By the time you came back in to the house the board was back in place.
I had to do something. Call it in. But not right now.
Now I had to think.
What Neighbour Chet had told you was so different to my memory of my grandparents.
Yeah there were tensions. Yeah they were always arguing. But gramps was the angry one. Gramps was the one lashing out. I dunno.
I needed to park all that. There was too much info to process right now.
I also needed to know if there were any other surprises in that house. If I had to call in the cops - and I couldn't see any way to avoid that - then I needed to know what they would find before they found it.
I'd asked you to go back to the car. I guess I wanted to minimise the number of places your prints were likely to be.
I knew I could put more here - to explain. And I needed you to go home. When the cops came I didn't want you around for them to question. This was going to have to be my problem.
I hated asking you. But you were - are - so understanding. You got it. I left you looking up flights.
I had two places we hadn't looked. The building at the bottom of the garden and the cellar.
I decided to check the building first. Neighbour Chet was still hanging around but I didn't have the patience for a chat. I nodded - that seemed enough for him.
The building looked more like a workshop close up. Not a garage then. A small window high up but no other way of seeing in. The third key on the chain turned grudgingly in the door. So this did belong to the house then.
I'd got a torch from the car. And some gloves.
Yeah workshop. There was a bench which ran the length of one of the walls. There were brackets on the wall that would have had tools in them. Not much there now. An old hammer, a rusty hacksaw, nothing much. A couple of low wooden stools - one out and one under the bench.
And boxes. More damn boxes.
So I started going through them. More carefully now than Gretel Lederhosen and I had at the storage unit. Which reminded me. I would need to revisit that.
Some just had old pots of paints and stuff you would expect to find in a shed or garage. Others had old toys, comic books, kids stuff. Dads? Park it! No time. Not now.
There was a large suitcase. Old. Battered. This was going to be it. I could feel it. Damn you gramps!
It was locked but it was old. Easily picked.
Inside were clothes. Men's clothes. Old. Cheap. They were covering something. A framed picture of a couple with a bunch of kids. I took that. You might find that useful.
There were some books. And a notebook. Messy scrawling handwriting. Child-like. And just like a child the name and address on the inside cover. Great-uncle Bojo. This address.
I didn't have time to read it. You could take that too. There was a wallet at the bottom of the suitcase. Again Great-uncle Bojo's. I thought about taking it but then couldn't think of a reason. At the end of the day all it did was identify that this gear was his. I didn't need to hide that.
Neighbour Chet had gone by the time I went back up to the house. And down into the cellar.
That was strangely clear. Like the rooms upstairs. Old pipes and plumbing - laundry room perhaps.
I was about to leave when I noticed a change in the patterning in the brickwork. Knife out again but less careful now. I just wanted to get out of there.
Sure enough I could remove a few bricks easily and there was a space behind. And another box. Smaller this time. Metal. Locked. Opening that would wait.
I put the bricks back and had a quick scan around. Nothing else. Time to leave. Time to get you out of there. Away from the circus that was gonna arrive.
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