Drama Dolls: A Novel: [Dark, Suspenseful, Fast-paced, Exhilarating] (10 page)

The smallest guest bedroom kept much of the design consistent with the main floor. William looked up at the woodwork. The crown molding along the high ceilings was painted to match the trim. Fresh white highlighting pea-green walls was a nice touch. White trim alongside the windows, the sun shining into the house offered natural light.

“I love the radiators,” Lena said. The hot water heat pushed out of standing registers in the corner of each room. Painted a glossy silver. The owners were meticulous with their property. Pulled out prior to use, the registers had been sandblasted, primed, and then painted.

Nodding in agreement, the realtor, she said, “Yes! Usually with old homes like this the radiators have layers and layers of paint.” She walked over to the heating source and traced her finger down halfway. “They spent a lot of their time making this house beautiful.”

Cutting a look toward Jeffrey, the realtor closed her eyes and smiled.

Agreeing with the agent, Lena, she said, “It’s gorgeous.”

Glancing around the room one last time, the group exited into the hallway.

Walking past a closed door, Lena said, “Can we go in there?”

The realtor, shaking her head, said, “No. That room is the master bedroom. The owner requests that it not be shown.” Locking stares with all three of the guests, apologizing non-verbally with her eyes, she said, “The owner does promise that the room will fully meet all expectations.”

An open door next to the master was another bedroom. Throwing out information before entering, Jane said, “This room is actually larger than the master. It was used as a sitting room because it has a fireplace.”

When the undercover Dolls entered, Lena stopped short at the white bricked fireplace in the center of the back wall. Positioned in front of the fireplace was a pair of matching Victorian button back parlor chairs. The bloody red chairs surrounded a white marble-top table stand.

“This looks so elegant,” Lena said. She slid around one of the chairs and sat down. Hard on her buttocks, she said, “They’re not very comfortable.” Lena leaned her head back so she could see the ceiling. Along it was the same crown molding found in the rest of the rooms on the floor.

A large circular area rug covered much of the floor space. Twisting her waist, looking down at the matching red-colored carpet piece, Lena’s attention was drawn to the furniture on either side. “How did I miss the fancy couches?” On either side of the rug were golden yellow upholstered Victorian couches.

The inner voice of arrogant reason said, “Go ahead. Drop some knowledge on her.”

“These are actually called fainting chairs,” Jeffrey said.

Behind him, mocking him in a little child’s voice, William muttered under his breath, “Dees are cowed feenting cheers.”

“The theory was that a woman’s corset was so tight that she literally fainted from the lack of air.”

Ignoring William’s antics, Lena said, “You’re so smart.” She cut a look to William and squinted her eyes in disgust. Then she turned to Jeffrey and said, “I’m so glad I married you.”

Picking up on the tension, the real estate agent said, “Are we ready to see the bathroom?”

The bathroom was a classic design. Subway tiles, black with white grout, traversed the room’s walls. The shower surround was a modern-day claw foot tub design without feet that rested square on the floor tiles. Octagon tiles under their feet, they were heated for the winter’s cold nights.

About eye level, a white wood trim disrupted the dark tiles in order to break up the pattern. Lena, standing in front of the pedestal sink, said, “I love these old bathrooms.” Her eyes turned toward the toilet seat. A water line and electrical cord shot out from underneath. The seat offered a remote control. She said, “What is that?”

And Jane, hovering over their shoulders, taking her own peek, said, “It’s a bidet.” Lena turned to address the realtor. Jeffrey stood still, unfazed. “The owners fell in love with the bidets overseas. It was a must have,” the agent said.

Jane spun her body around to engage William. The two had a brief stare down. William said, “Nice house.”

“That’s so cool,” Lena said. She glanced at William and caught him rolling his eyes. “I love how eccentric they were.” Lena, she said, “These types of people would
never
give me the time of day.”

Breaking up the tedium, Jeffrey said, “You mentioned there is only one owner now.” Jane nodded, agreeing to his statement. “Where is—”

Coming down from the attic, interrupting the milieu, the assistant smiled while nodding her head.

All turning toward the assistant simultaneously, Jane said, “Yes, well…” Changing the subject, she said, “Would you like to see the attic?”

Jaunting up yet another staircase, the group members found themselves inside a finished studio room. Wooden bookshelves along the perimeter enclosed the large area. Filing cabinets and computer equipment filled one corner. There was a futon in another. In the middle of the room was a leather sectional in front of a television stand.

There were dormer windows on each side. A single closet in the corner. A small walk-in was used for random pieces of clothing. Some were forgotten, some a size too large. Other clothes bought at a rummage sale.

“This attic was used as a lounge,” the assistant said.

William sighed, his gaze finding Lena’s. He checked his watch and then looked around the open quarter.

Listening to only fragments of the realtor’s pitch, each item was inventoried in Jeffrey’s mind for future reference.

In the dining room, aside from the crystal, the china hutch held decorative silverware and chrome-plated platters. Antique tea cups with matching kettles. Butter dishes, steins, pitchers, a corresponding set of dinnerware.

“Don’t forget the packed boxes,” the voice of anxious reason said.

Period furniture throughout the house was inventoried. Jeffrey noticed there were casters on each dresser and vanity. Certain pieces featured designs on the front drawers, some with carved faces and others with lions.

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Outside the burglaries, the only other time Jeffrey had inventoried his possessions was when She was still alive. When they had first married, the couple had shared a charming one bedroom apartment across town. Both of them finishing school, working a pair of part-time jobs outside of studying, Jeffrey and the Missus had envisioned buying a historical house.

The beginning years of their marriage, planning for a home similar to the kinds the Drama Dolls burgled, Jeffrey and his wife would venture out to estate sales and antique stores in the surrounding areas and acquire old paintings and used furniture they could restore.

Dropping them into spaces in the apartment did not leave room for traditional pieces, so the newlyweds’ furniture, end tables, and the like looked as if they were zapped in from the past.

An alternate universe consuming their residence. Their lives.

The insurance agent laughing when Jeffrey and his wife came in for renter’s insurance, he said, “I don’t know what this stuff is actually worth, but I’m glad you thought about insuring your possessions.”

Inventorying the antique furniture was an exercise of fruition. An exercise Jeffrey was finally getting to use.

----------

Standing in the center of the attic, the house’s highest peak, Jane said, “This home offers a lot of room for storage and living.” Finishing up her spiel, she said, “It
really
is a beautiful house.” Lingering around for any last questions or requests, the realtor checked the time.

The group had been touring the house for nearly two hours. William, standing off to the side, looked out the dormer. Their position in the house was high above the ground. Looking straight out ahead, off into the distance of reality, William could see a small wooded area. The tops of the trees reminded him of his pom-poms’ feathers.

Grabbing ahold of Jeffrey’s hand, cupping it into her palm, Lena said, “Honey, what do you think of the house?”

Pirouetting to see the attic as a whole, Jeffrey said, “I love it. It’s definitely something I could see myself in.”

Exiting the house, Jeffrey walked down the front steps to the curb. Just short of the boulevard, he turned around to capture the mammoth sized structure in one mental photograph. The curtain in the master bedroom window was partially open. The outline of old-fashioned pieces in view, Jeffrey envisioned the house’s schematic.

His gaze working side to side, each room’s floor plan memorized, Jeffrey stayed quiet and to himself.

“Tonight we will rob this house,” the inner Jeffrey said.

Standing on the front porch, the realtor and assistant talked to William and Lena. The assistant, she was locking the door behind her, returning the key to the box on the door handle.

In the middle of a semi-circle crowding the front entrance, Jane, standing with her hands on her hips, said, “What do you think is going through his head?” The small group looked down toward Jeffrey, whose attention was absorbing the house’s detail.

William and Lena, they both shrugged simultaneously. They both knew this was a formality. Something the burglars had done many times before.

Pulling on the key box to ensure it was secure, Jane turned to William. “Can’t say this was a complete loss then,” she said. Unzipping her purse, pulling out her sunglasses, the realtor said, “Is he wearing makeup?”

Nodding slowly, William said, “Totally.”

Jeffrey, Barb, and Lena watched the realtor and her assistant vacate the grounds. Grass as high as the FOR SALE sign, kicking weeds in front of his feet, Jeffrey said, “We’ve got time. Who wants to go to a baseball game?”

William, looking down into the grass, said, “I’ll pass.”

“C’mon,” Jeffrey said, kneeling down to pull weeds in sight. “We got like four hours until dark.” Pulling out a handful of dandelions and annual sow thistles, Jeffrey tossed them aside.

Short in his response, his eyes looking anywhere but at Jeffrey’s, William said, “I’m good.”

Jumping in to support Jeffrey, Lena said, “Don’t be a fun killer. It’ll be great.” She stared at William, her eyes widening. She flipped her hand into his chest until she caught his attention.

William, looking up toward Lena, then to a kneeling Jeffrey, said, “Dude, you need to get some sleep.” Repaying the harsh stare to Lena, and then rounding back to the captain of the cheerleader gang, he said, “Get some sleep. We’ll meet back up later. K?”

“William,” Jeffrey said, a pile of dandelions next to him. Throwing down the batch of weeds that were in his hand, he said, stretching out the word, “Will-Lee.”

Standing still, no movement whatsoever, William glanced to the ground before him, his attention focused on an anthill in the sidewalk crack. Sliding the bottom of his shoe over the hill, leveling off the dirt, he said nothing. Ants, they were running in every direction.

“You’re a poopy head,” Lena said.

“Willster.” Singing the word, Jeffrey said, “Willinator.” The heat was making his face itch. Sucking in his lips, spreading out the lipstick to make it even, he said, “I’m gonna ask one more time. Who wants to go to a baseball game?” Standing to his feet, face to face with William, Jeffrey waited for a response. His body tightening, his fists clenching.

William sharply looked up, his eyebrows lowering slowly, lips tightened, and teeth clenched so hard they hurt, he said, “I’ll. See. You. Tonight.” He walked around the front of his car. Eying Jeffrey the entire time, William started the vehicle and drove away.

Witnessing the scene unfold, and not wanting the situation to escalate, Lena said, “I guess it’s just us.” Her arm swung around Jeffrey’s waist. Pulling him close to her, she leaned her head into his shoulder. Eyes shut, a closed smile, she said, “Your car or mine?”

Jeffrey, being dragged farther away from the pile of weeds, craned his head back to the sidewalk. “OK,” Lena said. “We’ll take the ‘Vette.” Releasing her hand, Lena continued.

Walking toward the car, the distance between her and Jeffrey grew noticeably. She turned to her groom cheerleader and said, “Jeffrey?”

Running back to the weeds, Jeffrey kneeled down and collected the miscellaneous dandelions and sow thistles. “Just let me throw these away real quick.”

The minor league ball stadium was half-filled with spectators. A middle of the day, Monday game hardly drew the crowd the stadium wanted.

Cars were sprinkled in parking spots outside the baseball diamond, some in rows to themselves. The lot was as big as the field was wide. Spanning an entire block, the stadium could accommodate nearly one thousand cars. On this day, though, there was only a quarter of that amount.

Pulling through a row of yellow painted lines, the farthest from the stadium, Jeffrey angled into the last spot of the corresponding row. The Corvette’s nose facing the concrete base of the streetlight, the car idled crookedly over the yellow lines that were now crisscrossed under the tires.

Lena stuck her head out of the window and looked down. “I don’t think you’re straight,” she said. Peering directly ahead of her, taillights of sedans in her face, she said, “I don’t think I should be able to read bumper stickers looking out the passenger window.”