Val was glad to see Keenan behind the polished wood bar. The red-haired bartender worked out at the athletic club and was a frequent customer at her café. She was a less frequent customer here.
Keenan greeted her with a smile. “Hey, Val. My turn to wait on you. What can I get you?”
Information. “Soda water with a twist of lime would be great. I’m waiting for my grandfather.” When Keenan delivered her drink, she pulled out the photo she’d shown at the bistro. “Did you happen to see either of these woman here on Saturday night?”
“Solving another crime, huh?” He studied the photo. “Oh, yeah. She was here.” He pointed at Suzette.
Bingo! “Did she come in alone?”
“I wish. She was with a dude.”
“What did he look like?”
Keenan laughed. “I was looking at her, not him. They were sitting over there.” He pointed to a small table near the window fronting on Main Street. “He was in costume, like a lot of people in the bar that night. He wore a black cape.”
“Did you notice if the cape was long or short?” When Keenan shook his head, Val said, “What kind of costume was it? Grim Reaper, Count Dracula, Zorro, Phantom of the Opera?”
“Not Zorro. The guy had no mask, hat, or sword. His cape didn’t have a hood like the Grim Reaper’s. I guess he could have been Dracula or the Phantom without a mask.”
Val had seen three men in black capes at the bookshop—Casper, Nick, and Bram. But a lot of other caped men were at the town’s Spooktacular festival on Saturday. Suzette’s death probably had nothing to do with what she did the night before. Still, it would be good to know who was with her.
“Did they seem to be having fun?”
“I was too busy to pay much attention, but the one time I glanced that way, they looked like they were in a serious conversation.”
No surprise there. Val had rarely seen Suzette anything but serious. “How long were they here?”
“No more than half an hour.” Keenan gathered the glasses of two people who’d just left the bar. “You should stop by here on Thursday. On Halloween night we usually have a fair number of people wearing costumes. Maybe that couple will come back.”
He might. She wouldn’t. “Are the servers who waited on customers Saturday night here now?”
He shook his head. “Skeleton staff today. Mondays are slow. If you leave me the photo, I can ask them if they remember that couple.”
“I’d appreciate that.” Val passed the photo to him. She could print another one if she needed it.
“Are you going to tell me what this is about?”
“Not yet. I’m working on a hunch that may lead nowhere. When I know something for sure, I’ll let you in on it. Meantime, you can tell the servers the truth—that you don’t know why your friend asked about the woman in the photo.” Val spotted Granddad and Ned coming into the tavern. “Here come my dates for tonight. Thank you for your help, Keenan.”
“Hey, you ever want a date with someone who doesn’t have gray hair or a white beard, let me know. I’ve got some friends you might like.”
“Thanks. I may take you up on that offer.”
Once Val was ensconced with Granddad and Ned in a booth, she told them that their search was over.
“You have the magic touch, Val,” Ned said. “We’ve stopped at a lot of places and no one had seen that girl.”
“I just wish I knew who the caped man was.”
Granddad’s eyes lit up. “I’ve got an idea. If the man was in the bookshop that night, Dorothy might have a photo of him. She was taking pictures. I’ll ask to see them and have her e-mail me ones with a caped man in them. Someone who works here might recognize the fella who was with Suzette.”
Val opened the menu. “Good idea. Try to get a photo of Bram too. He wore a cape that night.”
Granddad looked askance at her. “You think he was the man she met here?”
She shook her head, though she wouldn’t rule out Bram entirely. “In a photo lineup, you need innocent men as well as suspected culprits.”
The server came to take their drink orders and tell them about the daily specials, cutting off further discussion of men in capes.
* * *
Granddad said goodnight and disappeared into his room when they returned home. Val went into the study, plugged in her phone, and surveyed the room. She’d intended to clean up the mess he’d left in the study when he searched for the Patels’ phone number, but she was too tired to bother. Preparing the food for the writing group’s meeting would keep her busy tomorrow. Sorting through the folders and papers he’d left on the sofa and the floor would have to wait until the end of the week. Maybe he would do it before then. Wishful thinking.
She took the pages that Suzette had written upstairs, planning to reread them. She got only a third of the way through before her eyes closed. She turned off the light at ten and fell asleep.
She heard a faint sound, half groan, half squeak. Someone was on the back staircase, the one Suzette always used! Val rushed through the hall, looked down the stairs, and made out a dim figure below. Suzette stood at the landing on the first floor. She wasn’t dead after all! A wave of happiness washed over Val as she waited for Suzette to join her on the second floor. Suzette remained motionless and said, “Ghosts don’t climb stairs.”
She disappeared, and Val woke up in the dark. Sadness weighed on her. She’d had a good dream, but it was over. Then she heard a stair creak again exactly as it had in her dream. Who was on the back staircase? Not Suzette’s ghost and not Granddad. He’d have used the less steep front stairs near his room.
Val’s heart thudded. Someone had broken in!
Chapter 12
Val held her breath and listened. If anyone was in the second-floor hallway, she’d hear the floorboards creaking. But she didn’t. Whoever had been on that staircase wasn’t coming closer . . . yet. She felt for her phone on the nightstand. Not there. She’d left it charging in the study.
She could hide. In the closet or under the bed. But with Granddad downstairs, she had to do more than try to save just herself. If he woke up, he’d investigate odd noises and put himself in danger. She had to prevent that.
She eased out of bed and crept toward the door. Thank goodness she’d recently oiled the hinges. She cracked it open and peered down the length of the hall. A white light shone from under the closed door to Suzette’s room. What would a burglar want there?
Val slipped out of her bedroom. She took two long strides and reached the staircase leading to the front hall. With her passion for eavesdropping as a child, she knew how to sneak down to the first floor without being heard. The wood stairs wouldn’t make noise if she stayed close to the side of the tread, instead of stepping in the middle. She started down, hugging the wall.
But what should she do once she was on the first floor? Go into the study and call 911? By the time Bayport’s single nighttime patrol car arrived, she and Granddad could be lying in a pool of blood.
Halfway down the stairs, a step squeaked under her weight. Darn! Would that small sound betray her to the intruder? She had no choice but to keep going down.
In the hall, dimly lit by a nightlight, she spotted a gray plastic object the size of a shoebox on the hall floor—Granddad’s favorite gizmo, a motion detector, affectionately known as RoboFido. Maybe she could use it to get rid of the person who’d crept upstairs. Unlike similar devices, this one didn’t turn on lights in response to motion, but it made a lot of noise.
After the ghost tour stopped at the house, Granddad had taken the gadget from the closet and pointed it toward the front door’s sidelight to deter any ghost gawkers from venturing near the house that night. Now Val hoped it would scare the dickens out of the intruder. She and Granddad might never find out who’d broken in, but at least they’d be safe.
She rotated RoboFido so the sensor would detect motion in the front hall and on the staircase she’d just come down. She flipped the switch on. As she walked
toward Granddad’s bedroom, the sensor picked up her movement. Loud barks resounded through the house.
When Granddad peered out of his door at the end of the hall, she signaled him to go back. She followed him into the room and locked the bedroom door behind her. “I heard someone on the back staircase and saw a light coming from Suzette’s room.”
He pointed to the window along the side wall. “I looked outside when the barking woke me up. Someone in dark clothes and a hoodie ran by the house.”
The news relieved Val. “The barks scared our intruder away. He must have gone out by the back stairs.” RoboFido had stopped barking. No one was moving within range of its sensor.
Granddad grabbed her arm and whispered, “Don’t jump to conclusions. One person is gone, but an accomplice could still be in the house, holed up in Suzette’s room.”
“If the barking starts again, we’ll know someone’s on the stairs or in the hall.”
Granddad’s face screwed up in anger. “Dog-gonit. My shotgun’s upstairs.” He looked around the room. “I need a weapon.”
“I need a cell phone.” Val spotted his phone on the dresser and called 911.
As they waited for the police, Val wrapped herself in Granddad’s old plaid robe, and he donned the gray robe he’d worn Saturday night as Professor Dumbledore.
The doorbell rang and a man bellowed, “Police!”
When they left the bedroom, RoboFido sensed their movement and erupted in growls and barks. Val turned off the guard dog and answered the door.
A middle-aged Bayport police officer with broad shoulders and a weathered face stood on the porch. “You got trouble here again?”
Val nodded. She couldn’t recall the officer’s name, but she remembered his skepticism when he’d responded previously to an emergency call. This time he seemed to take her more seriously. He jotted in a small notebook as she told him what had happened.
He looked up from his notes. “What were you doing when you heard the noises on the staircase?”
“Lying in bed.”
“You were asleep before that?”
“Yes.” She could read his mind. He assumed she’d dreamed those noises.
“Did you hear any noises, sir?” When Granddad shook his head, the officer turned back to Val. “How long since you heard what you thought was someone on the stairs?”
“Maybe fifteen minutes.” She described what she’d done from that time until he arrived at the house.
He surveyed RoboFido. “I heard those barks. Pretty realistic. If you had a burglar, he’d have left by now.” He closed his notebook. “You stay here. I’ll take a look around to be on the safe side.”
To be on the safe side, he should have called for backup before he wandered around the house and left them alone in the hall. Val had visions of the burglar slipping past him, rushing down the stairs, knocking Granddad down, and escaping into the night.
The officer strode into the sitting room, looked through the double doorway to the study, and gaped. “That room’s been ransacked!”
Val caught Granddad’s eye and put an index finger on her lips on the off chance that he’d own up to wrecking the room. “Oh no! I hope nothing’s missing,” she said.
“Computer’s still there and a phone. But it looks like you were right about a burglar. I’ll call another officer to help me search the rest of the house.”
Officer Wade responded within minutes to the call. Val knew the rookie well. He’d tagged after the chief on last year’s murder investigations.
The two officers checked the house thoroughly, including the attic to make sure the burglar wasn’t hiding there, and the area around the house.
When they came back inside, the older officer said, “Looks like the lock on the door to the kitchen and back stairs was jimmied.”
“Any rooms upstairs ransacked?” Granddad said.
“Not like this one.” The officer pointed to the study. “Take a look in the rooms up there and on this floor. Let us know if something’s been disturbed or stolen, but be careful not to touch any surfaces. A team will come over in the morning to check for fingerprints.”
“A burglar worth half his salt wouldn’t leave any prints,” Granddad mumbled as he followed Val up the stairs.
She headed straight to the back bedroom. The top dresser drawer was open, and Suzette’s computer was no longer on the table. Val groaned. The chief should have taken it after the hit-and-run. Now it was too late.
Officer Wade joined her and Granddad outside Suzette’s bedroom.
She pointed to the open drawer. “That’s not the way I left it.”
“Anything missing?” Wade said.
“The laptop that was on the table is gone. It was old, but the burglar might have wanted it for a reason other than resale.” When the officer looked perplexed, she added, “This is the hit-and-run victim’s room.”
Officer Wade’s eyes bugged out. “I’ll tell the chief first thing tomorrow. And I’ll patrol this street until daylight.”
* * *
Chief Yardley stopped by the Cool Down Café the next morning as Val was wiping down the eating bar. He dropped in occasionally for a decent cup of coffee, not a feature of the Bayport Police Department headquarters.
The broad-shouldered chief perched on a counter stool. “What kind of muffins you have today?”
“Apple walnut raisin and lemon blueberry.” She poured his coffee.
“I’ll take the one with the nuts, even though it sounds healthy. Officer Wade told me you had a break-in last night. How’s your granddaddy doing?”
“He’s a bit rattled. The house has never been burglarized before. Happening so soon after Suzette died makes it even worse.”
“Don’t jump to the conclusion that the burglary and her death are connected. We’ve had a rash of burglaries in this area. This is the first one in Bayport, but homes in Treadwell, Easton, and Oxford have been hit.”
“So our house was a random target?” Val couldn’t keep the skepticism out of her voice. “And it was just by chance that the burglar came in the door Suzette always used?”
“According to the incident report, that door was the logical point of entry. It only has a doorknob lock, easy to pick. The other doors have deadbolts or latches.”
“I wonder if our burglary could have been a copycat crime rather than the latest in a string by one person or a gang. Did the burglar pick the locks the same way in those other houses?”
The chief washed down his muffin with a gulp of coffee. “Entry was via an unlocked door, an open window, or another method that left no mark.”
“So last night’s burglary didn’t follow the same pattern as the others. Did the report on our break-in say that the burglar ransacked a room on the main level?” When the chief nodded, she continued. “That’s not what happened. Granddad had turned the room upside down, looking for something. Nothing was missing or even touched in any room except Suzette’s. Can you explain why a burglar would pass up the sterling silver in the dining room and go into a small bedroom?”
“I sure can. People keep jewelry in their bedrooms. Jewelry is small and light compared to a silver service. The burglar must have watched the house and seen lights in your bedroom and your grandfather’s. Once all lights were out, the burglar waited a bit, broke into the house, and went to a room that hadn’t been lit up.”
“Yes, but then he—or she—stole an old computer. Not worth the time or effort to case the house and pick the lock.”
“You woke up, turned on your dog, and spooked the burglar. He or she didn’t want to leave empty-handed.”
“Or the burglar really wanted that computer. Suzette, a budding author, was writing a novel.” Val decided not to mention any connection between the novel and Suzette’s death until the evidence of a link was stronger. “It’s possible Suzette also kept a journal, which might have damaging information about someone.”
“Possible? Might have? Pure speculation. The open dresser drawer means t
he burglar was after something besides a computer.”
“Suzette kept bank statements, her will, and other records in the bottom drawer. The folder with those papers was still there. At least the burglar didn’t get them.”
The chief buttered his last piece of muffin. “Who knew which room was hers?”
“Her mother was in the room yesterday and Suzette might have told people.” It hit Val that she herself had told someone. She thunked her head. “I mentioned Suzette’s separate entrance and staircase to Nick Hyde, her boss at the inn.” Val topped off the chief’s coffee mug. “I doubt he was our burglar. Yesterday I told him Granddad and I were eating out. If Nick wanted something from Suzette’s room, he’d have broken in earlier when the house was empty.”
Val spotted a group of women seating themselves at the corner table. The foursome always came to the café after their yoga class. She excused herself to wait on them.
She returned to the counter to make smoothies for them. The chief had just finished his coffee. “Have you heard from the medical examiner yet, Chief?”
“The autopsy is still pending. I don’t expect the medical details to tell us whether the hit-and-run was deliberate, if that’s what you’re really asking. The accident scene investigators might have something to say about that. I’m waiting for their report.” He stood up. “You’ve pulled at loose threads before and managed to unravel some knotty schemes. This time I suspect you’ll end up with a bunch of broken threads.”
He didn’t know half the threads she’d pulled. “I still want to tug every last one. Unless there’s proof Suzette died by accident, I’ll keep wondering if I might have prevented what happened by reaching out to her sooner. Maybe she would have told me who or what was bothering her.”
Crypt Suzette Page 11