The backyard was suitably dark and the bathroom window open enough for Fred to slip in his fingers and push it all the way up. Not for the first time, he lacerated a finger ripping out the screen. Leaving frozen leaf mulch in the bathtub, Fred moved silently into the narrow hallway. An occasional blood drop found its way to the floor each time he took his finger out of his mouth.
The movement of a cat startled him, causing him to knock over a telephone table with a resounding crash, followed by electronic beeping as the phone bounced onto the hardwood floor. It was a typical Fred burglary. The cat screeched and bolted.
Undaunted, Fred moved upstairs to the master bedroom. taking the slight blood trail with him. Remembering a previous mistake, Fred closed the blinds before switching on his flashlight. There was some money in the top drawer of the man’s dresser and a few small bills on top of the woman’s. Not an expert, Fred pocketed the jewellery he found in an enamelled box on the woman’s dressing table “just in case”.
Next to the bedroom was a den. Taking the small crowbar from his belt Fred pried open the desk. Papers. Some looked important though not redeemable for cash and now slightly blood speckled. Underneath there was a sealed brown manila envelope, quite thick, which felt like its contents were money.
When he heard the noise, Fred was just standing the flashlight on end to have both hands free to rip open the envelope. He froze. The faint sound of voices drifted upstairs. They were home! Stuffing the envelope in his pocket Fred panicked.
“Damn cat,” came floating up the stairs followed by the scrape of the table being righted. The high tone beeping of the telephone ended as it was put back in place.
Silently, Fred moved to the bedroom where he had noticed a large walk-in arrangement. Safely inside, he switched on his light to get his bearings. It was a large closet evenly divided into a woman’s and a man’s section. No place to hide if they chose to hang up their clothes.
Fred was lucky. Above him was an open square hole often found in bedroom closets leading to a crawl space. Without hesitation he hauled himself up leaving a bloody fingerprint on the edge. Disturbed blown-paper insulation filled the air and clung to his clothes and hair, tickling his nose.
A shout came from downstairs followed by the muffled pounding of feet running down the short hallway to the staircase. Fred sneezed. A moment later, a ray of light seeping under the closet door warned Fred the bedroom light had been switched on.
“My God! We’ve been robbed.” It was a man’s voice.
“Who would want my worthless jewellery?” the woman answered.
“The desk,” yelled the man, too loudly, a hint of hysteria.
The woman screamed as Fred faintly heard the man say “It’s gone!” There followed a heated conversation in tones too low for Fred to hear.
