Chapter 7

 

That evening, Paul grilled brats while Diane fixed a salad and green beans in the kitchen. So I braced myself to duck if a bat came my way and took my drink out to the deck.

It occurred to me this might be a good time to walk around the house and check for footprints while Paul and Diane were busy. I set my wine glass down in a chair and started down the deck steps.

“Where you going?” Paul asked.

“I thought I'd walk around the house and look at the flowers while there is still some cool shade,” I excused.

“It's going to be a hot one for a few days. We could turn the air on if you think you need it,” Paul suggested. “Or, we could open the bedroom windows. It cools up some after dark.”

“I don't think I want to open my window,” I said much too quickly.

Paul laid his fork down and stared over the deck rail at me. “Anything wrong?”

“Well, frankly, I'm a little nervous right now. The fact this Longfellow guy is sneaking around in your house, coming and going when he pleases is bad enough especially now that the sheriff department want to question him about a murder.

Now there might be someone prowling around outside at night. I've heard too many strange noises lately that I don't think we can blame on bats. I talked to the neighbor across the street this morning. He wondered if we might have a peeking Tom in this neighborhood,” I said.

“I highly doubt that,” Paul scoffed.

“Just the same, I don't think I want to be sound asleep and have someone scratching on my window screen trying to get in,” I said.

Paul grinned. “Trust me, that would be the bats bouncing off the screens.”

“Oh, now that makes me feel so much better,” I quipped.

“Bats do that, but usually a light is on in the room that draws them to the window. Well if you decide you need a fan let me know,” Paul said, concentrating on turning brats.

On the look out for anything suspicious like footprints or torn screens, I started my walk. The shrubbery was so bushy along the end of the house anyone trying to get behind them would have a struggle. Rather than get all scratched up, I ruled them out since there wasn't any windows in that wall.

On the front side of the house were flower beds Diane planted. Marigolds, zinnias, pansies, and black eyed susan were low to the ground. Nothing but some small footprints here and there where Diane had stepped in long enough to pull grass or a weed.

At the end of the deck were old fashion snowball plants so thick I had to slide in among them to look behind them. My stomach did a quick turn over.

Footprints were thick back there. A man had stood behind the bushes. The prints were large with a heel that sunk in the soft dirt and pointed toes like cowboy boots.

The prints faced the deck as if someone was climbing up by the table and chairs. I walked back to the steps and made my way back to the chair I left my glass on. With the glass in hand, I went over to the table. Right above the table was the new door Paul built for the attic opening. If a man was tall enough, he just might be able to pull himself up into the attic.

“Paul, maybe you better come look at what I've found.”

“What is it? I can't leave the grill for too long,” he said.

“Do you own a pair of cowboy boots?” I asked.

“No.”

“Did you have some man come check out your plants like a gardener?” I questioned.

“No, Diane and I take care of the plants,” Paul said.

“Some guy stood behind these bushes, and he wore cowboy boots like a Texan like Jacob Longfellow might. The fellow spent some time back there before he climbed over the railing. You ever stood on the table to get to the attic door?”

Paul shook his head. “No way! Diane would skin me alive if she caught me with my feet on her table. I got the ladder I keep in the garage when I worked on the attic door.”

“Just the same, if a man was tall enough, he might be able to lift himself up into the attic by standing on the table, don't you think?” I pointed up.

I suppose so,” Paul agreed.

“Does that door latch on the outside and inside?”

“Just on the outside.” Paul studied the door. “It's hooked. If someone climbed in that way, the hook would be dangling.”

“Well, that's good to know. Maybe Longfellow just thought about entering through that door and changed his mind.”

“So we still don't know how he got inside to use the phone,” Paul said.

“That's about the size of it,” I said. “Just make sure Diane and you have the doors locked when you leave the house from now on.”

It was then I finally had a chance to bring up Jacob Longfellow to Paul while Diane was in the kitchen out of hearing. I said in a library voice, “There is something else you should know about Longfellow.”

“What about him?” Paul asked.

“I don't want to make you nervous or anything, but I found out he worked for a turkey confinement operation west of town for a while. So I went out to the farm to talk to the owner. The man had been murdered that morning, and he fired Longfellow recently. We've got out eyes peeled for him in town, and the sheriff's office is hunting in the country for him.”

“You don't have to keep anything form me. I want to know what's going on. Do they have a description of him?” Diane asked through the sliding glass screen where she'd been listening.

“No, but since he is from Texas, he'd have a southern accent and was probably wearing cowboy boots that most likely match those prints by the deck,” I said.

That night I dozed off, hoping for a better night's sleep, but it wasn't to be. When a bright bobbing light flashed against the blind and hit me in the face, I was startled awake.

I sat up in bed and watched the light bob across the window. What stupid peeping Tom uses a flashlight to peek in a house he knows has sleeping people in it?

With a lurch, I was on my feet and ran to the window. I rubbed my hand along the end of the venetian blind, searching for the cord. My fingers connected. I gave it a quick jerk. The blind came loose from the window. The top framework on the blind clattered down on me and conked me in the head.

I must have jerked too hard on the cord. You think? The blind folded over my head in a clatter. I thrashed my arms around, trying to get a hold to peel the blind off me as quick as I could which made plenty of noise.

Finally, I had my face uncovered with the blind draped over my shoulders like a cape. At least I could see out the window, but there wasn't any light bouncing around out there now. Only darkness. With as much noise as I made the guy was bound to get away as fast as he could run.

Now the hall was a different story. It lit up. I heard the patter of Paul and Diane's bare feet as they raced toward the bedroom. Paul burst in the door first and then Diane right behind him.

Paul flipped on the light and gave me one of those strange looks I was becoming used to from him. Like anything weird that happened might be my fault. I must admit this time it was. I had to look strange standing there with the blind draped around my shoulders.

“What did you do?” Diane asked, coming around Paul to me.

“Someone was outside the window with a flashlight, shining the light in here. When I pulled on the cord to open the blind it fell on me,” I explained clumsily.

“I see. Are you all right,” Diane said as though she didn't see at all.

I rubbed my head. “Just a little headache where the blind hit me.”

Paul rubbed his forehead like he was getting a headache. “I guess I forgot to tell you the street light acts up once in a while and blinks off and on.”

“I guess you did forget that information,” I replied, wondering if I had gotten excited over a malfunctioning street light.

Diane helped get the blind off me, and we piled the slats in a heap on the floor. “Maybe you and me can put the blind back up tomorrow.”

“Sure, I'd be glad to,” I said. “If it's broke, I'll buy you a new blind. Guess we better get some sleep now.”

When Paul and Diane trudged down the hall, I heard Paul say, “Letting your sister stay with us is getting to be rather costly.”

“Paul,” Renee said. “She said she'd buy us a new blind. Do you know how old that venetian blind is? I don't. It was here when we moved in.”

Hearing the blind was old made me feel not so bad about the mess I'd made of it. As I laid down I was positive I wasn't going back to sleep with no blinds on the window, but I was wrong.

Later, whirring noises coming from the attic right above me woke me up. Could a bat flap his wings fast enough to make that kind of noise like a plane propeller winding up for take off? I doubted it.

Creak - quiet – creak – quiet – creak sounded like the rafters giving under someone's weight. A bat couldn't be heavy enough to put stress on a rafter.

These noises had gone on long enough. Maybe Paul and Diane could put up with it a few more days, but I needed my sleep. I threw back the sheet and stood up on the bed. I stretched my arm up, but I couldn't reach the ceiling.

My bag was on the floor by the bed. I stooped over and grabbed it. By holding it on one end the other end touched the ceiling. I tapped with it, making soft knocking sounds. I stopped and listened. All was quiet above me. Maybe I'd made a believer out of the bats.

As I drifted off to sleep in my quiet bedroom, I smelled smoke. Cigarette smoke to be exact.

I crawled out of bed and peeked out the window. I thought there might be that peeking Tom having a gratification smoke below my bedroom window.

As far as I could tell there wasn't anything but a cat prowling across the lawn. I went back to bed and waited for daylight.