Authors: Ruth Ann Hixson
She could hear the tires squalling as Mark took the turn in the driveway too fast. "I better go let him in," she said.
"I already unlocked that door," Frank said but he went into the breezeway anyway.
Mark came running from his truck. Frank opened the door for him and he stepped inside. "Where's Sherry?"
"On the back porch. She's as okay as she can be under the circumstances," his father replied.
Mark looked through the open kitchen door. After a string of expletives, he asked, "Who would do something like this."
"Elena?"
"Possibly. She's definitely stripped her gears. I wonder if Darryl got the order for a psyche eval."
He strode through the breezeway and opened the back door. When Sherry saw him she ran to him. Two strides took him to her and he caught her in a tight embrace. She put her arms around his middle and held on as tight as she could. The tears she was holding back came in a flood.
"Ribs," she mumbled against his chest.
He loosened his hug. "Sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you."
Frank leaned against the porch railing with arms folded and filled his son in on what he knew of the break-in. "I called the cops. Someone should be here soon."
"Mark, I don't know where Mitzi is." Sherry pulled back swiping at her tears with her hands.
Frank pulled a red bandana handkerchief from his pocket. "I think we should wait until the cops get here before we go tromping through the house and mess up their crime scene."
"I hope it's Chad," Mark said as he heard a vehicle in the driveway. Frank had left the doors to the breezeway open and it was easy to see through storm doors to the driveway. "Shit! It's Turner."
Frank went to meet the trooper. "You can see through the door what it's like inside. Even the windows are broken out."
"You've been inside?"
"I walked through to the living room. When I saw the busted windows, I went to the basement and turned off the furnace. No sense in wasting oil."
"Did you touch anything?"
"The doorknob to the basement door. And I was here earlier today. My prints could be anywhere."
"Where's Miss Winnette?"
"On the back porch. I told her to get out of the house in case whoever did this is still here."
"How many outside doors?"
"Here; the front door; the side door to the den."
"I'll check to see how the perp got in."
"If you find a gray kitten let us know. Sherry's in a tizzy because she didn't come when she called."
Frank went back to the porch to wait for Turner. "He's looking to find out how the vandal got in."
Turner came to the porch to inform them, "There's no sign of forced entry. The perp must have had a key."
"Elena Bayshore stole the key I had," Frank told him.
"We got that from her the night she was arrested. It's in an evidence locker."
"I want it back," Sherry demanded. "This is my house."
"Miss Winnette, are you sure you didn't do this yourself?"
"Nooo. Why would I destroy my own house?"
"You don't have much. Maybe you thought people would pity you and give you more and better things."
"That's absurd!" Frank spat out. "Sherry was with me all afternoon."
"Doing what?"
"Riding around in the combine."
"Mr. Blakely, are you having an affair with Miss Winnette?"
"Hell no! I have a daughter her age."
"You wouldn't be the first middle age man who found a young woman attractive."
"The only Mr. Blakely that's having an affair with Sherry is me." Mark stood behind Sherry with his hands on her shoulders.
Turner still had his attention on Frank. "Exactly what is your relationship with Miss Winnette?"
Frank shrugged. "We're friends."
"Just friends?"
"Does the word 'mentor' mean anything to you?"
"What are you mentoring her in?"
"Life. We talk."
"About what?"
"Just about anything."
"Do you ever talk about sex?"
"Yes, but not with each other. She's my son's girl. I've known her since the day she was born. If you want to make something of that, go ahead. I have beans to shell." Frank went down the steps and headed for the combine just as Chad Wertman came to the porch.
"What do we have?" he asked Turner.
"Did you happen to look in the kitchen when you came past?"
"Uh-ha. Looks like someone was really mad."
"Since all the keys are accounted for and there's no evidence of forced entry and the windows were all broken from the inside, it seems like there's no way someone got in unless Miss Winnette is lying to me."
"I didn't lie!" Sherry turned to Mark and laid her head on his chest.
"You didn't touch anything?" Chad asked in a gentler tone than Turner had used.
"The telephone when I called Frank."
"Wouldn't you call the police first?" Turner wondered.
"Frank was closer! I needed someone right then. He called the police, and Mark, and Jan." She turned around abruptly. "Wait! I did do something. I just remembered. When I came in I noticed the garage door was open and Mitzi was gone."
"Mitzi?"
"My kitten. I don't know what happened to her."
"She's in the den," Turner said.
"Is she okay?"
"Seemed to be."
"When she didn't come I closed the garage door."
"Bingo!" Mark exclaimed. "She didn't need a key to get in. She had the remote to the garage door. It was on the dash of her car the day Sherry kicked her out. I saw it when I carried her suitcase out to the her car."
"Alison," Chad guessed.
"Why would she do this to me?"Sherry cried.
"Who's Alison?" Turner asked.
"Alison Winnette. Sherry's mother. The woman who made that call to the radio station to try to get Mark in trouble." Chad shook his head. "Why does that not surprise me?"
"Why would Sherry's mother do this?" Turner wondered.
"Hypothesis," Mark replied. "Alison came to see Sherry either to get her to sell those war diaries or to allow her to move back in. Or both. Sherry isn't here so Alison goes looking for the key to the safe deposit box..."
"My keys." Sherry ran to the kitchen and carefully stepped through the broken glass and china to the kitchen cabinet Judy's mother gave her. The roll front door was opened, her purse and keys gone. "She stole my purse and keys!" Sherry cried. She headed for the den with Chad close on her heels.
As soon as she opened the door she saw it was gone. It was too big to be hidden. "She took my guitar!" she wailed. "How could she? She knows how much that means to me."
"Just calm down." Chad put his hands on her shoulders. "Take some deep breaths." He took her arm and guided her back to the porch. "Her mother took her guitar," he told Mark and Turner.
"I guess that changes it from vandalism and petty theft to grand larceny."
"How so?" Turner asked.
"Tell him Sherry."
"That is a custom-made 1938 Martin acoustic guitar worth more than thirty thousand dollars. Gramps gave it to me for Christmas when I was thirteen and learning to play. He said the arthritis in his hands was too bad for him to play anymore. It belonged to his brother who got killed in the Korean War. It was an heirloom and it meant more to me than just dollars and cents. It was special.
"She tried to sell it once before but I hid it away at a friend's house. It was then the music teacher told me how to mark it by putting my initials in an inconspicuous place. Mom doesn't know about that. I never told her. I also added my New Jersey driver's license number."
"You can identify it then?" Chad asked.
"Yes. But what about her having my keys and purse. She looks just like me or like I did before I had my hair cut short and dyed it blond. My checkbook is in that purse."
"Not to mention the key to the safe deposit box," Mark added.
"What's in the safe deposit box?" Turner wanted to know.
"Old war diaries. Dating back to the French and Indian War all the way to halfway through the Civil War. Cousin Hannah has the ones beyond that."
"How much are they worth?"
Sherry shrugged. "Priceless to me. I don't know how much they're worth in dollars and cents."
"According to Violet Winnette, Sherry's grandmother, about a half mill," Mark answered. "I don't know if that's just the ones she had or all of them."
Chad let out a low whistle. "She'd have to take them out of state to get that much for them. Or at least to one of the big cities."
"First she'll have to get past Mom at the bank," Mark asserted. "She's known Alison since they were in school together. Besides, Mom knows about Sherry's hair. I think Mom can freeze Sherry's checking account so Alison can't cash checks." Mark took out his cell phone and scrolled to Jan's number.
"Mom, I know Dad called you about what happened at Sherry's. Can you freeze Sherry's bank account so Alison can't use it?"
"As soon as I can get to a computer."
"Where are you?"
"Parked outside Sherry's house. Where are you?"
"On the back porch."
"Be there in a sec." Jan stepped onto the back porch a moment later. Passing through the breezeway, she glanced at the destruction in the kitchen. "Dad told me what happened but I didn't expect it to be so bad. Sherry can't stay here now."
"She can go home with you. I'll walk down and drive the truck over so Dad won't have to walk back." Mark could see that his father was emptying the bin to the combine into the truck box. "I can walk over for my truck."
"Sherry can drive my car over. I'll drive your truck. First I've got to talk to these troopers about how the bank is involved in this."
"I need to get some clean clothes," Sherry cut in.
"We can't have you messing up a crime scene," Turner objected.
"This is my house," Sherry asserted. "I need clothes. I won't mess up your crime scene. You can probably get the best evidence from the handle of the hammer she used."
"I'll go with you," Chad offered and turned to follow her.
"I need to feed Mitzi. And she'll need her litter box."
"Where is it?"
"In the breezeway. First I've got to get this debris away so I can get the pantry door open."
Chad used his foot to push aside a smashed casserole dish. While he went to the breezeway, Sherry got out a can of cat food and found a plastic dish to put it in. Then she took it to the den. Chad followed along carrying the litter box.
Sherry got the clothes she needed. "I just need to get my toothbrush." But she couldn't get her toothbrush because the mirror to the medicine chest was shattered, the shards lay in the sink with the hammer.
"Looks like she just threw the hammer." Chad looked over the bathroom.
"Probably after she found my purse and keys," Sherry guessed. "Don't worry. I'll get by until tomorrow." She turned to leave. Outside she encountered a new problem. The media. That same female reporter who had given her trouble before stood on the lawn just beyond the police tape Turner was stringing from the dogwood tree to the corner of the garage. Her assistant had his camera rolling.
"Get off my property!" Sherry stormed.
"I'm outside the police tape," the woman excused.
"I know you can legally shoot from the road but this is my property. Now get off it or I'll have you arrested."
"You heard the lady," Chad said from beside her. "If I catch you here again, I'll book you for defiant trespassing. Now go."
"Thanks, Chad."
He opened the driver's door to Jan's black SUV. "One of us will be over to take your statement." Just then a call came over the radio clipped to his shoulder. "I have a feeling it won't be me."
"Hi, Frank." Sherry walked into the kitchen with Jan's purse strap over one shoulder and her bag of clothes in the other hand. He sat at his usual place at the table with his usual cup of coffee. She took a mug from the cupboard to get coffee.
"How're you doing, kid?" Frank asked as she sat down on his right.
"I think I'll live. I've been sick at my stomach ever since I saw what happened to my house."
"I noticed Mark brought the truck up. I turned on the fans in the bin to help dry the beans. They're calling for light rain tomorrow." Frank usually talked about the farming when he talked to her. It gave her a chance to get her thoughts in order.
She stirred her coffee watching the light brown liquid swirl around in her cup. "I think what happened has shaken me to the foundation of my soul. It just hurts so bad that my own mother did it. It's like everything's frozen into a hard knot around my heart."
He reached over and laid his callused hand over hers. "You need to get past it so you can put your life back together. You don't have to do that alone. You have Mark now. And Jan and me."
"I'm going to need all the help I can get. I may be able to clean up the mess but I can't fix the broken windows."
"Mark can go to Lowe's after school tomorrow and get a roll of plastic to cover the windows for now. It will keep the critters and the weather out. You want to help me put the milkers together? Doing something may take your mind off of it a bit."
"I might as well. I'm not doing any good sitting around."
As she took a teat cup down and began to attach the hoses on it to a claw, Sherry asked, "Did you mean what you told Turner about being my mentor?"
Frank shot her a grin. "Sure did."
"Why? Why do you go to so much trouble to be my friend?"
"I thought you need a friend who's willing to take you just as you are."
"Oh, thank you! Thank you!" She deposited the claw and its attachments on the stainless steel cart and stepped to him throwing her arms around him. "Thank you so much."
He closed his arms around her. "You're welcome, kiddo. I'll always be here for you. Count on it."
"What the hell's going on here?" Mark stood in the open doorway.
"Nothing," Frank said as they sprang apart.
Sherry flushed from her head to her toes. "There's nothing between Frank and me," she said hastily.
"You can say that again." Mark's dark eyes flashed with anger. "There certainly was nothing between you a moment ago. Not even air."