David Dun - Overfall

He pulled a plastic bag from the large pocket of the overcoat. Without hesitating, he stood up with his torso above the floor and triggered the alarm. He went straight to the cupboards, found a bowl, and filled it with the contents of his bag and placed it on a table with a note. The alarm was raucous. Moving fast, he found the trapdoor to the attic in the bedroom closet. There were foot pegs up the wall for access. He tilted the overhead trapdoor on its hinges and put his head up into the attic, illuminating the musty space with a flashlight. It was a sizable storage area and had a plywood floor supporting a large number of boxes. The woman was a pack rat. When he left, he did not replace the trapdoor, but instead left it open for easy access. He then jumped back under the house, replaced the heater grate, and fit the duct back in place, applying tape. The alarm had been sounding for three minutes. Crawling out from under the house, he walked to the front, took the dog, and immediately encountered the neighbor, clearly the neighborhood busybody, just as his men had predicted. An older man with a pipe and a paper under his arm looked eager to talk.

“I am from France, as you can tell by the accent, and I saw this place and thought sure it was my friend’s, and now I see that I am turned around and in the wrong neighborhood. I feel so bad. Somehow when I knocked loudly on the window I must have set off the noise sensor.”

“Only a girl and her friend live here.”

“Yes. Well, I wish the police would come so I could explain.”

“I don’t know what it is like in France, but here it can take twenty minutes for the police to arrive. I’ll tell them. Last time it was a spider crawling over the which-’ em-a-call-it. I turn the alarm off and reset it when she isn’t here, but I have to wait for the police to check everything out.”

“You’re sure? I’m very sorry for the racket.” As if he hadn’t a care in the world, Gaudet walked down the block, turned to the left, and disappeared from the neighbor’s sight. Turning the dog loose to wander off down the street, he doubled back behind the house, jumped a neighbor’s fence into the backyard of Jill’s house, and went immediately to the grate. After about seven minutes from its initial sounding, the audible alarm automatically turned off and became a steady beeping inside the house. It was another ten minutes before the neighbor who had the code was in the house with the police. Footfalls made it obvious that they were walking through the house, checking superficially.

“Hey,” one of them whispered. There was silence for a time.

“Hell, there’s nothing up there. They just left the trapdoor open.”

“You gotta check, though.”

Then they were back at the front door and he could hear the neighbor resetting the alarm. He would have sixty seconds.

“You know it’s fifty dollars for false alarms,” the officer said.

“Guess I should have collected from the guy with the dog,” the neighbor said as they closed the door.

Rushing up through the grate, he replaced it, and was up in the attic before the alarm once again became effective.

Gaudet sat in the attic and waited, amused that it had gone so easily. Had they been more watchful, it would have been necessary to wait in the hole in the ground under the house. This way it was so much more comfortable. Taking out his light and a small book, he began reading the published journal of a bondage slave.

There were a couple of lamps radiating a soft glow, one in between a small sitting area and the breakfast nook, and the other in the living room. Then there were night-lights in the wall outlets along with various things that emitted pleasant scents; and these electrical deodorizers were in addition to hand-tied bags of aromatic herbs; and there were special sounds like the heat pump fans, the rather loud refrigerator freezer, the hot-water pump, and sometimes the Jacuzzi tub. To Grady, Jill’s house felt as if it nurtured life, even had a life, as opposed to just containing people, and in that respect it reminded her of a large jetliner flying over oceans in the dead of night.

The place seemed more feminine than one would expect, given an owner who favored rock climbing and fast cars. All the furnishings in Grady’s room were done in an amber-colored oak except the Early American amoire, which appeared to be pine. Two paintings featured flower gardens created by making myriad dots in oil. She didn’t know the correct name for that type of painting, but had made a mental note to find out.

Grady had arrived home late, having seen the dentist, the doctor, and run a number of household errands with her bodyguards. Lately she found herself looking over her shoulder. As Grady understood it, they had her father and there was nothing more for them to get but her.

After she changed into her sweats, she pulled on a robe and found Jack outside the back door, sitting on the porch.

“Hey,” she said. “Wanna talk?”

“It’s the middle of the night” He turned and smiled. “Sure I’ll talk, but we need you sleeping. You’re still freaked about the alarm, aren’t you?”

“Well, it’s my third night and it happened today.”

“We walked through this place. Looked in all the closets. We went over with the alarm company that it was the motion detector in the kitchen. But it’s impossible to get to the kitchen without triggering other motion sensors. We can’t find a point of entry. Probably the guy with the dog knocked on the window and some time near that moment a bug crawled across the detector or a mouse ran across the floor and it went off. The guy thought he did it. That’s all.”

“I know.”

“We called Jill and she said it was probably nothing because the alarm has a hair trigger.”

“You really think it was nothing?”

“Would you be here if we thought there was any danger? Really, the odds that some French company is going to get together a killing squad in a week is a little far-fetched. But that’s not to say we shouldn’t be careful. So if you think of anything, you tell me. We’ll all be right here. Soon I’ll be in the living room. If need be I’ll sit in the bedroom and watch you sleep.”

“No. No. I’ll go back to bed or read or something. Do you want some soup? Jill left a big bowl on the table.”

“No. No, thanks. You have it. Maybe it will help you sleep.” Talking to herself about how safe she was, she went back and got in bed.

All this fuss over her father was a further irritation. She had never allowed herself to be impressed that he was a famous physicist. Although she had not previously wasted more than a few minutes thinking about him, she now was becoming curious. More accurately, she was beginning to worry. Maybe he was the best guy ever. Perhaps, in some strange way, he had cared for her but never let it be known. Now she might never know.

Hot and still adrenaline-alert, she tossed off the blankets and glanced at the phone. It was 11:30 P.M. and Guy would be leaving the club. She wanted to talk with him one more time, and that would be the end of it for a few days. Jill wasn’t home and the security people seemed to be staying outside. She picked up the phone and made a collect call.

“It’s so good to hear from you.”

“Yeah. I’m sorry I haven’t called very much. I’m starting to realize that you probably cared about me.”

“I do care about you. How’s school?”

“Well, I’m just auditing a class. It’s the middle of the term so I don’t really start for grades until next semester. But I also have a job. A new job. I’m done with stripping, done with drugs, done with clubs. I’m moving on.”

“That’s so great. I am too. New job starting next week. I’m managing a bar. A bar where people leave their clothes on. So what’s your job?”