boxes, the drawers in all that furniture up there, so they could have been searched through prior to the police. But if he did, he was careful about it. Then the cops went through it, and now it’s pretty jumbled up.”
“How could he know someone wouldn’t go up there, and before he found what he wanted. He didn’t want anyone to know he had access to the house. We wouldn’t have known if we hadn’t been wandering around the basement in the dark.”
“We were wandering around the basement because he cut the power. That’s a big clue to a B-and-E.”
“Okay, that’s a good point. But would you have searched down there? If you’d come home, called the police, it’s really unlikely you’d have gone down to the basement, looking for signs the intruder had been down there. Or if you did, it’s not likely you’d have gone beyond the wine cellar.”
“Okay. He took a calculated risk.”
“Because he wants and needs the access, and maybe, if we do that systematic search, we’ll find out more about why. We have to wait for him to come back before we can try the ambush agenda,” she reminded him. “We might as well do something active until. More active,” she amended. “I know you’ve been researching and cross-referencing, and plotting out theories and connections, and the trip today gave us new information to process. But I like the idea of actually getting my hands into things.”
“We can take a deeper look.”
“And spending some time up there might give you more ideas about how to use that space. I’m going to pick you up a paint fan.”
“You are?”
“Colors inspire.”
“No,” he said after a moment, “I can’t keep up.”
“With what?”
“You.” Relief when he finally cruised through the village tempered with frustration. Love to radio stations, systematic searches to ambushes to paint fans. “How many directions can you go in at one time?”
“I can think in a lot of directions, especially if I consider them important, relevant or interesting. Love’s important, and certainly on a different level I think music on a drive’s important. Searching on the third floor and refining any plan to, hopefully, catch Suskind inside the house are absolutely relevant, and paint colors are interesting—and eventually both important and relevant.”
“I surrender,” he said as he pulled up and parked at Bluff House.
“Good choice.” Abra got out of the car, spread her arms, turned a circle. “I love the way it smells here, the way the air feels. I want to take a run on the beach and just fill myself with it.”
He couldn’t take his eyes off her, couldn’t block the lure of her. “You matter to me, Abra.”
“I know it.”
“You matter more than anyone has.”
She lowered her arms. “I hope so.”
“But—”
“Stop.” She hauled her bag out of the car, shook back her hair. “You don’t have to qualify it. I’m not looking for you to balance the scales. Take the gift, Eli. If I gave it too soon or wrapped it the wrong way, it can’t be helped. It’s still a gift.” She started for the door, and from inside, Barbie sent out a fury of barks.
“Your alarm’s going off. I’ll change and take her with me for that run.”
He got out his keys. “I could use a run, too.”
“Perfect.”
She said no more about it, and instead plowed straight on with the new agenda. They unpacked trunks, with Abra diligently inventorying the contents on a laptop.
They weren’t experts, she’d stated, but an organized itemization might help with Hester’s hope for a museum. So they separated, studied, cataloged and replaced with Eli culling out the household ledgers, account books and journals.
He paged through them, making his own notes, outlining his own theory.
She had to work, and so did he, but he adjusted his own schedule to include what he thought of as mining-the-past time. He added to his stack of household ledgers with meticulous recordings of purchases of fowl, beef, eggs, butter and various vegetables from a local farmer named Henry Tribbet.
Eli decided Farmer Tribbet was an ancestor of his drinking pal Stoney. He amused himself imagining Stoney wearing a farmer’s straw hat and overalls when Barbie let out a warning woof, then dashed out, barking.
He rose from the temporary work space of card table and folding chair, started out. A moment after the barking stopped, Abra called up.
“It’s just me. Don’t come down if you’re busy.”
“I’m on three,” he called back.
“Oh. I’ve got a few things to put away, then I’ll be up.”