The Locked Room Page 8

  “Mom is about to do me in. I don’t work this hard in the Navy.”

  She sat on the arm of a chair. “How’s your dad these days?”

  “Good. He still works too hard, but it’s in his nature, Mom says.”

  “Or he is smart enough to get away before she gives him a long list of chores to do.”

  Ben chuckled. “That too.”

  “I was going to ask for your help again later. You any good at breaking into a computer?”

  “Not really, but I’ll take a look.” He followed her into the office, sat down at the desk and moved the mouse until the screen turned on. The message gave instructions on how to change the password, so he jotted them down. “Be right back. I can change it from my computer at home.”

  “Great,” she sighed.

  “What password do you want me to use?”

  “I don’t care, just think of something.” She took his place at the computer and waited. At length, he came back with a new password for her to enter. It worked, and finally something was going right.”

  “Our whole lives are on these things,” Ben said as he made himself comfortable in the only empty chair in the office. “What are you looking for?”

  “A will if he made one, and I need to know when the bills are due, not that I can pay them. I think he paid the house off years ago, but I’m not certain. There were a lot of things he just never told me.”

  “Did you ask him?”

  “No. I didn’t think to, I guess. Instead, I went out into the world as unprepared as a newborn puppy. Boy was I stupid about the ways of the world. I didn’t know half of what I needed to know to survive.”

  “Yet, survive you did.”

  The buzzer sounded, so she hurried off to the laundry room.

  “Want me to look for his will?” He yelled after her.

  “Would you?”

  “Sure,” he said as he changed chairs and then started to search. Just like everything else Dave Bouchard did, the files were aptly named, but none of them said, “my will.” There were bills, a list of suppliers for the restaurant and a file that said miscellaneous. Ben opened it, and then opened the first document. It looked like a story Dave started to write but never finished. Ben closed that document and opened the next. This one was the same story. It even had the same title, although the document was named differently.

  He scratched his head and listened as Colette started the dryer and then went upstairs. “You okay?” he shouted.

  “Yes, I’m just hanging up my dress for tomorrow. It doesn’t go in the dryer, you know.”

  “How would I know that?” he muttered. Ben closed that document too and decided not to look at any more. After all, it was Colette’s business and not his.

  AFTER BEN WENT HOME, she finished the laundry and spent two hours looking at everything on her father’s computer. The unfinished documents were odd, but he did have a record of the bills and when they were due. It didn’t appear he still owed anything on the house, which she guessed would make it easier to sell. The bills amounted to little more than utilities and insurance payments which wouldn’t come due until the end of the month. She was especially interested in the life insurance policy he had on himself, but of course, when she tried to log into the insurance company’s website she didn’t know the password. That was an easy fix – all she had to do was request a new one and have it sent to his email box. His email box was stuffed with tons of spam, and when she scrolled to the next page and the next, there was no sign that he sent or received any personal emails. Colette shrugged, opened the email with the new password when it came, and got into the insurance website where she found the phone number and the policy number. She called.

  Frustrated once more after she hung up, she placed a call to Walt. “Where do I get a death certificate?”

  “From the coroner. Tell you what, give me a day or two and I’ll drop a copy off.”

  “Thanks, I appreciate that.” It was helpful, but the insurance company said it would be about six weeks after they received a copy of the death certificate before they would pay off. Six weeks sounded like a very long time just now. Even so, ten thousand dollars might get the restaurant going again.

  “What am I thinking?” she blurted out. “I’m not staying here, no way, no how.” The idea of a yard sale seemed her only hope for making a fast buck and getting out of town.

  Colette opened the bills spreadsheet again and looked for payments on the restaurant. From what she could tell, it was paid off too, although he was still paying for fire and theft insurance. At the moment, she was more than grateful that her father kept such detailed records.

  She continued her search, looking in every file and at every document at least twice, but if he made out a will, he didn’t do it on his computer. That too struck her as strange. Meticulous Dave wasn’t as meticulous as she thought. She leaned back in the office chair and closed her eyes. The roses were about to bloom. She could tell because her eyes were starting to water just as they always did in spring.

  She suddenly thought of something. “How does Phillips know he didn’t leave a will?” Phillips was not the only lawyer in the world and she doubted her father trusted him any more than anyone else did. Phillips was a crook, even if his offer was beginning to look more and more tempting. She didn’t want the house and she didn’t want the restaurant. All she wanted was a new life and a hundred and fifty thousand dollars would buy that for her. That much money would even put her through a couple of years of trade school so she could get a job that didn’t involve hamburgers.

  Colette left the office, went upstairs to her bathroom, put drops in her eyes to stop the burning and itching, and then went back to her father’s bedroom to look for things to sell. At the door, she stopped. A yard sale was something she had never done before either and the only thing she knew for sure was that she would need cash to make change. Where was she supposed to get that without the whole town knowing she was broke? She sighed, closed the door to her father’s room and went downstairs.

  She was exhausted, had not kept track of the time, and was certainly not looking forward to more noodles for dinner now that the sun was going down again. Tempted to spend her eight dollars on something with a little more taste, she soon decided against it. She might need the money for gas. It was a good truck and hadn’t broken down once since her father bought it for her, but it never met a gas pump it didn’t like.

  She forgot all about the painters, and when she opened the screen door and went out, their supplies were neatly stacked on the porch and they were gone. Up the street, she spotted the Sheriff’s official car and it looked like he was still sitting in it. Colette shrugged, went back inside and walked to one of the large front windows. The front of the house was finished, the painters had removed the masking, and a refreshing breeze was finally starting to cool the house a little.

  Dreading a meal of tired old noodles for dinner, she sat in her father’s chair, closed her watering eyes and rested.

  CHAPTER 5

  STEVEN AND OLIVER AGREED to meet Margo in the hotel restaurant as soon as both of them took long hot showers. On the lookout for Paige, Margo asked the maître D’ for a table for three situated away from the hot windows. She got her wish and was taken to one with a good view of the check-in desk, the lobby and the front door. She ordered tea and then began to read the menu. She smiled when she noticed most of the dishes were similarly named – country fried chicken, country fried steak, country fried potatoes, etc. Thankfully, the other vegetables were steamed instead of fried.

  Before long, Oliver arrived. “I’m not cut out for that painting stuff,” he complained as he sat down.

  “Not there, dear, let Steven sit where he can watch the door.”

  Oliver obliged, got up and moved to the opposite chair. “So, what did you do with your day?”

  She playfully touched her hair, “You can’t tell?”

  “See, that’s why I’m not married. I never notice things like that
.”

  Margo giggled. “Typical man.”

  “Did you learn anything useful?”

  “Only that the beautician considers half the women in this town strange. I enjoyed her very much. She did say there were a few people in town she doesn’t recognize, but she suspects they have come for the fishing or perhaps the funeral. Oh, here comes Steven. Let’s see,” she whispered, “if he notices my hair.”

  Steven leaned down, kissed Margo on the cheek and then sat opposite Oliver.

  “I was just telling Oliver about my day. I did a little shopping and a little asking around, but the only women new to the area in the last day or two are either too old or too young. How was your day?”

  “Sadly,” Steven whispered, “Oliver is not that good at painting.”

  Oliver glared at him. “You do not know how close I came to painting your face.”

  “Lucky you,” Steven teased, “You get another chance to do it tomorrow.”

  “Don’t remind me,” Oliver moaned. He watched as Steven’s attention was abruptly drawn to a woman checking in at the counter. He kept watching Steven’s expression and waited, but apparently the woman was not Paige since Steven turned his attention instead to the menu.

  “I could use a big fat steak,” said Steven.

  Oliver nodded. “Me too, if I can find the energy to lift a fork.”

  “Boys, I’ve an idea,” Margo interrupted.

  “Uh oh,” Steven muttered. “Here we go again!”

  “Do you remember I said Davet hired a private detective to watch over Colette in Denver? Well, if we could find him, he might help us watch the house.”

  “Great idea,” said Oliver to Margo. “I’d be happy to try to find him while you paint the house.”

  “Very funny,” Margo said. As soon as the waitress came, she gave her order, waited until the others had ordered, and then said. “I think I might have drawn a little too much attention to myself by asking so many questions around town. Did either of you bring a computer?”

  “I did,” said Oliver. “Want me to set it up for you?”

  “Please. That way I can stay out of sight and still try to find the PI. He’s probably based in Denver, unless Davet knew someone locally he could hire.”

  “Bet that was expensive,” Steven said. “She was gone for two years, right?”

  “Right, but spending money on keeping Colette safe was more important. Besides, everything was all paid off, the house, the cars and the restaurant. He could afford it. By the way, I saw Colette and a friend of hers in the restaurant this afternoon. When they left, Colette was careful to lock the door.”

  “You’re not thinking we should break in, are you?” Oliver asked.

  “No, I’m thinking Paige might.”

  “Great, how can we watch the restaurant and paint the house at the same time?” Steven asked.

  Margo nodded. “That’s another reason to find the PI.” She bowed her head for a moment. “The funeral is tomorrow at ten a.m. It’s just a graveside service, so no pallbearers.” Neither of the young men said anything, so she said, “You would like to be there, I assume.”

  “I certainly would,” said Steven.

  “Me too. We owe Davet that much at least.”

  Margo paused while the waitress brought their drinks and salads. As soon as she left, Margo said, “Yes, but you’re supposed to be new in town and Colette will recognize both of you if you go instead of working on the house.”

  “We can say the Sheriff asked us not to disturb her before the funeral,” Oliver suggested.

  Margo was not satisfied. “Okay, but that doesn’t explain why you would show up at a funeral for someone you’re not supposed to know.”

  Oliver took a sip of coffee and smiled, “Know where we can buy a couple of wigs?”

  Steven rolled his eyes. “She might not even notice us if we stay behind other people – providing there are other people.”

  “I’m sure there will be,” Margo said. “Everywhere I went, people were talking about the article and how no one knew. It is as if finding out about Davet’s secret past is the biggest thing to happen here in years.”

  “Probably is,” said Oliver. “Okay, let’s go. We can stay in the car until there are enough other people, and then slip in behind them.”

  Steven had a fork full of salad when he nodded. “Right afterwards, we have to go paint the house. If Paige shows up at the funeral, she might go to the house next.”

  “If Paige shows up,” Margo muttered. “I wonder if she would be that brave? More than likely, she’ll break into the house during the funeral.”

  “Oh great, now what do we do?” Oliver asked.

  “I bet the sheriff has thought of that already,” said Steven.

  They paused their conversation until after their dinner was served and then Oliver said, “I think I’ll go for a ride after dinner and see what Colette is up to. I really hate the idea of her being alone.”

  “I’ll go with you,” Steven offered.

  “After you set up the computer,” said Margo to Oliver. Then your time is your own and you can even sleep late in the morning. By the way, Steven, did you call your wife?”

  “Three calls and two text messages. No answer and I’m running out of things to say. I even asked her not to hate me.”

  Oliver raised an eyebrow. “Looks like a second funeral in the making. Don’t worry, I’ll be there. I’ll even say nice things about you.”

  Steven frowned, “Gee, thanks.”

  “Actually, you’re in more trouble than you think,” Oliver said.

  “Impossible.”

  “You haven’t noticed Margo’s new hairdo.”

  Steven glanced at her hair and then buried his face in his hands.

  “THIS IS A STICKUP,” Colette heard Artie Steele yell outside her door. “Don’t anybody move!”

  He yanked open the screen door, pulled both of his pretend six-shooters out of their pretend holsters, and pointed two index fingers at her.

  “Shoot,” she said, “go ahead shoot. I won’t feel a thing.”

  “Very well.” He pulled both triggers, blew the pretend smoke off the end of each gun and then put them back in the pretend holsters. “Feel better?”

  “Much. You haven’t done that since the second grade.”

  “Third...” Before he could finish, someone knocked on the screen door and when he looked back, Emma Rose was standing there. “Shall I let her in?”

  he asked Colette. “She might be dangerous.”

  “Yes, let her in. We made up.”

  “You’re kidding?” Ben said as he and Sylvester followed Emma Rose in. He started to make the dog go out, but Sylvester sat in front of him with those sad eyes and Ben didn’t have the heart. “Okay, but be good.” As if the dog actually understood, Sylvester went to greet Artie, Emma Rose and Colette, and then laid down at Colette’s feet.

  “You got anything to drink around here?” Artie asked.

  “Not yet,” said Ben as he chose a seat at the end of the sofa. “I’ve been watching and she hasn’t been to the store yet.”

  “Hey, I’ve got an idea,” said Emma Rose as she made herself comfortable on the other end of the sofa. “Let’s have pizza night and Artie can pay for it.”

  “Me? Why all the time me?”

  “Because you’re the only one with money.”

  “I beg your pardon,” Artie protested. “Sweeping the jail twice a week doesn’t even buy a regular haircut.”

  Emma Rose batted her eyes at him. “Please, pretty please.”

  Artie looked at Ben and then at Colette, “I never could resist a pretty face.” He whipped out his cellphone, ordered two pizzas with everything on them and three liters of soda. As an afterthought, he orders brownies and hung up.

  “See,” said Emma Rose, they don’t even ask for his credit card number anymore. Even the pizza place knows who has money and who doesn’t.”

  Colette was thrilled with the idea of having pizza
instead of noodles and her mouth was already watering.

  Artie chose to sit on the sofa next to Emma Rose and reached for her hand. She immediately got up and moved to one of the chairs. “Marry me, Emma Rose. You know I love you.”

  Emma Rose shook her head. “Not until you buy me a castle.”

  Artie noticed how close he was sitting to Ben and immediately scooted down.

  “The one on the other side of the hill?” Colette asked.

  “That’s the one,” Emma Rose answered.

  “You got any idea what they want for that thing?” Artie asked. “Six million.”

  “How do you know?” Ben asked.

  “Didn’t you hear?” Artie asked. “I got my realtor’s license.”

  “That’s good to know,” said Colette. “You can sell this house to someone and then fix it so Emma Rose can buy the restaurant.”

  “Can’t sell this house,” said Artie.

  “Why not?” asked Ben.

  “In case you didn’t notice, although I can’t think how you could have missed it, someone painted it red.”

  Ben chuckled. “Mom said she tried to talk to the painters about the color, but they showed her the work order. Sure enough it said to paint the house and the trim fireplace red. Mom thinks he meant for them to paint the house white with red trim, but she couldn’t make the painters listen.”

  “I bet Dad would have been furious when he saw it,” said Colette.

  “Yep, he would have,” Ben agreed.

  Everyone was quiet until Artie said, “Not as mad as he was when we borrowed his car without permission.”

  “Don’t remind me,” said Colette. “He yelled at me for the better part of an hour.”

  Emma Rose laughed, “In French.”

  “I never understood a word, but we didn’t do it again,” Colette confessed. “Sometimes I wish he had taught me to speak French, but he didn’t even have much of an accent left unless he was mad.”

  “And then he bought you the pickup truck the next day,” Ben reminded her.