All That I Have by Castle Freeman Page B

from Pluto. Where he was not from was anyplace near here or anyplace like here.
    “This way, Sheriff,” said Logan Tracy. He turned toward the room we had seen the other day, the study. I followed him. Emory O’Connor started to go with us, but Tracy told him to wait where he was, in the hall with the third man.
    Somebody had picked up. The papers and other things that had been spilled over the desk and floor last Friday were put away. Tracy sat himself down on the edge of the desk and looked at me.
    “This is a nice property, Sheriff,” he said.
    I nodded.
    “The owners keep it as a getaway, you know?” he said. “They come up here to relax. They don’t want a lot of activity or trouble. They certainly don’t want police going over the place. They are here to relax and have fun.”
    “Who are the owners?” I asked him.
    Tracy went on. “There are valuables in the house,” he said. “You’ve seen some of them: TV, electronics, appliances. There are cameras, firearms. There are artworks.”
    “Is the gentleman in the other room one of the owners?”
    “We have an inventory,” Tracy said. “Everything is accounted for. Except one thing.”
    “What’s that?”
    The quiet, slick-haired fellow who had been waiting with O’Connor had come to the study. He stood in the doorway.
    “A safe,” Logan Tracy said. “A small, fireproof safe. Steel. It was in the bookcase, there.”
    “How small?”
    Tracy held his hands in front of him, about a foot and a half apart. He looked over at the man in the doorway. The man nodded.
    “It’s a keyed safe,” said Tracy. “It’s strong, might weigh forty or fifty pounds. Still, easy enough to carry away.”
    “What was in it?”
    “Records.”
    “Records?”
    “Business records, Sheriff. Nothing of value to a common burglar. Nothing that could be sold. Records.”
    “What kind of records?”
    “Look, Sheriff,” said Tracy. “I’ve told you that’s irrelevant. The point is, these things have no value.”
    “But the owners want them back,” I said. “They want them back pretty bad.”
    “They do,” said Tracy. “Have you been investigating this, at all, Sheriff?”
    “I’ve asked around.”
    “You’ve asked around. Have you asked Sean Duke? Our information is that somebody called Sean Duke did this. Do you know him?”
    “Where do you get your information?” I asked Tracy.
    “That’s no concern of yours, Sheriff,” he said. “Do you know Duke?”
    “Sure.”
    “Is he the breaker?”
    “I don’t know.”
    “Is he your main suspect?”
    “I wouldn’t say that.”
    “Have you questioned him?”
    “Not yet. Have you?”
    “What do you mean, Sheriff?”
    “Somebody else was up here looking for Sean Duke a few days back,” I said. “Found him, too. Might have wished he hadn’t. Fellow from Russia. Fellow named Eugene.”
    “I know nothing about that, Sheriff,” said Tracy.
    “Does he?” I looked over at the man in the doorway.
    “No,” said Logan Tracy.
    “How tough would your safe be to get into?” I asked Tracy.
    Tracy looked at the man in the doorway, who shook his head slightly.
    “Tough,” said Tracy.
    “Then it’s likely whoever took it threw it away,” I said.
    “Would you be apt to find it, then?”
    “Depends on where they threw it.”
    “Look, Sheriff,” said Tracy. “I’m not going to spar with you. That gets us nowhere. Let’s be clear, shall we? Somebody broke in here and robbed us. Maybe you know who it was, maybe you don’t. It doesn’t matter. We want him caught. That’s what you do. We’re on the same side, here.”
    “We are?”
    Tracy stood up from the desk where he had been sitting. “Alright, Sheriff,” he said, “This isn’t useful. We’ll leave it. The owners do want their property restored, obviously. That’s your job. I’m sure we can count on you, can’t we? Let me say, the owners are in a position to offer a reward for the return of their property. A substantial reward. Maybe