Gone through. Yeah, that’s what I said. Like somebody was looking for something.
I couldn’t imagine what, so I guess it was a good thing I didn’t have a chance to think about it. Then again, when I heard a noise from the den, I wasn’t sure that was a good thing, either. Too late, I realized that just like what happens in all those B horror flicks, I wasn’t alone in the house.
Something told me it wasn’t Nick. From what I’d heard about his sudden change of heart, I knew he wouldn’t have been skulking around in parts unknown. He would have been there in the living room, weeping over the mess and cataloging like a fiend even though he should have been home concentrating on those pink and red M&Ms.
The realization settled in my stomach like ice, and I held my breath and inched back toward the front door. I should have moved faster. That way, I would have been within getting-out distance when a man walked out of Marjorie’s den.
I don’t know who I was expecting, but it sure wasn’t friendly-as-a-teddy-bear Ray Gwitkowski. I shot forward, surprised, sure, but relieved, too. “What on earth are you doing here?” I asked him. “And what happened to this place?”
“Don’t ask me.” As if I’d just told him to stick ’em up, Ray held up both hands, distancing himself from the mess. “It was like this when I walked in. Honest. And hey, kid . . .” He bent forward as if he needed a closer look to be sure it was me. “You’re the last person I expected to make a return appearance at Marjorie’s. What are you doing here?”
Don’t think I didn’t notice that he’d asked the same question I’d asked him.
Or that he’d never answered mine.
“It sure didn’t look like this the last time we were here, did it?” Ray propped his fists on his hips and looked around. “You know, the night we both were here to see Marjorie.”
“And it didn’t look like this yesterday, either,” I told him. “Yesterday it was all organized and neat. And today . . .” I looked back toward the smashed lock on the front door. “Did you do that? Did you break in?”
“Absolutely not. No way. I just stopped by and I wasn’t even planning to come in. But then I saw that the lock was banged up, and the door was open and . . .” His shoulders sagged and he scraped a hand through his hair. “It’s like this . . . I was hoping to get in and out of here and I was praying that nobody would notice. And now here you are.” Ray was still wearing his Garden View volunteer shirt. It matched the one I was wearing except that mine had the word STAFF embroidered over the heart. His face turned as sickly yellow as the color of our shirts. “I think I might be in big trouble, kiddo.”
It wasn’t what he said that made me believe him. It was the way he looked. Miserable. Ray’s arms hung limp at his sides. His eyes were tormented. I picked my way through the framed pictures of President Garfield and the books spread out all over the living room floor, sat down on the couch, and patted the seat beside me. “You want to tell me about what’s going on?”
“I don’t want to tell anybody. It’s too embarrassing. And . . .” He shoved his hands in his pockets and looked up at the ceiling. “I’m pretty sure what I did was illegal, too. I don’t . . .” When he looked at me again, his eyes were pleading. “I don’t want to get in any trouble. I’ve led a good, honest life. It’s a little late in the game for me to be going to jail.”
Had I just invited a murderer to sit down beside me?
I admit, the thought crossed my mind. Too late to take back my invitation. Ray came over and plunked down on the couch.
I consoled myself with the fact that, number one, I was wearing sneakers and not high heels. Which meant I could probably get through the minefield that was Marjorie’s living room pretty easily, even if it did mean crunching a couple pictures of President Garfield in the process. Number two, Ray was old, and he was visibly shaken. I was pretty sure I could outrun him.
Just to be sure, I glanced at the front door, gauging the distance and the best way to get there. Sure of my escape route, I got down to business. Obviously, I do not mean cemetery business.
“I know it doesn’t seem likely,” I said, folding my hands in my lap, the better to look professional and proficient. “But I’ve had some experience when it comes to things that are illegal.”
He nodded. “I’m not surprised. You’re one smart girl, and I heard Ella talking once. She said something about how you helped find out who killed somebody.”
I sloughed this off. After all, if Ray was a murderer, I didn’t want him to think I was too good. “Ella tends to exaggerate. But I have been . . . well, sort of involved in a couple investigations. That’s why I went to Big Daddy Burger to talk to you the other day, Ray. I’m trying to figure out some things. You know, about Marjorie’s murder.” I wisely did not mention that one of those things was who dun it. Just in case. Instead, I kept things cool and noncommittal. “I’ve just been wondering. That’s all. You know, about everything that happened. I can’t figure it out.”
“Wish I could help.”
I stared at him in a way that should have told him he could, if only he’d open up and tell me what was going on. But since Ray was so busy wringing his hands and looking at the floor, I guess he didn’t notice. That’s why I had to egg him on.
“What are you doing here, Ray?” I asked.
He cleared his throat. He tapped one foot against the carpet. Just when I thought he was going to spill the beans, he folded. “I can’t,” he said. “It’s too embarrassing.”
“More embarrassing than the way Marjorie strung you along so that you’d take her to dinner and the movies?”
It was a good move on my part. He had no choice but to shake his head. “Not more embarrassing than that,” he admitted. “But still . . .”
I am not usually an ease-into-the-subject sort of person. It’s a waste of time, and honestly, I don’t have the patience for that sort of nonsense. But I could tell that Ray was going to need some coaxing.
I eased into the subject.
“Nobody liked Marjorie,” I said, and sure it was an understatement and went without saying, but remember, I was easing here. “She was a bully.”
“A self-righteous bully.” Ray’s shoulders rose and fell. “That’s the worst kind.”
“Which doesn’t mean she should have died the way she did.”
I was hoping he’d agree with me. Instead, he sat up straight and asked, “Do you think it’s all right to pay somebody back for the bad things that somebody did to you?”
I turned in my seat, the better to keep both eyes on Ray. “You mean Marjorie.”
He nodded. “Do you think revenge is all right? I mean, if it’s justified?”
My throat was suddenly dry. I swallowed the sand. “If you’re talking about murder—”
“Murder? Oh my, no way!” A touch of green added to the sallowness of Ray’s complexion. “I hope you don’t think—” He blanched because, of course, from what he’d just said, it was the only thing I could think. He slid me a look. “You gonna tell the cops?”
“Not if there’s nothing to tell them.”
“You gonna think less of me?”
“That, I can’t say.” I scooted just a titch closer. I was trying to establish some kind of rapport, after all. I needed every advantage I could get. “I don’t know what I’ll do or say until you tell me what’s bugging you.”
He laughed uncomfortably. “It’s a biggee.”
“Bet I’ve heard it before.”
I was pretty sure my strategy wasn’t working. Ray sat there like a lump, and I was all set to chalk the whole thing up to faulty psychology when he pulled in a breath and let it go along with a sigh. “That day when you came to see me at Big Daddy Burger, I wasn’t exactly truthful with you, Pepper,” he said. “Not completely anyway. And it wasn’t like I wanted to lie to you. I just couldn’t help myself. You see, when you asked me what I was doing here at Marjorie’s that night—”