Nothing appeared to be out of place and there was no evidence of a break-in. Still, I had this uneasy feeling that someone had been in the house. Or, worse yet, was still there. I tightened my grip on the wasp spray and one by one opened the closets in the upstairs bedrooms. Meanwhile, Charlie continued to sniff around as if this was a new place and not his house.
“I’m checking under the beds,” I told the dog. And so help me, no one better reach out a hand and pull me under. I’ve read enough Stephen King, Dean Koontz, and Joe Hill.
Three beds later, the only thing I discovered were dust bunnies. I made a mental note to buy one of those Swiffer mops. Then, off to the bathroom, where I pulled shower curtain aside as if I was about to reveal a prize on Let’s Make a Deal. Again, nothing.
“We’ve still got the downstairs closets and the guest bathroom,” I said out loud. Charlie followed me down the staircase and into the kitchen. The pantry looked exactly the same as it had when I left the house. Lots of bland health foods and canned goods.
Neither the coat closet nor the guest bathroom was hiding anyone, either. That left only one more place and I was damned if I dared go there alone. I knew it was still early enough for Don and Theo to be up, so I called them. “Hey, I’m really sorry to bother you, but I came back from Wegmans and it felt like someone had been in the house.”
Theo’s voice was at least two decibels louder than usual. “What do you mean felt like? Was anything broken? Moved?”
“No, it was more like a creepy feeling. Charlie sensed it, too. He’s been sniffing all over the place.”
“Did you call the sheriff’s office?”
“And what? Tell Deputy Hickman I had a funny feeling? The door was locked when I got home and all the windows were closed. Without any sign of a break-in, he’d have my head.”
“Yeah, sorry. You’re right. Don and I are on our way. Look, I don’t want to panic you, but someone may still be there. Wait by the kitchen door in case you have to make a run for it.”
“Thanks. That’s very encouraging. Hurry up. Now I’m even more freaked out.”
I stood by the door and watched the driveway for car lights. In the dim porch lighting, I could see wet snow beginning to fall. Terrific. Another fun night in the Finger Lakes. Although Don and Theo’s house was only about a mile down the driveway, it felt as if they lived on the other side of the lake.
Just then, car lights got closer, and within seconds I heard the doors slam shut.
“We’re here!” Don shouted as he marched to the door. “Flashlight and all.”
“And we brought ammo,” Theo added as he waved a baseball bat in the air.
“Not a single thing was touched in the house,” I said, “but something feels wrong. The only place I didn’t look was the basement. I didn’t want to go down there alone.”
“Wait here, Norrie,” Don said. “If we’re not back in three minutes, call the militia.”
I opened the door to the basement, flipped on the light, and stepped back so Don and Theo could have a clear path downstairs.
“So far only wine racks and cobwebs,” Don yelled. “Oh, look! Oh, my gosh!”
“What? What?” I shrieked. “What did you find?”
“Elderberry jam. Francine canned elderberry jam. I thought she only did raspberry and strawberry.”
Then I heard Theo’s voice, “Oh, for goodness sake, forget the jam and keep looking.”
I held my breath and waited while I heard what sounded like furniture being moved. Finally, Don spoke. “You may have a few valuable antiques down here but there’s no sign of life. Unless, of course, you count the spiders.”
“Yuck. I hate spiders,” I said. “No matter how many lectures Godfrey gives me about how helpful they are. Listen, grab some elderberry jam while you’re down there. It’s the least I can do.”
Theo leaned the baseball bat against the frame of the basement door and took a seat at the kitchen table. “You can relax. No one’s here.”
“Make sure the eye-latch on the top of the door is secured or the door will swing open. I’ve got to get it fixed one of these days. Along with the pantry door next to it. Nothing like an old farmhouse, huh?”
Theo glanced at the door. “It’s secure. They’re both secure.”
“I feel like an idiot,” I said. “But honestly, I had a very real feeling someone had been in the house. And Charlie never acts like that. He usually wolfs down his food, passes gas, and finds a place to sleep.”
“Gee, just like Don.”
“Very funny,” Don replied from the other side of the kitchen. He stood by the window and looked out. “That wet snow is really coming down. Too early for Neville. Unless it’s the opening act. Listen, we should get going. Tomorrow’s Friday and it’s usually a busy day, snowstorms or not.”
It was true. For some odd reason, whenever the newscasters predicted a snowstorm, people flocked to three places—supermarkets, gas stations, and wineries. If you were going to be cooped up in a house for days on end, they might as well be pleasurable.
I thanked Don and Theo and watched as their rear lights disappeared into the thick wet snow. Then I made myself a turkey and cheese sandwich, making sure to give Charlie his fair share.
Too wired to have another look-see at my screenplay, I turned on the TV and channel surfed until the late news came on. According to one of the anchors on Channel 8, “Investigators are still pouring through evidence in the murder of Canadian film director Devora Dobrowski.” Then, as if Two Witches and Gable Hill didn’t have enough notoriety, she went on to reiterate all the details and even flashed a map of the Seneca Lake Wine Trail on the screen with arrows pointing to our location. Heck, she might as well have helicoptered in the next wave of curiosity seekers as far as I was concerned.
“I suppose this will make Henry Speltmore happy,” I told Charlie. “But he doesn’t have to deal with the crazies.”
The dog looked up from the edge of the couch and went back to sleep. I flipped channels for another ten minutes before shutting off the TV and ambling up the stairs to bed with Charlie at my heels. When Don and Theo had left, I made sure the door was locked and even shoved a chair against it, even though I knew I was being ridiculous.
The combination of crummy weather and stress had given me a slight head cold, so when I crawled into bed and turned off the lights, I realized I needed a tissue for my nose. I fumbled for the drawer on my nightstand and dug around for the wad of tissues I kept there. No sense turning on the bedside lamp. By now, I knew the drill.
My hand felt the tissue but it also felt something thin and hard. Other than tissues, a roll of Tums, and a tube of hand cream, I didn’t have anything else in that drawer. I continued to feel the object against my fingertips but I was positive I was mistaken.
I pulled the small cord to the lamp, sat up and opened the drawer wider. Leaning over, I got a good look at the object and froze. The tips of my fingers began to shake, and next thing I knew the rest of my body followed suit. I told myself to get a grip and that there was a logical explanation for everything. Only, in this case, the logical explanation meant that someone had indeed been in my house.
Resting on a bed of wadded up facial tissues was a pair of wingtip tortoiseshell glasses with oval-shaped jeweled rims. The zircon stones (at least I thought they were zircon) flashed brilliantly under the bedside’s LED lamplight. If I wasn’t so panic-stricken, I might have admired them.
I shoved the drawer shut and took slow, deep breaths. It didn’t help. My hands shook and I swore my eye had developed a tic. The last time, and only time, I had seen those tortoiseshell wingtip glasses, they were on Devora Dobrowski’s face. It was when she made her grand entrance into Two Witches to complain about the noise.
Now, they were sitting in my nightstand, all but shouting, “Hey, Deputy Hickman, here’s some new evidence in the Dobrowski murder.”