Sorry I’m a little late with this post. Even though Hubby and I don’t have any children at home anymore, we contracted strip throat somehow. I barely have it, but Hubby is suffering. I had the post all ready to go for scheduling last night, and just forgot to do it. My guess is I was just sick enough to allow my brain to go on vacation.
Did you miss part one and/or two?
The next morning I was walking to my car when I noticed that the same vehicle was still parked in Thomas’ driveway. Very strange to say the least. I went on to work filing what I saw in the back of my thoughts.
When I got back home in the late afternoon, the vehicle was gone. I was completely confused by that time and so much wanted to ask Vickie what was going on. However, I knew all too well that it wasn’t any of my business.
After changing into jeans and a sweatshirt, I sat down with a mug of coffee and read the newspaper. Halfway through the second article, there was a knock at my door. When I opened it, there was Bob Turner. “Hi, Detective. What can I do for you?”
“If you don’t mind, can I come in and ask you a few more questions?”
“Sure. Of course.”
He looked frozen. I got him a cup of coffee and we sat at the kitchen table.
“Did you see the Jeep parked at the Thomas house last night?” Bob asked before taking a swig of his coffee.
“Yes, I did. I couldn’t believe what I was seeing really. I was in my bedroom when I heard it. I looked out and there it was in their driveway. Did they rob the place again?” That was the only thing I could think of that could have happened.
“Ms. Croft, how close of friends are you to the Thomas’?”
“Vickie and I have coffee at each other’s house occasionally. I don’t really know Hugh. Why?”
“Do you know Vickie’s brother?”
“No, I didn’t know she had one.”
Turner took another swig before continuing. “The Jeep belongs to him. So you can’t vouch for him?”
“No. Like I said, I didn’t know that Vickie had a brother.”
“Just making sure,” Turner said. “I’ll get out of your hair now. Thank you for the coffee and the cooperation.”
When Turner left, I was more than a little mystified. Were the problems Vickie and Hugh worse than what Vickie hinted at? Did Vickie’s brother steal something from them? Does Vickie’s brother even own that Jeep? Am I coming to conclusions that don’t exist? My curiosity was sending my brain in all sorts of directions. I might just crash and burn.
The next morning I tiptoed on the cold cement of my front walk to retrieve the newspaper. After shutting the door behind me, I laid the paper out on the kitchen table with my coffee and toast. World crises were on the first and second pages. There on the third page was a picture of the Jeep parked in the Thomas’ driveway. I read the article underneath with bated breath.
The Thomas house had been robbed — by their nephew and his girlfriend. It still wasn’t known what their motive was, but both were waiting in jail for their hearing.
I had a theory as to how it all happened, which would explain the Jeep’s coming and goings. However, that’s all it is, a theory.
Moral to the story:
You can pick your friends. You can pick your nose. But you can’t pick your relatives.