The Tin Collector

Chapter 18

THEY FOUND the address on Lake View Drive. Shane drove the black Acura slowly past the house. The small cabin-style bungalow was lit up. They could see men moving around inside.

"What do you think they're doing?" Barbara asked as Shane slowed the car but didn't stop. He pulled up the street and turned left at the first intersecting road. He drove half a block up, parked, and turned off the headlights.

"Who are they? What're you gonna do?" Barbara pestered as Shane got his zoom-lens camera out of the trunk.

"Stay here," he ordered, and quickly moved down to Lake View, then crept along the sidewalk toward the target house. He heard something behind him and spun around. Barbara was hovering nearby.

"Go back. This could be dangerous."

"Maybe I know one of them," she said.

Shane realized that it was a good thought, so he nodded, then put a finger up to his mouth for silence. They crept along, slower this time, finally getting to a position of advantage behind a hedge across the street from the lake cabin. Shane put the zoom-lens camera to his eye and adjusted the focus, bringing the small house closer.

Through the front window he could see men moving around, carrying boxes and emptying drawers. He snapped a few pictures with the flash off, hoping that if he pushed it in the lab, he would get adequate resolution in spite of the low light. Through the viewfinder, he could see the men clearly. He didn't recognize any of them.

"What d'you see?" she whispered in his ear.

"They're tossing the place, looking for something, same as at your house," he said softly, handing her the camera. "You recognize anyone?" After a minute she shook her head and handed the camera back.

They continued to watch the house for another twenty minutes. Several times one or two of the men carried a cardboard box out and set it near the back door. Shane used up an entire roll of film, and then finally the men turned off the lights, locked up the house, and carried the boxes down to the little dock on the lake.

Shane moved out from behind the hedge, with Barbara at his heels. He ran in a crouch until he got to the side of the house, in time to see the men load the boxes into a small, old-style, wooden reproduction Chris-Craft, with varnished sides and teak decking. They all jumped aboard, and the boat's engine roared. It pulled away from the dock and sped off across the lake, leaving a white-foam wake that glistened in the mountain moonlight.

"Shit," Shane said, "I was hoping they had a car parked around here so we could follow them."

He turned and moved back to the house. He tried the doors. They were all locked. Then he took out a pocketknife. He crept onto the wooden back deck that overlooked the lake, and inserted the blade into the sliding glass door. Slowly he pushed the latch up, then slid the door open. He and Barbara stepped cautiously into the small two-bedroom house.

Shane moved to the back hallway and turned on a light. It threw a low glow into the front room and would slightly illuminate most of the rooms in the small house. He didn't want to light up the whole place and call attention to their presence.

"What're we looking for?" Barbara whispered.

"Evidence that Ray lived here or used this place," he said.

"Y'mean like this," she said, picking up a small framed photograph off the living-room TV. It was Ray with his arm around a very pretty dark-haired woman. They were both laughing, holding up glasses of champagne. Slightly out of focus in the background was a small wooden church with a sign that read: