Break-ins and Bloodshed

by Danielle Collins

  “Sorry, thought I’d follow you to make it easier, but—” He shrugged. “—you were too fast. Thank you,” he gasped, gulping from the water. “I don’t know what came over me.”

  “Perhaps you had something go down the wrong way.” It didn’t make a lot of sense since he hadn’t been eating anything, but she’d gotten a tickle that had caused her to cough more furiously than she’d thought possible, so she knew it could happen.

  “That must be it.” He finished the bottle of water. “Thanks. I do feel better if you think that dad and I aren’t in any trouble.”

  “No, I don’t think so.” She patted him gently on the back in a hopefully reassuring gesture.

  “Will you see that private investigator again?”

  “Yes, Ralph and I will catch up. Don’t you worry.”

  “Right.” He looked sheepish. “I just… I hope you guys find whoever is doing this. We want our stuff back, you know?’

  “Did you have things stolen too?” she asked, concern lacing her voice.

  “I mean, kind of. In a way, you know? It was my dad’s stuff, but still—that hits close to home since I live just down the hall basically.”

  “Right, yes, of course.”

  He made to leave and she called out to him. “Preston, my hired help here—Olivia—I think you know her boyfriend. Nelson Stern.”

  “Oh yeah, Nel, he’s a good guy. We hang out sometimes.”

  “I bet you do,” she said with a smile. “I got to visit his lair—is that what you call it?—the other day, and he had five computer screens. Can you believe it?”

  Preston smiled at her as if she were overly innocent. “Yeah, well, I have seven.”

  “Seven!? My goodness. You only have two eyes.” They both laughed.

  “True, but sometimes you have so much going on you need to see it all at once.”

  “Yes, I’m sure you do.” She offered him a kind smile. “Have a good day, Preston.”

  “You too, Miss Hewett.”

  She watched him go and considered his visit. It was odd that he was so concerned with there being another burglary. Was there another reason for him to be so worried?

  “Night of Reading? Who comes up with this stuff?” Ralph’s barked question drew stares from several townspeople as they waited for their drinks.

  “Oh, hush, Ralph,” Henrietta said, shooting him a disapproving look. “It’s a brilliant idea that brings the community—especially the literary community—together over a mutual love of the written word.”

  “Then why don’t you all sit around reading silently.”

  She rolled her eyes in full view of him. “Because that’s not what this is about.”

  “Clearly,” he said, indicating the man at the microphone on the other side of the room.

  Behind him, a rail-thin man stood hunched over a thick, unbound manuscript, reading into the microphone in a monotone voice. “That’s not reading, that’s torture.”

  Henrietta stifled a giggle and playfully swatted Ralph’s arm. “Oh you, stop it. That’s Hemingway.”

  “No, that’s bad writing.”

  “That’s his name. Or, at least the name he goes by.” Henrietta frowned, trying to remember if he was actually named that or if he’d picked an exceptionally confusing pen name.

  “Either way, if it wasn’t for you, I’d be out of here faster than you could say espresso.”

  “Yes, yes. Now calm down. I appreciate you coming tonight.”

  “Please tell me you’re not reading from that one book.”

  She scowled, letting him see her displeasure. “I am reading from ‘that one book,’ and you’ll not frown up at me while I’m reading, or you’ll distract me.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” he said, grinning as he reached up to get his peppermint mocha.

  “But really, Henri,” he said, following her to her seat on the far side of the shop. “Why don’t you try your hand at something less…literary.”

  “You know I want to be a writer.”

  “I know, but no one said you had to be Steinbeck. Why not be Agatha Christie or something?”

  Henrietta opened her mouth to respond but nothing came out. She hadn’t considered mysteries. Then again, she wasn’t interested in being a mystery writer. She was concerned about being a real author. One that wrote about great literary things. Then again, Agatha Christie’s name would go on for as long as books were around. Not to mention Arthur Conon Doyle and—

  “Uh, Henri?”

  “What?” She snapped out of her thoughts to Ralph staring intently at her.

  “They called your name.”

  “Oh my, yes!” She snatched up her pages and sidestepped her way to the front.

  She stepped behind the microphone and, as she let her nerves calm down, thought once again about mysteries. Like the mystery of why the burglars had gone to the trouble of being so sloppy before their first break-ins to how they had come in with such confidence the second time. Then again, they’d had to have the code to get in the first time—didn’t they?

  Her mind formed the map she’d marked each house on. It created something like a semi-circle or swirl all around the central location of Everett’s home. There was no doubt that they had been working their way outward, but—

  She almost said aha out loud as her mind closed in on that one, very important detail Scott had said.

  “Ralph,” she said. Only then did she remember she was standing on the stage at Espresso Yourself in front of a crowded room full of people.

  Her eyes focused, seeing Ralph trying to contain his laughter behind a hand, to the rest of the crowd that were attempting to understand why she was saying a name instead of reading.

  “Um,” she rushed to explain, “tonight’s reading is dedicated to my dear friend Ralph.”

  She saw him sober up at her heartfelt words, despite the fact they had come to divert attention from her slipup. Then, as she relaxed her shoulders back and allowed her mind to refocus on the words on the page, she slipped into the easy rhythm of her great literary novel.

  “What did you think?” she said brightly when it was over. She’d rejoined Ralph at the small table where Scott and Olivia had slipped in a few minutes into her reading.

  “It was…um…” Ralph rubbed at his jaw.

  “You read with such passion,” Olivia said, her smile looking slightly forced.

  “Yeah. You sure can…read.”

  Henrietta tossed up her hands, shaking her head. She looked at Ralph. “Would you like to comment on the fact that I can pronounce words? Or perhaps that I can stand and talk at the same time?” Her sarcasm wasn’t lost on anyone and each tried to keep their laughter in.

  “Henri,” Ralph said, his expression sobering as he reached out and placed his hand over hers. “You did great. I just think you need to try your hand at mysteries.”

  Henrietta wasn’t too proud to hear her friend’s advice, but she also believed strongly in never giving up on one’s dreams. Perhaps her dream just needed more editing.

  Then she remembered the revelation she’d had before she started. “Oh!”

  “You agree?” he said, looking hopeful.

  “No,” she said, flashing him a disapproving look before moving on. “I had an idea up there before I started.”

  “I’d wondered where you went to,” he said with a chuckle.

  “I was trying to calm down, but then I was thinking about mysteries and the case.”

  “Naturally,” he agreed.

  “Anyway, I had an idea that I think explains a lot.”

  “What’s that?”

  “I think,” she said, lowering her voice and leaning in, “that whoever broke in the first time to plant the cameras had access—or hacked into—the camera feeds for each house. How else can you explain the mystery of them getting in the first time to plant the cameras?”

  “But why would you break in twice?” Scott asked.

  “It does seem risky,” Olivia added.

&nbs
p; “Yes,” Henrietta agreed. “But without great risk, there is not great reward.”

  “You’re saying that they were willing to break in twice so that the second time they could gain access to things like safes, not just whatever art or valuables were out.”

  “Exactly. I mean, you saw where that camera was located.” She envisioned it in her mind. “It was in the ideal situation to capture the code.”

  “So you think they waited to sneak in until they got the codes they needed from the camera footage.”

  “Exactly.”

  “Makes things a lot less sketchy. Though you’d still have to have surveillance on each house.”

  “True, but perhaps they were hacked in other ways.”

  “How so?” Scott, the resident computer expert, asked.

  “What if something as simple as their calendars were hacked into? Or perhaps it has something to do with Canada,” she mused.

  “Canada?” Olivia asked.

  “Many of those who had their homes broken into were off to Canada during the time that their homes were broken into.”

  “I’ll look into that angle,” Ralph said.

  “And I’ll check into the potential hacking of the cameras and things like that. There are trails left behind. I’ve got a friend on the force who could help me. Or at least who I could feed some ideas to.”

  “That’s a good idea,” Ralph said, nodding slowly. “Let’s explore this angle before we do anything else.”

  Henrietta smiled and leaned back in her chair. Perhaps she would consider the idea of a mystery after this whole thing was done. It wouldn’t hurt to just think about the plot for one.

  Ralph leaned over. “Do we have to stay for this?”

  Without missing a beat, Henrietta merely smiled. “You know we do.”

  9

  “Please, Ralph, you’ve got to come.”

  He looked up from the papers he was studying, his Cheaters perched on his nose, making him look like an old woman.

  “I don’t have to do anything of the like. He’s your client.” He licked his finger and turned the page.

  “Oh, so you want me to go out to Everett’s home alone to talk with him. Alone.”

  Ralph moved to turn the next page and hesitated. “Alone, huh?”

  “Yes. I don’t think he’s invited anyone else to look at his antiques.”

  “I suppose I could spare a few minutes.”

  Henrietta smiled her smile of victory and reached for her jacket on the back of the chair next to her. “Good. Let’s go.”

  “Yeah, yeah.” He stood, making a show of stretching and getting ready to be dragged along to Everett’s house, but she knew he didn’t want her alone with Everett as much as she didn’t want to be alone with him.

  Since she had started the project with him, she’d fielded calls from him more often than she liked and had found that he wanted to get together at every turn. She’d tried, and failed, to remind him that she had a business to run and an investigation she was playing a part in, but he always managed to make an excuse to bring her out to the house.

  She’d narrowly avoided a dinner date with him the last time, using her extra pile of work at the shop as her excuse not to stay, but she’d almost said yes. She knew if she did, it would only grow harder and harder to tell him no. She was loath to find herself in the same situation she had years before, enjoying his favorable qualities and yet fighting against his controlling tendencies.

  Henrietta thought of herself as a strong-willed woman who knew her own mind, and yet something about this man was like kryptonite to her Superman strength. She caved every time, so she would do anything she could—including bringing Ralph with her—so that would not happen.

  “So, what’s up with you two?” Ralph asked the moment they were in his truck. She had walked over to his shop, knowing that she would be even more likely to leave quickly if she knew Ralph had driven and was waiting for her.

  “What do you mean—up with?”

  “You’ve been over there quite a bit, haven’t you?

  “I’m working on cataloguing antiques from his aunt. That’s all.”

  “Sure. And you need a bodyguard to ‘catalogue antiques’.”

  “You’re far from a bodyguard,” she said, raising her nose in the air.

  “You like him?”

  There was something in Ralph’s tone that drew her attention to him. He sat with his hands on the wheel, staring straight ahead, but there was tension in his shoulders and on his face.

  “You know that we used to see one another.”

  “That’s not what I asked.”

  Henrietta’s stomach twisted in knots. Maybe she should have gone by herself. She recalled her friendship with Marjory, his late wife. They had been best friends for so long, and she had spent so much time with the two of them as a couple.

  When her friend passed over three years ago, she had seen how devastated Ralph was. She’d been there as a friend, and they had walked through so much together.

  But then, a little less than a year ago, Ralph’s attention had changed somewhat. He’d never said or done anything to cross a line between them, but she’d thought a few times that he’d considered it.

  While she wasn’t sure how she felt about that, she did know that this was a tenuous road to walk with him right now. Besides the fact they were in the middle of a case, she didn’t have the mental energy to go there with him right now.

  “I once liked him,” she finally said. “I don’t see the same things in him that I once did.”

  “Which was?”

  “Ralph.”

  “Humor me.”

  She shot him a sidelong glance, but he hadn’t moved, his eyes glued to the road.

  “I once thought him handsome and charming.” Ralph grunted, but she ignored it. “And he still is those things…” Another grunt. “But I see other things too. Less desirable things.”

  “Like?”

  “You are insatiable.”

  “I’m a detective. I’m curious.”

  “Former detective,” she said by way of teasing. “I see how he manipulates people—including how he manipulated me, in the past. I don’t want that, but I also know that I am still attracted to him.” This time, she felt Ralph’s gaze on her.

  “So you needed me to come along. To keep you grounded.” His tone was soft and she snuck a glance at him. Eyes still on the road, but there was a half-smile there.

  “Something like that.”

  “Then I’m honored you asked me.” He pulled up into the circular driveway, Everett’s large house looming above them.

  They stepped out of the car, and Henrietta steeled herself. It was ridiculous, she was a grown woman, but still she needed every bit of fortification there was. Then, Ralph stepped up beside her and his hand went to rest at the small of her back.

  “Don’t worry,” he said, as if reading her mind, “I’m with ya all the way, Henri.”

  Had it been any other moment with him, she might have cracked a joke or said something sarcastic, but she knew he was there to support her, not to chastise her for her foolish attraction. He wasn’t taking her faults and exploiting them, and that was just another reason why Ralph was one of the best men she knew.

  With a small nod, they went up the steps and she rang the bell.

  “Etta, it’s so good to— Oh, hello, Ralph.”

  “Hey there,” Ralph said with an overly bright grin. “What do you say we get this show on the road. I’ve got to steal Henri back as soon as possible for this case. It’s a big one, you know.”

  “Right. Very large. Um, come in. Both of you.”

  Everett showed them to the garage where most of the antiques had been stored, and Henrietta got to work on the few questions that he had. She wanted to say that he could have emailed her about these questions, but he and Ralph had struck up a conversation, and she didn’t mind a little extra face-time with the beautiful pieces.

  When she was done, she came ba
ck to a conversation about the largest fish each man had caught at one point or another. She stood there, listening to largely exaggerated lengths of fish, while her mind wandered to other things.

  Her attention snapped back to the conversation when Ralph said, “I’ll be in Seattle too. It’s looking like next week. They asked me to teach.”

  “What?” Henrietta said, trying to figure out where the conversation had gone to arrive here.

  “Didn’t I tell you?” Ralph said, looking proud. “I was asked to teach a class on starting up a PI business in a smaller town. Said they needed my expertise.” Ralph was nearly glowing.

  “Ah, well, my convention will be a little larger than a few men gabbing about sneaking through other people’s trash.”

  Henrietta’s eyes nearly popped from her head. “Everett!”

  “What?” he said, looking genteelly confused as to what she objected to from his comment.

  Ralph merely blinked back at the man, as if he’d been knocked from his horse in a javelin contest.

  “I think it’s time we leave.” She threaded her hand through Ralph’s arm. “I’ll email you the results of my searches. Good night.”

  “But, Etta—”

  She closed the door behind them before he could say anything else and maneuvered Ralph to the truck. Once they were inside, she turned to look at him. “You didn’t tell me you’d been asked to teach.”

  “I was going to.” He looked down at his hands. “I mean, I suppose it won’t be a huge crowd, but—”

  “Nonsense. Who cares about a crowd. You’ll be speaking to people who actually want to learn what you have to teach them. That is something to be proud of.”

  He turned to look at her, reaching to squeeze her hand for a brief moment. “Thank you, Henri. You’re a good friend.”

  “Well, you’re a good friend too.”

  They held each other’s gaze a little while longer. then Ralph turned to send the truck’s engine roaring to life. “What do you say we grab some ice cream from Bert’s on the way back?”

  “That sounds perfect.”

  Bert’s Ice Cream was the creamiest ice cream Henrietta had ever had, despite the fact she’d done a fair amount of world traveling when she was younger. Now, with cones in hand, they headed back into town by a scenic route. It was one of Henrietta’s favorite drives, though she didn’t get to take it often.