Chapter 29
Breaking and Entering
The eye-white light of the moon hung above us as I drove toward Sheriff Chad’s house, while a high wind sent ashes of clouds streaking across a black sky. The air was redolent with freshly-mown alfalfa, and the grassy musk of corn standing tall in the field. “Don’t cha just love the night air?” Mabs said. “Kinda refreshing ain’t it?”
“Yeah, I wish it were this peaceful during the day.”
Chad’s house wasn’t really a house. Actually, it was a mobile home. His was parked along the back of the River Run trailer park next to the Standard River. As trailer parks go, this one was upscale with a swimming pool and clubhouse. Chad’s home was a gray and white doublewide surrounded by small patches of variegated gravel and grass. But the real distinguishing characteristic of his home was the red and white “for sale” sign standing in his postage-stamp-sized front yard. I slowed down as I past his house.
Mabs cried out. “For sale? You see that?”
“How could I miss it?”
“You think he’s flown the coop?”
“Perhaps. I see our newspapers in plastic bags have been piled up on the front porch. Let’s park around the corner and check it out.”
“Whoa. Wait a minute. What do you mean ‘check it out?’”
I grabbed a flashlight from the glove compartment. “Just look around, that’s all? Want to come?”
“Geez, Sam. I dunno.”
“Then, stay here if you want. I’ll be right back. But be quiet.” As I walked away, I heard Mab’s side door creak open. “Hold on,” she whispered. “I’m coming.”
Cicadas serenaded us at full volume, and I couldn’t help but wonder if they were trying to warn the whole community of our presence.
Chad’s home was at the end of the street next to the river. All the lights were off, even his porch light. I figured there wasn’t much chance we’d be seen. The mobile homes nearby were all dark. A small one-car garage sat at the far back end of Chad’s driveway. I peered into the side window, but it was too dark to see anything. But the side door was unlocked. I pushed it open. His garage was empty, except for a small workbench and garden tools hanging on the wall. His truck was not there.
Mabs peeked in behind me. “He ain’t home. Let’s go.”
I gently tried opening the back door to his house. But this door was locked.
“Dang it, Sam. Let’s go. You’re making me nervous. What if he’s got a security system?”
“Don’t think so. Do you know how to pick a lock?”
“Sam. Are you crazy?”
“Mabs, keep it down. And no, I’m not crazy. Look around, will you. Maybe there’s a spare key hidden out here, somewhere.”
We both felt around the top of the door, around windows, under the door mat, and everywhere where we thought a nook and cranny might hide a key. But we found nothing. Then I hit upon an idea. “You got a credit card on you?”
“That only works in movies, Sam.”
I was running out of ideas and thought I could maybe break a window, which I didn’t want to do. “Hey! I think I saw a crowbar in the garage.”
“Oh, no. No. Don’t do that,” Mabs said. “That’s breaking and entering, I think.”
She was right, of course, but I ignored her. When I returned with the crowbar. She was shifting weight on her feet and her neck was on a swivel. “Oh, gawd. I gotta pee.”
“Behind the garage, Mabs and hurry.” She whimpered and ran off.
The back door popped open easily. I tip-toed inside and stood against a wall. I held my breath. Listening for human sounds. There was only the low hum of the refrigerator in the kitchen.
“Sam? You in there?”
“Come in Mabs. I think we’re alone.”
She crept in. “What are we looking for?”
“I don’t know for sure. Maybe anything that will tell us where he went and why. A letter, perhaps, travel plans, maps. I’ll start here in the kitchen looking for mail and whatever I can find. You check out the bedroom.”
“Okay,” she said. She sighed and softly walked away.
I did find a pile of envelopes and advertisements on the floor that had slipped through the mail slot. Mostly coupons, flyers from home improvement contractors, and bills. I found a bank statement and realizing I was breaking the law, ripped it open. The statement showed his previous balance at $50,000 in savings, but it was now zero. How could a sheriff in a small town like Standard afford to save $50,000? His cost of living would barely be covered by his salary, let alone, leave enough for saving. I took the statement into the bedroom where I found Mabs grinning. A bedroom drawer was open. She stood before it holding a pair of Chad’s underwear. She giggled. “He likes black. They’re all black.”
“I’m not surprised.”
Mabs said his closet was full of clothes, shoes and boots. “I think he’s coming back.”
“I’m not so sure.” I showed her the bank statement.
“Lordy. Where’d he get that kind of money?”
“I don’t know, Mabs. But if he zeroed out his balance, I’m thinking he left in a hurry.”
“And that ‘for sale’ sign?”
“He could have arranged that long distance.”
“Mabs.”
“Yeah, Sam.”
“Put down his underwear and let’s get out of here.” That’s when the rumble of an engine stopped my heart.
“Oh, shit!” she said.
A large black truck drove up his driveway and parked at the front of the garage. The truck was too large to fit inside.
“C’mon, Mabs. Out the front. He’ll be coming in the back.” She closed his dresser drawer, and we ran in a low crouch to the front door. We made it out just as I heard the back door open. Light flooded the inside of Chad’s home, and the porch light beamed on as if the sun had vaulted to high noon. I grabbed Mabs’s hand and pulled her down behind a line of choke cherry bushes along the riverbank. We caught our breath as the shadow of a tall man walked through Chad’s home.
Mab’s whispered. “That ain’t Chad is it?”
“I’m afraid not.”
clap clap!!! Excited to be back into the mess !