by Marja McGraw
I tried to call Janet while we were at the game, but she was out so I left a message.
After the game the coach took the boys for pizza, telling us he’d drive Mikey home. Coach only lived two blocks from our house. That would give us a little free time, something we didn’t have too often.
After Chris parked the car in the driveway, he headed for the mailbox to see if there was anything interesting, something other than bills. Yeah, like maybe we’d won a million dollars. I opened the car door and let the dogs out. They headed around the side of the house toward the backyard, leashes trailing behind them. I followed and opened the gate. They headed straight for their water dish, so I filled it with fresh water. Closing the gate, I walked back toward the front of the house.
“Pamela,” Chris called, “you’d better come here.”
His voice didn’t sound right so I hurried the rest of the way. I found him on the porch studying the door.
“What’s wrong?” I asked.
“Are you sure you shut the front door tight when we left?”
“I know I did. I shook it and turned the knob to be sure.”
“You’re positive?”
“Yes, I’m positive,” I said with a tightly controlled voice. Why the second degree? “What seems to be the problem?”
“I started to put the key in the lock and the door opened. It wasn’t locked. We may have had visitors while we were gone. You wait here.”
I wasn’t about to let Chris face potential burglars by himself and followed in his footsteps, closely, glancing around for something to use as a weapon. We both trod softly so no one could hear us coming. I grabbed a heavy vase as we passed a table in the entryway heading for the living room. I noticed it was darker than it should be. The drapes were closed and I was sure I’d left them open.
Chris stopped abruptly and I ran smack-dab into him. He jumped about a foot. Apparently, since I was walking on carpet, he hadn’t heard me follow him inside.
“I thought I told you to wait outside,” he whispered.
“There’s safety in numbers,” I whispered back.
“Or someone could shoot us both at once instead of you being able to run for help.”
Oh, the disgust in his voice was telling. I figured he thought I didn’t trust him to handle the burglars. I’d worry about that later.
“Let’s just get this over with,” he whispered.
He stepped into the living room with me still dogging his steps. He glanced to the right while I looked to the left.
“Go call the cops on your cell phone,” Chris ordered. “Someone’s definitely been here.” He took the vase out of my hands and set it on the coffee table before he quietly opened a coat closet and retrieved Mikey’s baseball bat.
I stood, rooted to the spot. My lovely home had seen a hurricane, if appearances meant anything. Magazines were strewn on the floor. My grandmother’s secretary, or desk, had all the drawers pulled out and papers joined the magazines on the floor. The cushions had been pulled off the couch and chair. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath.
“Will you please go call the coppers?” Chris hissed at me. “Get out of the house in case they’re still here. Now!”
I uprooted my feet and ran outside, pulling my cell phone out of my purse. I called the police and gave them my name and address. Telling them what was wrong, I added that my husband had gone into the house and I didn’t know if anyone was still in there or not. The woman I was talking to kept me on the phone while I waited for a patrol car to show up. It didn’t take long, although it felt like an eternity.
Two officers hurried over to me with their hands on their gun belts while I thanked the woman on the phone and hung up. I briefly explained what was happening and we all turned to the house in time to see Chris waving from the front door.
“That’s my husband,” I explained quickly, not wanting them to draw on him.
“There’s no one here,” Chris said. “Whoever it was is gone.”
The coppers asked Chris to wait outside while they went in and searched the house, making sure he hadn’t missed someone in hiding. Satisfied with their search, they motioned us inside where they examined everything and took a report. We couldn’t tell if anything had been taken, so they asked us to call it in if we discovered something missing. All of the big ticket items, like the television and stereo, still rested in their respective places.
“You know there’s nothing they can do,” Chris said while we started cleaning house. “It doesn’t look like anything is missing.”
“I can’t imagine why someone would break into our house,” I said, picking up the magazines from the floor.
Chris stopped and glanced around the living room. “I’ll be right back.”
I watched his retreating back for a moment before I began picking up the papers that had once been so carefully stored in my high-backed secretary. I counted my blessings that they hadn’t hurt my grandmother’s desk. There wasn’t even a scratch on it. There were two very small secret drawers in this piece of furniture, but they hadn’t been pulled out. Apparently the intruder hadn’t known to look for secret places in old furniture. I pulled each one open and found that my mad money was still in one, and an insurance check was still in the other.
I could hear Chris moving around the house, both upstairs and downstairs.
He was back in about a minute. “I think I may have an idea about what they were after.”
I waited while he examined the living room again, and finally began tapping my foot. “Well? Are you going to tell me?”
“I think someone was looking for those ledger pages,” he said, triumph ringing in his voice.
“What?” I almost rolled my eyes, but stopped because I knew he was serious. “Why would you think that?”
“Look around you. They didn’t disturb a thing except paperwork and the magazines, or places where papers could have been hidden. It’s the same in the spare bedroom where we’ve got the computer, and in the kitchen. They went through the drawers upstairs, too.”
I looked around and determined he was probably right. Yes, the cushions were pulled off the couch, but we could have hidden papers under them, just as we could have stuffed the pages in the magazines. That is, if we’d actually wanted to hide anything.
“Why do you think they were looking for the ledger pages?” I asked.
“Nothing of value is missing. I have a box of unused checks sitting next to the computer. They were moved, but not taken. And I had some cash that I left on the dresser. It’s still there. No, this wasn’t a typical break-in. Someone was looking for something specific. My gut is telling me that it was the ledger pages, mostly because I can’t think of anything else it could be.”
“But that could only mean it was John Murphy. Chance certainly couldn’t have done this, and I can’t imagine John doing it either. No one else knows about the ledger pages.”
“Unless one of them has talked it up to people.”
“But we just met with them yesterday afternoon. That doesn’t leave much time to spread the word.”
“It doesn’t take much time. One phone call could lead to another, which could lead to another. I’m going to call John and see if I can fish a little information out of him.” Chris picked up the phone while we talked, and started dialing. “Maybe Chance has stayed in touch with some of her old boarders.”
I rolled my eyes this time. “For so many years? I doubt it.”
Chris looked at me and very pointedly and dramatically rolled his eyes. I got his point. Knock it off, Pamela, you’re annoying me.
John didn’t answer and Chris had to leave a message. He asked John to call him as soon as possible.
By the time we finished straightening the mess, Mikey came home pumped up and full of pizza. He talked excitedly about his game and relived many of the plays with Chris. He never had a clue that anything out of the ordinary had happened, and I wanted to keep it that way.
The rest of the afternoon was
quiet. Mikey went outside to play with the dogs while Chris began a cursory search to find information on some of the boarders on the Internet. He knew of a few places where he could check out the names. I didn’t know if there was a place he could use the social security numbers or not, but it wouldn’t have surprised me. There’s no such thing as privacy on the Internet.
Mikey had a light dinner since he’d eaten so much pizza and then went upstairs to do some homework he’d conveniently forgotten, because he didn’t want to spend Sunday doing it.
Chris fed the dogs while Mikey ate, and when they were done, they flopped on the lawn for what they felt was a much deserved rest.
After Mikey went to bed, Chris and I had a late dinner. Since it was just the two of us, I set the formal dining table and added candles and soft music for a romantic interlude. We didn’t have many chances for those and I appreciated Chris for walking into a readymade family so happily.
We agreed not to talk about dead bodies, Internet searches or Chance until later. This was our time and we weren’t going to let anything spoil it for us. And nothing did.
***
Sunday morning Mikey and I went to church while Chris settled in with the Sunday paper and began reading ads and looking for used furniture. Neither John nor Janet had returned our calls yet.
Mikey left for Sunday School after the traditional beginning of the service and the singing of a couple of hymns. Pastor Findlay gave an inspirational sermon, at least to me, about being patient and God’s timing not necessarily being the same as ours. I had a feeling that if we were going to try to find out what happened to Charles Blakely, we’d need lots of patience. I thought of Chance and realized that dealing with her would require a lot of patience, too. I felt guilty for my ambivalence toward her and vowed to be more kindly toward this elderly woman. During a quiet time I prayed for everyone involved in Blakely’s death, even those I didn’t know about yet.
After church Mikey and I picked up some fast food and took it home for lunch. Chris was waiting for us.
“Ah, good. Food. After we eat, we’re going for a drive. I think I may have found a desk for you. It’s a private sale, and I called on it. It sounds like it might be an antique being sold as secondhand.”
“Good job, Chris! You know how I love antiques.”
After lunch Mikey and I changed clothes and Chris drove us across town to an address in an older part of town.
A young man named Tad showed us to his garage where he’d stored his late grandmother’s furniture. “I didn’t have the heart to sell her stuff before, but I recently got laid off my job. I need the money now. I know my grandma would want me to sell her things so I can get through this rough patch.”
“I’m sorry to hear about your job,” I said, “and I hate to take advantage of your difficulties.”
“Nah, stuff happens. I’m better off than some of the people who are getting laid off. At least I can sell a few things. It’s just that with so many people out of work, it’s hard to find buyers. Nobody’s got any money. Come on and I’ll show you the desk. It’s in the middle of the garage, if I remember right. This stuff has been in here for about two years.”
While Chris helped Sam move some boxes so we could get to the desk, I looked around the garage. There was a beautiful oak bookcase, and I dearly love oak. It would look great in my new office, or even in our home. There was also an antique highboy dresser that would work in either the office or our bedroom, depending on what I used it for.
“Uh, Chris, could you come here for a minute?”
I heard Mikey say, “Look out, Dad. Mom’s lookin’ at other furniture, not just the desk.”
“Hush, Mikey. I just want Chris to take a look.”
“Why don’t you come look at this desk first?” Chris asked. “We’ve got it cleared off and it looks pretty good.”
I wandered back to the desk, glancing at other things on my way. I stopped dead in my tracks when I saw an old oak cedar chest. I’d always wanted an oak cedar chest. It would be perfect at the foot of our bed.
“Pamela?” Chris called. “Are you coming?”
He and Tad were behind a stack of boxes where I couldn’t see them, so I followed their voices to the desk.
“Perfect,” I said, taking it in, in one glance. I could see some excellent workmanship. It was definitely a very old desk, and quite large. I ran my hand over the top, pulled drawers open, and pushed things out of my way so I could see the sides and front. “Yes, it’s absolutely perfect. We’ll take it.”
“But I haven’t told you how much I want for it yet,” Tad said.
“That’s okay. We’ll take it.” I ran my hand over the top again with a loving caress.
Tad and Chris glanced at each other and back at me.
“When mom’s got her mind made up…” Mikey said without finishing his thought.
“Now, Chris, come see what else I’ve found.”
We returned to Tad’s house to figure out what we owed him. I was happy, Tad was happy, and Chris was writing a check when his cell phone rang. He stepped outside to answer it.
Coming back into the house, he said, “That was Big D. I asked if I could borrow his truck to haul this stuff, and he’s going to meet me here. You and Mikey can head home and make room for… everything.”
Tad laughed. “I get it. I’ve got an ol’ lady, too. She’s at the store right now or I’d introduce you.”
Pulling a business card out of my purse, I held up my hand motioning Tad to wait a second. I crossed out the old address and wrote in the address of the new restaurant. “If you’ll stop calling your significant other your ol’ lady, we’d love to have you be our guests at Bogey Nights when it opens. You can have a night out and forget about money, jobs and job hunting.”
Tad beamed. “Thanks! I think we’ll take you up on that. By the way, my ol’ lady is my wife of five years.”
Mikey held my hand while we walked toward the car. “Mom, that was a nice thing to do.”
“Mikey’s right.” Chris took hold of my other hand and I felt so warm and loved at that moment.
“Tad deserved that,” I said. “He’s having money problems but he didn’t try to take advantage of us. His prices were fair. I like an honest man.”
Chris accompanied us to the car. “Big D said he’s got bad news about Sharon and the letters. He said he’d talk to me when he gets here.”
“Oh, no,” I said. “Sharon got to him.”
Chapter Twenty
Arriving home, Mikey and I hurried to the backyard to check on the dogs. Since the house had been broken into, I didn’t feel very secure. I wondered what might have happened if the dogs had been home instead of at the game with us. Would they have stopped the intruder? Probably not. Knowing what good dispositions Labrador retrievers have, I figured they might have licked the intruder while he broke in, maybe even offering to help him. If we’d been home and someone tried to break in, it would have been a different story. I believe the dogs would have been very protective. I tried to act nonchalant since my son didn’t know what had happened.
Leaving Mikey in the backyard with the dogs and knowing they’d watch out for him, I hurried into the house to see if either Janet or John had returned our calls yet. They hadn’t, but there was a message from Mikey’s Grandma Linda, my deceased husband’s mother. There was a holiday weekend coming up soon and she wanted to know if Mikey could stay with her and his Grandpa Gene over the long weekend. I called her back and said that would be fine, and we caught up on general family news. I appreciated Linda and Gene because my parents lived far from us, and Chris’s lived even farther away than mine.
While Mikey played outside with Sherlock and Watson, I began rearranging furniture to make room for my new oak bookcase. I only had to move a few things in order to open space to the left of the fireplace. With that done, I went upstairs to make sure I’d made the bed and that our bedroom was neat and clean. After all, Big D would be helping Chris carry the oak cedar chest u
p there. I couldn’t help myself – I wanted to make a good impression. It wouldn’t do to have him think Chris was married to a slob.
After putting a couple of things away, I went back downstairs and sat down on the couch to wait. I was waiting for John to call, for Janet to call, for Chris and Big D to arrive with the furniture, and mostly I waited for a brilliant idea to pop into my head concerning who killed Charles Blakely. If only it was that easy.
I didn’t actually know who the players were yet. Chance had mentioned a boarder who’d been scary. I wondered if it could have been Sam Shipley, since his was the name on the third letter we’d found. Of course, it could have been Dudley Long.
Mikey came in with the dogs trailing after him, and I gave him a light snack to hold him over until dinnertime. On Sundays I usually fixed a special meal, just like my mother did when I was growing up. Sunday dinner was always something interesting. On this particular Sunday, however, I decided to forego that tradition because it had been such a busy day. I set some frozen meatballs and spaghetti sauce out to defrost. I could whip up spaghetti in a hurry, and I had made both ingredients, so it would still be homemade.
“I’m going to go play catch with the dogs, Mom,” Mikey said, licking his fingers.
“Okay, but go wash your hands first. Oh! I almost forgot to tell you. Grandma Linda called and invited you to spend the Memorial Day weekend with her and Grandpa.”
“When is that?”
“Next weekend. I told her you’d be there, okay?”
“Yeah. Grandma and Grandpa always take me to do something fun when I’m with them. I think it reminds them of taking my real dad places when he was a kid. They don’t act like it makes them sad though. I think it makes them have happy memories.”
“Sometimes you surprise me, Mikey. You have good insight for a young man of your age.”
He grinned at me, bounced a tennis ball on the floor to get the dogs’ attention, and ran out the back door. I wondered if he even understood what insight was.
The phone rang and I heard a truck pull up to the house as I reached for it.
