B Is for Burglar

hose before she coiled it up again. She emerged from the shrubbery, wiping her damp hands on her jeans. "Are you thinking she knew something about Marty's death?"
    "I think it's worth looking into," I said. "Her side window looks right down into the Grices' entryway. Maybe she saw the burglar."
    Tillie made a skeptical face. "In the dark?"
    I shrugged. "It doesn't seem likely, does it, but I don't know what else to think."
    "But why wouldn't she have gone to the police if she knew who it was?"
    "Who knows? Maybe she wasn't thinking straight. People panic. They don't like to get involved in these things. Maybe she felt she was in jeopardy herself."
    "Well, she was nervous," Tillie said. "But then we were all a bundle of nerves that week. You want to come in?"
    "Actually I do. I think I ought to take a look at those bills of hers. At least we can see how recently she's used her charge accounts and where she was at the time. Has anything else come in?"
    "Just a couple of things. I'll show you what I've got."
    I followed Tillie through the lobby and into the corridor beyond.
    She unlocked her front door and moved into the living room, crossing to the secretary. Since the glass had been broken out of the doors, there was no need to unlock anything, but I saw her hesitate, nonplussed, putting an index finger on the side of her cheek like someone posing for a photograph. "Now, that's odd."
    "What?" I asked. I crossed to the secretary and looked in. We'd replaced the tumble of books the night before, and there was nothing else on the shelves now except a small brass elephant and a framed snapshot of a puppy with a stick in its mouth.
    "I don't see Elaine's bills and they should be there," she said. "Now, isn't that strange." She glanced at the shelves again and then opened the drawers one by one, sorting through the contents.
    She moved into the kitchen and dug into the big black plastic bag where we had dumped all the broken glass and debris the night before. There was no sign of them.
    "Kinsey, they were in the secretary yesterday. I saw them myself. Where could they have gone?"
    She looked up at me. It didn't take a massive leap of intelligence to arrive at the obvious possibility.
    "Could she have taken them?" Tillie asked. "That woman who broke in last night? Is that what she was really up to?"
    "Tillie, I don't know. Something about it bothered me at the time," I said. "It didn't make sense to think someone would break in while you were here just to tear the place apart. Are you sure you saw them yesterday?"
    "Of course. I put the new batch of bills with the other ones on the shelf. They were right here. And I don't remember seeing them at all when we cleaned up. Do you?"
    I thought back, chasing it around in my memory. I'd only seen the bills once, the first time I'd talked to her. But why would someone bother to steal them? It didn't make sense. "Maybe she deliberately scared the pants off you to keep you out of the way while she searched the place," I said.
    "Well, she sure had the right idea. I wouldn't have come out of my room on a dare! But why would she do that? I don't understand."
    "I don't either. I can always get duplicates of the bills, but it's going to be a pain in the ass and I'd rather not do it if I don't have to."
    "I want to know who has a key to my apartment. That makes my blood run cold."
    "I don't blame you. Listen, Tillie. Nothing makes me crazier than sixteen unanswered questions in a row. I'm going to see what I can find out about this murder next door. It has to be connected somehow. Have you talked to Leonard Grice recently?"
    "Oh, he hasn't been there since it happened," she said. "I haven't seen him at any rate."
    "What about the Snyders on the other side? Do you think they could be of any help?"
    "They might. Do you want me to talk to them?"
    "No, don't worry about it. I'll check with them myself. Just one more thing. Leonard Grice has a nephew... a kid with a pink Mohawk."
    "Mike."
    "Yeah, him. Is there any chance he might have been the person who broke in last night? I just talked to him outside and he's not a big guy. He might well have looked like a woman in the dark."
    "I don't think so," she said, skepticism plain. "I couldn't swear to it, but I don't think it was him."
    "Well. Just a thought. I don't like to make assumptions about gender. It really could have been anyone. I'm going to go next door and see what the Snyders have to say. You take care of yourself."
    The house at 2093