Mourning Dove (22 page)

“How long have you been
here, Matthew?” Sara’s burnished auburn curls glisten in the morning sun. She
was wearing a gray oversized sweater with maroon stripes; it was definitely a
borrowed thing.

“Long enough,” he said.

“You shouldn’t be on the
other side of the police tape,” Ron accused. He stood in a position of defiance,
huddled in a dark-blue down jacket, with his left hand in his pocket and his
right resting on a wooden cane.

“How do you expect to
check out the entry sight without doing the same?” Sara asked.

“Now is not the time to
squabble,” Matthew said.

“Are we squabbling?” she
asked.

Her husband turned back
to him, “I’m a bit late with this, Mr. Farrell, but I’d like to see your
identification.”

“My identification?”

“Something that proves
who you are,” Ron challenged him with his chin jutting out.

Matthew looked at them
both, then shrugged his shoulders, pulled out a black bi-fold wallet and handed
it over for inspection.

“No hard feelings, Mr.
Farrell. I had to be sure. Too much is happening to
my
family.”

“Thank you for coming
today, Matthew. What have you got there?” Sara pointed to the disk in the
plastic bag.

“I believe it’s a back up
disk. I found it by the trash receptacle and want to check it for prints before
we see what’s on it.”

“You think the burglar
dropped it?” Sara asked.

“Maybe, how many tenants
share the same trash hauler?”

 “All four units share
it, but two are empty at the moment,” Ron said. “That just leaves us and the
optician on the other end.”

Matthew held the bag up
by the zip lock end and asked Ron, “Do you recognize the handwriting on the
disk?”

He brought the bag closer
for inspection and waited for them to read the hand written label. “It’s the
neat, tight assed scrawl of my bookkeeper. She’s going to be relieved you found
that.”

“Ron!” Sara chastised
him.

“Is she coming in today?”
Matthew asked.

“We called her from the
house. She’s on the way,” Ron added.

“What about the others
who were here last night?”

“Allen is stopping for
coffee and donuts; the boy lives on sugar. Cass said she’s going to feed the
cats first,” Sara said.

Matthew nodded and
suggested they walk around the front to eliminate disturbing anything.

“When are the local cops
coming back?” Ron asked.

“When they’re good and
ready, I suppose.”

“Do they know you’re
working on this, too?” Ron stopped and turned toward him.

“They’ve got their
investigation and I’ve got mine. Did either of you find anything else last
night?” Matthew stopped just inside the front door looking alternately at each
of their faces.

Their silence said a lot.
Trust was like the sun peeking through the clouds. Just when you thought you
had it, it moved out of reach.

A few minutes later, he
watched Sara stare out the front windows of the shop. A Toyota pulled up first.
The bookkeeper hauled her bulk from beneath the steering wheel and lifted her
oversized purse to her shoulder. She looked up at the three of them gathered by
the front door, then at the police tape blocking most of the parking area.

“Oh dear. I didn’t really
think...Oh dear.”

“Good morning, Margaret.
We’re glad you could make it down.” Ron reached his hand out to guide her into
the first room of destruction. “Be careful where you step.  We don’t want to
disturb anything unless we have to.”

She stopped on the portal
as if unsure of where to go from there. “I’m just trying to take it all in.” She
skirted the potting soil, paper and folders on the floor.

“We’d like you to meet
Mr. Farrell,” Sara said. “He’s investigating the break-in.”

“Mrs. Alvarez, can you
tell me what you remember of the last few minutes of your time here on Friday?”

“Well, the office
certainly didn’t look like this. I run a tight ship. That’s what Mr. Stafford
always says. Everything in its place you know.” She looked around at the
destruction and emotion filled her eyes.

“Take your time, Mrs.
Alvarez. What did you do when you were ready to leave for the week? Close your
eyes and picture the office as it was on Friday.”

“Farrell, that isn’t
going to help, the break-in didn’t happen until Saturday evening.”

“Please, Ron, I know what
I’m doing. Mrs. Alvarez, close your eyes and place yourself here on Friday.”
Matthew began again.

“I made up the deposit,
backed up the system, walked through the workshop to make sure the back was
locked up tight. Sometimes the boys don’t always get it completely latched when
they take out the rubbish.”

“The boys?” he asked.

“Mr. Stafford and Allen.
I’ve come to think of them as my boys because they always need looking after.”

“Please continue, Mrs.
Alvarez. Were the boys, ah Mr. Stafford and Allen, here when you locked up?”

“They were on a job in York Beach. I checked the windows in the shop and Mr. Stafford’s office.”

Matthew watched Sara
smile. Mrs. Alvarez must be driving her husband crazy.

“I locked up my desk and
the filing cabinets.” She looked at the twisted metal of the top file drawers
and placed her fingers over her mouth. “I don’t think we’re going to be able to
repair that.”

“Margaret, please
continue. What did you do next?” Ron prodded to get her through her
description.

“Well, I set the alarm,
walked out the front door, and locked it.”

“What alarm?” Sara asked.

“We had one installed
shortly after I began working here. I’m often here alone and you never know.”
She looked around at a world turned upside down, “You never know.”

“You never know about
what, Mrs. Alvarez?” Matthew asked.

“Well, sometimes I hear
noises through the walls. The optical place must be very noisy. I can hear
things clear down on this end of the building.”

 “Maybe we should check
out the unit next door,” Sara offered. “Ron can you call the landlord?”

Allen walked through the
front door loaded with enough sugar to send them all into diabetic comas. “Hi
everybody, I got a box of Joe ‘cause I’m not sure how much sugar to add to each
cup.” He skirted the mess on the floor, stepping over a computer monitor lying
on its side. He unloaded his offering on the only available clear space, the
bookkeeper’s desktop.

“You’re just in time,
Allen. You remember Matthew Farrell from Jordie’s art show, don’t you?” Sara
asked.

He wiped his hands on his
jeans and offered a freckled mitt.  “Good to meet you again, sir.”

“That’s where I saw you
before, Mr. Farrell. I thought you looked familiar. Then you’re not with the
local police?” Margaret asked.

“No ma’am, I’m with the
federal government and to answer the question in your eyes, I’m also a collector
of art.” He smiled back at her, which seemed to work for the moment.

“Allen, we’re glad you’re
here. When you came in the front door Saturday evening, did you hear the alarm
go off?” Ron asked.

“Come to think of it, no.
The only sound when I first came in was the crash in the shop. If someone broke
in through the window in Ron’s office why didn’t the alarm go off?” he asked.

“The alarm was disengaged
from the back.” Matthew added. “It’s simple enough to do, if you’re a
professional. It narrows the possibilities to someone who wants this to look
like a burglary but doesn’t actually want to get caught. Why don’t you each
take a room and see what’s missing.”

“I’ll make up the coffees
while you’re all doing this,” Sara said. “Margaret, how do you take yours?”

“Two sugars and one
cream, dear, thank you.”

“Do you have the number
of the insurance agent?” Sara asked. “He should be called before we disturb
anything.”

“His number is in my
rolodex.” She looked at the desktop full of donuts and Allen who was shoving a
chocolate cruller past his lips.

Sara reached under the
right side of the desk and pulled the rotary card file from the pile of paper.
“Is this it?”

“Let me get you a chair,
Margaret.” Ron added as he hobbled back into his office.

 A few minutes later the
bookkeeper hung up the phone. “Okay, listen up,” she called out to be heard in
the back room. “Mr. Drummond says before we disturb anything we have to take
pictures of the mess.” She began digging into the bowels of her patchwork
leather purse. “I brought my digital camera.” She pulled the small black case
from her purse. “I’m not quite sure how to use it.”

“If you will allow me,
madam, I can do that for you,” Matthew offered.

“Oh, would you be a dear
and take the pictures. I’m afraid I would ruin the whole thing.”

He pushed the power
button, opened the viewer, and took the first shot.

“Oh my, you know your way
around these new cameras.”

“Comes with the job,” he
said. He took one of the broken cabinets and another of the upended plants and
the sliced canvasses. “You might want to make a couple lists,” he added over
his shoulder. “One for the things you find missing and another of the things
that are damaged or destroyed.”

“That’s what Mr. Drummond
said, too. You must both go through the same training,” she added, “Mr.
Drummond being an insurance investigator and you a crime investigator.”

“Margaret, here’s your
coffee.” Sara handed her the paper cup.

“Oh, thank you dear.” She
put the cup down on the desk and began rooting into her purse again. “I just want
to get something to write with and my notebook.” She slid her bifocals back up
her nose. “Here we are, all set now.”

The buzzer over the front
door announced another arrival. Ron looked up and smiled. “Hello Jordan, I didn’t expect to see you today.”

“Mom called. She forgot
she’s singing solo at church this morning. She’ll be down,” he finally took in
the destruction and stopped in midsentence. “Wow! What a mess. Was there much
taken?”

“We are about to find
that out, young man. You might as well help yourself to a cup of coffee and
some of Allen’s donuts,” Margaret offered.

“Jordie, when will she be
down?”

“Oh, sorry, Sara, I was
sidetracked with the crime scene. The cops let you in here already?”

“The police and the
insurance agent want an accounting of all that’s missing and ruined.”

“Jordan. What brings you up this way?” Ron asked.

“I was going to pick up
Leonardo at Sara’s place today; I’m cat sitting this week. Mom called to say
you were all meeting here about a break-in at the office. She said she’d bring
him down when she gets out of church.”

“She’s not bringing that
holy terror into this mess!”

“Ron, chill out. He’ll be
in a pet carrier,” Sara said. “This saves Jordie from driving all the way up to
my place.”

“Cats are lovable
creatures, Mr. Stafford.” Margaret paused in her writing and peered over her
glasses at him. “If you had one it could help ease your nerves, and they keep
the mice from invading your home.”

“I’ll be right back with
your camera, Mrs. Alvarez,” Matthew said.  “I want to get some shots of the
broken window outside and the building with the police tape.”

***

“Okay, the final tally,
as I see it, is...Ronald, are you listening?”

“I’m sorry Margaret, I
was thinking about tomorrow and the job I have to postpone,”
and
Sara’s
little love tryst in Chicago
. Sitting back in his office chair with his
throbbing foot propped up on his desk, Ron watched Farrell lean against the
door jam across the room with arms crossed and an absence of emotion plastered on
his face.

“First things first, dear
boy.” Margaret looked up over her bifocals.

From across the room
Allen mouthed ‘dear boy’ and rolled his eyes to the ceiling.  Ron was never
going to hear the end of this.

“The only things actually
taken were the cash box with $243.52 and a receipt for $6.48 from the hardware
store, the two speakers for the York Beach job, two music CDs from your office
Mr. Stafford, and those for the software. The boxes the software came in are
empty. And, if the hard drives are destroyed we will be in a pickle since the
backup disks are also gone.”

Allen, with a jelly donut
half way to his mouth, added, “The speakers never made it off the premises. The
thief must have realized he couldn’t take them with him and tossed them in the
dumpster.”

“Okay then, I’ll move
them into the trashed column. Oh dear, I think I made a joke,” she giggled.

“We found a backup disk
out back,” Farrell said. “After I check for prints, I’ll give it back. Anything
else missing?”

“No sir, but there are a
lot of things damaged or destroyed that need to be replaced, not the least of
which are those two valuable paintings by Jordan.”

“Are you sure there isn’t
anything else missing, Mrs. Alvarez?”

“I almost forgot, Mr.
Stafford, I am so very sorry to tell you this but your stone appears to be
missing.” She looked up at her boss with tears in her eyes. “I know that stone
meant a lot to you seeing as how it was your...”

“Margaret, it isn’t
missing. I brought it home yesterday.”

“What stone, Mrs.
Alvarez?” Farrell asked.

“It’s not important,
Matthew. Margaret, continue with your list please,” Sara urged.

“Well that’s it for the
missing things. I have a very long list of damaged and destroyed.  It is truly
heartbreaking about young Jordan’s paintings. We might be able to salvage the
ficus plants, but most of the equipment and the filing cabinets will have to be
replaced.”

“As soon as we get
permission from the police, I think we should begin to put things back together
and evaluate what is totaled and what can be repaired,” Sara said. “Ron, when
did they say they were coming back?”