by Gina Cresse
“Hard?”
“Yeah. We’ll have to decide how to spend it.”
I smiled and glanced over at the clock. It was past one in the morning. I don’t know why we even tried to go to sleep. “You know what I’m going to buy first?” I said, holding my hand up and staring at its silhouette in the faint light of the moon through the window.
Craig reached his hand up and laced his fingers with mine. “What?”
Before I could answer, we were both startled by the ringing of our phone. “Hospital?” I said.
“Probably. I’ll get it.”
Craig picked up the phone. “This is Dr. Matthews.”
I continued staring at the outline of my hand, dreaming of the days to come.
“Bob?” Craig said into the phone.
“No. It’s okay.
“Yes, I’m a doctor, but that’s not why you called. What’s the matter?
“You did? Is he still there?
“No, no. Keep Tiger inside. I’ll call the police.
“Okay. Thanks for the call. Bye”
I switched on a lamp. “What is it?” I asked.
“That was Bob. He said there’s someone in the house,” Craig said, punching more numbers into the phone
“You’re calling the police?”
“Yes. Then I think I should go over there.”
I was already out of bed, looking for my jeans. “I’m going, too,” I announced. Craig frowned at me.
He finished his call to the police while I laced up my shoes. He pulled a clean shirt from the closet and started on the buttons. “Where’d you put the lottery ticket?” he asked.
“In the desk drawer,” I answered.
“Locked?”
I nodded. “And I put the key back in its hiding place.
“Good. Let’s go.”
Craig drove us to Rancho Costa Little. All the way over, I kept thinking about the ticket.
“Don’t you think it’s weird that someone keeps breaking into that house? It’s not the kind of neighborhood for that. I think someone’s looking for the lottery ticket,” I said.
Craig gave me a worried look, but didn’t answer. We parked in front of the house. A police cruiser met us at the driveway. An officer stepped out of the car.
“Did you report a break-in at this address?” he asked.
“Yes,” Craig answered. “We don’t live here. The neighbor called us at home. He said he saw lights moving around inside.”
The officer studied the house from the sidewalk. “You have a key?”
“Yes,” I said, handing it to him.
“Wait here. I’ll check it out.”
Craig and I waited in the driveway while the officer entered the house. A few minutes later, he returned.
“No one in there now, but the place is torn apart. You want to check to see if anything’s missing?” he told us as he handed me the key.
“The place looked that way when we bought it,” I explained. “I’m not sure I could tell you if anything was missing. This is the second time today that someone broke in.”
“I didn’t see any sign of a forced entry. All the windows are closed tight. Both doors were locked.”
I looked at the key in my hand. “I think I’ll have the locks changed first thing in the morning.”
The officer opened his car door. “That’s probably a good idea. I’ll make a few drive-bys tonight. Maybe we can catch the guy.”
Craig and I inspected the house. It looked pretty much the way we’d left it—a mess. Before we left, I taped a note to the window of the back door. It read: DON’T BOTHER. IT’S NOT HERE ANYMORE.
Craig walked up behind me and read the note. “You think it’ll keep him out?”
“I don’t know. If he’s after the ticket, he’ll give up soon anyway. He’s got to know the time limit is about up.”
On the way home, we talked about having the locks changed on the house first thing in the morning. I told Craig I’d take care of it. Then we talked about taking a trip somewhere. Europe. Tahiti. Australia.
“You know where I’d like to go first?” I said.
“Italy?” Craig guessed.
“Wyoming.”
“Wyoming? Why?”
“I’ve never seen Yellowstone. And after that, I’d like to go to Kentucky and watch the running of the Derby.”
“Kentucky Derby? That’d be fun,” Craig agreed. “Then we should go to Nashville to visit the Grand Ole Opry.”
I smiled. “I didn’t know you liked country music. I’d love to go.”
“I never told you I play the banjo?”
“You? Really?”
“Sure. People mistake me for Earl Scruggs all the time. Those guys who played “Dueling Banjos” in Deliverance? I almost got the part, only I was too cute.”
I laughed. “You are too cute. Are you serious? Do you really play?”
“Yes,” he insisted.
“Hmm.” I smiled and eyed him sideways, wondering if he was pulling my leg. “Where would we go after Nashville?”
“I’ve never been to New England in the fall.”
“Oh, yes! I’ve always wanted to see the turning colors. And then maybe Niagara Falls,” I continued.
“We could ride over them in a barrel.”
“And then when we get out of the hospital, we could head over to Indianapolis for the Indy 500,” I offered, with a straight face.
Craig smiled. “Grand Canyon?”
“For sure. I was there once as a kid, and what I remember most was how breathtaking it was.”
“So it seems we could spend a lot of time getting acquainted with America before we head off to see the rest of the world,” Craig said as he turned onto our block.
“It would seem so,” I said, noticing some strange lights in front of our house. “What’s going on?” I wondered, straining to get a better look.
The red and blue flashing lights of a patrol car reflected on our windshield as we pulled into the driveway. Two uniformed officers milled around the front yard, shining high-powered flashlights behind shrubs and trees.
Craig and I quickly jumped out of our car. “What’s going on?” Craig asked one of the policemen.
“Is this your house?” he replied.
“Yes. I’m Dr. Craig Matthews. This is my wife, Devonie. What’s the problem?”
“Your alarm went off. Security company couldn’t reach you at home, so they dispatched us,” the policeman explained.
“The alarm? Did someone break in?” I asked.
“Appears that way. Got a broken window at the back of the house. Is that your dog in the back yard?”
“Yes. That’s Albert. He’s big, but he hasn’t got a mean bone in his body. The worst he would do to a burglar is annoy him to death by insisting he play fetch,” I said.
The policeman laughed. “Yeah, he kept bringing me his tennis ball when I went back there. I called for backup. We’re about ready to go inside to check it out—make sure no one’s still in there.”
I shivered. “You think someone is in our house?”
“Won’t know till we check. You better stay over here out of the way till we’re done,” the officer said, leading us to a position behind his car. Another patrol car screeched to a halt in front of our house. I held on to Craig’s arm and watched as two officers removed their guns from their holsters and entered our house.
Craig and I huddled behind the patrol car and waited. It seemed as though an eternity passed before the policemen came back outside.
“It’s okay. No one inside,” one of them finally assured us. “You folks should go in and see if anything’s missing.”
I walked close to Craig, clinging to his arm as we entered the house. I braced myself for a tragic scene of broken glass and blank spaces where stereos and televisions used to be. I blinked my eyes. The house looked just as it did when we left, except of course for the broken window in the dining room. All the electronics were still in place. Computers exactly as we lef
t them. Our emergency cash stash was still in tact in the freezer, wrapped in foil. The little bit of jewelry I own was still tucked safely away in the velvet lined box Craig gave me on Valentine’s Day.
We returned to the room we call our home office. I made a visual inspection of the desk. Nothing seemed amiss. Craig and I exchanged worried glances as I reached for the drawer and pulled. It didn’t budge. We both let out a sigh of relief.
“Still locked,” I said, walking across the room to the bookshelf. I reached for the bookend high on a shelf and felt for the key we keep hidden underneath it. The key was still there—another wave of relief.
I slid the key into the lock and turned it. Then I slowly pulled the drawer open. My heart sank. Craig banged his fist on the desk. The ticket was gone.
“Wait, I said, rushing over to the bookcase against the back wall. I’d hidden the photocopy of the ticket in an encyclopedia. I ran my finger along the volumes until I reached the right one and yanked it off the shelf. I flipped through the pages. Nothing. I turned it over and shook it, but nothing fell out.
Craig watched, his face hopeful. “Are you sure that’s the one you put it in?”
I nodded. “Yes. I put it in the L volume, for lottery.”
“Are you positive? Maybe you put it under M for money, or T for ticket,” Craig offered.
“No. I distinctly remember stuffing it in the pages between lottery and Lorenzo Lotto.”
I plopped down in a chair and chewed on my thumbnail. This wasn’t just a bad dream. The ticket was gone.
Chapter Four
Officer Graves was somewhat reluctant to include the missing fifty-eight million dollar lottery ticket in his report—especially since I couldn’t produce any proof that it ever existed. Finally, after explaining to him how we’d found the ticket, and the multiple break-ins at the other house with nothing ever taken, he agreed that it sounded plausible, and noted it in his report.
“I signed the back of the ticket, so won’t it be impossible for someone else to cash it in?” I asked.
Officer Graves stared at me blankly. “You should call the lottery people about that. I’ve never won a dime on the thing, so I couldn’t tell you. But I’m sure there’s someone out there who can alter your signature enough to make it pass for something else, or even make it disappear—especially for that kind of money.”
He noticed the gloom in my face. “We can try to get some prints off the desk, and that bookend where you hide the key.”
“Don’t forget the encyclopedia,” Craig said.
Officer Graves nodded his acknowledgment. “If someone shows up and tries to claim the ticket, and if we can somehow convince a judge that we need fingerprints from that person, maybe you’ll have a case.”
My spirits lifted a little. Craig and I both gave samples of our own fingerprints so they could be ruled out of any prints they did find.
“Do you think we have a chance of getting the ticket back?” I asked Officer Graves.
He solemnly shook his head. “You’ve got a better chance of being struck by lightning than getting that ticket back.”
My shoulders sank as I walked the officers to the door.
“Whoever has that ticket now is the owner. In a case like this, I’d venture to say that possession is nine-tenths of the law,” Graves continued.
As I closed the door, Craig came up from behind and wrapped his arms around me. “Easy come, easy go,” he whispered in my ear.
I smiled. “I’m okay. Less than six hours ago, I was perfectly happy. How about you?”
“Elated, as a matter of fact,” he said.
“And now, nothing is any different than it was then. Right?”
“Right. Except for that broken window.”
“Oh, yeah. Well, except for that. So we shouldn’t feel bad that we were this close to that much money, and someone snatched it away. Right?”
“Right,” he agreed, again. “Besides, it probably would have ruined our lives. I’ve heard that happens to a lot of people who win the lottery. They’re miserable after a while.”
“And we wouldn’t want that, would we?”
“Never.”
“Good. Then I’m glad it happened. I love our life just the way it is,” I said.
“Besides, it’s not like we’re destitute. I mean, we can still go to Wyoming, and next year we can head for Kentucky.“
“And after I make a fortune from the sale of Rancho Costa Little, I can buy you a banjo.”
“That’s right. And I can teach you to play the guitar, and we can start a little duo and play at birthdays and weddings, and we can sing—“
“Now I think you’re really dreaming,” I said, trying hard to laugh just to keep from crying. “Come on. I’m tired. Let’s go to bed.”
Who were we kidding? We’d just lost fifty-eight million dollars. There was no way I’d be able to sleep.
At six in the morning, I rolled over to see if Craig was awake yet. He wasn’t, but I couldn’t wait any longer for the alarm to go off. “How did they know exactly where the ticket was? And the key? And don’t forget the copy in the encyclopedia. They must have watched me through the window or something.”
“Hmm?” he mumbled, slowly blinking his eyes open.
“Last night. Whoever came in here knew exactly where to go to get the ticket. I bet the guy who we scared off yesterday waited outside and watched through the window. He probably saw us find the ticket, then followed us home.”
Craig rubbed his eyes and yawned. “Could be.”
“Then he watched me put the ticket in the desk and hide the key and the photocopy. Little pervert. I’m gonna start keeping the curtains closed at night.”
“So you think he went back to the other house last night and caused a commotion just to get us out of the house?” Craig asked, stretching his arms over his head to wake up the muscles.
“Yes. But the question is, how did he know about the ticket in the first place?”
Craig pushed the covers off and rolled over to sit on the edge of the bed. He scratched his head and rubbed the stubble on his chin. “Good question, but it doesn’t matter now. Right?”
“Right. But I’m still curious.”
“Did you lay awake all night thinking about it?” he asked.
“Not all night. At some point, I fell asleep and dreamed we lived on our very own island. You built a hospital and played the banjo for all your patients. I was your nurse and wore a straw hat with the price tag still hanging over the side. I think I was missing a front tooth.”
Craig laughed. “But I loved you anyway. Right?”
“I don’t know. You only spoke German and I couldn’t understand a word you said.”
“Take my word for it. I loved you anyway. I’ve got to go to work. You’re going to meet the locksmith at the house?”
“Right after the dining room window is fixed,” I said.
“And you won’t worry anymore about the ticket?”
“I’m not worried about the ticket. It’s just that—“
“Good.” He kissed me on the forehead and shuffled into the bathroom.
I stared at the ceiling. “Right, Devonie. Let it go,” I said to myself. “Just let it go.”
The locksmith finished changing the locks and handed me the new keys. I called Fiona to ask if she’d given me the key that Lou Winnomore kept hidden over his door. She never knew anything about the key. I was glad I had the locks changed.
I rolled up my sleeves and began sorting through the mess in the kitchen. I set a large garbage barrel in the center of the floor and started tossing anything that had no value into it. An assortment of vitamin bottles were scattered all over the countertop. I gathered them and set them upright. I started tossing them one-by-one into the can, but I stopped when I picked up a bottle that felt full. It was still sealed. I inspected the label. It was an unopened bottle of calcium—the same kind that I took.
“Hmm.” I set the bottle aside. The safety seal was still i
n tact, and it was far from its expiration date. I thought I’d take it home. No sense wasting it, considering the price.
I resumed tossing the other bottles. I picked up another bottle and shook it, as I had the others. It was empty. I noticed it was the same calcium as the one I’d set aside. I started to toss it into the can when I noticed the price sticker on the lid. I stopped and compared it to the other bottle. They were completely different. I sorted through the rest of the bottles on the counter. None had the same price as the new bottle. I picked through the garbage can and removed the bottles I’d thrown out until I found the one with a price sticker that matched the new bottle of calcium. It was on a bottle of vitamin E. The two bottles were the same size and somehow the lids had gotten switched. I pondered the mixed up lids for a moment, then tossed them both in the can.
It didn’t take long until the plastic bag in the trashcan was full. I tied it off and hauled the bag out to the garage. Three trash bags later, and I could finally see the kitchen floor.
I moved into the living room, dragging my garbage can behind me. Everything had been ripped from the walls except for a lone painting, still hanging perfectly level over the spot where the sofa used to sit, before it was overturned and ripped apart. The painting was a monotone landscape, done in all shades of purple. Dark mountains faded into pale lavender, as they grew further away and blended in with the misty sky. A dark purple tree—almost black—stood in the foreground, drawing attention to its nearly leafless branches. I carefully removed it from the wall and leaned it against a floor lamp that was slated for the yard sale.
I’d just started working my way toward the first bedroom when I heard a loud knock on the front door. I opened it to find Fiona standing there, wearing a leopard-skin patterned jumpsuit, a big floppy sunhat, and rhinestone-studded sunglasses that came to sharp points at each side. Her wig still listed to one side under the big hat. She held a brown paper sack in one hand and a bottle of champagne in the other. “Hi, toots! I’ve come with lunch and booze!” she announced.
I laughed and stepped aside to let her in, then glanced at my watch. It was nearly noon. I’d lost track of time. “Come on in. Lunch sounds great, but I don’t usually hit the booze until the sun goes down,” I joked, leading her to the kitchen.
