Page 80 of Deeper Than the Dead

“No! Oh my God, do you think I’m crazy?”

Vera sent her a pointed look that said she didn’t want to hear the answer to that one. “I have to call Bent about this break-in.”

As she opened her contacts, she started a mental inventory of what she remembered about the intruder. Taller than her. Heavier, muscular. Smelled ... like an aftershave she’d encountered before. Something unique. She couldn’t call the one to mind just now, but she would in time.

She made the call, and while they waited for Bent to arrive, they looked for the point of entry. The front door had been locked when Vera arrived.

“He could have unlocked the back door,” Eve said. “It’s an old lock.”

“True,” Vera agreed. She checked both the locks, front and back, spotted no indications of forced entry. “Unless I left it unlocked this morning, which is entirely possible. If not, the intruder either came in through a window or he had a key.”

“I haven’t given anyone a key,” Eve said, as if the statement was an accusation. “I know I’ve done some stupid stuff in my time, but I’ve never given away a house key.”

Vera opted not to go there just now.

Her concern was the motive for the break-in. “Why would anyone think there was something in Daddy’s room?” Vera didn’t get it. Although their family was reasonably financially secure, they weren’t rich. There were no family jewels or precious metals hidden in the house.

“Maybe it was a reporter,” Eve suggested. “You said that was your first thought. Maybe he hoped to find a journal or something.”

Vera laughed, a not-so-kind sound. “Can you see Sheree having a journal?”

Eve smirked. “That’s a hard no. And we both know Daddy wouldn’t have been journaling.”

“But,” Vera supposed, “if it was a reporter, he wouldn’t have any way of knowing this.”

“You’re pretty sure it was a he,” Eve said.

“I am. And I think I recognized his aftershave.”

A rap at the front door announced Bent’s arrival.

Just to be certain, Vera checked out the window first, then opened the door. It would be just like Patricia Patton to show up unannounced again. The memory of her tall, broad-shouldered cameraman had Vera trying to recall if she’d gotten close enough to smell his aftershave. She didn’t think so.

Bent walked in, closed the door, and looked from Vera to Eve and back. “What happened?”

“Come with me.” Vera grabbed him by the arm and started for the stairs. Her hip complained, but she ignored it as she focused on repeating the details of her encounter with the intruder.

Eve followed, but stalled at the door as they walked into the ransacked bedroom.

“You said he was wearing gloves.”

Vera nodded. “Looking for prints or anything else is likely a waste of time. I’m thinking I must have interrupted him before he found whatever he was looking for, because his hands were empty. There was no bag or backpack.”

“Okay then.” Bent surveyed her. “You’re sure you’re okay?”

“I’ll be sore, but nothing is broken.” She hugged her arms around herself, feeling vulnerable. Maybe it was Bent’s slow perusal, or maybe the confrontation with the intruder was catching up with her. Charging him the way she had wasn’t exactly smart, no matter that she hadn’t spotted a weapon.

Bent removed his hat and ran his fingers through his hair, his gaze roving the room now. “Any ideas as to what he may have been looking for?”

“Vera thinks he was looking for a journal,” Eve said, stepping into the room. “He may have thought Sheree left one.”

Bent eyed her for a moment. “I’m thinking he was more interested in a journal one of you—or maybe Luna—might have.”

Eve and Vera shared a look. “Did you ever do any journaling?” Vera asked.

Eve moved her head side to side. “No. You didn’t, either, did you?”

“Not since I was like twelve. What about Luna?” Vera had been gone for most of Luna’s posttoddler life. She really had no concrete idea what the girl had done during her adolescent years.

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