The Wolfe Widow (A Book Collector Mystery) (21 page)

What was that? Someone was fumbling with the keypad, from the sound of it. Vera? But what was she doing here? This was the appointed dinner hour and nothing except illness on Vera’s part interfered with that. On the other hand, who else but Vera would be using the library?

I extinguished the flashlight and felt my way to the end of the mezzanine. There’s a leather club chair up there too, not that Vera could venture up the stairs. She had people to carry her precious collection up and down the circular staircase for her. I missed being one of those people.

So I wasn’t really worried about Vera thumping up to the mezzanine and discovering me, but she might easily be able to spot me from the main level. I reached the chair, tucked myself behind it and hunkered down.

Voices wafted up to the second level. I was certain one of them was Muriel. Of course, she would have managed to get the security code, but who was the other person? Vera’s gravelly voice was unmistakable. I’d spent months listening to her. That voice wasn’t Vera’s.

Muriel was speaking in low tones. I strained to hear what she was saying, but without moving from my hiding place, it wasn’t possible. I caught the odd word and phrase. I couldn’t catch what her companion was saying or even if it was a man or a woman. For sure it wasn’t Uncle Kev, because low tones are not his best thing. Even more ridiculous to think it might be the signora. She’d never be able to resist shouting
demonio!

What were they saying?

“Yes, she loves those stupid Wolfe books. I’m having fun taking them from her. One by one. Turning the knife. She hates it.”

The malevolent glee in her voice when she mentioned taking the books from Vera made me feel sick. The black widow had turned into the Wolfe widow. Of course, that didn’t make sense. I shook my head and listened.

“What? No, that’s all taken care of . . .”

“Not long now . . .”

“Before she . . .”

“Interfering . . .”

“Nosy bitch . . .”

“Yes, we’ll get rid of them next.”

Well. Something told me that I was the nosy bitch. The rest of it sounded ominous. Who would they get rid of next?

Me? Kev? The signora?

Who was Muriel talking to?

A thunderous knock on the door caused me to gasp. Luckily the thundering was from Kev, so my gasp was drowned out.

Kev said, “The lawyer’s here.”

“He’s early,” Muriel barked.

Kev said, “You want me to tell him to come back at the right time?”

Muriel said, “Don’t be stupid. Tell him I’ll be right there. We don’t need to be tripping over you, Kelly. Go to the kitchen with old Mrs. What’s-her-name and keep out of our way. Do you understand me?”

“Sure thing, ma’am,” Kev said in an unusually servile tone. If I were Muriel, I wouldn’t have fallen for that.

I heard the door close, presumably behind Kev.

Muriel said, “He’s another snoopy type, that guy, but he’s got his tail between his legs. He’ll hide out in the kitchen as he was told, so he won’t see you or your people on your way out once we’re done with the lawyer. We won’t have to worry about Kelly or the old lady for much longer. You slip out the back. It’s too bad I couldn’t show you this room. It’s really fancy. I’m going to enjoy it when . . .”

The response was a low murmur. The door squeaked open and then closed again. Silence descended. After a while, I did too.

I waited five minutes to give the mystery guest time to get along the endless corridor before I headed that way myself. Muriel was still around and that was bad, even though I figured she was probably with the lawyer.

As I tiptoed along approaching the back exit, the kitchen door opened and I found myself caught by strong arms. I yelped and a hand clapped across my mouth. I managed to stifle a scream as I was pulled through the door.

I didn’t stifle my furious whisper. I swatted at my uncle. “Kev, are you nuts? Do you want Muriel to hear?”

“We need to speak to you!” Kev was white and shaking. The signora danced a little dance of distress.

From the hallway, we heard Muriel bellow, “What is going on there?”

The signora’s eyes bugged out. Kev swayed. The signora shrieked, “Eees big rat! In kitchen! Aieeee!”

As I dived under the large kitchen table, Kev took up the challenge. “I’ll kill it, Fiammetta! Muriel, do you want to help?”

“No, I certainly
don’t
want to help. Get the exterminators in here tomorrow. I’m not having rats on my property. And stop shrieking. I have a business meeting and I don’t want people to think this is an insane asylum.”

Kev stuck his head out the door. The signora let out one more whoop. Kev said, “Don’t you worry, Ms. Delgado. We’ll get rid of the rats.”

Starting with you, Muriel
, I thought.

“See to it. Or you’ll be out of a job.”

Once the door closed, I crawled out from under the table. “Did you know she was seeing a lawyer, Kev?”

“Just found out when he arrived.”

“Do you know what that’s about?”

He shook his head. “No idea.”

“It has to be the property, some scam to get it from Vera. Did you notice Muriel said ‘my property’?”

“We have to stop her.”

“For sure, but there’s more to this. She’s not working alone.”

Kev goggled. The signora made the sign of the cross.

I said, “I heard her talking to someone in the library. She took him or her there to show off the room. That person’s visit has to do with the lawyer. You interrupted, Kev, when you came along to tell her that the lawyer had arrived. Otherwise, I’m pretty sure they would have gone to the mezzanine and I would have been discovered.”

“That was close, Jordie.”

“No kidding. Did you see Muriel’s visitors?”

Kev shook his head. “But what were you doing there, Jordie?”

“You knew I was coming. I figured everyone would be in the dining room. You’re always at dinner at eight o’clock. I wanted to look around in the library and the office to see if I could gain some insights into whatever Muriel is up to. I wanted to check the caller ID on the phones.”

Kev said. “You took a chance. Our routines have changed. Muriel doesn’t like to eat that late. So now we eat at six thirty. Or whenever she gets hungry.”

I did think that Kev might have mentioned this when I told him I was coming over. “Vera must be furious.”

Kev shook his head. “She’s not really. She just seems . . . defeated.”

“E un demonio!”
the signora added.

“Well, we have just begun to fight.” I felt very Archie Goodwin as I said it. Archie and I love overwhelming odds. “Before we can outwit Muriel, we need to know who she’s working with. There’s probably no way to find out who it was.”

“Man or woman?” Kev asked.

“All I could hear was a low murmur of voices. The books must have muffled the sound and I’m pretty sure Muriel and her guest didn’t want to be spotted.”

“Why not? She walks around here like she owns the place. What would she care if we saw her visitor?”

“It must be Muriel’s accomplice. That’s probably the person behind the Rileys’ deaths. Muriel mentioned getting rid of the nosy bitch.”

“Who’s the nosy bitch?”

“I think it must be me, as I am asking a lot of questions. Unless, of course, it’s Vera.”

“Vera? No. She’s just slumped in her room, all the time. She’s not nosy. It sounds more like you.”

“Thanks, Kev.”

“We need to figure out who it is.”

“I am sure going to try to find out. In the meantime, we should find a way to learn what the lawyer is here for. Do you know his name, Kev?”

“No. Yes! He said his name was Dwight Jenkins. Does that sound like a lawyer’s name to you?”

“I’ve heard of him. We need to know for sure what he is doing here.”

“How?”

“I have an idea. I’m going to head out now. You need to keep a real close eye on Vera. You too, Signora. I’ll be in touch. Cover me in case Muriel shows up. I’m cutting across the farmer’s field. My car’s parked on the next road. I’ll follow the lawyer. Call me when he leaves. What? No, Signora. I really can’t carry any food with me. It’s going to be—”

I managed not to spill the thermos of hot soup or the pasta or the cookies I was carrying on my furtive trip through the furrowed fields to my car.

I crawled into the car, started it up and positioned it by the side of the road. I couldn’t resist eating some of the hot soup. It was a delicious reminder of the life I had left behind. It probably also kept me from freezing to death.

My phone buzzed and Kev whispered, “He’s leaving now.”

As the lawyer’s Buick purred past me on the road, I swung the Civic into position a safe distance behind him.

Part of my driver training from Uncle Lucky was learning how to follow someone without being observed. I don’t think any of my friends or classmates received the same training from their relatives. Never mind. It hasn’t been necessary all that often, but the instructions stuck with me. On that lonely country road, I kept my lights off.

I followed him right to his imposing brick home (I was betting nineteen twenties) on St. Lawrence Crescent, a lovely tree-lined street within sight of the river and within easy walking distance of the downtown area. I slowed down and pulled in as he turned into the driveway. He parked the car and then lumbered to the front door with a briefcase. Yes! Shortly afterward, the lights went on inside. I inched forward without lights and parked right in front. I sat in the dark and watched. I figured the light was in the front hall and the house had the traditional central floor layout. Then a light went on from a window on the right side of the house. Two minutes later the lights went on toward the back. Kitchen maybe?

The lights were quickly switched off. Minutes later the upstairs lights shone out and the hall light was shut off. I could see the lawyer silhouetted against the curtains in the front window. Early to bed, early to rise? Or a den on the second floor? No way to tell.

I headed home for a rest. I had a busy night ahead of me.

*   *   *

I DO REALIZE
that breaking into people’s homes is not strictly speaking “going straight,” a key point in my life plan. I’d convinced myself it was for the greater good. I wasn’t out to steal anything. I needed to know what the lawyer had in his briefcase. I was certain it held legal papers that were very relevant to Vera’s situation. I had to see them. After that . . . well, time would tell.

First I had to gain access. And to do that, I needed to check how well the home was secured. It was close enough to walk. It couldn’t have been more than half a mile from Uncle Mick’s, but people on foot at two a.m. are always suspicious-looking unless they’re walking a dog. I didn’t really want to involve the dogs in this caper. Walter had helped me with my reconnaissance in the past. But tonight was, as I believe I’ve mentioned, very cold and very windy. Walter does not do cold well. He was more likely to trip me up trying to jump into my arms to get warm than to provide an unobtrusive cover. And Walter was capable of raising a racket if I left him tied up.

Cobain, on the other hand, didn’t give a hoot about the weather. But he was Officer Tyler “Missing Somewhere in Action” Dekker’s dog. There was a good chance one of the officers on patrol would recognize the shaggy black creature at a glance. And because people knew that Tyler Dekker and I were in a romantic relationship of sorts, recognizing his dog would then make a connection. I didn’t want anything about my illegal outing to lead back to me.

So, there I was, on my own. Too bad, because the dog thing usually worked so well. I was already in my black gear and I had my lock picks. I added a glass cutter, some clear Mactac, and safety gloves to avoid being cut. I put on a red fleece under my black gear and packed a silly red-and-yellow hat with braided ties. A small hammer, a pair of glasses with black frames, a lightweight folding black nylon bag and the black scarf completed the kit. My kingdom for a balaclava. Walter hid under the covers in case I got any ideas, but Cobain thumped his tail, full of hope at getting a W-A-L-K at this unaccustomed time of night.

“You’re too identifiable, I’m afraid.”

“So fix that,” Cobain said.

All right, he didn’t say anything. But I got an excellent idea. Shortly after, I set out with a black-and-white shaggy dog. A very happy dog, despite the fact I’d used my nontoxic Wolf brand wax-based face paint to give him two white ears and a number of large white markings and a spectacular white tail. The face paint was left over from Halloween. I figured Wolf was a fitting sign. I loved this big lumbering dog even if he wasn’t mine. We walked the few blocks to the lawyer’s place on St. Lawrence without seeing a soul. Of course, it was now two thirty in the morning so no big surprise there.

“You are a very good dog and when I tell you to stay by the tree you are going to. Right?”

Cobain seemed to agree. Of course, “tree” and “treat” sound a lot alike.

I headed toward the house. This lawyer broke every scrap of advice offered to anyone who’d ever inquired about security.

He had lots of large busy mature shrubs around his foundation. They were really quite perfect for sidling behind to get access to the house. I did a quick test and was pleased that no lights turned on. No motion detectors. A troop of burglars could hold a dance competition in his yard and he’d never know about it.

The bushy shrubs around the house were more than matched by the unruly cedar hedges that divided his property from his neighbors’ on either side. Nice. And cedars are thoughtful enough to keep their form all year long. Again, a good shield. There was a slight chance that someone across the street might get up in the middle of the night and notice a woman and a dog prowling, so I kept to the side and the back of the house. Sure enough, by the back door was a security camera. It was focused on the backyard. On the back door was the decal for a security company. If the back door was alarmed, I knew the front would be covered too.

No point in using the lock picks. I knew I could get in and out of the building before the cops got there in their usual four to five minutes’ response time that was fairly standard. But I didn’t know how much time I needed. And I didn’t know how the lawyer would react to a burglar alarm. I didn’t want to find out. He might have a gun or he might have a heart attack. I was aiming for an outcome where no one ended up dead or with extra perforations. I’d just have to find a window that wasn’t alarmed. Given the lousy security, I felt confident. The basement windows had the type of bars you buy in the hardware store. I knew ways of getting past them, but because of events in the not-too-distant past, there was no way I would be going into this or any other barred basement. No matter what was at stake.