Burglars, like Santa Claus, know when we’ve been sleeping, or away from our houses. And the living room did look as though someone might have ransacked it. On the surface Mrs. Frizell seemed an unlikely candidate for valuables, but she wouldn’t be the first person to live in squalor while sitting on a stack of bearer bonds.
“Burglars?” Mrs. Hellstrom’s pale-blue eyes widened in fear. “Oh, dear, I hope not. This block has always been such a nice place to live, even if we’re not as fancy as that young lawyer across the street or some of the other new people who’ve moved in. I did ask Maud Rezzori—she lives on the other side, you know—but she was out at the same time I was. I’m going to have to go tell Mr. Hellstrom. He’s been annoyed with me, taking on those dogs, but if we have burglars…”
She sounded like a housewife distressed over a plague of mice. Despite my fatigue I couldn’t help laughing.
“It’s not funny, young lady. I mean, it may seem like a joke to you, but you live on the third floor, and it isn’t—”
“I don’t think burglars are a joke,” I cut her off hastily. “But we need to find out if other neighbors saw someone going into Mrs. Frizell’s, place before we get too hot about it. It’s possible you forgot to lock the door and the meter reader came around. It could be anything. You’ve lived here a long time—you can probably give me the names of the people on the block.”
All I wanted was a bath and a drink and a Cubs victory, not a night of interrogation. Why do you do this to yourself? a voice in my head demanded while Mrs. Hellstrom detailed the Tertzes‘, the Olsens’, and the Singers’ biographies. I certainly couldn’t blame Carol for staying home to look after Cousin Guillermo if I was going to spend my life on the dogs of a disagreeable old woman who didn’t have the faintest tie to me.
“Okay. I’ll scout around and let you know if anyone can tell me anything.”
I walked back up the street with her. Mrs. Hellstrom continued to be worried about burglars, and what her daughters would say, and what Mr. Hellstrom thought, but I wasn’t really paying attention.
Chapter 11 - Man Bites Dog
I tried the Olsens first since they lived directly behind Mrs. Frizell and might have noticed someone going in her back door. Unfortunately they’d been watching TV in their living room in the morning. I could see the disappointment in their faces—they’d missed a ringside seat on a real drama, maybe burglars going after a neighbor they didn’t much care for—but they couldn’t tell me anything.
I went to the Tertzes next. Their frame house on the east side of Racine, facing Mrs. Frizell, was sandwiched between the Picheas and another rehab job. The carefully painted scrollwork on either side made the Tertz house look a trifle shabby, but the lawn was carefully tended, with a few early roses in bud.
Mrs. Tertz must have been about seventy. We carried on the conversation in a shout through her locked front door until she was satisfied that I didn’t have assault on my mind. “Oh, yes, I’ve seen you on the street. You have that big red dog, don’t you? I just never saw you close up before, so I didn’t recognize your face. You’ve been helping Marjorie look after Harriet Frizell’s dogs for her, haven’t you?”
I hadn’t heard Mrs. Hellstrom’s first name before. I boiled her ten-minute dither down to a few sentences. “So I wondered if you saw anyone go into the house while she was away.”
“Yes, yes, I did, but they weren’t burglars. What does Marjorie take me for, that I’d let someone break in, even on Hattie Frizell, without calling the police? No, no, they were with the county—I saw it on the side of their van— Cook County Animal Control. I was sure Marjorie knew all about it. They came around eleven o’clock, and that girl next door”—she jerked her head in the direction of the Picheas—“Chrissie,. her name is, Chrissie Pichea, was there to let them in.”
“Chrissie Pichea?” I echoed stupidly.
“Why, yes. She often comes around to visit.” Mrs. Tertz smiled a little. “I think she’s doing good works for the elderly. But I don’t resent it—it’s kindly meant, even if my husband and I are perfectly able to manage our own affairs. It gets him angry, you see, the idea that just because the clock’s ticked a little longer for us we’ve suddenly become incompetent in some people’s eyes. So I usually don’t let him know if she’s stopped by. But I knew she wouldn’t have gone into Hattie’s without the intention to help, so I just went back to my own work.”
I stared at her unseeingly, barely listening to her -monologue. Chrissie Pichea let in the animal control unit? How had she gotten keys? That question was immaterial at this point. She and Todd had simply outflanked me. They’d somehow made sure I was away, then gotten the county to come for Mrs. Frizell’s dogs.
I left Mrs. Tertz in mid-sentence and tramped down some zinnias as I sprinted across the Picheas’ yard. My finger shook as I stabbed their polished brass doorbell. Todd Pichea came to the door.