"Clarissa, Dear!" Amy exclaimed. "I didn't expect to see you here, thought you'd be at work." She made it sound like a dirty word.
"I've been working too hard," Clarissa replied. "I needed a break and this was the perfect excuse."
"It's good to see you, it's been awhile and we've missed you at our meetings," Theresa said.
"Thanks," Clarissa replied. "Wish I could come more often, but something has to give when you're trying to make a new life for yourself."
"You're looking good, something about your new lifestyle must be agreeing with you," Liz remarked.
"Or some
one
!" Susan taunted.
"So, when are we going to meet the boyfriend?" Theresa asked. "I hear he's really easy on the eyes."
Clarissa grinned. "Yes, he is! But more importantly he treats me right. It's nearly summer, there will be lots of parties - I'm sure we'll both make it to some of them."
"I'm glad you're happy," Liz said. "After twenty years with that jerk, you certainly deserve it. I don't know how you stood it that long, all the cheating."
Murmurs of agreement ran around the table. Clarissa said, "Well, it left scars I'm sure. But I'm free of it now and just want to get on with my life."
"You should've demanded more money," Amy said. "Think how mad it would make him to know you're spending
his
money on another man!"
"But I don't care about making him mad, Amy," Clarissa said. Then she grinned a little wickedly. "Tweak his nose a little, maybe. Make it obvious to him that I'm glad I left him and show him how well I'm doing. But I spent my anger during the divorce, I'm over it now. I want to make a positive life for myself and the kids."
With no more dirt to be dug, Amy changed the topic. Not long afterwards the women all trooped out to the course to begin the tournament.
Bill spent his lunch hour in his office at the college, eating a sandwich while grading test papers. He kept a jar of sun-tea on the window ledge so he didn't even have to buy a soda, just swipe a couple of ice-cubes from the department fridge. Lunchmeat wasn't very exciting, he reflected, but he could stand it for a couple of weeks.
He finished up a little before 1:00 PM, tidied up the office and walked over to the lab. On the way he stopped to check with the department secretary.
"Hey, Rita," Bill said. "What's going on?"
"Oh, hi Bill," she replied. "Nothing much. Phone hasn't even been ringing today. Hey, you look nice - didja get some new clothes?" Rita Kowalski was a petite but slightly chubby brunette with soft brown eyes and a perpetually sunny disposition.
"Thanks. Yeah, I did. No messages then?" he asked. "Must be pretty boring sitting here with nothing to do."
"No messages," she replied. "At least I'm not running six different directions at once. And Masterson says he'll have some grades to enter this afternoon so that'll keep me busy. You off to the lab?"
"Yep. Gonna go lock myself in and discover a miraculous formula which I'll sell for zillions of dollars so I can quit this job." Bill grinned, it was the standard joke; the researchers all thought they were just one step away from making a fortune.
"Well, good luck in there," Rita responded. She watched Bill go into the lab and muttered to herself,
"Think he's a little paranoid locking the doors, but they're all afraid someone will steal their work."
She heard the lock click as he engaged it from inside.
Jerry Wilkins had been glad when Charles finally left the office just after 1:00 PM. Jerry was in his sixties, a tall well-dressed man who had been very successful selling insurance. When he'd opened his own agency 20 years ago he'd hired Charles as a salesman. Charles had been a young go-getter who certainly brought in the big contracts, but his methods left something to be desired in Jerry's opinion. Like the Bixby contract; Jerry would be glad if his company got it, but he was thoroughly sick of hearing Charles natter on about it.
Jerry stood up from his desk and stretched, walked out of his office to the communal coffee pot. Suddenly Charles burst through the front door, screaming something about his car.
"Whoa Cowboy," Jerry said in a slightly strained voice. "Simmer down. I can't understand what you're saying. Is something wrong with your car?"
"Damn right," Charles said, a little calmer but still obviously angry. "The whole back window's busted out! The alarm was blaring, couldn't figure out how to turn it off for a couple minutes. There's glass all over the back seat."
"What happened?" Jerry asked. He set his coffee cup on the table in order to give Charles his full attention.
"I don't know!" Charles' voice was getting louder again. "It was just sitting there in the parking garage with the window broken."
"Is the car OK other than that? Is anything missing? Obviously it wasn't stolen." Jerry was trying to calm him down by using logic.
"I don't know," Charles said again, a little less distressed this time. "Uh, lessee. I sat down in it to get my briefcase out from under the passenger seat. I'd have noticed if the stereo had been yanked out; no, I remember now, I checked and it's still there. So was my briefcase! I'm not sure if anything else is gone, and I don't have time to deal with it right now."
"Do you think someone was trying to steal it and the alarm scared 'em away?" Jerry asked.
"By breaking the
back
window?" Charles asked.
"Maybe another car kicked up a rock that hit it just right. Or maybe it had a crack already and it was just time for it to shatter." Jerry had to admit it didn't make a lot of sense.
"That sounds like some of the hokey excuses our clients come up with," Charles retorted. "What the hell could've happened?"
"Calm down Charles. You were wound pretty tight when you came in while ago and this isn't helping. It's just a car, it'll be OK. Have you called the police?"
"Don't have time," Charles replied shortly. "Gotta get out to Bixby's, don't want to be late, I'll call 'em when I get back. I'll have to take your car."
Jerry fought to control a frown; he didn't like loaning his car to anyone. But Charles always kept his own car spotlessly clean so it wouldn't come back trashed up, and the man
did
need to make that meeting. He dug in his pocket and handed the keys to Charles.
"Thanks, Boss," Charles said. He tossed the keys into the air and caught them again, his mood clearly improved. "What a day! Well, I'll get going - and next time you see me we'll both be richer!"
Gracie was standing at her locker pulling out books for her last class when a couple of friends called out to her.
"Hey, Gracie! 'Zoo Time' strikes again," yelled Chris.
"You brother's a
dork
," Kelly added.
Gracie rolled her eyes and asked, "What did they do
this
time?" She wasn't sure she really wanted to know.
"They were talking in class last hour, arguing about something," Chris explained. "Miss Sullivan threw 'em out for disrupting class."
"Yeah, they're in trouble
again
," Kelly said. "She sent 'em to the principal's office."
Gracie shut the locker door and started walking with them. "And you think I care,
why
?" she asked.
Jennifer pulled into her driveway at 2:45. She was thinking of all the things she needed to do to get ready for the evening's celebration, and she wasn't exactly looking forward to it. Cindy was right, this was no way to live. She took her new dress out of the back seat, carefully shook any wrinkles out, and draped it over her arm. She walked up the steps and started to unlock the front door, but something was wrong. The door was standing ajar, and there was a big gouge mark in the wood beside the lock.
Jennifer pushed the door open and ran into the house. It never occurred to her that she should be cautious; she was angry that someone had done this to her. She dropped her purse on the table in the entryway and let the dress slither off her arm on top of it. She didn't notice that the dress fell to the floor as she ran down the hall and into the den.
The den was a mess. Drawers and cabinet doors had been pulled open and their contents strewn on the floor. Pillows had been thrown off the couch and chairs and over by the bar she saw a liquor bottle smashed on the floor, its contents having soaked into the corner of the area rug.
The violence of the destruction began to frighten her. She ran to the dining room but saw nothing out of place. The kitchen and living room looked fine, too. Then she thought about her husband's office.
Charles' desk had been thoroughly ransacked; drawers had been turned upside down to dump their contents, the empty drawers dropped on the floor beside the desk. Papers were everywhere. She walked through the mess to get a closer look, but knew the cash would be gone.
"So much for the trap!"
she thought. She was really scared now.
She made a brief tour of the rest of the downstairs, but saw nothing missing. Her heart was beating so hard she barely had the breath to climb the stairs but she pushed herself to do it.
Sure enough, the master bedroom looked like a tornado had hit it. Clothing was hanging out of open drawers, stuff had been swept off dresser and tables to litter the floor, and the mattress had been pushed partly off the bed. She snatched up her jewelry box, but it was empty. Likewise the big jewelry armoire next to the dresser. "Oh, God!" she said. "It's all
gone
."
She looked around in dismay and suddenly realized the nightstand drawer was still closed. She opened it and picked up a couple pair of earrings, a ring, and a diamond bracelet. She was bad about forgetting to take her jewelry off until she climbed into bed, and often put it in the drawer instead of getting back up. She slipped the items into her pocket.
As the toll began to sink in she felt sick, and her head was killing her. She walked into the bathroom to get an aspirin and saw it was a mess, too. The medicine cabinet door was wide open and there were bottles everywhere. She spied the aspirin, then suddenly remembered she wasn't supposed to touch anything. "I guess I need to call the police," she said. Then the somewhat disjointed thought, "There should be some aspirin downstairs."
She headed for the stairs, then realized she should check the rest of the top floor. The guest rooms were undisturbed, as was the bathroom down the hall. Justin's door was open and she peeked in. The kid got snotty about her going in his room, and it was such a pit she didn't want to anyway. Even from the doorway she could see it had been trashed too.
Jennifer walked downstairs in something of a daze. She felt violated, her supposedly-safe home invaded. Not only was her jewelry gone, but some pervert had dug through her undies searching for more. She'd have to wash it all, and even then she wasn't sure she'd feel right about wearing it again. She shivered just thinking about it.
She found a bottle of aspirin in the downstairs bath and took it into the kitchen to get a glass of water. She paused a moment to psych herself up to play the role of terrified female, then dialed 911. As she began her report she realized she
wasn't
playing a part, she really was scared and upset. The 911 operator wanted to know if she was in the house and suggested she should get out. He assured her the police were on their way and offered to stay on the line, but Jennifer told him she'd be OK and hung up.
Next she called Cindy, still in something of a panic. She'd be glad when Cindy got there; she didn't want to be alone and would need help straightening up. Jennifer got a diet soda from the fridge; she felt a little faint and wished for once that she could have a
real
soda, she needed the sugar. Though she wasn't much of a drinker, she thought she might just have a drink to calm her nerves after the police left.
She wasn't quite sure what to do next. It was tempting to begin putting the house back in order, but she knew better. On the other hand, she didn't want to
see
the mess again and be reminded that this wasn't just a bad dream. She paced around the kitchen for a few minutes. It occurred to her that she should let Charles know what had happened, but she wasn't looking forward to that. He'd be pissed, and probably act like it was her fault. She was sure she'd set the security alarm before she left. She started to dial his office, then remembered the big meeting and called his cell. Thankfully she got voice-mail and left a message without having to speak to him.
Jennifer decided she ought to go wait outside, but even as she stepped onto the porch she saw the police car pulling up to the curb. At least he wasn't using the lights and siren. A short chubby man with curly dark hair got out of the car and came up to her.
"Officer Sam Barclay, Ma'am," he said by way of introduction. "You're Mrs. Greene?"
"Yes, I am," Jennifer said a bit breathlessly. "Oh, it's
horrible
! The whole house has been torn apart!"
"You reported a burglary." It was not a question. "Are you sure the burglar is gone, apparently you've been inside the home."
"Yes," Jennifer said in answer to both statements. "I just got home and the door was open a little and, you know, I wondered why so I went on in. I saw the den first, but then went all through the house - I never thought he might still
be
there."
Officer Barclay inspected the front door and then they both went inside. He noticed the security keypad by the door and noted that the system was off. Though she swore she'd set it before leaving, his demeanor made it clear he was skeptical. She took him on a quick tour of the house so he could see the damage.
He suggested they talk in the dining room. He could see that she needed to sit down, and hopefully it would be a calming spot since it hadn't been disturbed. He wondered about that when they went into the room, as it didn't look very comfortable to him. The cream walls and gold carpet somehow looked cool and sterile. The furniture was made from some kind of blond wood, and had very simple square lines. Abstract paintings in cool colors on the walls didn't warm it up any, either.
Office Barclay called the forensics crew to come take fingerprints and any other evidence. Jennifer told him she'd been shopping with a friend, when she'd left the friend's house and returned here. He asked if any other family members would have been home and she told him her husband rarely came home during the day and Justin was at school.
"Do you keep anything of value in the home?" the officer asked. "Anything that someone might have known about?"
"We have, I don't know, the usual stuff I guess. Nothing specially, like, important," she said.
"It doesn't have to be unusual to be worth stealing," he replied a little sarcastically. For instance, do you have silver in the buffet over there?"
Jennifer said, "Oh!" and jumped up to pull open a drawer. "Yes, the silver's still here," she said. "But my jewelry's all gone upstairs."
Officer Barclay wrote that down. "Is there anything else missing that you know of?" he asked.
"Well, my husband often keeps cash in his desk drawer, you know, the one in his office. The drawers were all dumped, he must've taken it." She replied.
"How much was there, do you know?"
"No, Charles never said. He, you know, likes to keep some money around just in case. He always gives me spending-money when I ask, he doesn't like me messing around in his office." Jennifer gave the cop her best smile to cover the fact that her last statement might have sounded a little suspicious.
"So you wouldn't know if anything else was missing from the office then?" he asked.
Jennifer thought for a minute. "Well, there were the coins. He showed them to me once when we were dating. We've only been married just over a year," she said.
"A coin collection?" he inquired. "Did he say it was valuable?" He started to ask for more details, but decided she probably didn't know. Clearly she was the second wife, and the husband hadn't exactly married her for her brains.
"I don't know," she replied a little petulantly. "It was all, like, in little plastic pockets in a big box. Didn't look very interesting to me."
Officer Barclay wrote that down, too. "Did you have any prescription medications in the upstairs bathroom, Mrs. Greene?" he asked.
"Um, yeah, you know, some pain meds and muscle relaxers and stuff," she said.
"I'll need you to call your pharmacy and get a list," he said as he added that to his notes. "And if you discover anything else missing, let me know."
"Um, OK, sure," she said. "I mean, the TV and stereo and stuff are all here, they're worth money, why wouldn't a thief take them too?
"Right now it looks like they went for the easy stuff. Small items that are easy to carry and yet still worth a lot of money. Cash of course; but the jewelry, coin collection, and drugs are all easy to fence. I know it sounds corny, but he could easily have carried it all out of here in a pillow case."
At that moment they both heard someone calling out from the front door.
"Oh, that's my friend," Jennifer said. "Come on in Cindy, we're in the dining room. Don't go in the den, it's scary!"
Cindy walked into the room and went straight to Jennifer to give her a quick hug before taking a seat herself.
"Officer, um, Barkley?" Jennifer suddenly realized she wasn't sure of his name. "This is Cindy Stone. She's the one I told you about, I mean, that I was
shopping
with all day. I called her after I called you, I mean, 911."
"It's
Barclay
. Sam Barclay." He shook Cindy's hand across the table. "You were with Mrs. Greene all morning?" he queried.
"Yes, sir," Cindy replied. "She had to buy a new dress for tonight and we spent the day shopping. She took me home about 2:30 and left. She called all in a panic just before three; I was just leaving for work then." Cindy thought through her statement for a moment. "I had to come," she added.
"Of course," said Officer Barclay kindly. "I know this is all very upsetting."
They heard a man's voice from the front door. "Hello? The CSI gang is here! Where's the crime scene?"
Sam Barclay stood up and went to talk with them. As soon as he was gone Jennifer and Cindy shared another, longer, hug.
"Gosh, Jen, how horrible!" Cindy exclaimed. "What was taken?"
"You can't imagine how shocked I was," Jennifer replied. "My jewelry's gone, and some pills in the bathroom, and the money in Charles' desk. I haven't had a chance to see if anything else is gone, I mean, I had to call the cops as soon as I saw the place. The electronics are all here, the officer says he was after the little stuff, you know, that he could put in his pocket."
Jennifer glanced quickly at the doorway through which she could hear the cop talking to the forensics crew. She reached into her pocket and handed the few pieces of jewelry to Cindy. "Here. He missed these, they were in the nightstand. Put 'em in your purse and we can sell them later," she said in a whisper.
Cindy looked a little nervous, but did as she was told.
In a slightly too-loud voice Jennifer asked, "Would you like a soda?"
They went to the kitchen and sat at the breakfast table to continue discussing what might be gone and who might have done it. They could see the forensics team moving through the den, and hear some of them walking around upstairs.
After some time Officer Barclay poked his head into the kitchen and asked, "Did your husband own a gun, Mrs. Greene?"
"A gun?" Jennifer asked like she'd never heard of such a thing. "Oh, um, yeah, I think so."