both of us. “No. And someone took her clock. If it wasn’t you, Nick …” I paused. “Then someone else has been here.”
“There’s more to this, isn’t there?” Nick asked. “Why don’t you sit down and tell us, Marcus.”
I told them about the key in the wrong place, the bread, everything. Even the odd feeling I’d had that first morning. “And now the grass prints and the clock,” I ended, watching Nick the way I once saw Patchin watch a potato bug. There was nothing to see in Nick’s face, no blushing or paling or shifty eyes.
Mom rubbed her forehead. “But why didn’t you tell me about the key before, Marcus? I trusted you to act responsibly.”
“You were tired all the time. And I wasn’t sure.”
“You don’t have to be sure. We have a deal, the two of us. If you’re scared at all … if you even suspect something isn’t right …”
It made it worse that she was getting mad at me in front of Nick. She looked ready to say more but she didn’t. Under the table Nick’s foot brushed against mine and I realized, knew absolutely, that he’d given Mom a nudge, a warning to go easy and not hassle me anymore. Why did he always have to interfere? Even if I believed him that he hadn’t taken any of our stuff—and I wasn’t sure I did believe him—he should keep his nose out of our business.
“I suspected something tonight, and you didn’t like that much,” I said.
“Let’s just take another look around,” Nick said quietly. “Caroline, would you like to stay here?”
“No. I’m coming with you.”
The three of us went again, room to room.
The only thing missing seemed to be the clock.
“I don’t
begin
to understand this. Look!” Mom opened the drawer in her bedside table and I saw three small piles of five- and ten-dollar bills with paper clips and notes attachedto them. “I got money from the bank yesterday. Last night in bed I was figuring out what the grocery bill would be tomorrow, and putting aside the Christmas money for the paperboy and the mailman. Whoever took the clock didn’t look very far. Or wasn’t interested.”
Something horrible was nagging at my mind, trying to make me listen to it, and suddenly I knew what it was.
“If I had my key with me every second today, how did the person get in? He got in today. The clock was there this morning.”
We were in the kitchen again where we’d started.
“The key could have been taken a couple of days ago and a copy made,” Nick said. “Then the person could use it to go in and out whenever he wanted.”
“But why?” Mom asked. “And why here? Especially when so little was taken. It gives me the creeps.”
“Maybe he just happened on that key by luck. Maybe he had nowhere else to go.”
Mom shivered. “I can’t stand it. Someone
in
here, touching our things, eating our food.”
My mind was shifting in dizzying circles. Someone’s been sitting in
my
chair. Someone’s been sleeping in
my
bed.
“Do you think we should call the police, Marcus?” Mom asked.
I couldn’t believe she was asking me and not Nick. Or that he was waiting for me to decide. Of course, that was the way it should be.
“What do you think, Nick?” I definitely couldn’t believe
I’d
asked
him.
“It’s not much of a case,” Nick said. “One inexpensive clock. The police have too much serious stuff going on. I suspect they’d just tell you to have the locks changed, Caroline.”
“I’ll have them changed all right. First thing tomorrow morning.”
The ringing of the doorbell almost stopped my breathing. “Who on earth?” Mom whispered.
Nick held up his hand. “I’ll go.”
I went, too, a few paces behind him.
“It’s Miss Sarah,” he said after he’d looked out the living-room window. She was wearing her plaid robe and a pair of the knitted slippers she and Miss Coriander make and donateto the old people’s home.
“We saw the three of you going room to room,” she said. “And the house lit up like
“There’s more to this, isn’t there?” Nick asked. “Why don’t you sit down and tell us, Marcus.”
I told them about the key in the wrong place, the bread, everything. Even the odd feeling I’d had that first morning. “And now the grass prints and the clock,” I ended, watching Nick the way I once saw Patchin watch a potato bug. There was nothing to see in Nick’s face, no blushing or paling or shifty eyes.
Mom rubbed her forehead. “But why didn’t you tell me about the key before, Marcus? I trusted you to act responsibly.”
“You were tired all the time. And I wasn’t sure.”
“You don’t have to be sure. We have a deal, the two of us. If you’re scared at all … if you even suspect something isn’t right …”
It made it worse that she was getting mad at me in front of Nick. She looked ready to say more but she didn’t. Under the table Nick’s foot brushed against mine and I realized, knew absolutely, that he’d given Mom a nudge, a warning to go easy and not hassle me anymore. Why did he always have to interfere? Even if I believed him that he hadn’t taken any of our stuff—and I wasn’t sure I did believe him—he should keep his nose out of our business.
“I suspected something tonight, and you didn’t like that much,” I said.
“Let’s just take another look around,” Nick said quietly. “Caroline, would you like to stay here?”
“No. I’m coming with you.”
The three of us went again, room to room.
The only thing missing seemed to be the clock.
“I don’t
begin
to understand this. Look!” Mom opened the drawer in her bedside table and I saw three small piles of five- and ten-dollar bills with paper clips and notes attachedto them. “I got money from the bank yesterday. Last night in bed I was figuring out what the grocery bill would be tomorrow, and putting aside the Christmas money for the paperboy and the mailman. Whoever took the clock didn’t look very far. Or wasn’t interested.”
Something horrible was nagging at my mind, trying to make me listen to it, and suddenly I knew what it was.
“If I had my key with me every second today, how did the person get in? He got in today. The clock was there this morning.”
We were in the kitchen again where we’d started.
“The key could have been taken a couple of days ago and a copy made,” Nick said. “Then the person could use it to go in and out whenever he wanted.”
“But why?” Mom asked. “And why here? Especially when so little was taken. It gives me the creeps.”
“Maybe he just happened on that key by luck. Maybe he had nowhere else to go.”
Mom shivered. “I can’t stand it. Someone
in
here, touching our things, eating our food.”
My mind was shifting in dizzying circles. Someone’s been sitting in
my
chair. Someone’s been sleeping in
my
bed.
“Do you think we should call the police, Marcus?” Mom asked.
I couldn’t believe she was asking me and not Nick. Or that he was waiting for me to decide. Of course, that was the way it should be.
“What do you think, Nick?” I definitely couldn’t believe
I’d
asked
him.
“It’s not much of a case,” Nick said. “One inexpensive clock. The police have too much serious stuff going on. I suspect they’d just tell you to have the locks changed, Caroline.”
“I’ll have them changed all right. First thing tomorrow morning.”
The ringing of the doorbell almost stopped my breathing. “Who on earth?” Mom whispered.
Nick held up his hand. “I’ll go.”
I went, too, a few paces behind him.
“It’s Miss Sarah,” he said after he’d looked out the living-room window. She was wearing her plaid robe and a pair of the knitted slippers she and Miss Coriander make and donateto the old people’s home.
“We saw the three of you going room to room,” she said. “And the house lit up like
Similar Books
