Tillman sighed and turned to go back down the stairs. “I’ll check the locks on the doors, see if they’ve been tampered with, before doing a walk around the perimeter of the property.”
“And if you find nothing?” I asked, following him down to the second floor.
“Without any evidence of this so-called skeleton in the wall, there isn’t a hell of a lot I can do.”
“Yeah, but—”
“Did you recognize the deceased?” Tillman asked, still walking.
I paused on the last step. “Skeletons don’t typically have faces.”
“Then believe me when I say that if it was really there, no one’s been missing him.”
“Isn’t stealing a body illegal?” I continued, hurrying after Tillman. “And putting them in someone’s wall?”
“Yes,” Tillman said, halfway down to the first floor. “But there’s been no reports of remains dug up from a cemetery, or anything ransacked from Native American grounds nearby.” He waited for me at the bottom. “I have your word alone that it was even here at all.”
“And how is that not good enough?” I asked.
“Mr. Grant,” Tillman said firmly. “I’ll take a look around, and I’ll file a report, but if there was a skeleton here, it’s gone now. So what did it do, climb out the window?”
I STOODin the dining room that overlooked Whitehead Street.
Not that I actually believed Skelly had reenacted a scene fromThe Mummyand strolled out on his own, but Tillman’s sarcastic comment gave me a thought. I’d locked the front door, and the back door had never been unlocked for tours by Herb—the lazy shit—so someone,somehow, got in and out while I was calling the police. And what other way than climbing through an unlocked window?
But it couldn’t have been through the dining room, because it was off the front of the house, in full view of the street, now riddled with morning tourists, and Herb in his chair. Granted, he’d proven to not be much of a guard. So, the back of the house, right?
Right.
I walked through the dining room and exited into the hallway. Crossing to the parlor, I climbed over the rope that kept visitors from the disturbing displays. There were two windows that overlooked the back porch and lush garden. This section of property was heavily shaded from view. Between the countless sapodillas that surrounded the grounds and the heliconias, nearly as tall as me with their huge leaves, it was next to impossible to peer into the house or inner gardens from the cross street.
And considering someone was bold enough to sneak inside to steal a fuckingskeletonin broad daylight, coming via this end would provide cover. The fact that my mystery intruder knew what I’d found, got to the house, and slipped out with the human remains in under twenty minutes was so disturbing, I didn’t want to focus on those details quite yet.
So, the windows.
Besides my housekeeper needing to dust better, the one on the left looked undisturbed and was securely locked. We didn’t open the windows of the Smith Home. There were no screens, Florida bugs were a bitch, but more importantly, the glass was antique. I’d be a very cranky boss if any were carelessly cracked or broken due to someone closing them too roughly.
I moved to the right window and found the sill had a stray bit of paint on it. I scratched at it in annoyance. “Fucking painters….” They’d finished renovating the downstairs walls two weeks ago. Clearly one of them wasn’t liberal enough with the plastic sheets to protect the original wood finishing. I stood on my toes and checked the latch. Another spot of paint, and this time… a broken lock.
I turned and looked behind me. There was a camera in the room, but it was aimed toward the tête-à-tête seats and a table with several small artifacts placed on it. It would have been a tight maneuver, but someone could keep out of its frame if they wanted to.
How long had this window been unsecure? A day? A week? Since before the painters? Had one of them done this and not told me so they didn’t have to pay for the damage? I couldn’t imagine that it had been broken on purpose….
Maybe Ididdream everything this morning. I mean, come on! A skeleton in the house, which someone broke inside to steal? Absurd. Thisentiremorning was absolutely ridiculous.
Tillman tapped on the window from outside, making me yelp and jump. He motioned for me to join him with a finger wag.
I needed a cigarette so bad. Maybe I could smoke one and spray myself with Febreze before Jun got in….
I left the parlor and went out the back door.
“You’re mighty jumpy this morning,” Tillman stated.
“Did you find anything?”
Tillman crossed his arms, doing that cop-trying-to-intimidate thing. I knew the pose. Didn’t matter what branch of law enforcement—they all did the same thing. “The locks on your doors don’t show any signs of tampering.”
“What about windows? The lock is broken on this one.” I pointed.
