Marja McGraw - Bogey Man 01 - Bogey Nights (17 page)

“I agree completely.”

“Chris, I put the ledger pages in my purse before we left. I thought maybe we could go over them while we watch the game.”

“We’ll see
. If the boys play well, there won’t be any time to look at the pages. They can wait until we get home. That way I can start looking for these people on the Internet using each name we find.”

“
Yeah,” I said, “they can wait.”

Those words didn’t sound ominous to me when they came out of my mouth
. I never even thought about the pages again until we arrived home.

Chapter Nineteen

M
ikey’s team won their game by a hair, but a win is a win. We were proud of him and the other boys. The dogs had sat quietly until they couldn’t stand seeing all those boys running around anymore and then we had to restrain them. Considering their size and strength, that was no small feat. We finally put them in the car because they were way too excited. Although smart, they were still dogs – they wanted to run and play with the boys.

I
tried to call Janet while we were at the game, but she was out so I left a message.

After the game the coach took the boys for pizza, telling us he’d drive Mikey home
. Coach only lived two blocks from our house. That would give us a little free time, something we didn’t have too often.

After
Chris parked the car in the driveway, he headed for the mailbox to see if there was anything interesting, something other than bills. Yeah, like maybe we’d won a million dollars. I opened the car door and let the dogs out. They headed around the side of the house toward the backyard, leashes trailing behind them. I followed and opened the gate. They headed straight for their water dish, so I filled it with fresh water. Closing the gate, I walked back toward the front of the house.

“Pamela,” Chris called, “you’d better come here.”

His voice didn’t sound right so I hurried the rest of the way. I found him on the porch studying the door.

“What’s wrong?” I asked.

“Are you sure you shut the front door tight when we left?”

“I know I did
. I shook it and turned the knob to be sure.”

“You’re positive?”

“Yes, I’m positive,” I said with a tightly controlled voice. Why the second degree? “What seems to be the problem?”

“
I started to put the key in the lock and the door opened. It wasn’t locked. We may have had visitors while we were gone. You wait here.”

I wasn’t about to let Chris face potential burglars by himself and followed in his footsteps, closely, glancing around for something to use as a weapon
. We both trod softly so no one could hear us coming. I grabbed a heavy vase as we passed a table in the entryway heading for the living room. I noticed it was darker than it should be. The drapes were closed and I was sure I’d left them open.

Chris
stopped abruptly and I ran smack-dab into him. He jumped about a foot. Apparently, since I was walking on carpet, he hadn’t heard me follow him inside.

“I thought I told you to wait outside,” he whispered.

“There’s safety in numbers,” I whispered back.

“Or someone could shoot us both at once instead of you being able to run for help.”

Oh, the disgust in his voice was telling. I figured he thought I didn’t trust him to handle the burglars. I’d worry about that later.

“Let’s just get this over with,” he whispered.

He stepped into the living room with me still dogging his steps. He glanced to the right while I looked to the left.

“Go call the
cops on your cell phone,” Chris ordered. “Someone’s definitely been here.” He took the vase out of my hands and set it on the coffee table before he quietly opened a coat closet and retrieved Mikey’s baseball bat.

I
stood, rooted to the spot. My lovely home had seen a hurricane, if appearances meant anything. Magazines were strewn on the floor. My grandmother’s secretary, or desk, had all the drawers pulled out and papers joined the magazines on the floor. The cushions had been pulled off the couch and chair. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath.

“Will you please go call the
coppers?” Chris hissed at me. “Get out of the house in case they’re still here. Now!”

I uprooted my feet and ran outside, pulling my cell phone out of my purse
. I called the police and gave them my name and address. Telling them what was wrong, I added that my husband had gone into the house and I didn’t know if anyone was still in there or not. The woman I was talking to kept me on the phone while I waited for a patrol car to show up. It didn’t take long, although it felt like an eternity.

Two officers hurried over to me with their hands on their gun belts while I thanked the woman on the phone and hung up
. I briefly explained what was happening and we all turned to the house in time to see Chris waving from the front door.

“That’s my husband,” I explained quickly, not wanting them to draw on him.

“There’s no one here,” Chris said. “Whoever it was is gone.”

The
coppers asked Chris to wait outside while they went in and searched the house, making sure he hadn’t missed someone in hiding. Satisfied with their search, they motioned us inside where they examined everything and took a report. We couldn’t tell if anything had been taken, so they asked us to call it in if we discovered something missing. All of the big ticket items, like the television and stereo, still rested in their respective places.

“You know there’s nothing they can do,” Chris said while we started cleaning house
. “It doesn’t look like anything is missing.”

“I can’t imagine
why someone would break into our house,” I said, picking up the magazines from the floor.

Chris stopped and glanced around the living room
. “I’ll be right back.”

I watched his retreating back for a moment before I began picking up the papers that had
once been so carefully stored in my high-backed secretary. I counted my blessings that they hadn’t hurt my grandmother’s desk. There wasn’t even a scratch on it. There were two very small secret drawers in this piece of furniture, but they hadn’t been pulled out. Apparently the intruder hadn’t known to look for secret places in old furniture. I pulled each one open and found that my mad money was still in one, and an insurance check was still in the other.

I could hear Chris moving around the house, both upstairs and downstairs.

He was back in about a minute. “I think I may have an idea about what they were after.”

I waited
while he examined the living room again, and finally began tapping my foot. “Well? Are you going to tell me?”

“I think someone was looking for those ledger pages,” he said, triumph ringing in his voice.

“What?” I almost rolled my eyes, but stopped because I knew he was serious. “Why would you think that?”

“Look around you
. They didn’t disturb a thing except paperwork and the magazines, or places where papers could have been hidden. It’s the same in the spare bedroom where we’ve got the computer, and in the kitchen. They went through the drawers upstairs, too.”

I look
ed around and determined he was probably right. Yes, the cushions were pulled off the couch, but we could have hidden papers under them, just as we could have stuffed the pages in the magazines. That is, if we’d actually wanted to hide anything.

“Why do you
think they were looking for the ledger pages?” I asked.

“
Nothing of value is missing. I have a box of unused checks sitting next to the computer. They were moved, but not taken. And I had some cash that I left on the dresser. It’s still there. No, this wasn’t a typical break-in. Someone was looking for something specific. My gut is telling me that it was the ledger pages, mostly because I can’t think of anything else it could be.”

“But that could only mean it was John Murphy
. Chance certainly couldn’t have done this, and I can’t imagine John doing it either. No one else knows about the ledger pages.”

“Unless one of them has talked it up to people.”

“But we just met with them yesterday afternoon. That doesn’t leave much time to spread the word.”

“It doesn’t take much time
. One phone call could lead to another, which could lead to another. I’m going to call John and see if I can fish a little information out of him.” Chris picked up the phone while we talked, and started dialing. “Maybe Chance has stayed in touch with some of her old boarders.”

I rolled my eyes this time
. “For so many years? I doubt it.”

Chris looked at me and very pointedly and dramatically rolled his eyes
. I got his point.
Knock it off, Pamela, you’re annoying me.

John didn’t answer and Chris had to leave a message
. He asked John to call him as soon as possible.

By the time we finished straightening the mess, Mikey came home pumped up and full of pizza
. He talked excitedly about his game and relived many of the plays with Chris. He never had a clue that anything out of the ordinary had happened, and I wanted to keep it that way.

The rest of the afternoon was quiet
. Mikey went outside to play with the dogs while Chris began a cursory search to find information on some of the boarders on the Internet. He knew of a few places where he could check out the names. I didn’t know if there was a place he could use the social security numbers or not, but it wouldn’t have surprised me. There’s no such thing as privacy on the Internet.

Mikey had a light dinner since he’d eaten so much pizza and then went upstairs to do some homework he’d conveniently forgotten
, because he didn’t want to spend Sunday doing it.

Chris fed the dogs
while Mikey ate, and when they were done, they flopped on the lawn for what they felt was a much deserved rest.

After Mikey went to bed,
Chris and I had a late dinner. Since it was just the two of us, I set the formal dining table and added candles and soft music for a romantic interlude. We didn’t have many chances for those and I appreciated Chris for walking into a readymade family so happily.

We agreed not to talk about dead bodies
, Internet searches or Chance until later. This was our time and we weren’t going to let anything spoil it for us. And nothing did.

***

Sunday morning Mikey and I went to church while Chris settled in with the Sunday paper and began reading ads and looking for used furniture. Neither John nor Janet had returned our calls yet.

Mikey left for Sunday School after the traditional beginning of the service and the singing of a couple of hymns
. Pastor Findlay gave an inspirational sermon, at least to me, about being patient and God’s timing not necessarily being the same as ours. I had a feeling that if we were going to try to find out what happened to Charles Blakely, we’d need lots of patience. I thought of Chance and realized that dealing with her would require a lot of patience, too. I felt guilty for my ambivalence toward her and vowed to be more kindly toward this elderly woman. During a quiet time I prayed for everyone involved in Blakely’s death, even those I didn’t know about yet.

After church Mikey and I picked up some fast food and took it home for lunch
. Chris was waiting for us.

“Ah, good
. Food. After we eat, we’re going for a drive. I think I may have found a desk for you. It’s a private sale, and I called on it. It sounds like it might be an antique being sold as secondhand.”

“Good job, Chris!
You know how I love antiques.”

After lunch Mikey and I changed clothes and Chris drove
us across town to an address in an older part of town.

A young man named
Tad showed us to his garage where he’d stored his late grandmother’s furniture. “I didn’t have the heart to sell her stuff before, but I recently got laid off my job. I need the money now. I know my grandma would want me to sell her things so I can get through this rough patch.”

“I’m sorry to hear about your job,” I said
, “and I hate to take advantage of your difficulties.”

“Nah, stuff happens
. I’m better off than some of the people who are getting laid off. At least I can sell a few things. It’s just that with so many people out of work, it’s hard to find buyers. Nobody’s got any money. Come on and I’ll show you the desk. It’s in the middle of the garage, if I remember right. This stuff has been in here for about two years.”

While Chris helped Sam move some boxes so we could get to the desk, I looked around the garage
. There was a beautiful oak bookcase, and I dearly love oak. It would look great in my new office, or even in our home. There was also an antique highboy dresser that would work in either the office or our bedroom, depending on what I used it for.

“Uh, Chris, could you come here for a minute?”

I heard Mikey say, “Look out, Dad. Mom’s lookin’ at other furniture, not just the desk.”

“Hush, Mikey
. I just want Chris to take a look.”

“Why don’t you come look at this desk first?” Chris asked
. “We’ve got it cleared off and it looks pretty good.”

I wandered back to the desk,
glancing at other things on my way. I stopped dead in my tracks when I saw an old oak cedar chest. I’d
always
wanted an oak cedar chest. It would be perfect at the foot of our bed.