Sink Trap (15 page)
Authors: Christy Evans
Tags: #Fiction, #General, #Mystery & Detective, #Women Sleuths, #Large Type Books, #Mystery Fiction, #Murder, #Crime, #Investigation, #Murder - Investigation, #Oregon, #Plumbers
I felt for the lock, and slid the key in.
“Wait here,” I whispered to Sue as I locked the door behind us. “Let me check that the drapes are closed before we turn on any lights.”
Using the narrow beam of my keychain flashlight, I made my way into the living room, which faced the street. The heavy velvet draperies were open slightly.
I picked my way around the crowded room, narrowly avoiding a collision with an ottoman, and tugged the drapes tightly closed. I checked the other windows, reassuring myself that they were securely covered, then retraced my steps until I reached the entryway, where Sue waited.
I flipped the switch, and the light went on in the hallway.
I could see the closed doors to the two bedrooms and the bathroom down the hall to the right, and the kitchen door straight ahead. To the left, the living room was still in shadow, though I could at least make out the shapes of the furniture.
I could see the closed doors to the two bedrooms and the bathroom down the hall to the right, and the kitchen door straight ahead. To the left, the living room was still in shadow, though I could at least make out the shapes of the furniture.
Sue and I glanced at each other. Now that we were here, I wasn’t really sure what we were looking for. From the expression on Sue’s face, I guessed she wasn’t, either.
“Where should we start?” I peered down the hall toward the bedrooms, hesitant to disturb either of them. If we searched Martha Tepper’s bedroom, there were only two options. One, we were invading her private, personal space. Or two, she was never coming back to be upset about it.
Neither option was to my liking.
“Let’s start in the kitchen,” Sue suggested. “If she has any household records, they might be in there.”
Sounded like Sue didn’t want to touch the bedrooms, either.
It was as good an idea as any, and I pointed toward the kitchen door. “Let’s go.”
The cabinets looked old enough to have been the originals, and they were badly in need of attention. Drawers stuck and latches didn’t. Several cabinet doors drooped open an inch or two. Sue started on the cupboards, and I took the drawers.
I found silverware, spatulas, ladles, and an assortment of inexpensive paring knives. Nothing particularly valuable, or interesting. Another bank of drawers held kitchen linens: dishtowels, pot holders, and several old-fashioned aprons.
No papers. No notes. No clues.
Sue also turned up empty-handed. The cupboards contained only the usual kitchen clutter of plates and cups, pots and pans. There was a pantry in the utility area—the place Barry had called the service porch—but we saved it for later.
We turned off the light and moved into the dining room, where there was a built-in china cabinet with glass-fronted cupboards and deep drawers, filling one entire wall.
There was an uncovered window in the dining room, so we worked by the light of keychain flashlights, shielding the narrow beam of light with our bodies.
The glass-fronted cupboards were easy. They contained Martha Tepper’s prized teacup collection, each cup and saucer displayed on a small metal stand. Other than the teacups, the shelves were empty.
I crouched down, pulling open the bottom drawer as Sue peered into the top one. “Table linens,” she whispered. She scrabbled through the drawer, checking beneath the top layer. “Tablecloths, hot pads, napkins. That’s it.” She slid the drawer closed and reached for the next one.
The sound of tires on gravel froze our movements. I released my flashlight, extinguishing the tiny beam of light. A car door closed, the noise like an explosion in the silence.
Footsteps crunched in the gravel, then scuffed along the concrete walkway.
Someone was walking up to the front door!
My heart raced, and I felt the jolt of adrenaline surge through me.
I slid the drawer shut with a trembling hand, praying the scrape of the wooden runners didn’t carry outside.
If we were caught in the house, I had planned to say I was looking for a jacket I’d left there while I was working.
It sounded pretty lame, even to me, when I had tried it out on Sue, but it was all we had. And it didn’t explain why we were skulking around in the dark, dressed like a pair of overaged ninja wannabes.
Fight or flight? Flight definitely won this time.
A second car pulled up, and we heard another door, and then a voice. We couldn’t hear the words or recognize the voice, just the tone, a friendly greeting to the person at the door.
“Come on!” I hissed, grabbing Sue’s sleeve.
I pulled her out of the dining room and back into the kitchen. The kitchen door was closed, but we had left the light on in the hallway.
Too late now.
I took a deep breath, and tugged on Sue’s sleeve to guide her.
I stepped into the kitchen, reaching out with my left hand to touch the counter. For a moment, all I felt was empty space, and my stomach did a flip, landing somewhere high in my throat.
Then I found the counter’s edge, felt the thin metal railing that edged the aging vinyl countertop.
I kept hold of Sue’s sleeve with my right hand. I had been in the house several times in the last couple weeks, and Sue was depending on me to get her out safely.
I had to get this right.
The voices outside were fainter through the closed kitchen door, but loud enough for us to know they were still there.
We crept silently across the kitchen. I stuck my foot out with each tiny step, testing the floor ahead of me for any obstruction.
At last we reached the entrance to the service porch.
I twisted the knob slowly as I eased the door open and pulled Sue onto the porch. I turned back and carefully closed the door. The latch slid silently into place.
The moon had risen, its pale light seeping through the screened walls of the service porch. It had probably once been an actual porch, judging from what I had seen of it before. The walls were simple framing, exposed on the inside, with a sheathing of planks covering the outside.
A screen door with a hook led to a set of rough wooden steps down into the backyard.
We made it to the door, and I fumbled with the hook. It finally unlatched, and I pushed the door open, the steps below little more than vague shapes in the faint moonlight.
From inside the house, I heard another door open, and the voices were suddenly louder. I couldn’t tell for sure, but I thought at least one voice was male, maybe both.
I pulled Sue in front of me, and gave her a tiny push toward the stairs. This was my idea, and if anyone was going to be caught, it was me.
I heard one of the voices, irritation plain in his tone, say something about leaving the lights on.
Sue was down the steps, and I didn’t hang around to hear any more. Whatever was going on inside, I wanted badly to be outside, and away from whoever was in there.
I hung on to the door as I descended the three steps, then carefully closed it. The hook was unfastened, but I could only hope no one would notice, or if they did, they would blame it on careless workmen.
Which would be me. But I’d rather be in trouble for leaving the door unlatched on the job than get caught breaking and entering.
Sue and I faded into the shadows at the side of the yard, slipping between the arbor vitae that formed a gap-toothed hedge between Martha Tepper’s house and her neighbors.
We crouched there, barely daring to breathe. Lights went on and off in the kitchen and dining room, and I heard the porch door open and close. But no one checked the screen on the porch, and nobody came out into the yard.
We waited for what seemed like several hours, not daring to move, until we heard a car engine start up and the crunch of tires on gravel as it pulled away.
One down, one to go.
My heart was pounding so hard, I was sure whoever was in the house could hear it.
A block over, a dog barked and another answered, then fell silent. Panic shot through me.
Did Miss Tepper’s neighbors have a dog? What if he came out and found us lurking just outside his yard? Would he bark, and give us away?
And why didn’t I think about that before I started on
my burglary career? Clearly, I wasn’t suited for a life of crime.
my burglary career? Clearly, I wasn’t suited for a life of crime.
Minutes dragged by. My legs cramped from crouching, but I was afraid to move.
Finally, just when I thought my legs would give out, I heard a car door slam and an engine roar to life.
Tires crunched on the gravel driveway, and headlights swept across the front of the house, but didn’t pierce the deep shadows in the backyard.
I listened to the dwindling sound of the engine until it faded away, and the neighborhood was quiet once more.
“I think he’s gone.” Sue’s whisper sent my heart racing again, and I bit back a scream.
I waited a moment, quelling the panic that threatened to overwhelm me. “Yeah,” I finally managed. “I think so.”
I took a deep breath and swallowed again, willing my voice to work properly. “Let’s go home.”
I took the hint of movement next to me to be a nod of agreement.
Stepping out of the deep shadows took all my resolve. All I wanted to do was cower in the dark. But eventually the sun would come up, and then someone was sure to see us. Waiting didn’t seem like a good long-term solution.
I clutched the sleeve of Sue’s dark sweatshirt, and we inched our way out into the yard. No dogs barked, no one yelled, and we walked quickly across the open lawn to the far side of the house.
A concrete path led down the side of the house to the street. Tree roots had grown up under the concrete, making the footing dangerous. Sue tripped over a break in the path, but she grabbed my arm and managed to keep her balance.
We reached the front of the house and hurried through the ankle-high grass to the road.
Sue’s SUV had never looked so good. The familiar shape loomed darkly in the faint moonlight, its bulk a reassuring presence.
We were a few feet from the car when Sue thumbed the remote, unlocking the doors and lighting the interior.
A man leaned against the car, waiting for us, his silhouette revealed against the interior lights.
This time, I did scream.
He chuckled, and pushed himself away from the car.
“Burglars,” Wade said drily, “shouldn’t scream. It attracts attention.”
I tried to speak, but my vocal cords seemed to have shorted out after that single scream. I opened my mouth. My tongue wouldn’t budge, and no sound came out.
Sue recovered first.
“What burglars?” she demanded. She believed the best defense was a good offense, and she was on the offensive.
“Well, what are you two doing here, slinking around in the dark, dressed all in black?”
He had a point, though I wasn’t going to admit it.
“Are you the fashion police now?” Sue challenged. “Is there some law against dressing in black?”
Wade chuckled again. He was amused at our predicament. “No fashion crime, ladies. A little trespassing, possibly. But I am sure Georgie has a good explanation, don’t you?”
I was grateful that the car lights had faded, so Wade couldn’t see me. I could feel a flush of embarrassment rising to my face, hot enough I thought I might glow in the dark.
“Georgie?” Wade’s voice turned serious, and he reached out to touch my arm. “I don’t know what kind of game you’re playing here, but you really could get arrested, you know.”
I stiffened, and he gripped my arm tighter. “I’m not going to turn you in or anything,” he said. “But you’re taking some pretty big chances, and for what?”
“It’s a long story,” Sue blurted out, “and you won’t believe it anyway.”
“Try me.”
“It’s late, Wade.” The adrenaline rush had faded and I
was suddenly exhausted. I moved past Wade, his hand still gripping my arm, and sagged against the car. “Can’t this wait until the morning?”
was suddenly exhausted. I moved past Wade, his hand still gripping my arm, and sagged against the car. “Can’t this wait until the morning?”
Wade released my arm, pushed up his sleeve, and punched a button on his watch. A green glow momentarily lit his features, and I saw a flicker of surprise before the light winked out.
“It is late,” he conceded. “Later than I realized.
“Okay. Tomorrow then. I’ll pick you up for dinner at six, and I want to hear the whole, long story.”
Sue moved to the driver’s side of the SUV and opened the door.
“That goes for you, too, Gibbons,” Wade added. “I’d love to hear your side of this.”
Sue glared at him. “Just what the hell are you doing out here at this hour of the night anyway, Wade?”
“I live here,” he answered. “Bought a house right down the street, just last year.
“Martha Tepper and I are neighbors.”
chapter 14
“Did you know he’d bought a house?” I asked Sue as we pulled into my driveway.
“Nope.” She shook her head. “Told you he moped.”
“What?”
She shut off the engine, and turned to face me. “Look, we both need some sleep, but we better figure out what we are going to tell your boyfriend tomorrow night. And I don’t think we ought to try that lame story about a missing jacket.”
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