Flo Fitzpatrick - Legacy of Silence

Miranda turned the corner onto Miss Virginia’s street and immediately realized that her night wasn’t going to be spent dealing with Russ Gerik and a bunch of boxes. Three police cars lined the curb outside of Virginia’s house. Miranda slowed her dad’s car and parked two doors down. Russ was standing in the yard, accompanied by a large canine who appeared to be enjoying the night air.

One of the policemen waved at her. He politely waited until she’d crossed the lawn and joined him near the entrance of the house before asking, “Are you Ms. Nolan?”

“Yes. I’m Miranda.”

“Great. Please stay out here, miss. Officer Hernandez will join you while we search inside.”

CHAPTER FIVE

OFFICER HERNANDEZ LOOKED as though he’d be more at home running touchdowns than babysitting frightened crime victims, but he greeted her with a cheery “Nice night...but not for this, right?”

Miranda took the first calm breath since she’d seen the lights flashing on top of police cars. She managed a smile, then glanced at Russ, who was sitting on the curb calmly scratching the dog behind its ears.

“I’m assuming someone broke in?” Miranda asked. Her voice shook just a little.

“You’re assuming right,” he replied. “Thankfully no one was home. Things can be replaced, but people? Not so much.”

Officer Hernandez continued to make small talk, asking Miranda if Miss Virginia’s old car—which still sat in the driveway—had been driven in years, what her favorite musical groups were and finishing with the all-important, “Auburn or Alabama?”

Miranda smiled. “I’ll never tell. I’ve watched too many feuds break out over the answer.”

Miranda was not surprised to learn her first impression had been right. Hernandez had played football for Auburn the year before he entered the police academy.

“What position did you play?”

“Wide receiver.”

“Wait, I know you! I mean, I’ve seen you play. What’s your first name?”

“Ted.”

“Ted as in Ted Touchdown Hernandez? That’s you, right?”

He nodded.

“Wow. You were awesome. Weren’t you going to go pro?” she asked. “Or is that a sensitive subject?”

“Nah. It’s fine. Everybody in the state was betting on whether I’d be picked up by the Cowboys or the Falcons. They both wanted me. Sadly my shoulder didn’t cooperate with the master plan. It got knocked out of whack too many times that final season and the bowl game finished me off.”

“Were you disappointed?”

Hernandez smiled. “At first. But I love being a cop. I get to help people, my employment expectancy is longer, my brains and bones might stay intact—and my mama is proud.” He paused, then shook his head. “I’m also one of those people who believes we get signs from the universe telling us what we really need to be doing.” He shot her a sharp glance. “You can tell me to back off, but I could swear there was a note in your voice when you asked about disappointments. Wrestling with your own decisions, perhaps?”

“You, Officer Hernandez, are an insightful soul. I’m not sure I’d even call it wrestling at this point, but let’s just say I’m starting to wonder what to do if this house becomes mine.”

Before Miranda had a chance to confide her concerns, the two officers who’d entered the house waved and motioned for Hernandez, Miranda and Russ to join them. Russ hadn’t said a word to either Miranda or Hernandez and Miranda suddenly felt frightened again, but for Russ. He appeared calm, but he might have been terrified. Russ wasn’t stupid. What if he’d been inside, unable to hear? She shuddered, stopping herself from traveling down that road. And where the heck was the paralegal?

“We can go in now,” Hernandez said. “If you’re up to it?”

Miranda straightened her shoulders. “I’m okay.”

Hernandez glanced back at Russ and signed, You?

Russ answered, “I’m fine. Let’s get this over with.”

The trio headed inside the house, but Miranda paused at the doorway. “How did the burglar get in? Do y’all know?”

Hernandez checked the lock, then signed as he spoke. “This lock could have been opened by a ten-year-old with a credit card. You guys need to rekey. Get a strong deadbolt.”

“I thought the lawyers had changed the locks.”

Hernandez shrugged. “Well, if they did, they went for cheap.”

“The paralegal put the key under the geraniums pot next to the front door,” Russ said. “He left a message on my phone telling me where to look. Apparently, he had better things to do. So, even a decent lock wouldn’t have mattered.”

A quick interrogation began, initiated by a tall, bald-headed cop who identified himself as Officer Burroughs and introduced his partner as Officer Williams. Miranda gave her name and her reason for going to a house she didn’t yet own at 9:00 p.m. Russ stayed silent although Hernandez had signed Burroughs’s questions.

After Miranda explained about the two wills and the scheduling problems, Burroughs laughed. “The judge was Winston Rayborn, right?”

“Yep. I gather he’s known for coming up with interesting Solomon-like solutions?”

All three officers nodded and grinned. Burroughs added, “For someone fondly referred to as a nutcase.”

“So, I assume you never had cause to bust open the lock to the attic?” Officer Williams asked.

“No! Seriously? It’s broken?”

Williams nodded. “We found a window open on the right side of the attic. It looks like your intruder left through the window and shimmied right down the old sweet gum tree that’s about to take over the roof.” He pointed and added absently, “That thing needs a good pruning.”

Burroughs pulled out a notebook. “Do you think you’d be able to tell if anything’s missing?”

Miranda held back the laugh she feared would lead to hysterics. “Missing? Have y’all seen the rooms downstairs? I have no idea what some thief might have taken.”

Hernandez turned to Russ and signed, How about you? Any ideas on what might be missing?

Russ shook his head. “From what I remember, the attic has some old Hanukkah items, rocking chairs, about fifty very small lamps and a couple of old mannequins that still had dresses on them. There were some trunks, too, but they were locked pretty tight so if they’re not broken then I’d imagine no one else got into them. I didn’t see anything else in plain sight and I have no idea if Virginia stored anything valuable up there.” He paused then added. “I’d imagine the thief was hoping to find an original Auttenberg.”

Officer Burroughs raised an eyebrow. “What’s an Auttenberg?”

Russ explained to the policemen that Virginia had been married to the late artist Benjamin Auttenberg and that his works were worth a fortune, assuming any had survived. Miranda felt a knife twist in her stomach. How had Russ known about Virginia’s marital status? Because she told him, you dummy. She trusted him more than she trusted you.

The officers promised to do all they could to find the intruder, but they weren’t optimistic since no one had a clue whether or not anything was missing. The only thing tampered with—the broken padlock on the attic door—had been wiped clean of all fingerprints. Rounding up all the wannabe felons in Jefferson County wasn’t an option. Ted Hernandez suggested that Miranda or Russ call their respective lawyers first thing the next morning and ask for better locks and an alarm service. He gave Miranda a friendly hug, shook Russ’s hand, told them to call if they found anything useful and then followed his fellow officers out the front entrance.

“Well, should we get to work?”

She whirled around. Russ and his grinning canine were staring at her. She crouched and began petting the dog, who immediately reciprocated with moist kisses. Miranda glanced up at Russ.