by J.J. Chow
“So all his stuff is still inside his home?”
He groaned. “Why? You’re not thinking about breaking and entering, are you?”
“Me? Of course not.” Winston thanked the policeman and hung up.
Then he turned to his sister and said, “Look for an open window. When I last visited, Bill had one that didn’t quite shut.” He remembered feeling grateful for that slight breeze among the cramped clutter of Bill’s belongings.
Besides, it wasn’t breaking and entering if there was already easy access, right? Or so Winston justified to himself as he and Marcy scooted themselves through the window.
Marcy squeezed through with ease, but Winston huffed and puffed his way in. He even knocked over a few of Bill’s boxes as he tumbled through the small window opening. His sister shook her head at him.
After he caught his breath, they decided to split up to search the different rooms. However, when they regrouped, neither of them had located a device. No smartphone or laptop in sight.
Winston sighed and started restacking the cartons he’d knocked over. As he did so, he noticed a boxy shape hidden in the corner with a tablecloth draped over it. He tugged the fabric off and revealed a CRT monitor. The tower featured a floppy disk drive. An actual working clunky desktop plugged into an outlet. Ah, Bill had used old-school tech. Maybe this computer had the information they needed? But why was it turned off? Wouldn’t the security camera need to be connected to a running computer?
He booted it up and waited for everything to power on. After it loaded, he searched for video files on the drive. A list of them popped up, arranged by date. On further inspection, though, he noticed no videos past October 31. It seemed someone had already deleted the most recent ones.
“Come and watch,” he told his sister as he cued up the video from Halloween night. They sat cross-legged on the hard floor, watching the events unfold on the screen.
They saw Heather’s look of horror as chaos unfolded. A liberated Diana in a Smurfette costume danced on the table and dropped her purse in the midst of busting a move. Ryan and Heather could be seen at the far side of the screen, standing on the porch. Although their voices couldn’t be heard, they seemed angry. Ryan tried to grab Heather’s purse—she shook her head at him and backed away. Then the floodlights blazed on and Marcy’s silhouette could be seen wiggling away as she sang with abandon.
Watching the replay, Winston saw Marcy’s cheeks heat up with color, but after it ended, she stood up and gave a mock bow.
Winston gave her a thumbs-up. “You definitely have the music ability in our fam.”
He played the video again and recorded it with his phone. Poor resolution, but it might do as evidence. Then Winston turned off the computer and said to Marcy, “Seems like every single one of the neighbors acted odd that night.”
“Yes,” Marcy said, “Did you see the heated exchange between Heather and Ryan?”
“Time to investigate more.” Winston stood up and brushed off his pants. “Let’s shine a light on both those suspects.”
“Two for the price of one,” Marcy said as they left Bill’s house and headed over to the bank to catch Ryan off guard.
CHAPTER 28
WHEN THEY ENTERED THE doors of Elite Bank, Winston marched straight to the counter. However, he didn’t see Ryan, so he asked a female teller for the man’s whereabouts.
“Ryan?” She patted a stray lock of hair into place. “He’s taking a break.”
Winston thanked her and swiveled around to head over to the refreshments area, but Marcy tugged on his sleeve.
“Not over by the coffee,” she said. “He’s at a desk.” She pointed, and Winston’s gaze followed her finger.
Sure enough, Ryan was making himself comfy at a banker’s desk. He removed the real owner’s nameplate and squirreled it away in a drawer. Next, he focused on placing a nearby picture frame facedown on the table.
Winston and Marcy strode over to him, and Ryan startled.
“Oh, didn’t expect to see you guys here.” He nodded at Winston. “No lines today, you can use another teller.”
“I’m not here for money,” Winston said, although truth be told, he was running short on cash.
Marcy pulled out a chair near the desk and sat down with her arms crossed. “We’re here to question you about the Halloween party.”
Winston took a seat and waited to see Marcy work her bad cop act.
Ryan frowned. “The party feels so long ago. Well, I was dancing the night away when a buffoon”—he looked over at Winston—“knocked into me and my date.”
“No, we don’t need to hear about that,” Winston said. “We want to know about your argument.”
Marcy fixed her gaze on Ryan. “With Heather.” Even Winston could feel the sting of her look. He’d experienced that same fierceness many times before, when his sister had tried to pry the truth from him. It usually worked.
“Oh, that was nothing.” Ryan did a half shrug. “A squabble.” He faltered under her gaze. “I didn’t do anything wrong.”
“Why’d you try to grab her purse then?” Winston asked.
“What makes you think that?”
“We have it on tape,” Marcy said. “Everything. Recorded.”
Ryan gulped. “She owed me, but it’s squared away now,” he said. “Honest.” He crossed his heart and then his eyes darted around. “I’m actually waiting for somebody . . .”
Winston felt a shadow pass over him, and he looked up to see Lana, Ryan’s date from Halloween night, dressed in an elegant blue skirt suit with crystal buttons.
Fingering an expensive-looking necklace, she said to Ryan, “Reservations at the Ritz will not wait, Honey Bunches.”
Marcy noticed the new arrival and apologized for taking up their time. Leaning close to the woman, she complimented Lana on her necklace. “Very pretty.”
“Thank you.” Lana fidgeted with the delicate chain holding a pure gold charm. “A Tiffany from my Honey Bunches.”
Looking at the joy on Lana’s face, Winston wished he could make the same happiness appear in Kristy’s eyes. What kind of gift could he get his girl to make her face shine like that?
Marcy and Winston left the bank, and he griped about their experience. “We didn’t get a single thing out of him.”
“Not much,” agreed Marcy. “But she told us a lot.”
“Lana did?”
“Her necklace was from Tiffany’s—like that charge on Diana’s card.”
Winston snapped his fingers. “That’s it then. Ryan did it for the money. Tried to steal Heather’s purse. Took Diana’s card. And pushed over Bill to get the inheritance.”
Winston felt so elated over his theory that he even opened the passenger-side car door for Marcy.
“Not so fast, Sherlock,” his sister said. “Ryan didn’t take any of Diana’s cash, remember? Left it, in fact. And I know his type. All razzle-dazzle. He doesn’t need a whole lot of money, just enough to fake it.”
“What about the Tiffany?”
“A chance to boost his cred with Lana. If he sinks his hooks into her, he’ll have all the dough he needs in the future.”
Winston scratched his chin. “But what did he want from Heather if not money?”
“That’s a question we’ll need to ask her.” Marcy buckled her seatbelt. “On to the next stop, Sherlock.”
CHAPTER 29
THEY DROVE TO HEATHER’S place, where they received a warm welcome and were ushered over to her kitchen table.
“It’s nice to have guests,” Heather said, putting a few warm cinnamon rolls out for them. (Winston snatched one up right away.) “Entertain people, instead of numbers.”
“How is your new business going?” Winston asked, between bites of gooey icing.
“Getting there,” Heather said.
Marcy refused a cinnamon roll and asked her, “No trouble in your life? Maybe from Ryan?”
Heather gave her a funny look. She hung her apron on the back of a chai
r and took a seat next to them. “My neighbor?”
Winston swallowed the last of the bun, wiped his hand across his mouth, and picked up another one before speaking. “Your argument with Ryan on Halloween—we saw it.”
Heather blinked at him while Marcy explained: “Bill recorded it all.”
“Secret video camera,” Winston said.
Heather fiddled with the empty platter at the table. (Had he really eaten two buns? Winston’s stomach emitted a giant wave of pleasure. Guess so.) “I’m not surprised Bill had some sort of surveillance,” she said. She stopped moving the plate around and made eye contact. “You want to know the truth? It’s simple. I borrowed from the bank. Ryan pulled some strings to make it work. Then when that dancing fiasco happened”—she shook her head remembering it—“I knew my dreams were dashed. The Halloween party was supposed to showcase my talent, bring in top-notch clients. I invited everyone I’d thrown a party for before—and their friends.”
Winston nodded, following her train of thought. “After the failure, you weren’t sure you could pay the loan back.”
Heather wrung her hands. “I’d used up my savings, borrowed from my line of credit.”
All those glamorous touches, Winston thought, bought with Heather’s hard-earned money.
“We saw Ryan try to yank your purse,” Marcy said.
“He wanted me to pay up, to give him something. But I had nothing.”
Winston patted Heather’s shoulder. “Until now. Thankfully.”
She gave him a grateful look. “Bill was an angel. I don’t know what I’d do without the inheritance. I paid back the loan and still have a little left over.”
That must have been what Ryan meant when he said everything was squared away now. Winston wondered how the teller had secured the loan in the first place. Had it been on the up-and-up?
“Well, you can move forward now,” Winston said. “What with your baked goods”—he patted his stomach—“folks will flock to your parties.”
“Do you want some more?” Heather asked. “I still have a few cooling on the rack.”
Winston wanted to say yes, but his sister gave him a severe side glance. “Uh, maybe next time.”
Marcy and Winston both thanked Heather for her time and then left the sugar-scented house.
As they made their way back to Winston’s place, Marcy said, “She still could have done it. Plotted Bill’s fall, for the money.”
Winston’s hands gripped his steering wheel. “No, she was so distraught when the old man died.”
“Could have been faking.” Marcy made a few whimpering noises that might have doubled for crying.
Winston parked in his driveway. “I just can’t see it.”
“Maybe it’s those treats talking,” Marcy said, pointing at his stomach.
“No. How could she have predicted she’d inherit the money?” Winston continued, “And she called the ambulance, right?”
Marcy nodded.
“If she had murdered Bill, she wouldn’t have dialed 911 right away. She’d want extra time to erase any evidence.”
“Good point.” Marcy unbuckled herself and went inside the house.
SPENT FROM THE DAY, Winston was glad Marcy busied herself in the kitchen with dinner. If left up to him, they’d be slurping down bowls of instant ramen. Marcy, though, made a healthy vegetable stir-fry for them. She even fed Blueberry, who immediately purred at Marcy’s kindness. How quick that cat changed alliances.
After dinner, Winston went straight to bed. He worried that Blueberry’s transfer in devotion could somehow predict Kristy’s change of heart in the future. Logically, he knew Kristy couldn’t call him because her phone had fizzled in bathwater (she’d emailed him the news), but having no verbal communication with her unnerved him. He tossed and turned in bed all night. The mewling cries of some unearthly creature (Blueberry?) didn’t help him sleep either.
CHAPTER 30
WINSTON COULDN’T STOP yawning in the morning. Even the extra sugar boost from his cereal didn’t keep his head from nodding. He looked over at Marcy, who seemed her usual composed self. At the kitchen table, she sipped coffee while perusing the newspaper.
“Did you sleep okay?” he asked.
“Yes. Why?”
“Blueberry kept me up all night with his yowling. Did he sneak out through the kitchen side door?”
“He’s a cat, not a magician.” She folded up the paper. “Besides those sounds were from wild animals.”
“Or, maybe, cats mating?” Winston tried to remember if Blueberry had been neutered. He hoped so.
“I remember weird screeching, almost like fighting noises,” Marcy said. She shrugged and finished her coffee. “But I just popped in my ear plugs and slept.”
“You carry some around?” Please don’t say it’s because of my snoring, he thought.
“For the plane,” she said. “To cancel out noise.”
Winston rubbed at his eyes and reached for the paper. Where were the funnies? Maybe laughter would wake him up.
Marcy grimaced and pointed at the newsprint. “Yeah, all that horrible news from around the world may keep your eyes open.”
Around the world—he had been meaning to broach the topic again. “Speaking of, why are you here, Marcy? So far from home?”
“Home.” Marcy seemed to choke on the word. “They say family is home. And that’s what you are, Winston.”
“But what about Gary?”
Her hands gripped her mug tight. She could destroy it with that kind of hold. “We needed a break.”
“Oh no, are you okay?” he asked, frowning. He’d heard about stress in their marriage before, over their difficulty in having kids.
Marcy’s voice shook. “Guess it’s time I told you. He made a Tinder account. Window-shopping he called it.” Picking up her mug, she moved over to the sink and started rinsing it. “But I need distance to reevaluate.”
“Either way, I’ll be here for you,” Winston said. The rushing water probably drowned out his words, but he’d said them out loud at least. A few moments later, though, her shoulders seemed to relax a tiny bit.
He turned his attention to the newspaper. He placed aside the various sections: National, Sports, Local—an article caught his eye. A photo of a geeky kid clutching Bill’s robot took over the page.
Winston read about how Cam had won first place, securing a scholarship to the college of his choice. Judges were impressed with the robot’s mechanisms, how it took voice orders, differentiating between users. And its innovative “predictive mode,” where it took previous commands and tried to guess at a possible instruction based on its stored database. Kind of like the auto-complete feature on cell phones. Bill really had been pure genius.
But right now Winston couldn’t take his eyes off the boy in the photo wearing huge glasses and a shy grin. Cam. He’d been around when Bill had been killed. After all, Diana had been there that day, so the boy might have witnessed something.
Winston remembered Diana saying Cam didn’t enjoy visitors. Maybe not human company, but what about an animal? Winston grabbed Blueberry’s leash and called Marcy over. “We’re taking the cat for a stroll.”
CHAPTER 31
WINSTON HOOKED THE leash onto Blueberry. For most of the way, the cat moved at a smooth pace. When they arrived at Diana’s doorstep, Winston let go of Blueberry’s tether to smooth out the wrinkles in his T-shirt and make himself more presentable. He wanted Cam to see them as desirable company (cute cat plus two friendly neighbors) when Marcy’s voice broke into his fantasy.
“The cat bolted!” she yelled.
Winston looked around, and sure enough, Blueberry had taken off. The leash trailed behind the cat. Blueberry made straight for Bill’s house, and Winston darted after the cat.
Unfortunately, Winston had never run a five-minute mile in his life. Maybe more like a fifteen-minute mile. Marcy, the better athlete, also tried chasing, but her heeled sandals slowed her down.
Blueberry
was about to spring up and over Bill’s fence when Winston caught up. The cat’s haunches tensed, and Winston tackled him. If only Winston’s PE teacher could see him now.
They returned to Diana’s house a bedraggled group. Marcy limped. Winston’s arms were decorated with scratch marks. And Blueberry kept hissing like a possessed banshee. Winston rang the doorbell.
Instead of Diana opening the door, a teen boy slouched in the corner of the wooden frame. He had bowl-cut hair and huge glasses took up half his face. His skin seemed a minefield of zits, and he wore a striped shirt with polka-dot shorts. Around his neck, lay a heavy silver chain with a letter on it.
Marcy hobbled closer to the boy and extended her hand. “Cam? My brother and I live around the corner. We know your mom.”
Cam looked Winston over, maybe trying to see if he was a threat. “I’ve seen you two before,” Cam said. “At a neighborhood meeting. Looked out the window with my binoculars.”
A people watcher. He’d make a great witness, Winston thought.
“So you know us then,” Marcy said. “Mind if we come in?” She’d taken off her shoes at this point and seemed ready to fall into the house.
“I’m not supposed to let strangers in.” He played with the metal chain around his neck. Winston could spy a pendant attached to the thick metal rope and recognized it right away.
“Nice H symbol,” Winston said.
Cam’s face grew pink. “Uh, thanks.”
“Fits perfectly into that blank space on my car’s trunk.”
Cam backed away several inches, while Winston advanced toward him. “What other Grand Theft Auto pranks are you pulling?”
Cam wrung his hands. “It was just the once, I swear.”
“Really? And why the H, not a C for your name?”
“For Harvard. A dare from my Academic Decathlon captain,” Cam mumbled.
Winston snorted but believed the trembling teen. “Fine. How about you let us in, and I’ll forget about the damage to my Accord?”