When I got home, Tom wanted all the details. He hadn’t seen much (you couldn’t from that window), but in a gap between the houses, he said, he had seen some guys running. I tried to give him a good story—me out there in the dark, practically catching criminals with my bare hands, blah, blah, blah. I didn’t mention my suspicions of Uncle Dave at all. But that almost felt like lying. I wasn’t used to hiding things from Tom.
Mom came home around eleven. She looked tired and worn out. I sat with her in the kitchen for a few minutes while she ate some yogurt.
“You okay, Charlie?” she asked. “You’re pretty quiet. What did you and Tom get up to today?”
“Nothing much. Spy game.”
“You guys still play that?” She laughed, shaking her head. “I really appreciate that you’ve been taking such great care of Tom. What would we do without you, Charlie?”
“No prob. We’re fine, Mom. Don’t worry about us.”
She yawned. “Man, that was a killer of a double shift. But I’ll be home early tomorrow. Tom’s got that appointment with the surgeon at four thirty. Why don’t you come with us, and then we’ll get burgers after?”
“Sure, yeah, sounds good.” I was barely listening. What I was listening for was the door. I needed to talk to Uncle Dave. Tonight. I’d never get to sleep if I didn’t.
I might not get to sleep if I did.
“So tired,” said Mom. “I’m heading up. Love you, baby.” She kissed the top of my head. “You should get to bed soon.”
“I will. I just have to…I have to do this thing for school.” Lie. Ears turning red.
I sat in the dark living room, waiting for Uncle Dave. That’s what they always did in the movies when someone was going to confront somebody else. They sat in the darkness and waited. The time ticked by. Eleven thirty. Eleven forty-five.
Footsteps on the path up to the front door. A thud. A rattle of keys. Then the door opened.
Uncle Dave came in, kicked off his shoes, bent over and then neatly set them to the side. Would a criminal type actually do that? I mean, it was a little thing, but sometimes little things matter. Tidying up your shoes shows respect for other people, right? I was desperate to find any excuse for him. I liked him. I’d always thought he was a good guy. Was he a good guy?
I had to find out.
He was heading to the stairs. “Uncle Dave!” I called out.
He jumped big-time. I flicked on the light.
“Jeez, Charlie, you scared the hell out of me! What are you doing sitting there in the dark?”
“Actually, I’m waiting for you.”
“Why? Is everything okay? Is something wrong?” Again, this concern for other people. It was nice to see. It made me doubt my suspicion.
“Everything’s okay. I just need to ask you some questions.”
“Okay…like, now? It’s pretty late. Could it wait—”
“It can’t wait.”
He came and sat down on a chair. He looked completely puzzled.
“Where were you this evening?” I shot the question out at him.
He frowned. “At the food bank. The warehouse. I told you. Why?”
“You can’t have been there until now.”
“Well, no. Look, Charlie, what is all this?”
“Uncle Dave, I’ve been thinking about all the robberies in the neighborhood—”
“Doing some detecting? Good for you! Found anything out?”
I looked at him closely. He seemed interested. But not in a guilty way. Just regular interest. He was relaxed. Loose. Time to go in for the kill. I just hoped this didn’t get ugly.
“That box of jewelry you have downstairs. Where did you get it?”
“Jewelry?” He looked confused. His eyebrows went up.
“In the boxes against the wall downstairs.”
Uncle Dave’s eyebrows relaxed. “Oh, that,” he said. “I got that from… wait a second, you went through my stuff?”
“Well, yes. Sorry. There’s a lot of stuff down there, right? And I thought, I thought…” It was pretty hard to say it right out loud. I thought you might be the thief. So he said it for me.
“You thought that I might be the thief!” He said it with a shout of laughter. “Me?” He clapped a hand to his chest, laughing. Then he saw that I wasn’t laughing.
“Charlie, hand to God, I’ve never stolen a thing in my life. Not one thing. Not a chocolate bar, not a…not a grape from the grocery store!”
“Everybody steals a grape once or twice. They let you.”
“Mmm, maybe. But you probably shouldn’t.”
This was not going how I thought it would go.
“The jewelry,” I stammered. That was a fact. “Also bags of musical equipment.”
Uncle Dave ran a hand through his hair.
“Look, Charlie,” he said with a sigh, “the job market’s so tight, I thought I’d start a side hustle. That’s what they call it. Some work you do on the side, you know? Only right now it’s my main hustle. Anyway, I’ve got a little business going. I’ve been buying stuff at thrift stores and garage sales and reselling it on eBay.”
I must have looked skeptical, because he rushed on. “It’s true. I’m getting pretty good at it. I got that little jewelry box full for five bucks, and I think there’s a brooch in there worth at least thirty. Old. Vintage. I even pull stuff out of the garbage. Free! It’s amazing what people throw out. Found a pair of snowshoes last week. Got forty bucks for them! Pure profit. I figure out when garbage day is for the ritzy areas, and I look around. They’re throwing the stuff out—it’s not stealing.”
He looked down at his hands.
“Maybe that’s embarrassing to hear. I’m sorry if it is.” Uncle Dave sat back and ran his hands through his hair again. “I didn’t tell you and Tom about it because maybe I’m embarrassed by it. But it’s honest money, Charlie. I told your mom. And I’m making more now, so I can chip in a bit more for living here.”
“Well, that’s good,” I said. I felt really bad for ever suspecting him. “Look, Uncle Dave, I’m really sorry for going through your stuff—”
Uncle Dave held up his hand. “Stop. Forget it. You were just trying to figure things out. Come to think of it, it probably did look pretty suspicious!” He put his hand over his mouth because he was laughing. “Look, I’ll come clean. Totally clean.”
I leaned forward. What was he going to confess to?
“The music equipment isn’t for my business. I’m in a band, dude! I always wanted to be in a band. Played piano as a kid, so I’m on keyboard. It’s with the guys down the street, the ones who work on their cars all the time? Good guys.”
“The car guys? Down the street?” The guys who had just become my main suspects now that Uncle Dave seemed to be in the clear? Those guys? “I don’t know. They look pretty rough.”
“They’re cool,” Uncle Dave said. “Josh and Kyle. Drums, guitar. We practice almost every evening. I love it, man.”
“Tonight? Did you practice tonight?” I said quickly. Just because Uncle Dave was in the clear didn’t mean my detective work was done.
“No, they couldn’t. I went on a garbage run after the food bank. Glendale is a gold mine. Found a side table. Teak! Solid wood and needs oil, but I bet I can get fifty, sixty bucks for it! I left it on the porch. Do you want to see it?” He started to get to his feet.
“Maybe tomorrow. Look, Uncle Dave. How well do you know those car guys? Josh and Kyle. Like, have you been friends for a long time?”
“Not super well, I guess. Couple of months. Just got talking one day about one of their cars. Anyway, they said they needed another guy for their band. Got a space set up in their basement. I thought we might practice in the garage, but it’s crammed with stuff.”
Yes, all that stuff in the car guys’ garage.
Guys Uncle Dave has only known for a couple of months.
Guys who seemed to have lots of money for cars and musical equipment.
I had some work to do.