What a Week!

"What will happen to the money?"

"All I can tell you is that it will be taken care of as the state and federal laws dictate - state because there's probable cause to believe that the money was stolen in this state, and federal because there's probable cause to believe that it was stolen from a bank that's regulated and protected by the Federal Deposit Insurance Commission. Probably we'll find that an insurance company has already paid off on the loss, years ago. Once we've established the present rightful owner, the first thing to be taken out is a finder's fee, which is set by law. Your lawyer will explain all that to you. Then fees will be deducted for everybody who performed a service in recovering the money, including your parents, Melanie,who housed the money and consented to the search. Then the bank will be reimbursed for whatever actual loss they've had, such as a deductible amount on their insurance. After all that, whatever's left will go to the insurance company that paid the original claim."

"Any idea whose body is up there?"

"Not yet. We'll know a lot more after the techs have gone over it. I doubt that it's Nunzio because the police found his body in '95. My wild guess is that it's the hit man who screwed up. We might find two weapons in there with him."

"Two?" I asked, "why two?"

"One that killed Nunzio and one that killed the hit man."

"But why would they have kept the guns? Why not toss 'em out in the desert?"

"Maybe they did. We'll see."

I was getting antsy to get out of there, now that we knew what was behind the false wall. "How much longer till we can go?"

"Fifteen, twenty minutes. You'll be shown what we're taking downtown, aside from what's in the closet, and the sergeant who's running the team will give you a receipt for it. Then you can go home. Detective Abrams will give your paralegal a receipt for what was in the closet. There's no need for you to wait around for that. Detecting will be on hold for a few days, while the lab techs take over. Don't get impatient, the way I do. That stuff has been in that closet for almost twenty years, and a few days won't make any difference.

"I'm going home now to change my clothes. I'll be in touch. Guard the betting pool until we can get the money counted. Anita, congratulations on winning our side bet. Spend it carefully!"

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TUESDAY AFTERNOON

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There's something about not knowing what's hidden where you can't see it, that plays with your mind and gets you on edge. And, as it said so often in my high school geometry book, the converse is true - finding out what's in there lifts a burden off your shoulders that you didn't even know you were carrying. We went back to my house and for the first time in days we noticed the weather, perfect autumn weather with brilliant sunshine, a slight breeze, as if God had planned this day as a gift for us, knowing that we'd been under stress and needed to be pampered.

We sat on the back patio, sipping ice tea, and just relaxed. I got thinking about something we could do the next day for recreation. "Mel, do you get claustrophobic in enclosed places?"

"No. Why do you ask?"

"Well, there's a state park southeast of here, that has one of the most beautiful caverns anywhere. They've preserved it all carefully and made it visitor-friendly, and it's an amazing place, from what I've heard. I've never seen it, and we could all go and hold onto each other and say 'Gee-whiz' together, along with the other tourists. Interested?"

"Sure. Anything to get away from 1226 for a day. Anita, what do you think?"

"Count me in. I talked to Harry this morning and he said he and the kids are just fine, and his mom has everything in good order so I can hang with you guys for a few more days if I want. I have two cases that are wrapped up, so I'll spend a few minutes on Pete's computer tonight sending out a form letter and an invoice with each of the files, and then I'm free as a bird. So let's go and be tourists."

I got up and went to my computer and made a reservation for us to tour the cavern at two pm the next day. That left us uncommitted for the afternoon and it was nice to sit and relax together. The sun was hot, and eventually Anita said, "Let's go indoors, where it's cooler. Pete, where do you keep your games?"

I took her to the game shelf and helped her to look through the collection. Clue seemed too reminiscent of the mysterious closet. "Hey Mel, want to play Scrabble?"

"I'm game, but it's only fair to warn you that I'll beat you both by so many points that you'll be humiliated."

To the casual observer it might seem that her threat would warn us off, but given Anita's natural competitive nature it had the opposite effect. "If you're so confident, maybe you'd like to make it interesting. Let's each ante five bucks into a pot for the winner, plus ten cents a point on the side."

"Great! Enough bets with you and I'll have my bridal gown paid for!"

Since nobody asked me, it was decided and I got roped into the most cutthroat game of Scrabble that I ever played. We played sitting on the floor in the middle of my family room. Too bad I didn't have a good excuse to sit it out. I put down CAT, and Mel played CRAZY off my C. I scored three points and the love of my life got thirty something, between the ten point Z and the colored squares that never seemed to be placed right for my words. Coming down the home stretch, Anita had a fair lead, which she didn't let us forget, while I trailed the field by fifty or more points. Then Mel, who hadn't been laying down any big words for a while, smiled from ear to ear as she slowly, majestically, plunked down one letter at a time to spell out QUARREL with the L on a triple word score, at the same time making LAIR with the L, out of AIR that I'd laid down for three points. In doing so, Mel went out. So she got a ton of points for her words plus she got a bonus for using all seven of her letters at once. She won the winner pot by a huge amount. Plus, she collected for the point difference from both Anita and me, and after that was all over I still had to pay Anita for the points she beat me by.

Sitting there counting her winnings, Mel said, "Well, I tried to warn you guys. I really enjoyed the game. First time I've played in over a year. By the end of my Junior year, nobody in the dorm would play Scrabble with me any more. But, you know, it's all just luck. Want to play again? Maybe you'll get better letters this time."

Anita chuckled. "No more Scrabble for me. But Pete's got Dominoes here. I could show you how to play."

"Oh, good. I love to learn new games."

"All right. Ante five for the winner pot, and if you play a double you get a buck from each of us. Draw seven tiles. Whoever has the highest double lays it down to start the game."

Anita had a double seven and was about to start until Mel laid down a double nine. I was shocked to hear that Anita and I had to pay her a buck apiece before we'd even had a turn. I could see the handwriting on the wall, but it was too late to back out. I was reminded of a patter routine that Phil Harris recorded, that began:

"Now ol' Bill Jackson was a poor old dub who joined the Darktown Poker Club and he cursed the day he said that he would join.

"His money went like it had wings. If he had queens they all had kings, and each night he would contribute all his coin."

It dawned on me that I was playing a child's game against two very intelligent, very clever, very competitive adults. They masked their potential for crafty attacks by distracting me with beautiful smiling faces, sweet melodious voices, and bodies right out of the Sports Illustrated swimsuit issue. But what could I do? I'm just a man.

Dominoes is one game where everybody has the same chance. Creativity counts for very little, and the luck of the draw governs what tiles you'll get. So why was I the big loser again, with Anita not much better? Mel had cleaned us out of small bills. Anita tried not to bleat when she asked Mel, "How'd you get to be so good at playing games?"

"Look, for six years at U of M, I hardly dated at all and only went to the beer bashes that were on our hallway. So I spent a lot of my free time playing cards and other games against my equally reclusive neighbors. We were all competitive, and our IQ's were pretty evenly matched, up around the near genius level. One thing that helped is that if one of them knew a clever way to nail an opponent, eventually she'd teach it to the rest of us. We weren't all the same age or in the same class so the players came and went, and new players would bring new games and new skills with them. It's not hard to become good at something if you have six years to work on it."

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TUESDAY EVENING

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Nobody felt like cooking supper, so Mel used some of her winnings to take us out to a good Mexican restaurant. Notice the word 'good' because the Mexican food craze of the last twenty years has spawned hundreds of bad Mexican restaurants, dozens of mediocre ones, and just a few good ones here and there.

I'd found that when you move to a city far away from home, you need to find a good plumber, a good auto repair shop, a good barber, a good dentist, and a few good restaurants. The search is arduous and fraught with uncertainty, but if you persevere the reward is peace of mind.

I had two enchiladas with a mild sauce, with beans and rice on the side. The girls were more adventurous, and I heard little gasps and squeals now and then as a result. I watched Anita eat with a fork in one hand and a glass of beer in the other, so she could put out the fire before it got out of control.

After we finished eating we lingered at the table sipping our beer and talking about nothing much. Mel unexpectedly brought the subject back to the multiple mysteries of 1226 East Aurora Avenue. She mentioned the corpse she had found, and then asked a question that seemed obvious once she'd said it, but had simply sailed by me completely. "We've heard about Leo Francis and his mob, and what they may or may not have done in the mid 90's. But where did they go after that? What happened to them? How did the house become the property of a realtor? Was he connected to Francis? Was anybody ever convicted of murdering Nunzio? It seems to me that we've watched the first reel of a movie and we're now on the third one, but the second is missing."

Anita picked up the theme. "I've been wondering about your purse snatching, and the second burglary attempt on your house. Were you a random victim out there on that street corner, or were you targeted so somebody could get into your house? And after the first burglar was killed, where did the second one come from, so soon afterward? That guy seemed to know where the money was hidden. How did he tie into the first burglary, and the events of the mid 90's? Is somebody still sitting out there somewhere, waiting to try for a third time? Do these people pose a threat to you and your parents, Mel?"

I'd been feeling relaxed, thinking that the problems had all been solved. As the girls voiced their doubts, it felt as if the floor was crumbling under my feet. I was getting anxious to get back home, lock the doors, and set the burglar alarm system.

I guess I wasn't the only one who felt that way because the conversation was cut short and we quickly scrambled into the SUV and hit the trail.

We sat at the dining table in the family room, for no good reason, and batted the crime questions around. We kept coming back to the second burglar. "That guy is alive and in custody. He might provide some clues to what's going on, and what became of the Leo Francis mob. We haven't heard a thing about him, and without something to go on, all we can do is shadow box. Let's call Vincent in the morning and ask about him."

That was as far as we could go with it. Nothing could be done without more information, and we couldn't get it till the next day, so it made sense to hit the hay and face the morning well rested. We did 'good nights' all around and went into our bedrooms. No sooner had I shut our door than Mel had her arms around my neck. "Pete, hold me. Protect me, please. Your little mental Melanie is mired in a mystery. Please, please, don't let me out of your sight. I need you."

I sat down in the little upholstered chair near the foot of the bed, and pulled Mel onto my lap. "Sweetie, I'll put a pistol under the pillow tonight, and I'll be right there with you, ready to fight off the world to keep you safe. The shotgun is under the bed. We'll be safe. Now you sit here in this chair for two minutes. I'm going to get Anita to come in here and sleep in our bed with us. I'm very good with a handgun, but she's even better. You wait here for me."

I went out into the hall and knocked on Anita's door. She had to come and unlock it, which told me that she was a little anxious, too. "Come into the master bedroom and share our king size bed with us. Do you have one of your handguns with you?"

"No. Airlines, you know. Do you have a spare?"

"Look on the shelf in your closet." She walked over and felt around, then came away holding a big black Taurus revolver with rubber grips. "How does that feel in your hand?"

"It's just fine. These hollow points, are they 44 Special?"

"Yeah. The gun is 44 Magnum, loaded with 44 Special+P. It's ported, and between that and the weight, I find it very comfortable to shoot. Good recovery for a second shot. It'll pack a little more punch than a 45 automatic but overtravel isn't as bad a problem as it is with magnum ammunition."

"Looks like a sweetheart to me. Hold up, I want to bring that pillow I've been using. Okay, lead on."

I showed Anita the solid door with the pins in the hinge side, and locked and bolted it. Then I pulled the shotgun out from under the bed and showed her which way the safety went, and the little button that allows the chamber to be emptied in case of a dud primer. We all got into the bed, with Anita on the side toward the wall, Mel in the middle, and me on the side toward the door. Mel and I went off to sleep with our arms wrapped around each other. This would be our first night to sleep together without making love first, but desperate times call for desperate measures.

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WEDNESDAY MORNING

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I called Detective Vincent right after eight, and relayed our questions. He commented, "Tell the ladies that they're asking the right questions but we don't have the right answers yet."

"Wait till I put this on the speaker phone so they can hear you."

"Okay, can you hear me now? We probably won't be able to connect any more dots for another day or two. We'll interrogate the burglar this morning. It's a puzzle, trying to figure out what he knew that led him to that closet, and also why he didn't try to go after it before. Casual observation could have shown him that nobody was home there during weekdays, with the owners off on their cruise. Besides, the house stood unoccupied for months while it was up for sale. So we're looking for those answers, and maybe more that will come along with them.

"The corpse in the closet actually seems to be a side issue. If we can learn who he was, he may lead us to a crime file that will tell us something about the Leo Francis gang. But I agree with you that we need to flesh out the recent history of that gang. Why did Francis sell the house, and where did he go from there? It doesn't make sense that he'd walk away from that wad of money in the closet. We've identified the bank that the money came from, but I have to sit down today and get all the details. I don't even know how much it is right now.

"By tonight I'll know the story on the money, whatever we can get from the burglar, and what the record search will tell us about the house. But at this point the corpse in the office is still a total unknown. Who was he, what was he doing there, and how did he die? Give me a call tomorrow morning and I'll bring you up to date on what we've found by then.

"Have a good trip to the cavern. Bring back some postcards so you can show me what it looks like. With the way things are going here, I may never get away to see it in person."

We were on the road by nine. We took along our toothbrushes and a change of clothes, in case we decided to stay overnight in that area. Traffic was light and most of Interstate 10 was in pretty good shape, so the 160 mile trip went easily. The SUV rode well, not like some that are as stiff as a dump truck, and the only cause of discomfort was the thought of the gasoline it was drinking up. But even though this trip was intended to give us a break from the strange things that had been happening at 1226, our minds kept returning to the mystery we'd got tangled up in.

We'd all been quiet for a few minutes when Mel said, "I've been thinking so much about the stuff in my closet that I almost forget about the corpse I almost tripped over in the office. Then when I think about him again, I'm frustrated because I don't see how he could fit in with the rest of this. I was just imagining what it would have been like if we'd never found him, and my poor father would have discovered him when he went into his office. As awful as it was for me to find him, I'm really glad that I did, and saved him that shock. He could have had a heart attack!"

Anita commented, "I was surprised that the police hadn't searched the whole house. They got wrapped up in the gunfight they had with the burglar, and I suppose with all the trouble they have to go through when they kill a suspect, they let the search go until they could get a warrant. Besides that, I can see why they wouldn't mess with probable cause, because they didn't think that it was urgent to do a search right then. Lawyers have a field day in court, trying to exclude evidence by arguing what was a valid probable cause and what wasn't, so I suppose they prefer to have the protection of a warrant if possible. But you're right about the dead guy not fitting in with all the rest. There wasn't any blood around him, so he couldn't have been shot or stabbed. He could have been poisoned, or maybe strangled, or maybe he had a heart attack or a stroke."

I thought that over. "What about an air bubble injected into his bloodstream? Or an electric shock?"

Mel was apparently reviewing everything we knew about the mystery man. "He could have been with the first burglar, and gone into the office to look for valuables, maybe a safe or a strongbox, while the other burglar was downstairs with the silverware. I don't know why he would have closed the office door, but maybe he didn't want the other guy to see if he found something really good."

"That's the first explanation that sounds really plausible," I said. "But what could have killed him?"

Anita picked up the fairy tale. "He might have been older than the burglar that got killed, like his father or uncle. Maybe he was too frail to do any heavy lifting, and was just going after light stuff like diamonds or paper money or stock certificates. Then when the shots were fired the sudden shock, like realizing that his son was injured or dead, might have caused his heart to stop. They should see if he had any dynamite pills with him."

"Dynamite pills?" I asked.

Mel knew the answer to that one. "Street slang for nitroglycerin capsules. People with some kinds of heart trouble carry them to start their hearts going again in a normal rhythm. One of my professors had them with him all the time, in a little pill box in his shirt pocket."

"And how did you know that?"

"I don't remember what brought it up, but we were in his office and he took the box out and showed me."