Wearing a white rolled-up ski mask as a beanie, Phineas stared at the Mourning Dove Investigations office from across the street. He glanced down at the phone in his hand to see the time of 11:30 a.m. He watched as construction workers piled out of the building and into two utility trucks. Once the trucks left, the athletic young man with a guitar case strapped to his back brushed aside drooping tousles of black hair and crossed the street.
A sign posted on the front door of the office stated, “Accepting appointments offsite during construction. Please call…”
He tried the doorknob and found it unlocked. He stepped inside, closing the door behind him, and he scanned the reception area to ensure the place was empty. All the furnishings were covered in clear plastic. On his right, he saw the bookshelf door to Jeff’s office was open, as was the hidden door to the spiral staircases that led to the upstairs apartment and the basement. To his left he saw a new doorway cut into the wall, leading to what would be Emory’s office, and he walked through it.
At the moment, the new office was nothing more than a large rectangular room with what looked to be a bathroom in back. Most of the wall space was open, exposing brick, two-by-fours and wiring, but a few panels of drywall had been screwed into place. Wood, sawhorses, copper pipes and tools were littered about, and a stack of drywall leaned against one wall.
Phineas placed his guitar case on the unfinished hardwood floor and opened it to reveal no musical instrument. Instead, the case held a thirty-inch bronze cross on a stand. He grunted as he pulled it out and stood it up.
“It’s hot in here.” Phineas pulled the beanie from his head and flicked it into the guitar case. “Let’s get this done.”
Phineas picked up the cross and shuffled over to an exposed area of the brick wall, placing the cross in the open space. He retrieved a sheet of drywall from the stack and covered the open area with the cross now inside. He drove a couple of nails through the drywall into the studs to keep it in place before grabbing the drill to finish the job with screws. At five-foot-ten, he couldn’t reach the top of the panel, so he slid a toolbox over to stand on.
He had no sooner put the drill down than he heard a voice from behind. “I thought you all went to lunch. I just finished in the basement.”
Without turning to face him, Phineas reached for the beanie in his guitar case. “I’m not with the crew.”
“Then you can’t be in here. This office is closed.”
Phineas put the beanie on and unrolled it over his head. “I was just checking it out.”
“You’re here for the copper, aren’t you?”
Phineas glanced at the copper pipes on the floor to his left. He could hear the man place something on the floor that sounded like a toolbox.
“You should just turn around now and go on home,” said the man.
Phineas did turn around, revealing the face of his ski mask with its red-circled eyes and hideous, jagged grin that zigzagged from ear to ear.
A thick pipe wrench in his hand, the robust man jerked back with a muffled gasp when he saw the mask. His soiled blue-striped shirt read, “Knoxville Plumbing.”
The plumber was almost twice his size, but Phineas approached him with the confidence of a serpent cornering a hobbled mouse.
The plumber raised the wrench and warned, “Don’t do it.”
Phineas skipped the final two steps to pounce forward. He swiped the wrench before the plumber could react, swooped down and swung it to the back of his knees.
As the plumber’s legs buckled, Phineas tossed the wrench. He drop-kicked the back of the plumber’s head, sending him bowing forward until his forehead bounced off the floor.
Phineas walked on the panting man’s back to retrieve his guitar case. He snapped the case shut and headed to the door.
The plumber pushed himself back to his knees and lunged his body at the intruder in an apparent move to tackle his legs.
Phineas sidestepped his vascular hands, held the guitar case like a thick bat and swung at the man’s head. Still conscious, the plumber stayed on the floor until Phineas left the room.
Once outside, Phineas zoomed around a couple of corners before looking behind him to ensure he hadn’t been followed. Satisfied, he removed the mask and made a call on his cell phone as he slowed to a normal pace. “It’s me,” he said on the phone. “Calvary is prepared.”