A Knife to Remember

kitchen. Probably a good cook, furious at the outrages I perpetrate there.“ She laughed nervously. There was the beginning of a sob somewhere in the laugh. “Two officers are inside now.“
    “What about the rest of the house?“ Mel asked, putting a hand on her arm as if to physically keep her from flying off.
    “We didn’t stick around to look,“ Mike replied.
    “Good thinking, Mike. Not many people have the sense to think of that in a crisis.”
    One of the officers came out. “Charlie’s double-checking, but it seems to be empty.“
    “So when did this happen?“ Mel asked.
    Jane took a deep breath. “Mike and I came in by the back door about an hour ago. I didn’t lock the back door—“
    “Jane, I’ve warned you—“ Mel began. His hand tightened on her arm.
    “I was upset! I forgot!“ she was nearly shouting. She took a deep breath. “Sorry. Anyway, Mike went back out the front door and I went upstairs and took a long shower, then dried my hair. I couldn’t have heard anything going on downstairs. Mike came back about five or ten minutes ago and discovered the kitchen had been ransacked.”
    The other officer came outside. “It’s clean, Mel.“
    “Clean? Hardly clean,“ Jane said, then wished she hadn’t spoken. She was sounding a tad hysterical.
    “I’ll carry on from here. Thanks,“ Mel told them.
    When they’d left, Mel escorted Jane and Mike back into the house through the kitchen door. “Jeez, what a mess!“
    “It’s mainly the wastebasket trash, I think,“ Jane said, getting the broom and dustpan from the closet.
    “No, hold up on that,“ Mel said. “Is there anything missing?“
    “Mel, how would I know? And what would anybody want to steal from a kitchen, for heaven’s sake?“
    “You don’t keep valuables in here, do you?“
    “Not unless you count the antique meat loaf in the fridge. I’m thinking about donating it to the Smithsonian.“
    “Very funny, Jane,“ Mel said sourly. “Who have you offended lately who’d want to vandalize your house?“
    “Only my mother-in-law. And don’t dare ask!“ “Mike, you didn’t see anybody leaving the house when you came in, did you?“
    “No, but I came in the front. If they went out the back, I wouldn’t have seen them anyway.“
    “I guess I’m going to have to ask that mob in your backyard then,“ Mel said, sighing.
    “Backyard! Willard! I forgot to bring him in!“ Jane said.
    “I’ll go get him,“ Mike volunteered.
    When the back door closed behind him, Mel put his hands on her shoulders. “What’s really going on here, Janey?”
    He’d taken to calling her Janey in private since she accepted his invitation for a weekend together in New York and from him, she liked it. She let herself lean into an embrace. “Oh, Mel. It’s a mess and I can’t start explaining right now because Mike will be back in a minute. But I’ve got a problem and I don’t know if I ought to leave home this weekend. Actually, it’s Mike’s problem now and I have to see if he’s worked it out before I can decide.“
    “Are you saying Mike may have made this mess?“
    “Oh, no! Not at all. This has nothing to do with the kitchen.“
    “Okay, Janey. We’ll talk about it whenever you want. In the meantime, please keep your doors locked all the time. With all those people roaming around back there, you’ve seen how easy it is for somebody to slip in here. I’ll go out and talk to their security people in a minute and tell them to keep a special eye on your house.”
    There was a commotion at the back door and Willard came shooting in and headed for the basement door. Jane opened it and he hurtled down the steps to safety. Mike came in, followed by Maisie, who was holding onto Butch Kowalski’s arm. She was keeping his hand in the air and had a towel wrapped around it.
    “What’s happened?“ Jane asked. Butch looked as white as death.
    “Jane, I’m sorry to barge in on you this—what on earth?“ She looked around the kitchen. “Long story,“ Jane said.
    Maisie nodded. “Okay. Butch cut his hand and I need to wash off the blood and see if it’s serious or not.”
    Jane grabbed the broom again and made a quick, brutal swipe through the center of the room to the sink. As Maisie eased away the towel and started carefully running warm water over Butch’s hand, Jane got the clean rag bag off the back of the basement door and handed Maisie a wad of cloth.
    Butch was wavering, looking as though he might faint