Consigned to Death (21 page)

As the footsteps moved confidently and quickly away from the door, heading, I guessed from the direction of the sound, to the study in the front, I moved forward, trying to glide, my boots leaden as I moved. I tried to think who it could be, but no one made sense. It certainly wasn’t Mrs. Cabot. And she’d assured me that she’d keep Andi away. Could the police officer have returned ? Maybe.

I left the basement door ajar, not wanting to risk the sound the latch would make if I closed it, and listened. I heard what sounded like drawers opening and closing. A loud scrape startled me, and I tried to imagine what could have caused it. Something big, I thought, like a chair or an ottoman, being dragged across the floor would sound like that. Then I heard a soft thud, as if the item had tipped over and landed hard on a thick carpet. No, I said to myself,
whoever it is, it’s not a policeman
.

I thought of calling 911, but quickly dismissed the idea. No. I’d make too much noise rummaging through my purse to locate my cell phone, and my voice would carry easily through the empty rooms.

All I could think of was how to get out. I headed for the back door, aiming to keep as much distance between me and the intruder as I could. I stepped gingerly into the mud room, and paused to let my eyes adjust. I had trouble catching my breath. In the gathering twilight, I could barely see the doorknob, and a rush of fear streamed over me. My heart hammering, tears welled in my eyes, making it hard to see. I brushed them away, forcing myself to focus on the problem at hand—getting out—and not think about my anxiety.

As soon as I could make it out, I reached for the doorknob, turned it, and pulled. Nothing. I tried again, pulling harder, then spotted a latch and turned it. Still, the door didn’t budge. I looked at it more closely, and felt my stomach lurch as I realized it was a dead bolt and required a key to open, even on the inside. I was trapped, with no way out.

Peeking around the corner, my mouth was so dry, I struggled not to cough. I saw and heard nothing.

I slipped back into the kitchen and crept forward, and stood beside the refrigerator, shielded from view. Purposeful steps headed in what sounded like my direction, and looking around wildly, I ran across the room to a door that swung into the butler’s pantry, connecting the kitchen to the dining room, and unsure where to go or what to do, I crouched down.

Even tucked away in a small room in the middle of the house, I heard a car pull up in the alley and stop. I could picture it. My thighs began to ache, but I seemed paralyzed with dread. Heavy steps approached the back door, and I heard the faint click of the dead bolt turning. Someone was entering the door that had held me prisoner.

A moment later, I heard a rush of scurrying steps, then a long moment later, a car starting and squealing away. I stayed huddled in the butler’s pantry, rocking a bit, tears running down my cheeks unchecked.

“Josie?” I heard. I recognized Alverez’s voice.

I sat down, hard, nearly fainting with relief, dropped my head forward, and began to cry in earnest. “In here,” I called faintly after a moment, my voice muffled with tears. I tried again, using as much willpower as I could muster to stem the flow. I swallowed. “I’m here.”

I heard a soft whoosh as Alverez pushed open the swinging door from the kitchen. I looked over and saw faded jeans and brown boots. I didn’t have the energy to lift my head higher.

“What happened?”

“Someone,” I said, my voice cracking. “Someone was here. They left out the front.”

“Are you all right?”

I nodded, and struggled to speak, but before I could translate my scattered thoughts into a coherent explanation, he was gone, running toward the front. “Stay there,” he called.

I stayed, unmoving, listening. I heard his running steps, heavy thumps, then silence. After several minutes, he again pushed his way into the pantry and squatted beside me. “Can you tell me what happened? What’s wrong?”

I hated that he was seeing me like this. I felt mortified. “I don’t know. Someone was here. I heard noises and I panicked. I tried to leave, but I couldn’t get out.”

I started up, wiping away the remnants of my tears. “I never used to cry. You must think I’m a mess.”

“No, no,” he said. He helped me stand, holding my elbow. “Let’s get you a glass of water and you can tell me what happened.”

Meekly, I followed him into the kitchen and stood silently while he let the water run and opened cabinet doors until he found a glass. He filled it with water and handed it to me.

“Thanks,” I said, accepting it. I took a sip.

“I called for backup. People will be here in a minute, but in the meantime, I’m going to call the lab and get some technicians up here. Don’t move.”

“I don’t mean to sound wussy, but don’t leave me alone. Okay?”

Alverez smiled. “Okay. I’m just heading to the front door. Tag along if you want. But don’t touch anything.”

I followed him, carrying my water, taking an occasional sip. The front door was wide open.

“I take it you closed the door when you came in.”

“Of course,” I said. “I can’t believe it. I just can’t believe it.” I shook my head, the evidence of the open door startling me. I shivered.

“Was the door locked when you got here?”

“I guess. I used the key. I assumed it was.”

He nodded. I listened as Alverez called someone and issued a series of instructions. When he was done, he went into the study and glanced around. Nothing looked different. The books lining the shelves were orderly, the blotter on the partners desk was centered, and the chairs were angled as I recalled.

“It looks the same, right?” he asked.

I nodded. “Yeah. But whoever it was wasn’t here long.”

“Right.”

He gestured that I should lead the way out, and we stood in the foyer, waiting.

“How did you know I was here?” I asked.

“Griff told me.”

“Griff?”

“The officer you spoke to.”

“Oh, I didn’t remember his name. Why did you stop by?” I asked.

He paused, then said, “Just checking on things.”

Was he checking up on me
? At the auction, thinking he was following me had made me mad. Here, I had a different reaction. For whatever reason, it was easier for me to believe that he was just doing his job than it was to think he was trying to trap me somehow. I guessed it was adrenalin-fueled relief that allowed me to trust him.

“Feel free to sit down,” he said.

I went into the living room and perched on a French Provincial chair upholstered in blue-and-yellow fleur-de-lis chintz. He leaned on the doorframe, keeping an eye on the front door.

“So, are you okay enough to tell me what you’re doing here?”

He didn’t sound accusatory or judgmental. I looked up and our eyes met and held fast. The attraction I felt was deeper than before, more personal, based on my response to his actions, not just his looks. I felt myself relax and despite the anxiety of my situation, for a moment, all I experienced was the delicious, mysterious connection between an interested man and a willing woman.

A car door slammed and broke the spell. I looked away, disoriented, but calmer, and no longer frightened.

“So,” he repeated, “what were you doing here?”

I shrugged. “Nothing. I was looking around. You know, getting ready for tomorrow.”

“What’s tomorrow?”

“Sasha and I begin the appraisal. You heard, right? Mrs. Cabot has hired me to do a full appraisal.”

He nodded. “Yeah, Max told me. Congratulations.”

I smiled. “Thanks.”

“So exactly where were you and what did you hear?”

“It just occurred to me that I ought to call Max.”

Alverez nodded. “Sure. Do you have his number?”

“Yeah. On my cell phone.” I retrieved my purse from the butler’s pantry where I’d deserted it. Max answered on the first ring.

“Max, I’m sorry to disturb you on a Sunday.”

“No problem, Josie. What’s up?”

“I’m here at the Grant house with Chief Alverez. I’m fine. But it looks like there was a break-in while I was here and he was asking me about it, so I thought I ought to call you.”

“A break-in! Are you all right?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. I didn’t see anything. But I heard footsteps and it pretty much scared me to death. Then Alverez came in and found me huddled in a ball crying my eyes out. Pretty embarrassing, all things considered.”

“Let me speak to him,” he said. He didn’t sound like he found my attempt at lightheartedness amusing.

I handed the phone to Alverez, who took it, and said, “Alverez.”

He rested against the wall, calm and seemingly at ease. I sat on the chair and watched and listened.

“She seems fine. She was spooked, was all. ... I haven’t checked yet. ... Understood. ... I’ll be reinstituting security. ... Yeah, absolutely. Okay ... okay ... here she is.”

I accepted the phone, and said, “Max?”

“Did you see or do anything you don’t want him to know about? Just answer yes or no.”

“No.”

“Do you have any idea who it was who entered?”

“No.”

“Do you know why someone would have broken in?”

“No. Well, maybe.”

“Why?”

“Can I say openly?” I asked, my eyes on Alverez, watching him watch me.

“No. Keep him in sight, but get out of earshot.”

I repeated Max’s instruction and Alverez said he’d step outside. I watched through the kitchen window as he walked toward the ocean. When he’d stopped and was standing with his hands in his pockets and his back to me, I told Max I was ready.

“So, why do you think?” he asked.

“Maybe to find the missing paintings.”

“Right. Got it.” Max paused. “Why would someone risk breaking in if you were there?”

“I don’t know. I was in the basement, so they wouldn’t have heard me walking around. And the workshop is on the far side of the house, so they might not have noticed the lights being on.” I shrugged. “The bulbs are pretty dim down there, anyway.”

“What about your car?”

“I left it in town. I walked.”

“That explains that,” Max acknowledged. “And you didn’t hear the person drive up?”

“No. But if I was in the basement, I don’t know that I would have heard a car.”

“In any event, you didn’t?”

“No.”

“Did you see anything—a shadow, a reflection in a mirror ... anything?”

“No. Nothing.”

“What did you hear?”

“I heard a floorboard, on the porch, I guess. Then I heard the front door opening. Then more footsteps.”

“Where did the footsteps go?”

“It sounded like to the study, but I can’t be sure.”

“That’s all?”

“I heard noises. I thought it was someone moving around, pulling open drawers, maybe knocking over a chair. Then footsteps heading toward the kitchen.”

“Then what?”

“Then I tried to get out. And couldn’t. And flipped out.”

“You did fine, Josie. What else did you notice?”

“Nothing. After Chief Alverez arrived, I heard running steps, then a car roar off.”

“And that’s it?”

“That’s it,” I said.

Max paused, digesting, I guessed, what I’d told him. “What were you doing in the basement?”

“Looking around. I looked at a trunk and was deciding whether the broken things in Mr. Grant’s workshop were worth including in the appraisal.”

“What broken things?”

“You know, a lamp that needs a new cord, a plate that needs to be glued. Things like that.”

“What did you decide?”

“Probably they’re not worth including. I mean, there’s no market for glued china, you know? I thought I’d have Sasha look at the lamp, but that’s about it.”

“Okay. You can tell him what you’ve told me. If he asks anything out of range of your experience today at the Grant house, don’t answer. I told him I’d give you this instruction, so all you have to say is that you want to wait for me. If he needs more information, we can meet tomorrow. Okay? Are you clear?”

“Yeah. I am. Thanks, Max.”

“Just remember, short answers. One-word answers are best.”

“I remember.”

I hung up and slipped the phone back into my purse. I made my way outside and when Alverez turned toward me, I smiled. “I’m all yours. Max said.”

I heard the sirens, and before he could answer, two marked cars had pulled up, their red lights spinning in the night.

A
fter Chief Alverez finished questioning me, he told me that he needed to talk to the senior technician for a minute, and then he’d drive me to my car.

“Okay,” I said, feeling shaky and weak, glad for his offer, embarrassed to admit that independent little ol’ me didn’t want to walk alone in the dark to my car.

We rode without speaking. All I heard were the comforting sounds of the droning engine and the soft claps of waves as they washed ashore.

Approaching the strip of stores where I’d left my car, I noted that the Taffy Pull was closed and dark. My car was the only one parked nearby. The entire area looked deserted.

Alverez said, “How are you feeling?”

“Embarrassed.”

“Well, you don’t need to be. Why wouldn’t you get upset when someone breaks in to a recently murdered man’s house?”

“I guess,” I acknowledged. I shrugged. “I’m okay.”

“You did fine,” he reassured me.

“Well ... no, I didn’t. I used to pride myself on handling crises well. Now look at me. I’m a mess.”

“Jeez, Josie. Don’t be so hard on yourself.”

My father used to say the same thing to me, that I had to give myself a break. Hearing Alverez speak similar words comforted me.

“Thanks,” I said, trying for a smile. “Also, thanks for driving me.”