B Is For Burglar

Chapter 5

My phone rang at 2:08 A.M. I picked up the receiver automatically, my brain still blank with sleep.

"Kinsey Millhone." The voice was male and the tone was neutral, like someone reading at random from a telephone book. Somehow I knew it was a cop. They all sound like that.

"Yes. Who's this?"

"Miss Millhone, this is Patrolman Benedict of the Santa Teresa Police Department. We've been called on a 594 at 2097 Via Madrina, apartment 1, and a Mrs. Tillie Ahlberg is asking for you. Would it be possible for you to lend some assistance? We have a policewoman with her, but she's asked for you specifically and we'd appreciate it if you could respond."

I raised up on one elbow, a few brain cells switching to ignition. "What's a 594?" I said. "Malicious mischief?"

"Yes ma'am."

It was clear Patrolman Benedict didn't want to risk anything by rushing right in with a lot of facts.

"Is Tillie okay?" I asked.

"Yes ma'am. She's unharmed, but she's upset. We don't mean to disturb you, but the lieutenant okayed us to get in touch."

"I'll be there in five minutes," I said and hung up.

I pushed the quilt back and grabbed for my jeans and sweatshirt, pulling on boots without ever getting up off the couch. I usually sleep naked in a fold of quilt because it's so much easier than opening the sofa bed. I went into the bathroom, brushed my teeth and splashed water on my face, combing my unruly hair with my fingers as I snatched up my keys and moved to the car. I was wide awake by now, wondering what kind of 594 we were talking about. Tillie

Ahlberg was clearly not the perpetrator or she'd have called an attorney instead.

The night air was cold and the fog had rolled in off the beach and halfway across town, filling the empty streets with a fine mist. Stoplights blinked dutifully from red to green to red again, but there was no traffic and I ran the lights every chance I got. There was a black-and-white parked out in front of 2097 and the lights in Tillie's ground-floor apartment were all on, but things seemed quiet; no flashing red lights, no neighbors gathered on the sidewalk. I announced myself on the intercom and somebody buzzed me in. I pushed through the door to the right of the elevator and moved quickly down the corridor to Tillie's apartment at the end. Several people in robes and pajamas stood in the hall near the door, but a patrolman in uniform was encouraging them to go on back to bed. When he spotted me, he approached, hands on his hips as though he didn't know what else to do with them. He looked like he'd probably still be asked for his I.D. when he ordered a drink, but up close I could see signs of age: fine lines near his eyes, a slight loosening of the taut skin along his jaw. His eyes were old and I knew he'd already seen more of the human condition than he could assimilate.

I held out my hand. "Are you Benedict?"

"Yes ma'am," he said, shaking hands with me. "You're Miss Millhone, I take it. Nice to meet you. We appreciate this." His grip was firm, but brief. He nodded toward the door to Tillie's apartment, which stood ajar. "You can go on in if you want. Officer Redfern is with her, taking down particulars."

I thanked him and moved into the apartment, glancing to my right. The living room looked like something left in the path of a tornado. I stopped and stared for a moment. Vandalism in a place like this? I moved into the kitchen. Tillie was sitting at the table with her hands tucked between her knees, the freckles standing out on her pale face like red pepper flakes. A uniformed policewoman, maybe forty years old, was seated at the table taking notes. She had short-cropped blond hair and a birthmark like a patch of rose petals on one cheek. Her name tag identified her as Isabelle Redfern and she talked to Tillie in low, earnest tones like someone trying to persuade a flier not to leap off a bridge.

When Tillie caught sight of me, tears spilled out of her and she beean to shake, as though my appearance were tacit permission to fall apart. I knelt down beside her, taking her hands. "Hey, it's okay," I said, "what's going on?"

She tried to speak, but nothing came out at first except a wheezing sound like someone stepping on a rubber duck. Finally, she managed to choke out a response. "Someone broke in. I woke up and saw this woman standing in the door to my room. My God, I thought my heart would stop. I couldn't even move I was so terrified. And then… and then, she started… it was like this hissing sound and she ran in the living room and started tearing everything up…" Tillie put a handkerchief over her mouth and nose, closing her eyes. Officer Redfern and I exchanged a look. Bizarre stuff. I put my arm around Tillie's shoulders, giving her a little shake.

"Come on, Tillie," I said, "it's over now and you're safe."

"I was so scared. I was so scared. I thought she was going to kill me. She was like a maniac, like a totally crazy person, panting and hissing and crashing around. I slammed the bedroom door shut and locked it and then dialed 911. Next thing I knew it got quiet, but I didn't open up the door until the police got here."

"That's great. You did great. Look, I know you were scared, but you did it just right and now it's okay."

The policewoman leaned forward. "Did you get a good look at this woman?"

Tillie shook her head, beginning to shake again.

This time the policewoman took Tillie's hands. "Take a couple of deep breaths. Just relax. It's over now and everything's fine. Breathe deeply. Come on. Do you have any tranquilizers on hand or alcohol of some kind?"

I got up and moved over to the kitchen cabinets, opening doors at random, but there didn't seem to be any liquor at all. I found a bottle of vanilla extract and poured the contents into a jelly glass. Tillie downed it without even looking.

She began to breathe deeply, calming herself. "I never saw her before in my life," she said in somewhat more ordered tones. "She was crazy. A lunatic. I don't even know how she got in." She paused. The air smelled like cookies.

The policewoman looked up from her notes. "Mrs. Ahlberg, there was no sign of forced entry. It had to be someone who had a key. Have you given a key to anyone in the past? Maybe someone who was house-sitting? Someone who watered your plants when you were away?"

At first Tillie shook her head and then she stopped and shot a look at me, her eyes filled with sudden alarm.

"Elaine. She's the only one who ever had one." She turned to the policewoman. "My neighbor in the apartment right above me. I gave her a key last fall when I took a little trip to San Diego."

I took over then, filling in the rest; Elaine's apparent disappearance and her sister's hiring me.

Officer Redfern got up. "Hold on. I want Benedict to hear this."

It was 3:30 in the morning by the time Redfern and Benedict were finished, and Tillie was exhausted. They asked her to come down to the station later that morning to sign a statement and in the meantime, I said I'd stay with her until she had herself under control again.

When the cops finally left, Tillie and I sat and stared at each other wearily.

"Could it have been Elaine?" I asked.

"I don't know," she said. "I don't think so, but it was dark and I wasn't thinking straight."

"What about her sister? Did you ever meet Beverly Danziger? Or a woman named Pat Usher?"

Tillie shook her head mutely. Her face was still as pale as a dinner plate and there were dark circles under her eyes. She anchored her hands between her knees again, tension humming through her like a wind across guitar strings.

I moved into the living room and surveyed the damage more closely. The big glass-fronted secretary had been tipped over and lay facedown on the coffee table, which looked to have collapsed on impact. The couch had been slashed, the foam hanging out now like pale flesh. Drapes were torn down. Windows had been broken, lamps and magazines and flowerpots flung together in a heap of pottery shards and water and paper pulp. This was what insanity looked like when it was on the loose. That or unbridled rage, I thought. This had to be connected to Elaine's disappearance. There was no way I'd believe it was an independent event, coincidental to my search for her. I wondered if there was a way to find out where Beverly Danziger had been tonight. With her porcelain good looks and her blinking china blue eyes, it was hard to picture her loping around all looney-tunes, but how did I know for sure? Maybe she'd driven up to Santa Teresa the first time on an institutional pass.

I tried to imagine what it would be like to wake in the dead of night to some hissing female on the rampage. An involuntary shiver took me and I went back into the kitchen. Tillie hadn't moved, but her eyes came up to my face with a look of dependency.

"Let's get it cleaned up," I said. "We're neither of us going to sleep anyway and you shouldn't have to do this by yourself. Where do you keep your dustpan and broom?"

She pointed to the utility room and then with a sigh she got to her feet and we went to work.

When order had been restored, I told Tillie I wanted the key to Elaine's apartment. "What for?" she asked apprehensively.

"I want to check it out. Maybe she's up there."

"I'll come with you," she volunteered promptly. I wondered vaguely if she was going to follow me around for life like Yogi Bear and Boo-Boo. Still, I gave her a quick hug and told her to wait a minute while I made a quick trip to my VW. She shook her head and followed me outside.

I took my semi-automatic out of the glove compartment, hefting it in my hand. It was a nondescript.32 with a cross-hatched ivory grip and a clip that would hold eight rounds. The life of a private eye is short on gun battles, long on basic research, but there are times when a ballpoint pen just doesn't get it. I had visions of some deranged female flying out of the darkness at me like a bat. A.32 may not have much stopping power, but it can sure slow you down. I wedged the gun in the back of my jeans and headed back to the elevator with Tillie at my heels.

"I thought it was against the law to carry a concealed weapon like that," she said uneasily.

"That's why I have a permit," I said.

"But I always heard handguns were so dangerous."

"Of course they're dangerous! That's the point. What do you want me to do? Go in there with a hunk of rolled-up newspaper?"

She was still giving that one some thought when we reached the second floor. I took out the automatic and eased the safety off, pulling back the slide on the barrel to cock it. I slipped the key to Elaine's lock and then I opened the door and let it swing back. Tillie was holding on to my sleeve like a little kid. I waited a moment, staring into the gloomy interior with my heart thumping. There was no sound… no movement inside. I felt for the light switch and flipped it on, peering around the doorframe quickly. Nothing. I indicated that Tillie was to wait where she was and I moved through the apartment quietly, turning lights as I went, using a modified version of my best junior G-man stance every time I entered a room. As far as I could tell, there was no sign that anyone had been there. I checked the closets and took a quick peek under the bed and then sighed, realizing that I'd been holding my breath. I went back to the front door and had Tillie come in, closing and locking it behind us. I moved back down the hallway to the den.

I went through Elaine's desk quickly, checking her files. In the third drawer down, I found her passport and flipped through the pages. It was still valid, but it hadn't been used since a trip to Cozumel one April three years back. I tucked the passport in my back pocket. If she was still around, I didn't want her using her passport to slip out of the country. There was something else knocking around in the back of my head, but I couldn't figure out what it was. I shrugged to myself, assuming it would surface in due course.

I deposited Tillie at her door.

"Look," I said, "when you have a chance, take a careful look around and see if anything's missing. When you go down to the police station, they'll want a list of stolen property if you know of any. Do you carry any homeowner's insurance that might cover the damages?"

"I don't know," she said, "I guess I can check. Would you like some tea?" Her expression was wistful and she clung to my hand.

"Tillie, I wish I could, but I've got to go. I know you're uneasy, but you'll be okay. Is there somebody in the building who can keep you company?"

"Maybe the woman in apartment 6. I know she's up early. I'll try her. And thanks, Kinsey. I mean that."

"Don't worry about it. I was glad to help. I'll talk to you later. Get some sleep if you can."

I left her looking after me plaintively as I headed toward the lobby. I got in the car and tucked the gun in the glove compartment again, and then I headed for my place. My head was full of questions, but I was too tired to think. By the time I crept back in the folds of my quilt, the sky was a predawn gray and an enterprising rooster somewhere in my neighborhood was heralding the day.

The phone shrilled again at 8:00 A.M. I'd just reached that wonderful heavy stage of sleep where your nervous system turns to lead and you feel like some kind of magnetic force has just fused you to the bed. Consistently waking someone from a sleep like that could generate psychosis in two days. "What," I mumbled. I could hear static in the line, but nothing else. Oh goody, maybe I'd been wakened by a long-distance obscene phone caller. "Hello?"

"Oh, that's you! I thought I'd dialed the number wrong. This is Julia Ochsner down in Florida. Did I wake you up?"

"Don't worry about it," I said. "I thought I just saw you. What's happening?"

"I've come across some information I thought you might like to have. It looks like that woman next door was telling the truth when she told you Elaine flew down here in January, at least as far as Miami."

"Really?" I said, sitting up. "What makes you say that?"

"I found the plane ticket in the garbage," she said with satisfaction. "You'll never believe what I did. She was packing up to go and she'd set several boxes full of discards and trash out. I'd been down to the manager's apartment and on my way back I spotted the ticket. It was right near the top, shoved down half out of sight, and I wanted to see whose it was. I didn't think I could come right out and ask her so I waited until she made a trip down to the parking lot with a load of clothes and I just scampered out there and stole it."

"You scampered?" I said, with disbelief.

"Well, it wasn't 'scampering' exactly. More like a fast creep. I don't think she even missed it."

"Julia, what made you do that? Suppose she'd caught you!"

"What do I care? I'm having a ball. When I got back, I had to go lie down I was laughing so hard!"

"Yeah, well you'll never guess what's happened here," I said. "I got fired."

"Fired?"

"More or less. Elaine's sister told me to lay off for the time being. She got nervous when I told her I thought we should file a missing persons report with the cops."

"I don't understand. Why would she object?"

"Beats me. When did Elaine leave Santa Teresa? Do you have the date?"

"It looks like January ninth. The return was left open."

"Well, that helps some. Why don't you drop that in the mail to me if it's not too much trouble. Beverly may back down yet."

"But that's ridiculous! What if Elaine's in trouble?"

"What can I do? I'm paid to follow instructions. I can't just bop around doing anything I please."

"What if I hired you myself?"

I hesitated, taken aback by the idea but not opposed to it.

"I don't know. That could get sticky. I suppose I could terminate my relationship with her, but there's no way I could release information to you that I'd uncovered for her. You and I would have to start from scratch."

"But she couldn't prevent me from hiring you, could she? I mean, once you've settled your account with her?"

"God, it's too early in the morning for me to worry about this stuff, but I'll mull it over and see what I can come up with. As far as I know, I could turn around and work for you as long as it doesn't represent any conflict of interest. I'd have to advise her what's going on, but I don't see how she could interfere."

"Good, then do it."

"Are you sure you want to spend your money that way?"

"Of course I am. I have lots of it and I want to know what's happened to Elaine. Besides, I'm having the time of my life! Just tell me what we do next."

"All right. Let me nose around some and I'll call you back. And Julia, in the meantime, would you watch out for yourself?" I said, but she just laughed.