Solve-it-yourself mystery
This doesn’t make sense, Sheriff Buddy! Why would someone rob me?” Coach Jenkins sighs as we walk through his house toward the kitchen. His home looked exactly as it had when I played high school football for him years ago.
“Can you tell me what happened this morning, Coach?”
“I had breakfast at the diner like I do every morning,” he recalls. “But I was only gone for an hour. When I came home…look at this mess!”
As we walk into the kitchen I see drawers and cupboards flung open, and dishes and cups broken on the floor. I immediately check the back door and windows for signs of a forced entry.
“Don’t bother, Bud,” Coach says, I didn’t lock up today— clearly that was a big mistake.”
“Can you tell what’s missing, Coach?”
“Some things, sure, but not everything. My domain was the football field, Cindy’s was the house,” he replies, sadness flickering in his eyes at the mention of his late wife, who’d passed a year earlier. “But my cash is gone from that junk drawer over there, along with some of Cindy’s jewelry,” he sighs. “Jewelry?” I ask, surprised. “Yeah, Cindy took off her jewelry when she cooked,” Coach explains. “Sometimes she’d slip pieces in that drawer. I couldn’t bring myself to move them. Seeing them made me feel like she’s still with me, so I just never moved them.”
In the dining room, an open mahogany chest sits empty atop an antique sideboard.
“The bums stole Cindy’s prized silverware, Buddy! She always kept it in the cupboard below the sideboard.”
Moving closer, I spot something nestled in the chest’s lining. With my handkerchief, I fish out a small, red gemstone. “A ruby,” Coach murmurs. “Cindy’s birthstone. She had tons of ruby jewelry, wore it to all my games for good luck. ‘Go, Red Devils!’ she’d always say,” Coach recalls wistfully.
“Must’ve fallen out last time she got out her silver.”
I tuck the handkerchief away in my pocket. “Has anyone else been in your house in the last couple of days?”
“Walt Chambers repaired my stove yesterday morning. Carla Manning, my housekeeper, was here then, too. She works Mondays and Thursdays. And Phil Gilbert, a sophomore at Haverston High, came over yesterday afternoon. I’ve been helping him work on his catching game a couple of days a week after school.”
I call Carla, Walt and Phil and ask them to stop by.
When I ask what’s missing, the housekeeper points to the open junk drawer.
“Coach kept his spare cash in there. He paid the stove guy with it yesterday, same as he always pays me.” Carla scans the kitchen and groans. “Also Cindy’s jewelry and figurines.”
She turns toward the dining room. “And that chest definitely wasn’t out yesterday!”
When Walt, the stove repair man arrives, Coach asked Carla to make a pot of coffee.
“Coach had cash in that drawer,” Walt tells me. “I know because he paid me from it yesterday. Can’t say what else is missing, though. Had my head in the stove all morning.”
When Phil Gilbert arrives, I lead him into the living room and he sits down on the couch.
“All I saw last night, Sheriff, were Coach’s playbooks and his trophies.” He glances quickly toward the trophy case. “Whew! Thank goodness they’re still here.”
Carla enters the living room carrying a tray of coffee and muffins. As she sits it down, I noticed her class ring. “You went to Haverston, too, Carla?” I ask.
“Graduated 12 years ago, Sheriff,” she says proudly. “Twenty for me,” I grin. But as she hands me a mug of coffee, my smile fades.
I quietly say, “Why don’t you tell Coach what really happened here today, Carla?”
Q: What tipped off the sheriff?
A: Turn to pg 49