The Dead Don't Get Out Much by Mary Jane Maffini Page B

phone. “Last call redial!” he yelled, as he picked up the receiver. “Remember when Violet used that to find you when you were in trouble?”
    â€œI do.” It hadn't been the only time she'd used technology to save me.
    â€œOh.” Alvin's face fell. “It's my number.”
    â€œCheck the Caller ID to see if anyone has called her.”
    Alvin clicked away. “You. Me. You. Me. You. Me. Me. Me. And you. It's only us for the last twenty-five calls.”
    â€œCrap,” I said.
    â€œAgreed.”
    â€œHey wait, the telephone book is sitting right there. Doesn't she keep that on the shelf as a rule?”
    â€œShe does,” Alvin said. “She must have been looking up a number.”
    I flipped it open to see if any pages were marked or dog-eared. I checked on the tops of pages to see if she'd written anything. It was Alvin's turn to pace, while I worked my way through it. No luck.
    â€œFace it, Alvin. We're stumped. Okay, what else can we do?”
    Alvin slipped into the black chair. “We can't give up on Violet that easily.”
    â€œI'm not suggesting we give up. We can't stay stumped forever. So what would Mrs. P. do now?”
    â€œSoldier on,” Alvin said.
    â€œExactly.”
    â€œSometimes older people keep stuff in drawers or chests just to protect it or keep it safe. Not that I think of Violet as an older person. With my grandmother, the more important it was, the deeper it was buried. Her china tea set that I have, you know the one, well, it was in a box on the top shelf of her closet, wrapped in paper. It was her most precious possession.”
    â€œMy father's like that with his medals. So let's go through everything. I'll start with the dresser drawers. You take the closets.”
    Alvin stopped and said, “You think we're violating her privacy?”
    â€œLike they say, Alvin, forgiveness is easier than permission.”
    â€œI like that.”
    I pulled open the first drawer and frowned. “Looks like someone already went through them. I don't think Mrs. P. kept everything in a jumble. I can't tell what's missing. All Mrs. Parnell's clothes are shades of khaki or taupe. They all look alike.”
    Alvin stuck his head out of the closet. “Let me check.”
    â€œThis feels weird. What if she marches through the door with a smouldering Benson & Hedges and a tumbler full of Harvey's and says what the devil are you doing pawing through my belongings?”
    Alvin's eyes got misty. “That would be the absolute best thing that could happen.”
    â€œRight. Okay, let's think. Did she pack before the burglar or after?”
    â€œBefore,” Alvin said. “She learned in the army that it takes less time to do something right than to rush through it. She would have straightened up her apartment if she'd come here after him. She wouldn't leave her place like this.”
    â€œGood point. Did she know someone would break in? How could she?”
    Alvin stepped down from the step stool he was standing on. “I don't know. Lord thundering Jesus, Camilla, I just thought of something. Where are her laptop and digital camera? Do you think the burglar made off with them?”
    â€œOr she took them herself.”
    Alvin said, “Unless they're with the stuff she sent over to my place yesterday.”
    I did not yell. “What stuff she sent to your place?”
    â€œJust a box. She asked me to take it home and not to disturb the contents.”
    I took a deep, soothing breath. “Did that seem strange? With all the empty space Mrs. P. has?”
    â€œShe's my friend, so I was glad to do her a favour without being nosy. You would have done it too, no questions asked. So just don't start with me.”
    â€œUse your brain, Alvin. She didn't want someone to find it.”
    Alvin goggled. “That means she knew it might happen.”
    â€œExactly. Let's go get the box, Alvin.”
    â€œWhat if we bring it