She turned her back to him and laid the stone on its side on top of his desk. “For the first time in the existence of this office, your desktop is completely clean.”
“Margaret snuck in here and cleaned
it while I was convalescing.”
“Help me put this base back together,” she whispered. “Do you think we should put Carl’s ID back in?”
He picked up the black leather case again, stared at his son’s identity, and closed his eyes at his loss. Tears tracked rivulets down his cheeks and suddenly they were holding each other tight in the desperation of renewed grief.
***
Frost coated the field behind the Stafford offices. Matthew Farrell had been there since first light. Tread marks from a man’s boot put him at around five-foot ten and stocky. The bike was a Suzuki – light and fast. He saw a shiny disk in the early morning sun half beneath the rubbish container. Crouching down, he pulled it out with the tip of his pen. Across the top it was marked as a backup disk from yesterday. He slid his pen through the middle hole and dropped the disk into a plastic bag pulled from his pocket.
An engine cut off and a car door shut in the front parking lot. A second door slammed shut and he waited for the sound of voices.
“No I won’t, Ron. If you don’t trust him you ask for his ID. I trust him and, when he gets here, I’m going to tell him that.”
“Come around back, I want to see where this guy broke through the window.”
Farrell walked to the corner of the building to meet them. “You two are loud enough to wake the dead. Be careful where you walk.”
“How long have you been here, Matthew?” Sara’s burnished auburn curls glisten in the morning sun. She was wearing a gray oversized sweater with maroon stripes; it was definitely a borrowed thing.
“Long enough,” he said.
“You shouldn’t be on the other side of the police tape,” Ron accused. He stood in a position of defiance, huddled in a dark-blue down jacket, with his left hand in his pocket and his right resting on a wooden cane.
“How do you expect to check out the entry sight without doing the same?” Sara asked.
“Now is not the time to squabble,” Matthew said.
“Are we squabbling?” she asked.
Her husband turned back to him, “I’m a bit late with this, Mr. Farrell, but I’d like to see your identification.”
“My identification?”
“Something that proves who you are,” Ron challenged him with his chin jutting out.
Matthew looked at them both, then shrugged his shoulders, pulled out a black bi-fold wallet and handed it over for inspection.
“No hard feelings, Mr. Farrell. I had to be sure. Too much is happening to my family.”
“Thank you for coming today, Matthew. What have you got there?” Sara pointed to the disk in the plastic bag.
“I believe it’s a back up disk. I found it by the trash receptacle and want to check it for prints before we see what’s on it.”
“You think the burglar dropped it?” Sara asked.
“Maybe, how many tenants share the same trash hauler?”
“All four units share it, but two are empty at the moment,” Ron said. “That just leaves us and the optician on the other end.”
Matthew held the bag up by the zip lock end and asked Ron, “Do you recognize the handwriting on the disk?”
He brought the bag closer for inspection and waited for them to read the hand written label. “It’s the neat, tight assed scrawl of my bookkeeper. She’s going to be relieved you found that.”
“Ron!” Sara chastised him.
“Is she coming in today?” Matthew asked.
“We called her from the house. She’s on the way,” Ron added.
“What about the others who were here last night?”
“Allen is stopping for coffee and donuts; the boy lives on sugar. Cass said she’s going to feed the cats first,” Sara said.
Matthew nodded and suggested they walk around the front to eliminate disturbing anything.
“When are the local cops coming back?” Ron asked.
“When they’re good and ready, I suppose.”
“Do they know you’re working on this, too?” Ron stopped and turned toward him.
“They’ve got their investigation and I’ve got mine. Did either of you find anything else last night?” Matthew stopped just inside the front door looking alternately at each of their faces.
Their silence said a lot. Trust was like the sun peeking through the clouds. Just when you thought you had it, it moved out of reach.
A few minutes later, he watched Sara stare out the front windows of the shop. A Toyota pulled up first. The bookkeeper hauled her bulk from beneath the steering wheel and lifted her oversized purse to her shoulder. She looked up at the three of them gathered by the front door, then at the police tape blocking most of the parking area.
“Oh dear. I didn’t really think...Oh dear.”
“Good morning, Margaret. We’re glad you could make it down.” Ron reached his hand out to guide her into the first room of destruction. “Be careful where you step. We don’t want to disturb anything unless we have to.”
She stopped on the portal as if unsure of where to go from there. “I’m just trying to take it all in.” She skirted the potting soil, paper and folders on the floor.
“We’d like you to meet Mr. Farrell,” Sara said. “He’s investigating the break-in.”
“Mrs. Alvarez, can you tell me what you remember of the last few minutes of your time here on Friday?”
“Well, the office certainly didn’t look like this. I run a tight ship. That’s what Mr. Stafford always says. Everything in its place you know.” She looked around at the destruction and emotion filled her eyes.
“Take your time, Mrs. Alvarez. What did you do when you were ready to leave for the week? Close your eyes and picture the office as it was on Friday.”
“Farrell, that isn’t going to help, the break-in didn’t happen until Saturday evening.”
“Please, Ron, I know what I’m doing. Mrs. Alvarez, close your eyes and place yourself here on Friday.” Matthew began again.
“I made up the deposit, backed up the system, walked through the workshop to make sure the back was locked up tight. Sometimes the boys don’t always get it completely latched when they take out the rubbish.”
“The boys?” he asked.
“Mr. Stafford and Allen. I’ve come to think of them as my boys because they always need looking after.”
“Please continue, Mrs. Alvarez. Were the boys, ah Mr. Stafford and Allen, here when you locked up?”
“They were on a job in York Beach. I checked the windows in the shop and Mr. Stafford’s office.”
Matthew watched Sara smile. Mrs. Alvarez must be driving her husband crazy.
“I locked up my desk and the filing cabinets.” She looked at the twisted metal of the top file drawers and placed her fingers over her mouth. “I don’t think we’re going to be able to repair that.”
“Margaret, please continue. What did you do next?” Ron prodded to get her through her description.
“Well, I set the alarm, walked out the front door, and locked it.”
“What alarm?” Sara asked.
“We had one installed shortly after I began working here. I’m often here alone and you never know.” She looked around at a world turned upside down, “You never know.”
“You never know about what, Mrs. Alvarez?” Matthew asked.
“Well, sometimes I hear noises through the walls. The optical place must be very noisy. I can hear things clear down on this end of the building.”
“Maybe we should check out the unit next door,” Sara offered. “Ron can you call the landlord?”
Allen walked through the front door loaded with enough sugar to send them all into diabetic comas. “Hi everybody, I got a box of Joe ‘cause I’m not sure how much sugar to add to each cup.” He skirted the mess on the f
loor, stepping over a computer monitor lying on its side. He unloaded his offering on the only available clear space, the bookkeeper’s desktop.
“You’re just in time, Allen. You remember Matthew Farrell from Jordie’s art show, don’t you?” Sara asked.
He wiped his hands on his jeans and offered a freckled mitt. “Good to meet you again, sir.”
“That’s where I saw you before, Mr. Farrell. I thought you looked familiar. Then you’re not with the local police?” Margaret asked.
“No ma’am, I’m with the federal government and to answer the question in your eyes, I’m also a collector of art.” He smiled back at her, which seemed to work for the moment.
“Allen, we’re glad you’re here. When you came in the front door Saturday evening, did you hear the alarm go off?” Ron asked.
“Come to think of it, no. The only sound when I first came in was the crash in the shop. If someone broke in through the window in Ron’s office why didn’t the alarm go off?” he asked.
“The alarm was disengaged from the back.” Matthew added. “It’s simple enough to do, if you’re a professional. It narrows the possibilities to someone who wants this to look like a burglary but doesn’t actually want to get caught. Why don’t you each take a room and see what’s missing.”
“I’ll make up the coffees while you’re all doing this,” Sara said. “Margaret, how do you take yours?”
“Two sugars and one cream, dear, thank you.”
“Do you have the number of the insurance agent?” Sara asked. “He should be called before we disturb anything.”
“His number is in my rolodex.” She looked at the desktop full of donuts and Allen who was shoving a chocolate cruller past his lips.
Sara reached under the right side of the desk and pulled the rotary card file from the pile of paper. “Is this it?”
“Let me get you a chair, Margaret.” Ron added as he hobbled back into his office.
A few minutes later the bookkeeper hung up the phone. “Okay, listen up,” she called out to be heard in the back room. “Mr. Drummond says before we disturb anything we have to take pictures of the mess.” She began digging into the bowels of her patchwork leather purse. “I brought my digital camera.” She pulled the small black case from her purse. “I’m not quite sure how to use it.”
“If you will allow me, madam, I can do that for you,” Matthew offered.
“Oh, would you be a dear and take the pictures. I’m afraid I would ruin the whole thing.”
He pushed the power button, opened the viewer, and took the first shot.
“Oh my, you know your way around these new cameras.”
“Comes with the job,” he said. He took one of the broken cabinets and another of the upended plants and the sliced canvasses. “You might want to make a couple lists,” he added over his shoulder. “One for the things you find missing and another of the things that are damaged or destroyed.”
“That’s what Mr. Drummond said, too. You must both go through the same training,” she added, “Mr. Drummond being an insurance investigator and you a crime investigator.”
“Margaret, here’s your coffee.” Sara handed her the paper cup.
“Oh, thank you dear.” She put the cup down on the desk and began rooting into her purse again. “I just want to get something to write with and my notebook.” She slid her bifocals back up her nose. “Here we are, all set now.”
The buzzer over the front door announced another arrival. Ron looked up and smiled. “Hello Jordan, I didn’t expect to see you today.”
“Mom called. She forgot she’s singing solo at church this morning. She’ll be down,” he finally took in the destruction and stopped in midsentence. “Wow! What a mess. Was there much taken?”
“We are about to find that out, young man. You might as well help yourself to a cup of coffee and some of Allen’s donuts,” Margaret offered.
“Jordie, when will she be down?”
“Oh, sorry, Sara, I was sidetracked with the crime scene. The cops let you in here already?”
“The police and the insurance agent want an accounting of all that’s missing and ruined.”
“Jordan. What brings you up this way?” Ron asked.
“I was going to pick up Leonardo at Sara’s place today; I’m cat sitting this week. Mom called to say you were all meeting here about a break-in at the office. She said she’d bring him down when she gets out of church.”
“She’s not bringing that holy terror into this mess!”
“Ron, chill out. He’ll be in a pet carrier,” Sara said. “This saves Jordie from driving all the way up to my place.”
“Cats are lovable creatures, Mr. Stafford.” Margaret paused in her writing and peered over her glasses at him. “If you had one it could help ease your nerves, and they keep the mice from invading your home.”
“I’ll be right back with your camera, Mrs. Alvarez,” Matthew said. “I want to get some shots of the broken window outside and the building with the police tape.”
***
“Okay, the final tally, as I see it, is...Ronald, are you listening?”
“I’m sorry Margaret, I was thinking about tomorrow and the job I have to postpone,” and Sara’s little love tryst in Chicago. Sitting back in his office chair with his throbbing foot propped up on his desk, Ron watched Farrell lean against the door jam across the room with arms crossed and an absence of emotion plastered on his face.
“First things first, dear boy.” Margaret looked up over her bifocals.
From across the room Allen mouthed ‘dear boy’ and rolled his eyes to the ceiling. Ron was never going to hear the end of this.
“The only things actually taken were the cash box with $243.52 and a receipt for $6.48 from the hardware store, the two speakers for the York Beach job, two music CDs from your office Mr. Stafford, and those for the software. The boxes the software came in are empty. And, if the hard drives are destroyed we will be in a pickle since the backup disks are also gone.”
Allen, with a jelly donut half way to his mouth, added, “The speakers never made it off the premises. The thief must have realized he couldn’t take them with him and tossed them in the dumpster.”
“Okay then, I’ll move them into the trashed column. Oh dear, I think I made a joke,” she giggled.
“We found a backup disk out back,” Farrell said. “After I check for prints, I’ll give it back. Anything else missing?”
“No sir, but there are a lot of things damaged or destroyed that need to be replaced, not the least of which are those two valuable paintings by Jordan.”
“Are you sure there isn’t anything else missing, Mrs. Alvarez?”
“I almost forgot, Mr. Stafford, I am so very sorry to tell you this but your stone appears to be missing.” She looked up at her boss with tears in her eyes. “I know that stone meant a lot to you seeing as how it was your...”
“Margaret, it isn’t missing. I brought it home yesterday.”
“What stone, Mrs. Alvarez?” Farrell asked.
“It’s not important, Matthew. Margaret, continue with your list please,” Sara urged.
“Well that’s it for the missing things. I have a very long list of damaged and destroyed. It is truly heartbreaking about young Jordan’s paintings. We might be able to salvage the ficus plants, but most of the equipment and the filing cabinets will have to be replaced.”
“As soon as we get permission from the police, I think we should begin to put things back together and evaluate what is totaled and what can be repaired,” Sara said. “Ron, when did they say they were coming back?”
“Sometime this morning.”
“It’s afternoon,” Margaret said when she looked at her watch, “and they’re not here yet.”
“You know what this reminds me of, Jordie?” Allen asked.
“Yeah, unfortunately I do. It’s a pattern I’m all too familiar with.”
Farrell is staring at Sara and me, Ron thought to himself. I wonde
r how long we can keep this from him.
The buzzer sounded in the front office. “Anyone here?”
“We’re back in Ron’s office, Cass.” Sara called out.
“You don’t have that feline from hell with you, do you?”
“Oh Ron, for goodness sake,” Sara shook her head at him.
“He’s in my car in his kitty carrier. You’re safe, Ron.” Cass laughed as she maneuvered into the overcrowded office. “By the way, the police just pulled into the front lot.”
Farrell walked across the room and whispered to Sara and Ron, “Don’t mention the stone to the locals. I’ll wait ‘til everyone leaves; then I want to know about this stone your bookkeeper mentioned.”
Ron didn’t know where Farrell was coming from. The man wanted Sara; that came out loud and clear. He had almost all the information they had. What else did he need to find out who killed their son?
***
Monday morning began with a hectic pace. Sara dragged her luggage, piled with her laptop and overstuffed briefcase into the front office of finance. “Louise, Jonathon’s note calls for a department meeting at eleven. Is he in yet?”
“No ma’am, he’s AWOL this morning.”
“That’s clever, Louise,” Steve said. “Where did you pick that up?”
“Old M*A*S*H reruns,” she stuck her tongue out at him.
“Okay, children, we have a lot to do before Jonathon and I leave for Chicago. Louise, did you get the new numbers from San Francisco?”
“They came in this morning with a two page narrative from the new comp.”
“I want a copy on my desk in ten.”
“Already there, are you going to have time for a dip in the pool?”
“Our flight takes off at two. I’m afraid it’s too close to get any relaxation out of the exercise.”
“Word has it that our fitness club manager, Joe Stein, didn’t make it in this morning,” Steve said. “I guess he’s AWOL, too.” He winked at Louise.
“I wonder if he’s got that damn flu,” Sara said.
All three of their office phones rang simultaneously. “How freaky is this?” Louise asked as she reached for hers.
Sara walked through to her office leaving her bags in front of her desk to answer her ringing phone. A few minutes later, she hung up her handset and spun around to her two assistants walking through her doorway. They both plopped down in the conference chairs and began to talk at once.
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