Jack Beale 00 - Killer Run

who just left, no one else has been here. Only us, and then tomorrow we have some new people due in.” She paused before continuing. “Those couples. They were too nice. There’s no way it could have been them.”
    “I’m gonna’ give ’em a call anyway. Is there anything else missing?”
    “Nothing that I know of.”
    At that moment they both froze and looked at each other. Without a word Malcom walked toward the stairs. Polly must have shared the same feeling because she grabbed hold of the back of his shirt and followed, having no intention of being left behind.
    Standing in front of the Captain’s room, Malcom put his hand on the doorknob. He hesitated for a heartbeat before twisting the knob. Most of the doors in the Inn were slightly warped due to age, and this one was no exception. There was a distinct sound as pressure was released on the latch and the door relaxed. He held onto the knob, keeping the door loosely closed as they both exhaled and looked at each other. Then, as Malcom pushed the door open, they each inhaled again and held their breaths.
    The room was dark. He felt for the switch and snapped it on as they blinked. It was gone. Where the quilt had hung, there was nothing but an empty rod and a blank wall.
    Malcom finally exhaled. In a barely audible voice he said, “Son of a bitch.”
    Polly, still clutching his shirt said, “Do you think …” She didn’t finish the sentence, as if saying it would make it so.
    “I don’t know, but I’m going to find out.” Malcom’s anger was building. He pulled away from Polly’s grip.
    “Mal. Come on. Call the police and let them handle it.”
    He stopped and glared at her. “No. We’re not going to call the police, at least not yet.”
    “Why not?”
    “Because.”
    “That’s not a reason.” She paused and seemed to pull herself together. “Look, I know you think Alfred did this. I do too, but thinking that he did it and accusing him are two very different things. It really is for the police to handle. If you don’t want to call them tonight, it can wait until the morning. No point ruining a beautiful evening with no guests.”
    He knew that she was right. “You’re right, Pol. What’s for dinner?”
    “I picked up a couple of steaks when I was at the store. There are still some greens in the garden.”
    He was silent as for a moment. “Okay, we’ll wait until morning.”
    “Good. I’ll go pick a salad while you finish up outside and put the tractor away. When you finish, open some wine and get a shower. I’ll start the grill and we’ll have a nice dinner.”
    * * *
    As Malcom lay in bed, all of his hungers sated, sleep wouldn’t come. He looked over at Polly, who was already asleep. Despite the shadowy darkness, he could see her clearly, his mind filling in what details the shadows hid, and he smiled, thinking about how lucky he was. Then he closed his eyes and his thoughts drifted back to dinner; the steaks had been rare, the salad crisp, and the wine delightful. There had been no talk about the thefts or Alfred. There had been no need because he had already decided what he was going to do.

CHAPTER 46
    OVER BREAKFAST, MALCOM CONVINCED Polly to let him drive down to see Alfred. If he were unsuccessful, then, when he returned, they would call the police. She didn’t like the idea, but she trusted Malcom and so she agreed.
    Two and a half hours down and two and a half back, with no more than an hour between. Six hours was all he thought he would need.
    * * *
    There were no cars parked in front of Whitson’s Antiques. Malcom parked, got out, and stretched his legs. Two and a half hours was a long time to be in one position.
    Looking at the Alfred’s store, he couldn’t tell if it was open or closed. He walked to the side of the building and peered around the corner. Alfred’s truck was parked there. His heart began to beat more rapidly in his chest as he knew that soon they would be face to face.
    Malcom took a deep breath, rehearsed in his mind one more time what he was going to say, stepped up onto the porch, and pulled the door open. The bell jingled, announcing his arrival, and he stepped in. It was still cluttered and dim and it took a moment for his eyes to adjust. “Hello,” he called out.
    There was no reply, so he began to walk around the store, looking for anything that might indicate that Alfred possessed what Malcom knew he had taken. The floor creaked under the weight of his step, and the sound of his