Break-ins and Bloodshed Page 6
In fact… If the burglar had knowledge of the home, the codes, the safe codes, it would make a robbery nearly seamless. But why come in twice?
As she mulled this over, she moved to the fireplace directly across from the safe. A large vase with tall, fake flowers seemed a few inches too close to the gilt mirror that hung above the mantle. She reached up to move it back, clearly seeing a dust mark where the vase had been moved. Then her hand stilled and her eyes went wide.
“Um, Olivia? Dan?” She knew she was interrupting, but this was big.
“What is it?” Olivia asked, coming toward her.
“Call the police.” Henrietta licked dry lips. “I think I know how the burglars got into the safe.”
7
“You just had to go and look into things on your own, did you?” Ralph’s good-natured scolding was accompanied with a grin.
“You’re the one who bailed on me. Besides, I wasn’t alone. Olivia was with me. Don’t be grouchy that I found something you didn’t.”
He tried to look grouchy, but his grin ruined the affect. “Honestly, I’m glad you’ve made some headway. The tip I got turned out to be nothing, and then I get your message about what you found. I guess if one thing had to go right tonight, I’m glad it was this.”
Since Henrietta had been the one to make the discovery, they had been allowed to stay and see, if anything, the information they could gain from what she’d discovered.
“So, tell me again how you think this played out?” Ralph asked.
They stood in the corner of the den while technicians went over everything for a second time in less than two weeks. Olivia had already gone home, so it was just them waiting for the detective to speak with them before they left.
“Well,” Henrietta began. “I knew the paintings wouldn’t be hard to steal. I mean, they were hanging on the wall there. But what I didn’t know was how the safe could be opened. I mean, it’s not like it was obviously broken into, and the only logical explication was that the robber had the code.”
“Right. We’d talked about that being the case. Though in each situation, there was no one—or almost no one—that had the code and access and motive.”
“Exactly. It got me thinking about the prior break-ins. Nearly every house had something that wasn’t explained that had happened.” Every house but Everett’s, she thought. “So as I was going around this room and taking in vantage points of the safe, I noticed that that vase on the mantle was moved. The dust imprint was obvious.”
“Right,” Ralph said dryly. She assumed he didn’t do much dusting.
“I went to move it back and noticed that there was something glinting at me.”
“Glinting?”
“You know…” She waved her hand around looking for the right word. “Reflecting back at me, I suppose?”
“Got it.”
“I took a closer look and, wouldn’t you know it, there was a camera.”
“Can’t believe the police missed it.”
“I would have if I hadn’t purposefully looked there and happened to catch the light. It was very well hidden.” She thanked her lucky stars they had come tonight. “I think that the prior break-ins were to place the cameras.”
“So the thieves could gain access to the safes?”
“Yes. I think if we check each house, we’ll find something.”
“It’s a brilliant plan. Though I find it odd that they weren’t more cautious about locking up after themselves.”
“True. It is odd. My thought on that is perhaps there was another party involved in planting the cameras as there was the person who ended up robbing the houses.”
“You think it’s more than one person?”
“I think it has to be.” She scrunched up her nose. “Though another troubling aspect is how many other houses have cameras we don’t know about.”
“Ralph,” the detective called out, waving him over.
“Be right back.”
She nodded and watched him go. She was glad they finally had some solid evidence as to how these robberies were committed but, without anything else, it seemed it could be a dead-end. She’d overheard some of the lab technicians say that they were shocked at the lack of physical evidence. That meant there were no prints or fibers or hairs for them to test. Nothing to link a person to the location.
That only seemed to strengthen her theory that there were at least two different criminals involved. Maybe more. The person who planted the camera seemed both precise and forgetful if they’d left no evidence but left the door unlocked.
Then another thought occurred to her. They could have been there at the same time. One person in charge of the door, one in charge of placing the camera and all the inside work. That would account for—
“Henri?” Ralph said. He stood before her and she blinked, realizing she’d been completely lost in thought.
“Yes?”
“Let’s head out.”
“But—”
“I’ll tell you more in the truck.”
They got outside and she motioned toward her car. “I drove.”
“Oh, right. Well, then I’ll tell you now.”
“What? What is it?”
“As of yet, it’s nothing,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck, “but Scott might be able to shed some light on what it is.”
“What are you talking about?”
He chuckled. “The cameras. Lyle—er, Detective Ostello—happened to mention their make and model.”
Henrietta’s eyes grew round. “Really?”
“Let’s not mention it.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it,” she said, her lips curving into a smile.
“Good. Now, I’ll see you tomorrow at the office? We’ll talk with Scott then.”
“Sounds good. Get some sleep, Ralph.”
He offered her a halfhearted salute and made his way toward his truck. She turned back to her car. The reality that they may have a lead was encouraging, but it remained to be seen if it would lead them anywhere.
She was just about to climb into her car when someone said, “Henrietta?”
She nearly jumped out of her skin, hand clutching at her chest as she spun around to face…
“Preston? What are you doing here?”
“I was out for a run. What’s all the commotion?”
A run? He was dressed in jeans and a hoodie, much like the time before that she’d seen him.
“The police. They… There was some new information on the robbery cases.”
“Oh, that’s good.” He looked from her back to the house. “Wanna give me an inside scoop?” He grinned, his teeth glowing white in the dim light. “People online would eat that up.”
“Afraid I can’t,” she said.
“Right. Of course not.” He laughed. “Well, better get back. Nice to see you again.”
“Yes. Good night.”
She watched as he jogged off and turned down the next street. A feeling of unease rested on her shoulders. Everett’s house was a least a half a mile away, and the boy had not been dressed for exercise.
The next moment, she heard the sound of a car turning on. Had Preston lied? And if so, why?
“Tell me something good,” Henrietta said.
“Sounds like a line from a movie,” Scott said without looking up from his computer screen. “Come on over.”
Henrietta took in the disheveled office, used coffee cups and mugs, dishes piled in the small kitchenette sink, and an assortment of outer garments piled over a chair.
“Doesn’t anyone clean up around this place?”
“And get away from the ‘we’re too busy to care about being neat’ look? Not on your life.” This time, he did look up and offered her a cocky wink.
“Oh, that’s what you’re going for. Got it.” She grinned and leaned over his shoulder to look at the screen he was on. “Is this supposed to mean something to me?”
The page was filled with small images lining the left side with the
names, make, and model of the items stretched out to the left along with other things listed next to it.
“Not yet.” Scott’s fingers flew across the keyboard. “But I’m almost there.”
Henrietta took a step back and surveyed the small office space one more time. It was a glass-fronted corner spot that afforded them a view from Main Street as well as a side street that was often frequented by townspeople on their way to the more residential section of Heart’s Grove. From a purely business standpoint, it was a great location, but it also offered them easy access to different parts of town. The professional lettering they’d had a man in town do looked fantastic and added to the allure of a private investigation agency, even if it was only run by father and son.
“So close,” Scott muttered to himself.
Henrietta was tempted to go lean over his shoulder again but knew she still wouldn’t be able to understand his process.
“Ha!” His exclamation startled her, diverting her movement from the front window back to his desk.
“What is it?”
“Got it!”
She perched on the edge of the chair next to his desk, waiting for him to elaborate further. He was a lot like his father, wanting to have all the facts and information settled before he shared something. He also had some of his mother in him though, a woman who had been one of Henrietta’s dearest friends. Like his mother, he allowed himself to be pulled fully into whatever he was working on.
“Scott?” Henrietta pressed gently.
“Wha— Oh, Henrietta, I’m sorry. I almost forgot you were there.”
She’d suspected that much. “It’s all right. What did you find?”
“Okay, so this is interesting.”
“Do explain.”
“The model that you found is a rare one. It’s the XR-492. Most stores carry the XR-490 and even the 491, but the 492 is a more specialized model, you see.”
She didn’t exactly understand all of the numbers but nodded for him to go on.
“I had to match the serial number on the camera you found with the actual model number.”
“Didn’t I get you the model number?”
“Yes and no,” he said, rubbing out a kink in his neck that he’d likely gotten from bending over the computer for too long. “It was a model number, but not the actual one I needed that the stores go by. Don’t get me started on how complicated it all is.”
“I see.” She was fine with getting the end result instead of the steps to get there.
“Anyway, I finally matched it, so now I can start searching out the stores in and around town that might sell this model. With any luck, we’ll find a store that would have this specialized camera. It’s often used in surveillance and home safety. There’s got to be a place nearby that will have them. And if so, perhaps they’ll have a record of the purchase and even store video.”
“That would be excellent.”
“I know. It’s good that it’s so specific, because it would be a lot harder to track down if it was one of these models.” He indicated cameras on the screen, all looking similar but different enough that they required a different model number and series.
“So you’ll get to this…”
“Soon,” he said, grinning up at her.
“Oh, good. I’ll let Olivia know.”
“Livi?” Scott’s head jerked up at the mention of Henrietta’s employee.
“She was there when I found the camera, and she’s been very concerned as to where it came from.” This was all true, even if Olivia hadn’t said as much in so many words.
“Oh. Is she… How-how is she?” he asked, rubbing his neck again but more nervously this time.
Henrietta managed to keep her smile in, turning to look at the computer again as if she needed to study the images one last time. “She’s doing well. I think… Well, it’s not my place.”
“What? What’s not your place?”
“Her and Nelson,” she said, biting her lip. She didn’t want to share their private news, and yet Scott would call himself a friend of Olivia’s, and if ever there was a time she needed a friend, it was now.
“What? Are they having…problems?”
Henrietta almost chuckled at the look of hope Scott wore before he coached his features into a more compassionate expression.
“You didn’t hear it from me,” she said, conspiratorially, “but I think Olivia needs a friend right now.”
“Oh man, that’s so rough. Maybe I should, you know, give her a call?” He asked the last part as a question with a glance at Henrietta as if to see what she thought of this.
“I think that would be a fantastic idea. She really needs people who will stick with her right now.”
While she would never admit it to anyone, Henrietta was a bit of a closet romantic at heart. She believed in true love, even if she hadn’t found it herself, and sometimes she saw opportunities for others.
She was about to point out how much a cup of coffee on a cold morning would do for Olivia when Ralph burst into the office, shattering her chance.
While Ralph was a kind-hearted man, he often disapproved of her ‘meddling,’ as he called it. She would never meddle, just kindly hint at one direction over the other. She knew he would see her mere mention of Olivia as butting in, so she decided to keep the rest of her comments to herself.
“Glad you’re here, Henri,” he fairly bellowed.
“Oh? Why is that?”
“Got news. Big news.”
“Do tell,” she said, preparing herself for a big break in the case.
“Chicken wings are the special tonight. You know I love some good chicken wings.”
“Ralph,” she said, rolling her eyes. “Please tell me that was not your big news.”
He chuckled, winking at Scott. “No, just wanted to see how you’d react. My real big news is just that—big!”
“Then spit it out, Pop,” Scott said, urging his father on.
“They found DNA at the crime scene.”
“No way,” Scott said, sitting up straighter.
“That’s wonderful news. Who does it belong to? Or do they have to wait on tests?”
“Apparently,” Ralph said, making a show of this next portion of the news, “they found it the first time they were in the den but didn’t disclose that to me. Then again, they don’t have to tell me anything, so the fact I know this little tidbit is a big deal.”
“Don’t keep us in suspense then,” Henrietta said.
“That’s just it,” Ralph said, looking between her and Scott. “They didn’t get a match. Means the criminals never been caught before. He—and I do mean he—isn’t in the system.”
8
Henrietta popped the last piece of her banana nut muffin in her mouth and took a sip of her expertly-made latte. Gina of Espresso Yourself made the perfect latte, in Henrietta’s mind. It was also her favorite way to start the day, and she was happy to see that Olivia had gotten through most of the piles of books, which left the next batch of antiques up for grabs. They were Henrietta’s favorite, and she had a feeling the woman had done the books to leave the others for her.
She had just settled on a tall chair behind the counter, her laptop to one side and the artifact in front of her, when the bell in front of the door rang out. It was early—almost too early—for actual customers, and Henrietta wondered if it was Ralph coming to check in on her.
Instead of her friend, she was shocked to see Preston come striding toward the counter, his typical dark jeans and hoodie making him easy to spot.
“Preston?” she asked, shocked to see him there. “What are you doing here? Did your father send you for something?”
“Nope,” he said, hands shoved into his front pockets as he came to a stop in front of her. “I came on my own. I wanted to talk with you for a moment.”
“Oh, well, sure. What’s on your mind?” She closed the lid of her laptop and gave him her full attention.
“It’s my dad. Well, me too.”
He shifted from one foot to the other. “I guess. I mean, kind of?”
“What do you mean? Has something happened?”
“No. Nothing like that. I guess I’m just worried. I overheard him telling someone you were working on this case—the break-ins—with that private investigator, Ralph, right?”
“Yes, Ralph Gershwin and I are investigating.”
“Are you a PI?” he asked, his eyes wide.
“Not exactly. I just help Ralph where I can. Like an assistant of sorts.” She offered a thin smile to him.
“That’s cool.” He shifted again, fidgeting nervously with his sleeves. “I guess what I’m saying—and I feel really silly admitting this—but I’m a little nervous. Like, about the whole thing. If someone could break in to all those houses, why couldn’t they break into ours again?”
“I doubt they would be foolish enough to come back. Besides, you have a great security system. There is no way someone could get past that.”
“I heard someone say they think the intruders had the codes. Is that right?”
Henrietta wrinkled her forehead. Who was saying that? How, and where, had they heard this? She didn’t want to offer the young man an explanation, since she wasn’t even sure she had one at this point.
“Trust me when I say you and your father are likely not in any danger.”
He started to look relieved, then clutched at his throat and began coughing. The motion was so violent, he plunged forward, his hand slamming on the counter as he gasped for breath. Henrietta jumped from her seat and rushed around to him.
“Are you all right?” she asked, noting the reddish tint of his cheeks at the coughing effort.
“I—” he gasped and coughed again. “I could use some water.”
“Of course,” she said, rushing toward the backroom and the fridge that held water bottles. She fumbled with the first one, trying to get the top off, then rushed back to find the young man looking much better and on the other side of the counter.