Nobody's There (15 page)

“You're not even investigating them?”

“We're following through. There's an all points bulletin out for them, but I wouldn't be surprised if they haven't skipped bail long ago and left for other parts.”

Abbie didn't agree. She wished Officer Martin could have seen the anger on Mitchell's face, the hatred on the face of the thief who spewed such ugly words.

Officer Martin added, “The crime against Mrs. Merkel is listed as a random attack during a possible robbery by person or persons unknown.”

“Robbery?” Abbie asked.

“Yes. It's obvious that someone ransacked the downstairs. We don't know what was taken. I'd appreciate it if you'd come to the house with me right now and look it over. We need you to discover if anything is missing.”

Mrs. Thompson objected. “Go with you right now? But it's late, and tomorrow is a school day.”

“Mom,” Abbie groaned, embarrassed. “It won't take long. I've only been in the living room and just walked through the dining room and kitchen. I don't even know if I'd recognize that anything was missing.” An idea struck her and she asked, “What about Mrs. Merkel's nephew, Charlie? Shouldn't you get in touch with him?”

“We've been trying. We found his name and address on an insurance form on Mrs. Merkel's
desk. Charlie lives near Dallas, so we've asked the Dallas police to try to find him.”

“What do you mean, find him? What happened to him?”

“Nothing that we know of. We verified the address and phone number, but he doesn't answer his phone calls. He could be out of town or just at a movie. Until we reach him, you're the only one we know of who has been in Edna Merkel's house. Will you take a look and see if you notice anything missing?”

Abbie stood. “I'll be back soon, Mom,” she said. “You go on to bed. I can let myself in when I get back.” She could hear a rustling on the stairs. When she looked, she saw that Davy had left his hiding place.

“I'll wait up for you,” Mrs. Thompson said firmly, but she looked at Officer Martin. “Just keep in mind that Abbie has to wake up early tomorrow morning to go to school.”

“Yes, ma'am,” Officer Martin said politely. She walked out to her car, and Abbie quickly followed.

Yellow crime scene tape was still attached to the trees and the porch railings of Mrs. Merkel's house.

Abbie stopped. “Do those mean we aren't supposed to go inside?”

“It's okay to cross the lines,” Officer Martin
explained. “The detectives and the crime lab have finished their work, but no one's taken down the tapes yet.” Leading the way, she entered the house.

The living room was colored a sickly yellow by the low-watt light that came from the lamps with tasseled, pleated shades. Trying to avoid looking at the bloodstained rug on which Mrs. Merkel had fallen, Abbie slowly walked around the room, trying not to step on books, papers, or knickknacks as she gazed at each object with full concentration. Something was missing. Something was not where it should be. But what was it?

With Officer Martin at her side, Abbie walked through the kitchen, then leaned against the counter, shaking her head.

“I only saw the kitchen briefly, as I was leaving the house earlier,” she said. “The coffee cup is still where it had been. Mrs. Merkel was interrupted while she was drinking coffee, wasn't she?”

“Maybe,” Officer Martin said. “It looks that way.”

“The coffee cup's still here.”

“The detectives would have seen it, and so would the crime lab.”

“Didn't they take fingerprints from the coffee cup?”

“No. They'd only get Mrs. Merkel's prints. That wouldn't tell us anything.”

“What if it was somebody else who drank the coffee?”

“That isn't likely.”

Abbie sighed. She wished she had done what Davy had told her to do—pay attention. She'd been so full of herself and her own problems. Why hadn't she listened to Mrs. Merkel? Why hadn't she known it would be important to remember? “She said something about …”

“About what?”

Shrugging, Abbie said, “I don't know. Maybe it will come to me. Let's go back to the living room.”

“What about the living room?”

“There's something about the living room that's wrong.” Abbie walked through the kitchen door into the tiny dining room and on into the living room. She stood as still as she could, letting her eyes sweep around the room, checking every table top and nook. Finally, steeling herself, she glanced through the room, studying the carpeting, the sofa, the chairs, and the coffee table.

“Something is missing,” she finally said. “But I don't know what it is.”

Defensively she met Officer Martin's glance. “Look, I was in this room for only a short time. And most of that time I was sitting in a chair behind the open door, keeping an eye on the roofers, doing what Mrs. Merkel wanted me to do, so I really wasn't paying attention to the room.”

Abbie sank into one of the upholstered chairs. She was so tired her body ached. Even her brain
hurt. “Will you help me?” she asked Officer Martin.

“Help you? How?” The police officer took a step toward Abbie.

“Not that way. I don't mean I'm going to pass out or anything like that. Sit down … please. I need to tell you something.”

Abbie told Officer Martin about throwing the rock through Jamie Lane's window and about the judge and what he had promised if she succeeded, and about Mrs. Wilhite. “I know she made it tough for me on purpose because I don't fit in with the rest of her model students,” Abbie said. “She'll count this as all my fault and make it even harder on me. She may even refuse to assign another Friend to me. Please, if you write any reports that will reach the judge, will you recommend that I continue to visit Mrs. Merkel in the hospital? And could you tell him that you think it might help Mrs. Merkel come out of her coma and get better?”

Abbie bent over, resting her head in her hands. “I can't face getting thrown out of the Friend to Friend program like I was some kind of criminal no one cared about. And I can't even face another assignment.”

For a long moment there was only silence. Then Officer Martin said, “Throwing a rock wasn't smart, but it doesn't make you a criminal, Abbie. And the idea behind Friend to Friend was to give elderly women the help they need, not punish a girl who is trying to make amends for what she did.”

Abbie looked up. “If you knew Mrs. Wilhite—”

“I know Mrs. Wilhite.” The officer paused, then said, “Your idea of visiting Mrs. Merkel and talking to her is a good one. One of those TV news feature shows did a whole program about how some doctors think that people in comas can probably hear what's going on around them. The hospitals play music to calm them—things like that.”

“Then will you write this in whatever kind of report you have to fill out?”

Officer Martin smiled. “Better than that. I'll talk to the judge myself.”

She held out a hand to Abbie and pulled her to her feet. “And you keep trying to remember what is missing from this room. If you do, give me a call.” She handed Abbie her business card.

Tucking it into the pocket of her jeans, Abbie turned toward the front door. As she did she saw a man's face pressed against the window. With narrow, squinting eyes, he stared into the room.

Abbie screamed.

O
fficer Martin threw open the door, gun in hand.

“Hey! Don't shoot me!” a man yelled. “I'm looking for my aunt Edna. Edna Merkel.”

Gun lowered, Officer Martin asked, “What's your name?”

“Charlie Merkel,” the man said.

Her heart still loudly pounding, Abbie walked out to the front porch to join Officer Martin. Standing there, facing her, was a square-built man of over average height. His dark hair had thinned, leaving a bald dome that gleamed in the dim light from inside the house. He wore wire-rimmed glasses and a thin mustache and was probably somewhere between fifty-five and sixty,
Abbie guessed. His polo shirt was frayed, and on the area that stretched across his stomach Abbie could see what looked like food stains, even in the faint light. Mrs. Merkel had called him a bum, and the description seemed to fit.

“Step inside, please,” Officer Martin told him.

She stood aside as Charlie entered the house, then followed him in, remaining between him and Abbie. “I'd like to see some ID,” she said.

“Sure, sure,” Charlie said. He tugged a wallet from his hip pocket and pulled out a driver's license. Glancing around, he remarked, “What a mess. Why is all that police tape outside? What happened here?”

“Did you drive to Buckler?”

He nodded. “I drove from Dallas. I just got here.”

“Have you been in contact with anyone from the Dallas or Buckler police department during the past few hours?”

“No.” He absentmindedly scratched at one arm. “I'm not in any trouble, am I? That parking ticket … I plan to pay it as soon as I get a few bucks ahead.”

“Mr. Merkel, we've been trying to find you to inform you that your aunt was attacked by persons unknown at some time today. Are you telling me you're here just by coincidence?”

Charlie gasped and stepped backward. “My aunt's dead? Murdered? Oh, that can't be! I was just coming to see her.”

“Edna Merkel is not dead. She has a fractured skull and is in a coma, but basically she's stabilized.
She's in the intensive care unit of Mercy Hospital.”

Finally Charlie was able to speak. “So she's not dead,” he said.

“That's correct.”

He suddenly seemed to notice the stains on the rug. “Did it happen here? Did somebody break into her house? Why?”

“At the present time, we think it was robbery.”

“What did they take?”

“We don't know. Will you please take a careful look around the room to see if you notice anything that might be missing?”

Charlie turned awkwardly, and Abbie could hear the crunch of a glass figurine under his left heel. “She didn't have anything worth stealing in here,” he said. “Just a lot of junk.”

For the first time he took a good look at Abbie. “Who's this?”

“She's a friend of your aunt's—Abbie Thompson,” Officer Martin said. “I brought Abbie over to check the house, to see if she could notice if something is missing.”

Charlie studied Abbie with curiosity. “Do you know where she keeps her jewelry?”

“No,” Abbie said. “I was only inside the house with her a few times.”

“Well, I know,” Charlie told Officer Martin. “I'll run upstairs and have a look.”

“Lead the way,” Officer Martin said. Abbie realized she wasn't going to let Charlie out of her sight.

Abbie followed them up the stairs. She felt too shaky to stay in that creepy living room with the bloodstains on the carpet.

There were two bedrooms and a bath upstairs. Charlie walked ahead of them into the bedroom at the back of the house and said, “This was … is … Aunt Edna's room. She kept her jewelry in a box …” His voice trailed off as he pointed toward the top of a high chest of drawers on which lay a small wooden jewelry box.

Abbie glanced around the room. Nothing seemed to be disturbed or out of place.

Charlie hurried to the chest and dumped out the contents of the box on the starched linen cloth that covered the top of the chest of drawers. Abbie couldn't see what had been inside the box, because Charlie was in the way, digging through the contents.

Officer Martin stepped up to join him, but he quickly turned and said, “Her rings are gone. One was a large pearl surrounded by diamonds, which Uncle Alf brought her from Hong Kong. The other he got in Australia. A gold dragon holding a big opal, with a small diamond at each side. Uncle Alf was in the merchant marine, but I guess you know that.”

Officer Martin examined the rest of the jewelry. “This all seems to be costume jewelry,” she said.