Five minutes in a tightly packed closet, with our heart rates far above normal, was enough to make both Lacey and I feel woozy and overheated. We'd gotten lucky in that the person searching frantically through Minnie's things had not stepped into the bedroom. Hopefully, they'd find what they were looking for in the front room. Although, my curiosity was going to gnaw at me if I didn't get a glimpse of the intruder.
Lacey and I both sighed when we heard the front door. Unfortunately, the movement caused Lacey's shoulder to rub against a heavy belt that was hanging over a dress. It slipped to the closet floor with a clatter. We both froze like rabbits in front of a wolf. I held my breath, which didn't help my dizzy head.
Footsteps pounded down the hallway. Lacey slipped her hand around mine. I was relieved to see she was shaking as badly as me.
A large figure filled the doorway to the bedroom. It was the man in the picture. He was still cue ball bald with a long droopy moustache and goatee but his beer belly had grown by a few twelve packs. A t-shirt with a logo for Carl's Custom Bikes was stretched over it.
The menacing man stuck boxing glove sized fists on his hips and scoured the room with a suspicious, dark gaze. Lacey squeezed my hand in hers and I squeezed back with just as much angst. As I held my breath, I considered how we might both fight off the giant if he decided to check the closet. Screaming and running seemed our best bet. With any luck, his size and age would render him less agile than two small, young women.
I was just about to allow myself to sip in a thin stream of air when he dropped his fists and turned around. We both listened (over the drum of our heartbeats) as his big feet plodded down the hallway and out the door. We were both still frozen enough from fear that it took us a second to release hands.
"Do you think it's safe yet?" Lacey whispered.
I raised a finger. "Let's give it another two minutes. Maybe one. This closet is getting pretty stuffy."
After a long, quiet minute we deemed the coast clear and freed ourselves from Minnie's dresses and coats. We gulped the cooler, fresh air as our heart rates returned to normal.
"I think our guess that the man in the photo is Roland Fisher might be right. He obviously had a key," I said.
"I was thinking the same thing. Sorry about my clumsiness and the belt debacle That was pretty tense for a few seconds."
"Couldn't be helped in a jam-packed closet. I was envisioning the two of us screaming and flailing our small fists at the giant as we tried to slip past him."
Lacey nodded. "Yep, that was about the best escape scenario I could come up with." She held up her hand and made a fist. "I think our fists would have been about as effective as beating him with Q-tips. That is a beast of a man."
"He did look solidly built." I glanced around once more at the neat as a pin room. "I don't know about you but I think I've had enough of this search."
"Me too."
We headed out to the front room. Kitchen drawers were open and items had been thrown on the floor. A small desk just past the refrigerator had a cork board behind it with reminder notes and grocery lists. The drawer had been yanked clear from the desk and turned upside down. A blue file folder had been opened and the contents were spilled on the kitchen floor.
Lacey and I looked at each other and quickly read each other's minds. (We were thinking alike . . . again.)
We walked into the kitchen. I picked up the papers that had been strewn about the tile floor. "The Last Will and Testament of Minnie Joan Smithers, formerly Minnie Joan Fisher."
"Do you think this is what Roland was looking for?" I asked.
Lacey looked around at the clutter on the floor and counters. "Unless he was looking for a particular serving spoon or a potato peeler, I'd say yes. He must have known she kept it in the kitchen. I have a great aunt who keeps all her important paperwork inside a snowman shaped cookie jar. I won't tell you how I know that because I hate to bring shame upon the family name."
"Caught with the ole hand in the cookie jar, eh?" I said. "Been there, done that. Only my grandmother kept her stash of dried prunes in her cookie jar. Probably just as disappointing as finding paperwork instead of an oatmeal chocolate chip."
"Sounds like we've both suffered through our share of cookie jar trauma."
We both had a good, hearty laugh, although I suspected most of it was a release of the earlier tension. I flipped past all the legal jargon on the first pages. Lacey peered over my shoulder and we skimmed for the nitty gritty part, namely the section that laid out the benefactors of Minnie's estate. It was a much smaller estate than her twin sister but she had the house and a savings account. My finger ran across the page to the name of the benefactor. It was not Roland Fisher or Etta Derricot.
"The Hickory Flats Wiccan Society," Lacey read. "She left all her money to the coven."
I folded the papers up and placed them right where we found them. "I'm loathe to do it but I'll have to let Jax know about the intruder we encountered while we snooped around. The police will want to come check out the mess. It just means I'm going to have to sit through a leave it to the police, investigative work is dangerous lecture." I rubbed my chin. "I need to come up with a shorter title for the obligatory after danger lecture."
"I've sat through that same lecture many times. I'll bet the delivery and words are almost identical."
Lacey and I headed to the door.
"Do you think Roland was searching for the will to see if he was getting the house?" Lacey asked.
"That would be my guess. As scary as he looks, I think we journalists need to have a chat with Roland Fisher."
"I was just thinking the same thing."