just after Polly heard the back door open. She put the container back in the freezer and said, “You guys weren’t gone very long. Are you good for the night?”
“He’s good,” Henry said, coming in. “He took care of everything.”
Bert stood up, “Well, I’ll be off. Call if you need anything more.”
“Thanks Bert,” Henry reached out to shake his hand.
“Miss Giller,” Bert Bradford said, shaking her hand as he walked past.
“Good night, Officer,” she called out as he left, then she turned on Henry. “You are a brat.”
“I know. I’m terribly ashamed. I’m going to get the ladder and I’ll think about my bad behavior while I’m working.”
He boarded up the windows and when they headed back upstairs, he picked up an overnight bag he had dropped on Andrew’s desk under the stairs.
“What’s that?” Polly asked.
“I’m sleeping on your couch,” he replied.
She simply laughed and opened the door to go upstairs. “It won’t do me any good to argue with you, will it?”
“Nope. Live with it, pretty girl.” He kissed her cheek, then patted her bottom as she went up the steps first.
“Stop it,” she said, swatting at his hand.
“Never.”
CHAPTER TWELVE
Polly emerged from her room. “I think I finally know what to do with it.” Henry had gotten up earlier, was showered and dressed and drinking a cup of coffee at her dining room table. She wrapped a robe around herself, and the animals followed as she headed for the coffee pot.
“Do with what?” he asked.
“I think I know what the key is to Thomas’s flash drive.”
“There’s a key?”
“I think so. That’s why nothing has made any sense. It doesn’t seem to have any organization to it. But I think it does.”
“When did this come to you?”
“When all crazy things come to me. You know that time between being asleep and really waking up? I let my mind relax and that’s when I realized there was a key to unlock the pattern.”
“What’s the key, then?”
Polly poured a cup of coffee and sat down beside him. She pulled her laptop over and swiped to turn it on.
“I’m not sure what it is exactly, but one day Thomas and I were sitting at the Joe’s Diner talking about books and authors and other weird things. He told me that he had a special affinity for Edgar Allan Poe.”
Henry nodded and took a drink fro
m his mug.
“I think it’s because of his youth,” she said.
“What are you talking about?”
“Thomas lost himself in the drug culture in San Francisco in the sixties. He was a talented author, but couldn’t get it together. His family had some money and he was an only child, so he went to Berkeley and managed to graduate. He even published some early mysteries. They’re kind of fun. But then everything went to hell.”
“Wasn’t Poe some kind of drug addict?”
“He wrote a lot about it, but I think he had more trouble with alcohol,” she replied. “Anyway, one of the reasons Poe fell apart was because people he loved died and he couldn’t get past it. Thomas lost the love of his life while he was living in San Francisco and it destroyed him. He’d already gotten himself pretty messed up, but when she was gone, he lost everything. He would pull it together to write a novel and then he would fall apart again. Up and down he went with each novel.
“Well, it was his fiftieth birthday party that did it for him. He went to the party and there was hardly anyone there. People had gotten so tired of his lifestyle, they just quit showing up. He’d lost everyone in his life that mattered and it was his own fault. So, he decided he didn’t want to live the rest of his life like that. It took two years. He was in and out of rehab. His agent literally hauled him out of a gutter one night and he went back into the clinic and committed to stay there for six months. He said that he still fought that demon and it’s been thirteen years since he quit drinking.”
“Wow. I had no idea.”
“Have you ever read any of his mysteries?” she asked.
“I don’t think so. How did he find himself in Bellingwood?”
“He said that he heard about Sycamore House and thought it would be a good place to finish his next novel. But I don’t think that’s all he did. He was always doing research and spent a lot of time driving around.”
“So, tell me about the key you figured out.”
Polly quickly typed into her browser. “I’m going to have to spend some time with this today. We talked about a lot of Poe’s stories. Thomas taught several classes at CUNY on Poe’s work. He really knew his stuff. One of the stories was about a cipher, but I can’t imagine how Thomas would have used it.”
Diane Greenwood Muir - Bellingwood 05 - Life Between the Lines Page 11
