“Aaron, we’re going to view the Middleton house this morning. Would you like to come with us? You could look at it from a student’s point of view and tell us what you think.”
“Yeah, sure.”
“Have you thought any more about going back to Parsons?”
“Haven’t decided anything yet.”
“Good, because Ray and I have come up with a solution that will get you into your own place, if that makes a difference to your staying here.”
“Tell me!”
“Not yet. Still some details to be worked out. But you’ll know soon.” He gave her a wide grin, and they set off for the Middleton house.
“I’ll be back in twenty minutes,” said Joseph Lamb as he unlocked the front door. “And I hope you can make up your mind. I can’t keep wasting my time like this. You either want to make an offer or you don’t.”
“It’s only my second viewing,” grumbled Charlotte, “and these other two haven’t seen it at all.”
“Don’t pay any attention to him,” said Lynda, taking a seat in the living room. “I’ll give you a few moments to look around on your own, and then I’ll see you up there.”
“Let’s start upstairs,” said Charlotte, leading the way. They looked into each bedroom, Simon commenting that they could easily knock two rooms together to make a decent-sized classroom and Aaron commenting that it would be nice if the windows could be enlarged to let in more light. When they came to the master bedroom, Charlotte noted the photograph on the dresser and stood by it while Simon and Aaron gazed around. When they had moved on, she picked up the photo, tilting it toward the window to catch the light. As she pulled her phone out of her pocket to photograph it, Lynda entered the room, paused, then wordlessly and gently took the photo from her and replaced it on the dresser.
“Ten minutes left,” Lynda said.
Charlotte followed Lynda downstairs, trailing her hand along the oak handrail, and entered the kitchen. The first visit had been so hurried, she hadn’t had time to view the kitchen, but now she took in the faded curtains of a brown-and-mustard-yellow pattern of circles covering the window above a glass pane in the back door. She half expected to see a fondue set on the counter and had no doubt there’d be one in the cupboard.
She tried the handle on the back door, but it was locked. She took a step closer to the counter and peered into the deep porcelain double sink. The smaller, shallower side was empty, but a badly rinsed cup with some brownish water in it sat at the bottom of the larger, deeper basin.
Off the kitchen was a small half bathroom that contained a pink toilet and square, pink sink. A small window above the toilet was open about two inches. She reached over to close it, expecting it to be stiff, but it moved easily in its frame. She left it as it was, turned the tap on and off, and then returned to the living room.
“I’m just going to poke around outside,” Charlotte told Lynda.
She left by the front door and walked around to the back of the house. A patch of land that might once have been a vegetable garden, now overgrown with weeds, with a dark-green wooden shed beside it, took up most of the backyard.
She pulled the shed’s rusty bolt latch back, and the door swung crazily open on loose hinges. The gloomy semidarkness of the interior was relieved only by slim bands of sunlight that managed to filter in between the vertical boards. The air was dank, with a deep, earthy smell. A few tools, including a shovel and rake, hung from pegs on one wall, and a shelf littered with newspapers, clay pots, and spoons took up the other wall. On a nail hung an old dog leash, its leather now cracked and its clip rusted. She turned it toward her so she could read the name on the tag. Bella. Her eyes misted as she held the tag. A dearly loved pet now long gone, she thought. How little they leave behind. As love for her own Rupert flooded her heart, she released the tag, lifted the sagging door back in place, and shot the bolt home.
As she prepared to leave the backyard to rejoin the others, a pile of weeds and dead leaves under the window caught her eye. She took a few steps closer, leaned over, and discovered a clumsy, almost half-hearted attempt to camouflage an upturned, antique galvanized washtub under a small window.
As she turned away, the sole of her shoe sank into something soft and squishy, and as a dog owner, she knew immediately what it was. She let out a little exclamation of disgust and scraped as much of it off her shoe as she could on the nearest patch of grass. She then hurried around to the front of the building to meet up with the others.
Wreathed in his usual curt impatience, Joseph Lamb was waiting for them on the porch.
“We’re interested in buying this property for our theater school,” Charlotte said, “and someone suggested that you might be able to help us with the legal aspects of that.”
“Yes, I can,” Mr. Lamb said, locking the door and dropping the key in his briefcase. “If you call my office, we can set up an appointment to go over everything. There are state laws and regulations you must conform to.”
“Thank you.” And although she found it difficult to talk to him through his professional coldness, she charged ahead and repeated the question she had asked him last time. “Did you know Hugh Hedley well? In the photo in the Hudson Valley Echo taken the night of the performance at Paula Van Dusen’s estate, you were talking to him.”
This time, he was more responsive.
“That’s right. In fact, we were sitting together.”
“You were?”
“Well, for the first half. At the intermission, he said he was meeting someone, and then he never returned to his seat. His lawn chair, I should say.”
“And did he say who he was meeting?”
Lamb scowled at her. “No, he did not.”
He gave her a curt nod and then strode off to his car. After thanking Lynda, Simon, Aaron, and Charlotte walked back to the hotel.
“I think the building is doable,” Simon said. “But not at the asking price. The renovation will just cost too much. We’ll have to see if we can get it for less, much less.”
Aaron looked around and finally focused on Charlotte. “What’s that smell?” he asked.
*
“I need you to help me with something tonight,” Charlotte said later that afternoon.
“That’s fine,” said Aaron. “It’s not like I have any kind of life. What do you need me to do?”
“I need you to climb in through a window.”
“Whose window? Why?”
“The ground-floor bathroom window at the Middleton house.”
“Why?” he repeated.
“Because I want you to go upstairs and get a photograph from Mrs. Middleton’s bedroom. It’s in a frame sitting on her dresser. Won’t take you a minute. You’ll be in and out in no time.”
“If you want that photo, why didn’t you take it when we were in the house? You could have done it then. Or at least taken a photo of it.”
“Take something from the house on Lynda’s watch? Absolutely not. That just wouldn’t be right. And I did try to take a photo of it, but she caught me with it in my hand. She didn’t say anything, but when you’re viewing a property, you’re not supposed to touch any of the owners’ possessions.”
Aaron’s mouth dropped open. “Are you kidding me? It’s not okay to take something from the house on Lynda’s watch, but it’s okay for me to go breaking and entering to get it?”
“Well, technically, I don’t think it is breaking because the window’s open, so all you have to do is climb in. Oh, and there’s a toilet right under the window, so you’ll have to be careful of that, but I made sure the seat’s down.”
“Well, that makes it all right, I guess.”
“Here’s the thing, Aaron. An aluminum washtub’s been conveniently placed under the window, which leads me to believe somebody else is going in and out of that house, possibly even squatting there. And I think that somebody else, whoever they are and for whatever reason, placed the photo we want to look at in Mrs. Middleton’s bedroom. She was very emphatic that it wasn’t there.”
“I’ve already told you what I think. She forgot about it, that’s all.”
Charlotte shook her head. “I don’t think so.”
“Anyway,” said Aaron, “you know this is illegal, and if you think somebody’s been in the house, then you should just tell Lynda Flegg. Or your policeman fiancé.”
“He’s not really my fiancé yet.”
“Well, your boyfriend then.”
“We don’t need to tell him about this because we’re just going to borrow the photograph for half an hour or so.”
“We are? Why?”
“So I can photograph it.”
“Why can’t I just take a picture of it in the house?”
“Because it’ll take time to remove it from the frame, there won’t be enough light to photograph it properly, and because I want to take a closer look at it. When we’ve done that, we’ll replace it.”
“You mean I’ll put it back.”
“Exactly. Because you are so much younger than I am, and climbing through the window will be easy for you.” She thought for a moment. “Which leads me to believe that whoever else is going through that window must also be young and as fit as a butcher’s dog.”
“Oh, the things I must do,” moaned Aaron. “When?”
“After dark. I’ll meet you outside the hotel at ten. Oh, and wear black. That’s what they do in the movies. And bring a flashlight.”
*
Darkness had fallen when Charlotte and Rupert left their bungalow and walked the short distance to the hotel. Aaron was waiting for her beside an overgrown spirea bush, almost invisible in its untrimmed branches.
“I don’t like this,” he said. “We shouldn’t be doing this.”
Charlotte didn’t reply, and the three kept walking. The road was deserted, and they slipped along the side of the house and into the backyard without seeing anyone.
“See?” said Charlotte. “No problem.”
At the bathroom window, Aaron climbed onto the overturned washtub, slowly raised the window, put one leg through the window, then followed it with the rest of his body. He let out a few groans and exclamations as he twisted himself through, then silence. A moment later, the beam of a flashlight came on, then disappeared. Charlotte walked over to the fence to wait. Knowing he wouldn’t leave her, she dropped Rupert’s leash so he could have a good sniff around.
As the minutes ticked by, she was beginning to think something might have happened to Aaron, when the back door was flung open, and a black-hooded figure raced out.
Startled by the sudden movement and barking furiously, Rupert flew toward the figure, and just as it was about to sprint around the side of the house, he caught up with it, his trailing lead tangled in its feet. Swearing and shouting, the figure crashed to the ground, and as it fell, the hood came off, revealing long blonde curls tied back in a ponytail.
Charlotte rushed up to her. “Alex! What are you doing here?”
Before Alex could answer, Aaron emerged from the house, rubbing his head as he thrust the photo into Charlotte’s hand. “He came up behind me and hit me with something. Oh, God, it hurts.”
“Not he, Aaron. She.” Charlotte gestured to Alex, who was sitting up, rubbing her ankle, glaring at them.
“There’s something else,” said Aaron. At his coaxing, the pointed face of a dog emerged, followed by a body covered in curly white hair. It placed one front paw and then the other on the step and then hopped daintily down onto the grass.
Dropping to her knees, Charlotte reached out for the dog.
“Oh, God. Mandy.” She turned to Aaron. “Take Rupert’s lead and tie up Alex while I call Ray.”
“Why did you take the dog?” Aaron demanded of Alex.
“I didn’t take the dog myself. Some friends did. But yes, I arranged it. As a gift for my mother.”