Break-ins and Bloodshed

by Danielle Collins

  “I’m sure he would.” She looked confused. “Why?”

  “I’m not exactly sure, but I think it could have significant bearing on the case I’m working.”

  “Then yes, I think he’d definitely talk to you.”

  “Would you mind?” she asked, softening her voice.

  “Not at all. You do what you need to and we’ll figure out our mess when we can.” She offered a chagrined smile, and Henrietta grasped her hand lightly.

  “Just remember, dear, that you should trust your gut in all things. Especially with regards to romance.”

  “Is that another one of your mother’s sayings?” Olivia laughed.

  “Oh no.” Henrietta smiled in response. “That is all me, my dear.”

  6

  When her stomach grumbled at two-fourteen in the afternoon, Henrietta knew she couldn’t avoid lunch much longer. Everett had sent over a vague list of the antiques he’d been able to catalogue, and she’d started her initial research. It was merely the first stage in the long process of organizing everything, dating the pieces, assessing their condition, and eventually pricing them to sell.

  To her, it was one of the most exciting parts. That, aside from actually getting up close and personal with the pieces to assess their condition, gave her the most joy when it came to her appraisal services.

  Another loud rumble echoed in the work room of the antique shop. “All right, I’m going, I’m going,” she replied to her unruly stomach.

  “What was that?” Olivia said, popping her head into the room.

  “Just replying to my overly loud stomach. It’s demanding lunch.”

  “It’s a little past lunch, wouldn’t you say?”

  Henrietta sighed and closed her laptop. “Not at The Deli, it’s not.” She added a wink and snatched her purse from the counter. “I’ll be back. Want anything?”

  “I ate lunch like a normal person,” Olivia quipped.

  Henrietta smiled and walked out into the bright afternoon sunshine. Thankfully, The Deli, aptly named, was only a few blocks away. She could stand to stretch her legs and picked up her usual brisk pace. She’d gotten a lot done, more than she’d expected when she started on the list, and it felt good to accomplish something.

  Unfortunately, she couldn’t say the same for the case. While Ralph was out investigating, she’d been stuck at the shop. It had mostly been her choice, but Ralph had assured her he was doing what he did best—talking and touching. She’d laughed at that, but knew it to be true. He was a tactile, personal investigator, where she was more of an observer. It was comforting to know their strengths only helped one another, but she worried that they should have had a break in the case by now.

  The Deli appeared before her at the end of the block and her stomach growled in reply. She rolled her eyes at herself and picked up her pace a little more. She also comforted herself with the thought that she would at least be doing some investigating tonight. Olivia had gotten a call from Nelson and managed to fit in Henrietta’s request about speaking to him about his friend, Preston.

  It seemed that all Nelson needed was an avenue for conversation about gaming for him to come alive. Olivia had stood there, eyes wide, as Nelson talked her ear off for a good ten minutes before she could manage to explain that she didn’t need the information, Henrietta did.

  Either way, Henrietta was comforted by the fact that he was willing to speak with her and that maybe—just maybe—she’d gain a few more answers to the rash of break-ins.

  The Deli was quiet with only a few customers eating a late lunch at some of the small, round tables. The old-style deli boasted multiple chalkboards hosting their menus, but Henrietta didn’t need that. She’d been ordering the same sandwich for the last ten years or more. When Ralph accused her of being stuck in a rut, she merely said that she was predictable—though only in some things.

  “Hey there, Miss Hewitt, the usual?”

  “You bet, Sam. Thank you.”

  He set to work making her chicken salad on a homemade croissant as she took in the wall of chips. She may stick with the same sandwich, but she was never predictable about her chips. They were always chosen on a whim.

  Sam called her order number and she paid, her selection of Spicy Cheetos in hand, and she chose a seat in the corner next to the front window. The sun warmed the area, but she didn’t mind it after sitting in the chilly backroom for most of the day.

  The first bite of the sandwich was heavenly, as it always was, and she popped a Cheeto into her mouth, satisfied with the crunch afterward, and took a sip from the bottled water just as the bells on the front door chimed.

  Her gaze flitted to the door, unable to help her curiosity. A tall man with dark sunglasses, and even darker hair, strutted inside. He wore a black leather jacket and dark wash jeans and looked like he hadn’t missed a day at the gym for most of his adult life.

  The air of confidence he exuded only enhanced his strut, and she couldn’t help but watch him approach the counter. His voice had a low, rumbling quality to it that didn’t carry clearly through the room, but Sam responded quickly, hopping in to make the man’s sandwich immediately.

  As she watched, he leaned up against the counter, hip propped there, and crossed his arms. It was only then that she noticed the odd patch on the shoulder of his jacket. It was vibrantly colored, and she wished she were closer so she could read the writing that stretched across the top in white stitching. Alas, her eyesight wasn’t what it used to be.

  Just then, her phone went off and she caught the man’s bold gaze as she reacted, attempting to answer the thing before the person hung up.

  “H-hello?” she said, slightly unnerved by the man who was still staring back at her. Rather than shy away, she met his gaze with a bold one of her own, and he turned his attention back to Sam, who approached with a wrapped sandwich to go.

  “Hello, is this, uh, Henrietta Hewitt?”

  “Yes, this is she.”

  “I got a message on the phone here that says you wanna come look at my house? Something about the burglary?”

  “I’m sorry.” Her eyes darted to the man in the jacket as he left the shop with little more than a cursory glance her way. “Who is this?”

  “Oh, yeah, guess that’d be helpful, eh? This here is Dan Sanderson. I’m up here at The Cliffs.”

  “Yes, I’m sorry, hello, Mr. Sanderson. I’d love to come and take a look if you wouldn’t mind.” She remembered the messages she’d left at the two houses she and Ralph had yet to visit. She had hoped someone would get back to her, but Ralph hadn’t been hopeful since they had been hired by The Cliffs Housing Association.

  “Sure, sure, got some time this evening if that works for ya?”

  She couldn’t exactly put her finger on why, but Mr. Sanderson seemed like a lively fellow and she had a feeling she was going to enjoy this home visit.

  “This evening sounds wonderful—” She cut off her response, thinking of her meeting with Nelson.

  “You sure there?” he said, chuckling.

  “Yes. I just remembered I have another meeting tonight as well.”

  “Busy lady,” Mr. Sanderson mused. “Come by after then if that works. I’ll be home all evening.”

  “Sounds great. Thanks so much.”

  He hung up, and she slipped her phone back into her purse. Maybe things were looking up for this case after all.

  “Maybe I should just apologize now,” Olivia said as they stood at the top of the stairs that led down to Nelson’s portion of his mother’s basement.

  “It’ll be fine, Olivia,” she reassured the young woman.

  “I just hope he doesn’t steamroll you with too much information. You mention video games and there’s some sort of switch you can’t turn off.”

  “I’ll guide the conversation, not to fear.”

  She followed the young woman down the stairs into a surprisingly spacious area. To one side sat two desks, one with three computers on it and another with two. The two com
puters had stickers of all kinds plastered all over the back as well as some on his water bottle and some on the metal post that acted as a support for the basement. It was an odd assortment of styles and colors and, despite the childish look it gave the area, Henrietta could see some of Nelson’s personality in the decor.

  Nelson sat in the middle in an expensive-looking rolling chair. Plastic matting had been placed on top of the carpet between the desks, no doubt to give him easy access to roll back and forth between the computers.

  “The two computers are his,” Olivia explained, “and the three are for his work.”

  Henrietta’s eyebrows rose. She’d thought having both a desktop and a laptop was a big deal.

  “Nelson,” she said.

  There was no response, and Olivia shot Henrietta an apologetic look. “Nelson.” She said it more loudly this time and both women walked toward his desks. As they approached, Henrietta saw headphones clapped over his ears. So that explained his lack of attention.

  Olivia was waving now and Nelson jolted back, yanking the headphones off.

  Laughing, he turned to Henrietta. “Hiya. Sorry—in the zone. You know?”

  She didn’t know but nodded anyway.

  “Olivia here says you want to talk about video games.” His eyes sparkled in the low light.

  “Sort of.”

  His gaze flickered to Olivia then back to hers. “So?”

  “Nelson,” Olivia said under her breath, but Henrietta lightly touched her arm to assure her that his rude comment hadn’t affected her.

  “So,” she said, propping her hip against the desk, “tell me about Preston Alastair.”

  “Pres? What’s to tell?”

  “I’m interested in his business. Is he doing well? How does it work? Things like that.”

  “Okay…” He drew the word out, looking between Henrietta and Olivia. “I mean, I’d assume he’s doing really well. He spends money like it’s growing on trees and he’s always bragging about how good things are going for him.”

  “And what exactly does he do?” She was still trying to grasp the entirety of his online business.

  Nelson jumped into a technical explanation of how the online gaming community worked, and Henrietta did her best to keep up. It soon became clear that it was a little out of her purview, but she understood the gist of it.

  “You think it’s lucrative then?” she asked in summation.

  “It must be if he’s doing so well, right?”

  That answer surprised her. With all of Nelson’s understanding of his friend’s business, she’d have expected him to know for certain the veracity of his friend’s statements.

  “How did you two meet, exactly?”

  “That’s an easy question,” he said with a laugh. “Online.”

  “Just…online?”

  “I mean, sure. We were both playing a game that allows you to interact with others who are playing either with you or against you. Just so happens we were on opposing teams and had a bit of a disagreement in battle.” He spoke as if it were the glory days of the war, and Henrietta had to keep a giggle from escaping. “We started trash talking in the chat—”

  “The what?”

  “The chat—like, an online area where you can talk with others who are playing the team. Anyway, we were going back and forth and he used some phrase, can’t remember it now, that seemed almost location specific. Don’t really know how we got around to it, but we ended up finding out that we’d grown up in the same area, just a few years apart. I left high school a few years before him.”

  “That seems very coincidental.”

  “Not really,” Nelson said, propping his hands behind his head. “I mean, people all over the world play one another in these games. Plus, come to think of it, I had a buddy who got me into this specific game, and it’s really popular in this area.”

  “I see. So, you struck up a friendship that way?”

  “Basically. I’d say we’re pretty close. I’ve met the best things in my life online.” He chuckled and reached for Olivia’s hand. Henrietta noticed how she gave it reluctantly.

  “Best things? You must be very close with him then.”

  “In a way. We mostly catch up online or play together at different people’s houses. It’s a big thing.”

  “Sounds like it.”

  “Look, sorry to cut this short, but I’ve got plans to game in about fifteen minutes and I really need to grab some food before then.”

  “I thought we were going to a movie tonight?” Olivia asked. Henrietta’s heart broke at the sadness in her employee’s voice.

  “Tonight? Nah, I wouldn’t have agreed to that.” He stretched as he stood. “I’ve almost consistently got this time set aside.”

  “You told me on the phone today that you were free tonight. Remember? I canceled my plans with Carrie tonight so that we could go.”

  “Sorry.” He shrugged and reached for the oversized sweatshirt hanging on the back of his chair. “We can go tomorrow night or something.”

  Henrietta saw the lines of frustration on Olivia’s face and felt bad for the woman. She felt her phone buzz in her pocket and pulled it out. The message was from Ralph canceling coming with her due to something else coming up that needed his attention. At the text, an idea sparked.

  “Olivia,” she interrupted, offering a smile to soften the intrusion. “If you’re free, you could come with me. I’ve got an errand to run. We could get coffee on the way.”

  “See? You’ve already got plans again.” Nelson laughed as if it were his doing, and Olivia spun away from him to face Henrietta.

  “I’d love to. Let’s go.” Then, without a word to Nelson, she tromped up the steps with Henrietta on her heels. Nelson didn’t so much as say good-bye. Henrietta almost turned around and told him to go after his girlfriend, but something held her back. It wasn’t so much that she wanted to repair the relationship as she didn’t want Olivia to bear the brunt of his foolishness. But if his actions led her to make a decision about their relationship, then perhaps that was better for all involved.

  “Ready?” Olivia asked Henrietta once she reached the top of the stairs. Her tone was too bright, but Henrietta didn’t mention that.

  “Absolutely.”

  Dan Sanderson was a hunched older man with gray hair and a ready smile. He met them at the door of his expansive house, welcoming them in with an outstretched arm. Against what she would have expected, the interior of his home was as lavish as it was stylish.

  Sleek modern lines formed a directed hallway toward the massive kitchen at the back. Off to the right sat a well-appointed sitting room with sparse but styled bookshelves and to the left, a den enclosed by glass-paned double-doors with filled bookshelves in a more-used style.

  “You have a lovely home,” Olivia said, eyes wide as she spun in a slow circle in the kitchen.

  “Thanks. Glad you like it. In my other life, I was an interior designer.”

  Both women turned to him with shock written on their faces, but Henrietta recovered more quickly than Olivia. “How…fantastic.”

  “Go on now,” he said with a laugh. “I know I don’t have the look of a designer, but I hide it well. What you see here is a little bit commercial and a little bit me.”

  “Let me guess, the den is you, the living room is commercial?” Henrietta asked with a smile.

  “You’ve got it. Can I offer you ladies anything to drink?”

  They declined, their empty coffee cups still sitting in Henrietta’s Mini Cooper.

  “Then what can I do for you?” he asked, showing them to a comfortable breakfast nook overlooking the water.

  “I’m working with Ralph Gershwin on the break-ins. Not exactly in a professional capacity, more a consultant if you will. We’ve been able to look in several of the homes, and I was hoping that we could take a look around yours.”

  “And who are you, young lady?” he asked of Olivia.

  She blushed and seemed to sink into the cushions
of the bench seat. “I work for Henrietta. I have a history degree.” She blurted out the facts and then blushed.

  “Sad to say I don’t have many antiques. I deal more in modern art.”

  “Was that what was taken?”

  “Mostly. Would you like to see the areas they were taken from?”

  “Yes, but one more question.”

  “Shoot.”

  Henrietta attempted to pose the question in a delicate way. “Did you notice anything odd leading up to the break-in?”

  “Do you mean, did I notice anything suspicious?” He put air quotes around the word ‘suspicious.’

  “In a way, yes.”

  “Then no. Well, hold on now.” He rubbed his chin. “My gardener did say he came to the back yard one day a few weeks before the robbery and noticed that the back door was ajar. I mean, I could have left it open, but that’s not something I’m in the habit of doing.”

  There it was. The pattern Henrietta was looking for. She nodded. “That does seems strange. Well, we’d love to see the areas if you’ll show us.”

  “Of course, this way.”

  They followed as he walked back down the hall to the glass door in front of the den. He opened both doors and stepped inside. Henrietta and Olivia followed, and Henrietta eyes roved the floor-to-ceiling bookshelves. “Incredible,” she said with a smile.

  “Glad you like it,” he said, his thumbs hooked into his belt loops as he strutted around the room like it was his prized possession. It might just be. “There and there—” He pointed to empty spots on the walls. “—were some very expensive pieces of art. And the safe behind my desk was also burgled.”

  “I’m assuming it’s not a biometric safe?” she asked.

  His eyebrows rose. “No, it wasn’t.”

  “I see.”

  Henrietta began to circle around the room, looking in every nook and cranny without touching things. Dan continued talking, mostly explaining books and other, less valuable, pieces of art to Olivia, but Henrietta tuned them out.

  She took in the area where the safe was. The pieces of art wouldn’t be difficult to take at all. They had just been hanging on the wall. But the safe, now that was something that would require expert skills—she assumed—or prior knowledge of the code.