| |
Kate’s father peered over his newspaper. “There you are. I was beginning to think you moved out of the old homestead.”
“Why would you say that?”
“You haven’t been around much. I don’t think I’ve seen you since you and Tom were lingering in the parking lot on Saturday.”
“I went to the office while you were at church yesterday. But I was home and in bed before you drifted in last night. How was the real estate thing with Margie on Saturday?”
“It was okay. I have a feeling you had a more interesting evening with Tom. How’d Margie’s pizza recipe work out?”
“I decided to use one of my own.”
“You called Domino’s?”
“Good guess, but I bought a fresh one at the store and baked it myself.”
“So, you two managed to get along for a few hours. That’s progress.”
She shrugged and poured a glass of orange juice.
“Katie? Is everything okay with you and Tom?”
She glanced over her shoulder. “We’ve tried so many times to make it work. I suppose I’m afraid I’ll blow it again.”
“Take it from me, you and Tom are meant for each other. I knew that when you were nine years old and the two of you vowed to be “best friends forever.” You’ve had a bumpy ride, sure, but you seem to be on track this time. Of course, that’s from the point of view of a third, almost impartial, observer.”
She shrugged and took a sip of coffee. “What’s for breakfast?” she asked.
“Considering the time, it will have to be brunch.”
“Oh no. Helen will kill me.” She raced to the phone. One of the reporters answered on the third ring. The good news was Helen had taken the day off. The bad news was she called to make sure Kate was working on the Branson history article for the weekend edition.
“Don’t worry, I covered for you. She said for you to call when you returned to the office. By the way, that’s four you owe me.”
“Whatever you want. Thanks.”
By the time she scurried around and raced to the office it was almost noon. A message from Tom was posted on the reporter’s check-in board. The warm feeling of Saturday evening overwhelmed her. She pulled down the note and rushed to her desk. She started to call his office but noticed the number on the message was for police dispatch. The joy of hearing from him turned to anxiety. Tom’s message was almost an hour old. By the time the dispatcher forwarded her call to Tom’s radio her heart was pounding.
The line clicked and he said, “Katie, I need your help. Can you come to Etta’s house?”
“Is she okay?”
“She’s shaken, but unhurt. Maybe you can help her and me at the same time.”
She made the ten-minute drive in less than six, turning into the drive a few moments after an ambulance pulled out. The absence of lights and siren helped to reduce her concern for Etta. Tom met her car as she made the final turn. Two patrol cars were parked in the yard. He motioned for her to pull over, then opened her door.
“Etta’s fine. Her friend Sarah picked her up at the crafts fair. When they pulled up here the front door was open. One of the intruders knocked Sarah down as they fled. The EMTs transported her to the hospital to be checked out.”
“Knocked her down? Why in the world did she get out of the car?”
“We’ve been unable to get that answer. Sarah was quite shaken. Etta refuses to speak to us. I was hoping you could calm her down and maybe get answers.”
“Where is she?”
“In Sarah’s car with Sid.”
“Considering her age, maybe she should go to the hospital too,” Kate said.
“Going to the hospital was not an option she would consider. We’re doing our thing in the house, which is a mess. Try to talk to her. Maybe if she calms down, she’ll help us.”
Kate opened the driver’s side door. Sid was in the back tapping the blank pad with his pen. He raised his eyebrows and gazed desperately in the reporter’s direction.
“Are you okay, Etta?” Kate asked. “Sid, maybe a glass of water, please?”
The detective said, “Be back in a few minutes.”
The older woman took a deep breath and exhaled, placing her hand on her chest. “I’ll be okay. Give me a moment.”
“Etta, you’re as white as a sheet. You should go to the hospital to have them look you over. Maybe you could call your doctor. I’ll take you, if you like.”
“The young man in the ambulance checked me.”
Etta rested her head against the seat as the color gradually returned to her cheeks.
“Were you able to tell Sergeant Greene anything?”
“I don’t know anything, but he doesn’t believe me.”
“They’re trying to get a time-line, Etta. What time did Sarah take you to the crafts fair this morning?”
“She picked me up at eight-thirty, as usual.”
“But you normally stay until noon. What changed?”
“I’d been there a half hour or so when Sarah called to say she had to go somewhere. I could go home early or wait until she returned around three. I didn’t want to stay downtown that long, especially with the rain coming.”
“What time did she pick you up?”
Etta sighed, shaking her head. “It had to be around ten, maybe quarter after. Margie might know.”
“And you came directly home?”
“We stopped at the grocery store. It took about twenty minutes.”
“Good. This will help Tom.”
“Why? What difference does it make when we got here?”
“Because your schedule is set during the fair. You go downtown, entertain the fairgoers for a few hours, leave at noon and generally come directly home.”
“I wouldn’t say I entertain anyone.”
“But the rest is true. Right?”
“Maybe you should join the police department.”
“Somehow, I doubt that would work out. You know how I am about rules.”
Etta smiled and relaxed into the seat.
Kate said, “Can you remember exactly what happened when you got home?”
“Nothing unusual when we drove up. I was fiddling with my purse, still trying to put the change away from the grocery store. Sarah got out of the car and grabbed the bag from the back seat. When she got to the foot of the steps she stopped.”
Etta paused, her focus on the stairs leading to the veranda.
“Was she waiting for you?”
“No, she was staring at the open front door. Before I could think, two young men came barreling out of the house. One of them pushed Sarah out of his way as they came down the stairs. She fell down and I just stared at her,” Etta said, her brow furrowed.
“I’m sure she’ll be okay. They weren’t even running the siren when they left.”
“I know. But I couldn’t move. Several minutes passed before I got to her. What if she’d been seriously hurt?”
“Your reaction was normal.”
“Not for me. I’ve never felt that terrified. Ever.”
“Did you recognize the two men?”
“No, but they were traveling pretty fast. They were in their late teens, maybe early twenties.”
“Tom said the house was really ransacked. They had to be searching for money or valuables.”
“I suppose it’s possible, but all of my money is with me.” She tapped her purse in the seat next to her. “I have nothing of value to anyone but me.”
“Someone may think you have something of value.”
Etta squinted and shook her head, staring directly at Kate. “Bryan would not do this. For sure he wouldn’t hire someone else to do it.”
“You know him better than I do.”
Without acknowledging Kate’s remark, Etta got out of the car and picked up the groceries strewn at the bottom of the stairs. She sat down on the top step next to the collection.
Tom opened the driver’s door and took Kate’s hand, squeezing it gently.
Kate said, “I asked her a few questions. Maybe her answers will help.”
“Etta seems calmer now. Thanks for speaking to her. I don’t suppose you took notes.”
Kate handed him her pocket recorder and smiled.
“Thanks,” Tom said. “Maybe you can help her put things back together. It would be good if she can give us a list of anything that’s missing. A patrolman will drive by at least once an hour for the next few days. But make sure she locks things up tight.”
“Will do.”
He took a few steps, then turned around. “I’ll be in touch.”
Kate joined Etta on the stairs and watched as each police vehicle drove away. “What can I do to help you?”
“I’d like to go see Sarah, or at least find out what’s happening.”
“We can do that. Would you like to go inside first?”
“How about we lock the door and go to the hospital?”
***
THE TWO WOMEN SPENT almost thirty minutes trying to get information about Sarah’s condition. Kicking herself for not doing so sooner, Kate finally enlisted Shirley’s help.
“Strictly speaking, you didn’t get this from me,” her best friend said. “Nothing is broken. Her shoulder is bothering her. They are concerned about a concussion. She has a serious bruise on her forehead. They’re waiting until her husband arrives to decide about keeping her overnight.”
Etta said, “Thank you so much. They wouldn’t tell us anything.”
“You are most welcome. See you tomorrow for lunch, Katie.”
“Thanks again. I owe you,” Kate said.
“Lunch will do.”
Kate convinced Etta to go home and check with Sarah’s husband later. They stopped at the grocery store to get a couple items which didn’t survive the rain. The reporter put the bags on the hall table, and then joined the older woman at the archway.
“I’m not sure where to begin,” Etta said, bracing against the wall.
Every shelf in the living room had been emptied, including the mantel over the hearth. Fingerprint dust was everywhere. From where the women stood it was hard to tell how many of the boxes—now lying on the floor—were damaged. Restoring order seemed insurmountable.
Kate said, “Why don’t we sit down and make a plan.”
“Can we plan order out of chaos?”
“I’m ready if you are.”
Getting comfortable on the sofa, Kate took Etta’s hand in hers. They both sighed, unable to process the mess on the floor. Despite her qualms about seeing more damage, Kate ventured into the kitchen to brew some tea. Nothing like a nice warm cup of chamomile to calm one’s nerves. At least she hoped that would be the case.
Everything seemed to be in place in the small room. The chamomile was in the first cabinet she tried—where her mother would have kept it given the layout of the cabinets. The third door was the charm in finding the kettle. It was a gas stove, which wasn’t surprising. At least I don’t need a match like at Grandma’s house. While the tea was steeping, Kate found two mugs, then peeked into the living room to make sure Etta was okay.
She was not surprised to see the octogenarian sitting cross-legged next to one of the large bookshelves. Apparently, she’d already dusted each shelf. As she selected a box from the floor, she cleaned it, and returned it to the appropriate location. No doubt Etta knew where every item was displayed and would soon know which, if any, were missing.
The reporter placed one of the mugs on the table by the sofa and handed the other to Etta. Since she was halfway to the bedroom, she decided to see if the intruders went that far.
An old mahogany chest sat against the wall next to the closet. Every drawer and its contents were strewn on the bed or floor. A jewelry box had been emptied on top and tossed to the side of the room. The mattress was askew, and the closet door was open. All the hangers, many of which held nothing, had been moved to the sides. She suspected some of the clothes were in the pile on the floor.
Two places had not been touched, probably because of the resident’s unexpected arrival. One was the nightstand by the bed. Three drawers remained shut. The items on the top—among which were two small boxes—were neatly arranged. The other area which seemed undisturbed were the two shelves in the closet over the hanger rod. Each held a couple of medium-sized storage boxes. A small suitcase was on the far left of the top shelf. A metal letter-sized file box lay empty on the floor, sheets of paper and folders strewn under and around it.
“Oh, my,” Etta said, her hand covering her heart as she caught her breath at the bedroom door. In a moment, she moved to the bed and sat down, slowly taking in the turmoil.
“Are you okay? Maybe we’ve done enough today,” Kate said.
Spying the discarded jewelry box, Etta crossed the room and returned it to the dresser. She replaced the contents, then paused to evaluate the arrangement. “Clay’s wedding ring,” she said, quickly examining the floor.
Kate joined the search and discovered a man’s ring buried under several scarves. “Is this it?”
“Thank you.” Etta took the ring and placed it carefully. She closed the top of the jewelry box and centered it on the dresser. After arranging some pictures and other items around it, she returned to the bed and sighed deeply.
Kate went back to the living room to get Etta’s mug of tea. Two of the five shelves on the largest display case were back to normal. Most of the keepsakes were still in the center of the floor. The framed pictures had been returned to the mantelpiece, but the whatnots previously displayed with them were not. Kate scanned the floor and selected one of the items she remembered seeing—the one next to Clay and Etta’s marriage photo.
As Kate returned to the bedroom she said, “You left your tea. And I found this. Can you help me put it in the correct spot on the mantel?”
Etta accepted the mug and stared at the carved piece of wood in Kate’s other hand. “Do you mind if I lay down for a while?”
“No, that’s a good idea. How about I grab a quilt and get you settled on the sofa.”
Kate helped Etta into the living room and arranged the throw pillows at one end. She covered her with the quilt, then sat down in the chair by the window and finished her tea. “I’ll try to put your things away in the closet and drawers. I may not get them in the right place, but they’ll be off the floor.”
Etta made a little sound, her eyes closed, the quilt nuzzled against her chin—tacit approval.
Before starting in the bedroom, Kate called Helen and explained the situation. Her boss understood but reminded her she had a deadline to meet for the weekend edition. She took a blouse from the floor, trying to remember how far she’d gotten on the history article. Somehow, it didn’t seem important.
Most of the items were easily divided into the drawer or closet categories. The process took less time than expected. A pile of miscellaneous non-clothing items remained, which Kate allocated to the two small catch-all drawers at the top of the dresser. Etta will have to divvy the items to the correct spot later.
One square metal container was behind the dresser trapped between the bottom and the wall. She rocked the chest forward slightly and reached behind to recover the tin. With some difficulty she freed the top from the bottom’s rusty hold. Fifty or so small keys—suitable for use in opening the collection of boxes—were inside. She took it with her to the living room, where Etta had resumed the task of restoring order to her shelves.
“Look what I found,” Kate said, handing the metal box to Etta.
“Where was it?”
“Behind the dresser, for a long time by the look of it.”
“I haven’t seen it for a while. You’re welcome to try to find the key for your box.”
“I’m borrowing it, remember?”
“Yes, and it needs to have a key.”
Kate accepted the proffered box and dropped it into her jacket pocket. Clearly that was the end of the discussion, at least for now. She called the hospital and was connected to Sarah’s room. She had been admitted for observation and her husband suggested postponing a visit until the next day.
“Thank you for doing that,” Etta said.
“How about I pick you up in the morning to go to the hospital. Is nine too early?”
“That would be fine.”
“Don’t forget to lock up everything when I leave.”