by Mitzi Kelly
Larry said gently, "Millie, it's not my attitude. I'm just telling you what some of the theories are. It's also possible that the same intruder broke into both your and Sam's houses, or that two entirely different people are responsible for each break-in. As a professional, you don't rule out any possibility, regardless of how unpleasant or unlikely the assumption may be."
Millie appeared slightly mollified. Standing straight, she crossed her arms over her chest and peered at Larry. "What does your gut tell you?"
Larry shook his head slowly. "I honestly don't know." When he saw Millie start to puff up again, he quickly added, "But I will tell you that I haven't closed my mind to anything yet, and I promise you that I will thoroughly check out every theory."
Millie regarded him silently for a minute. "All right, that's fair enough," she said, sitting down once again. "We have our work cut out for us, then. Trish, where's that coffee?"
"It's coming right up" Trish grinned. Another catastrophe had been narrowly avoided. Surprisingly, for all his youth, Larry seemed quite able to soothe Millie's ruffled feathers. Trish wondered if he had a troublesome relative in his life that gave him the experience to handle Millie's bizarre personality. Or, maybe it was just the nature of his job. Regardless, she appreciated the patience and respect he showed Millie.
"Okay, let's start with the theory that the same person broke into both houses. What's the connection?" Millie frowned at Edna. "Does anyone have any ideas?"
Edna chewed her bottom lip as she tried to think. "I can't think of any reason you and Sam would both be targets. You don't live right next door to each other. You don't even live on the same side of the street. Of course, you're both widowed now, but there are a lot of single people on our block"
"Trish," Millie said as she accepted her coffee and looked up, "what do you think?"
Trish sighed. Her gut was telling her that Millie was right, but she didn't have a clue as to why. "If someone has guessed we're trying to prove Sam did not kill Susan," she mused, "then they might be trying to scare us. But that still doesn't explain why Sam's house was broken into."
Larry frowned, deep in thought. "Millie, do you have a safe anywhere in this house?"
"Do I have a safe here? No, why do you ask?"
He shrugged his shoulders. "I'm just trying to come up with similarities. Sam's safe was broken into, you know."
Millie's eyes flew open. "That's it!" Before anybody could ask what "it" was, Millie jumped up from her chair and ran into the living room. Trish hurried to follow with Larry and Edna close behind. She wondered if the bug spray had short-circuited Millie's senses, after all.
Millie was standing in front of her antique roll-top desk, quickly opening and shutting the drawers and shuffling haphazardly through the papers and miscellaneous items on top. "Just what I thought," she said smugly as she turned to face them. "My address book is gone!"
Larry cocked an eyebrow. "Your address book is missing? What would anybody want with your address book?"
Millie crossed her arms over her chest and leaned back against the desk. "The combination to Sam's safe was in there."
Edna's hand flew to her mouth. "Oh, my goodness, that's right! Sam gave you the combination in case of an emergency!"
Trish held up her hand. "Slow down a minute and think. Who would know that? I only found out about it the other day when we were .. " Trish's voice trailed off as she remembered when she had learned of it, the day they were snooping in Sam's house. "Millie, think carefully," she said gravely. "Did anybody else, besides Edna, know about that?"
Millie shook her head with a self-satisfied smile. "Nope.
Larry frowned at Millie. "You seem almost happy about this."
"I am. It means we're right about somebody trying to set Sam up"
Trish's thoughts swirled in her head. "It wasn't a ghost," she whispered, a chill racing up her spine.
"What do you mean, dear?" Edna said into the stunned silence.
Trish took a deep breath. "Remember when we were in Sam's house the day after he was arrested? I was too embarrassed to say anything, but I felt a strange, eerie sensation, as if we weren't alone" Trish knew her instincts had been right on target that day, and the reality was chilling. "Well, we weren't alone, but it wasn't Susan's ghost. Whoever is behind this mess, the murder, the theft, the devious plan to convict an innocent man, was also in Sam's house that day. Millie, he ... or she ... heard you tell me about the combination to Sam's safe and where you kept it."
It was a sobering thought, knowing they had all been in extreme danger that day. Trish only hoped that Larry would consider their theory more seriously now and work fast to discover who was behind the crimes, with or without Chief Espinoza's permission. Regardless, the stakes had just been raised in the mysterious circumstances involving Susan Wiley's death. Having been in Sam's house that day, the killer knew that all three of them were convinced that Sam did not kill his wife.
"Assuming you're right," Larry said, "can you remember exactly what you talked about that could have been overheard?"
Trish's memory was hazy. Had they mentioned they were going to start investigating on their own? She didn't think so, but what if she was wrong? If anything suddenly happened to Millie or Edna, or to herself, for that matter, would the police realize the events were connected? Maybe, she thought, since Larry was now aware of the incident at Sam's, but they couldn't count on it. There was still the problem of the evidence pointing to Sam, not an outsider.
"What do you mean assuming we're right? Of course we're right, Larry!" Millie exclaimed. "It all makes perfect sense. What are you going to do about it?"
"I'm going to keep investigating, that's what," he said. "And, I hope you're reconsidering sticking your noses into police business." Larry's tone was kind but there was an underlying firmness behind his words.
"I'd say there's a fat chance of that," Trish muttered. It was more important now than ever that they find out who was involved in the murder. The killer knew where they lived, their association with Sam, and their belief that Sam was innocent. Like it or not, they were up to their eyeballs in the investigation.
She listened while Larry asked Lewis to come take fingerprints off the desk also. "It's a long shot," he said as they walked back into the kitchen and sat down, "but it's worth a try"
"Did you find out anything about Mark Wilson?" Trish asked hopefully. Maybe there was something about Sam's former employee that would lead them in the right direction. A clue, any clue, would certainly be welcome news.
But Larry shook his head. "There's nothing so far, not even a parking ticket, but I'm still waiting for employment records and financial information. I promised I'd let you know if I find anything suspicious, and I will."
"But you do agree with us that Sam didn't kill Susan, don't you?" Millie asked. "I mean, it's obvious now that my address book has been stolen"
Larry smiled patiently. "I don't know if a judge and jury would consider that sufficient proof. I will agree with you, however, that it is an interesting turn of events"
Millie laughed delightedly. "You do believe us!"
"Just let me do my job, Millie." But the grin on Larry's face didn't take anything away from his stern warning.
Lewis walked into the kitchen just then carrying his case. "I'm all finished here. I'm sorry about the mess, but it's a necessary evil. You can just vacuum up the black powder and then wipe it down."
"You mean I have to clean it up?" Millie asked incredulously. "That's not fair!"
"I know, ma'am. That's just another outrage a criminal causes"
"We'll help you, Millie," Edna said hurriedly, anticipating Millie giving a lecture to the officer about his duty to protect and serve. Millie's lips were pressed firmly together in disapproval, but at least she didn't say anything more.
They all three walked with Larry and Lewis to the front door. "I'll keep in touch," Larry said. "In the meantime, get that glass pane repaired." Suddenly, he stopped and faced t
hem. "You all need to keep your eyes open and stay alert. Call us immediately if you see anything suspicious. And ... do not do anything on your own. Do you understand?"
Just then Edna spotted Joe leaving their house and walking toward Millie's. "We understand. Have a good day!" She waved good-bye while she and Millie backed up into the house. Trish understood immediately. It wouldn't do for Joe and Larry to get into a conversation before they had a chance to explain to Joe why they were on such friendly terms with the detective.
Larry raised both eyebrows, and Trish held her breath. Finally, with a small sigh, he turned and followed Lewis to his car. Larry had the engine running when Joe passed them, but, thankfully, Joe just nodded as he walked up the front sidewalk.
"Hello, Joe," Millie said as she opened the door wider. "Come on in and have some coffee. Did you get to talk to Sam?"
Joe planted a quick kiss on Edna's cheek as he followed them into the kitchen. "Yes, I did. And I told him that I have the house key. I came over to tell you that I called a glass company and they should be here within the hour to replace the pane in your door. Were those gentlemen here to take fingerprints?"
Edna nodded and sat at the table. "They sure left a mess, though. What did Sam have to say?"
Joe lowered his long frame into a chair. "Well, for starters, he told me about your visit to him the other morning." He thanked Millie for the coffee and then sat back, obviously waiting for explanations.
"Uh-oh," Millie muttered as she turned away to get the cream and sugar.
My thoughts exactly, Trish mused. She turned her eyes to Edna, wondering if she would want to start the explanation, setting the tone on how best to handle her husband. And, Edna, bless her soul, did just that ... with complete honestly.
Edna proceeded to tell Joe, in a matter-of-fact, calm voice, about their early suspicions, what they had dis covered so far, little as it may be, their discussions with law officials, and ending with Millie's stolen address book. Nobody interrupted her, not even Millie. And, to his credit, Joe sat listening attentively, not one trace of impatience or belittlement ever crossing his face.
Trish watched the exchange with envy. Edna held nothing back, not even the real fear the women had felt while in Sam's house that day. This was a conversation between a husband and wife who truly loved and respected each other, something Trish had never shared with her own husband, or The Rat as she had resorted to calling him ever since the divorce-which explained why she wasn't still married, she thought wryly.
When Edna finished, she took a sip of her coffee and then leaned her elbows on the table. "What do you think, dear?"
Joe crossed his arms over his chest and cocked his head. "I think you may be on to something."
Just then, Millie let out a hoop and a holler that would have made any sports enthusiast jealous. "I knew you'd believe us, Joe! Edna, you've got a good man there. Make sure you hold on to him." Trish hid a grin behind her hand. After forty-five years of marriage and two grown sons, she thought Edna was doing a pretty good job of holding on to her husband.
"What I was also going to say," Joe said with a pointed look at Millie, "is that you may be going about it all wrong."
Millie's face fell as she looked curiously at Joe. "How can you say that, after all we've uncovered?"
"You haven't actually uncovered anything," Joe said patiently. "What you've got so far is only a guess, albeit a reasonable guess," he said with a hand held up to forestall Millie's interruption, "but you don't have any real proof. Why didn't you come to me with any of this? You know I don't believe Sam is guilty, either."
Edna gave her husband a tender smile as she reached across the table to squeeze his hand. "I didn't want to worry you at this early stage, but when it started getting down to the nitty-gritty, I definitely would have included you."
"Well, I think it's getting down to the 'nitty-gritty' now, don't you? If Millie's address book was stolen by the same person that killed Susan Riley, then it's become downright dangerous. We need to turn this information over to the police and let them do their job, and then we need to call Sam's attorney"
"We already have," Millie said stubbornly. "Henry doesn't believe us, but that nice detective, Larry Thompson, might. Anyway, he's agreed to keep an open mind. Personally, I think he believes we're a little wacky."
Joe's eyes sparkled. "Now, why would he think that?"
"Joe, be serious!" Edna said, shaking her head. "We don't have enough evidence to back up our suspicion to go to the attorney, and we're going to need some cold, hard facts before we go to the police again. That's what we're trying to get. And, according to recent events, I'd say we're on the right track"
Joe sat quietly for a moment. "If it's any consolation, Sam is starting to believe you. There was real fire in his eyes when he talked about the possibility that someone is setting him up. It seems that having his safe broken into after what happened to Susan is just too much of a coincidence for him to swallow."
"Good," Trish said fervently. "The last time we saw him he showed almost no emotion. If he's getting an gry, then it's a good sign. Maybe now he'll be able to think of something that can help." Trish certainly hoped so. She had a feeling they didn't have much time.
"I agree," Joe said with a nod. "But, from this point on, ladies, you need to let the police handle it. Look at what happened to Millie! I won't have my wife and close friends putting themselves in harm's way any longer."
An uncomfortable silence filled the air. Millie looked down at her clasped hands, Trish looked down into her coffee cup, and Edna looked at Joe. "We won't be putting ourselves in danger. You're going to help us. And we've got Larry to help, also. We're not going to sit idly by while months pass, waiting for Sam to be able to clear his name. He should be able to grieve for his wife without having this awful charge hanging over his head" Edna voice was deceptively soft, her expression firm.
"I don't want that, either."
"I know that, dear, and that's why you're going to help. I promise you that we will be extremely careful and include you in everything we do. We may not be able to discover anything at all to back up our theory, but we're going to at least try. And anything relevant will be turned over to the police. I give you my word."
Joe looked at his wife for several long seconds and then shook his head, his voice resigned when he spoke. "Okay, we'll give this a try, but only if you keep your promise to involve the authorities when the time comes. And, I want to know everything that's going on. There will be no more meetings with the chief, or the detective, or anybody else unless I know about it. Are we all agreed?"
"Agreed," the ladies replied in unison.
Just then the doorbell rang. Joe went to answer it and returned with the repairman to fix Millie's door. While Joe watched over the glass replacement, the three women set about cleaning up all the black dust left by Lewis' fingerprint work. When they had finished and the repairman had left, Joe brought up the point that it wasn't a good idea for Millie to stay alone in the big house.
"Nonsense," Millie said blithely, "this is my home and nobody is going to chase me out of it! Anyway, the thief won't be back," she said with certainty. "He already got what he came for."
Joe raised his eyebrows. "Remember, your theory that Susan's killer broke in here to get Sam's combination is only that-a theory. What if he was here to steal more, but wasn't able to because you woke up? He could very well be back"
Millie just shrugged nonchalantly. "I have a gun."
Trish groaned as Joe's eyebrows rose further. "What?"
"Actually, it's a rifle, but it isn't loaded. Do you think I'm crazy?"
Trish hoped Joe wouldn't reply. The answer was definitely debatable.
Joe stood with his hands on his hips as he glowered at Millie. "No guns-is that understood? If you want my help ... no guns!"
Millie stared at Joe, a battle of wills, but thankfully he didn't back down. Finally, Millie sighed. "Okaybut I would only use it to scare somebody. I wouldn't
shoot them!"
"No guns."
"I said 'okay'!"
"And I don't want you staying alone right now. Either someone spends the night over here, or you go somewhere else. It's only temporary, Millie, and it doesn't mean you're being chased out of your home. It's called being practical."
Practical wasn't a word Trish would normally associate with Millie, but, nevertheless, sensing no help from her friends, she agreed, even though it was plainly under protest.
It took most of Monday morning for the women to convince Joe that they were more than capable of questioning Mark Wilson on their own. Joe had a pre-scheduled bowling game with some old friends he was only able to see occasionally. There was no point in his canceling just to watch over them when they would be surrounded by people in broad daylight, they argued. Finally, after another stern warning to be careful, Joe left for his appointment.
Not knowing exactly when Mark took his lunch break, they arrived around eleven o'clock and settled back to wait in the parking lot. Trish parked between two nondescript vans on the second row so they were well hidden-not that anybody would be expecting to see them, but, as they were all very aware, they had to be cautious in all their moves from here on out.
Suddenly, Millie shouted, "Duck!"
Without questioning Millie's outburst, Edna slid down in the back seat while Trish dived sideways. "Ouch!" she yelled as her head collided with Millie's. "That hurt!"
"Oh, hush," Millie muttered. "Your head's harder than mine. I should be the one yelling!"
"Why are we ducking?" Edna whispered.
"Mark just came out the front door," Millie whispered back.
Trish struggled to sit up, rubbing the side of her head. "For goodness' sake, Millie! He can't see us from there, and we need to see where he's going."
"Oh, yeah, that's right," Millie said in a hushed voice. "I guess I just got a little panicked."