Close up, what I saw was even more astounding. The neat piles of Garfield pictures had been swept off the couch and were scattered all over the floor. The books were unstacked from the chairs and tossed all around. The pile of knickknacks near the fireplace looked like it had been hit full force by a tornado. Stuff was everywhere, knocked over, messed up, gone through.
Gone through. Yeah, that’s what I said. Like somebody was looking for something.
I couldn’t imagine what, so I guess it was a good thing I didn’t have a chance to think about it. Then again, when I heard a noise from the den, I wasn’t sure that was a good thing, either. Too late, I realized that just like what happens in all those B horror flicks, I wasn’t alone in the house.
Something told me it wasn’t Nick. From what I’d heard about his sudden change of heart, I knew he wouldn’t have been skulking around in parts unknown. He would have been there in the living room, weeping over the mess and cataloging like a fiend even though he should have been home concentrating on those pink and red M&Ms.
The realization settled in my stomach like ice, and I held my breath and inched back toward the front door. I should have moved faster. That way, I would have been within getting-out distance when a man walked out of Marjorie’s den.
I don’t know who I was expecting, but it sure wasn’t friendly-as-a-teddy-bear Ray Gwitkowski. I shot forward, surprised, sure, but relieved, too. “What on earth are you doing here?” I asked him. “And what happened to this place?”
“Don’t ask me.” As if I’d just told him to stick ’em up, Ray held up both hands, distancing himself from the mess. “It was like this when I walked in. Honest. And hey, kid . . .” He bent forward as if he needed a closer look to be sure it was me. “You’re the last person I expected to make a return appearance at Marjorie’s. What are you doing here?”
Don’t think I didn’t notice that he’d asked the same question I’d asked him.
Or that he’d never answered mine.
“It sure didn’t look like this the last time we were here, did it?” Ray propped his fists on his hips and looked around. “You know, the night we both were here to see Marjorie.”
“And it didn’t look like this yesterday, either,” I told him. “Yesterday it was all organized and neat. And today . . .” I looked back toward the smashed lock on the front door. “Did you do that? Did you break in?”
“Absolutely not. No way. I just stopped by and I wasn’t even planning to come in. But then I saw that the lock was banged up, and the door was open and . . .” His shoulders sagged and he scraped a hand through his hair. “It’s like this . . . I was hoping to get in and out of here and I was praying that nobody would notice. And now here you are.” Ray was still wearing his Garden View volunteer shirt. It matched the one I was wearing except that mine had the word STAFF embroidered over the heart. His face turned as sickly yellow as the color of our shirts. “I think I might be in big trouble, kiddo.”
It wasn’t what he said that made me believe him. It was the way he looked. Miserable. Ray’s arms hung limp at his sides. His eyes were tormented. I picked my way through the framed pictures of President Garfield and the books spread out all over the living room floor, sat down on the couch, and patted the seat beside me. “You want to tell me about what’s going on?”
“I don’t want to tell anybody. It’s too embarrassing. And . . .” He shoved his hands in his pockets and looked up at the ceiling. “I’m pretty sure what I did was illegal, too. I don’t . . .” When he looked at me again, his eyes were pleading. “I don’t want to get in any trouble. I’ve led a good, honest life. It’s a little late in the game for me to be going to jail.”
Had I just invited a murderer to sit down beside me?
I admit, the thought crossed my mind. Too late to take back my invitation. Ray came over and plunked down on the couch.
I consoled myself with the fact that, number one, I was wearing sneakers and not high heels. Which meant I could probably get through the minefield that was Marjorie’s living room pretty easily, even if it did mean crunching a couple pictures of President Garfield in the process. Number two, Ray was old, and he was visibly shaken. I was pretty sure I could outrun him.
Just to be sure, I glanced at the front door, gauging the distance and the best way to get there. Sure of my escape route, I got down to business. Obviously, I do not mean cemetery business.
“I know it doesn’t seem likely,” I said, folding my hands in my lap, the better to look professional and proficient. “But I’ve had some experience when it comes to things that are illegal.”
He nodded. “I’m not surprised. You’re one smart girl, and I heard Ella talking once. She said something about how you helped find out who killed somebody.”
