Dead Fit - 19. Chapter 19

Chapter 19

When I got back to the house, I pulled the lawn mower out of the garage. Living with my parents was rent free, but there were a few self-imposed chores that came with the deal. My parents never asked me to help out, but it was my little way of feeling like I contributed to our household.

I attached the bag to the electric mower and started the battery. Physical activity always helped me think, so while I trimmed the front yard, I processed my conversation with Kimberly. Now that an hour had passed since she broke the news to me about Todd and Brian’s past together, the initial knee-jerk response had worn off. I could admit what she said wasn’t a surprise. There had been plenty of clues I saw that suggested they were more than just friends. I just chose to not follow up on the clues.

The first clue should have been the night of Brian’s party, when I snooped through his condo while he was busy setting up the clubhouse. I found his photo album. Just looking at the pictures, it was clear they were more than friends – the way they sat next to each other, Todd’s arm around Brian’s shoulder, a certain look in their eye. I could have asked Brian about the pictures at the time, but I didn’t want him knowing I had gone through his stuff.

Another clue should have been the bad feeling I had after meeting Todd for the first time. He was less than hospitable. Brian insisted that this wasn’t Todd’s true personality and I believed it when Todd treated me better the next time we met. I could have pushed Todd’s buttons a little at Q’s. Maybe if I would have, his alter ego would have crept out for Brian to see. But I was more interested in proving to Brian that I could get along with his friends.

Even Ana picked up on something I missed. After Ana met Todd, she described an emptiness in his eyes. She couldn’t put her finger on anything specific, just a feeling that he had been sad for some time. Of course, now it made sense after hearing what Kimberly had to say. She was sure Todd was still in love with Brian. No doubt his sadness had to do with their break up.

I finished mowing the lawn, dumped the clippings into the trash can and put the mower back in the garage. I had a bunch of “could have's” and “should have’s” swimming around in my mind, but I still didn’t know what I was going to do with the information Kimberly gave me. So, I pulled out the electric trimmer to work on the hedges in the backyard. Maybe a little more physical activity would help me make a decision.

I started up the trimmer. The loud buzzing overpowered all other noises and pretty soon, the only thing I could hear was the little voice in my head. The voice started throwing out some options for me to consider.

I could leave the issue alone and I’d be exactly where I was now. That would be nice because I wouldn’t have to confront Brian about his past relationship with Todd. We could just go on our merry way and pretend like everything was fine and dandy. Why rock the boat?

But if I did ask Brian about his past with Todd, it would give me a chance to ask him why they broke up in the first place. Maybe he never told me they dated because Brian ended the relationship when he caught Todd doing something illegal. Rather than talk about Todd’s ugly past, he decided to keep their relationship to himself. That seemed like a good reason not to tell me.

Even if Brian didn’t break up with Todd because of his criminal habits, I could at least find out why he never bothered to tell me they dated. He had plenty of opportunity to do so. Keeping information like that from me was a little suspicious. It just seemed like something I should know. If the roles were reversed, I certainly would have told Brian. Then again, I wouldn’t have dated a sludge like Todd.

The hedges were looking thinner and thinner and it was time for me to make a decision. Not doing anything with the information Kimberly gave me would be stupid. I would just dwell on it, letting it consume me. I needed to ask Brian for an explanation. I wouldn’t be confrontational, though. He deserved a chance to tell me his side of it.

I put the trimmer back in the garage. While I cleaned up inside the house, I felt my cell phone vibrate. It was my mom calling me. She and my dad hadn't even been gone a week and they were already checking in on me. To be more accurate, my mom was checking on me; my father probably already forgot about the existence of his only child.

“Hi, mom. How's Phoenix?”

“Good, honey. Phoenix is really hot right now,” she said. Like that was a big shock to me. “I want you to be extra careful while dad and I are away. Mrs. Parkerson from the Red Hat Society called me this morning. She said St. Theresa's Thrift Shop was broken into on Thursday night. What is the world coming to when a thrift shop that raises money for the homeless is attacked?”

“Was anything taken, mom?”

“Mrs. Parkerson didn't say. She just said that when the church staff came in on Friday morning, they discovered that the glass on the door to the Thrift Shop had been broken. Initially, they thought it may have been knocked out by kids who were playing ball in the church parking lot, so they didn’t call the police. But when they went inside to clean up the glass, the Thrift Shop had been turned upside down. That's when they called the cops.”

I promised my mom I would be careful while they were gone, then quickly got off the phone with her. The break-in at St. Theresa’s was a little too coincidental for me. I remembered telling Brian that I had donated the smartphone to the Thrift Store. If he relayed that information to Todd like he said he would, then Todd may have been trying to retrieve the phone. All of this, of course, could be a wild stretch of my imagination. But just to ease my mind, I got into my car and drove over to St. Theresa's church.

I pulled into the parking lot and said a little prayer that the good Lord wouldn't strike me down for stepping on sacred ground for ulterior motives only, and not for worship. It had been at least ten years since last I attended church, and that was for the wedding of a friend of the family.

The Thrift Shop was attached to the church and as I approached the front entrance, I could see that the glass on the door was completely intact. Either the church already had it repaired, or my mom confused the story. I pulled open the door, but it was locked. There were cars in the parking lot, so I walked over to the church to see if I could find someone to speak with.

I pulled open the doors and entered the chapel. A man wearing clergy attire was walking among the pews, restocking hymnals and bibles. He looked like he was a thousand years old.

As I approached, he looked up and asked, “Can I help you?”

“Hello, Father,” I said. I had no idea if this was an appropriate way to address a member of the clergy, but at least it sounded respectful. “My mother's volunteer group heard about the break in at the Thrift Shop next door and sent me over to see if you need any help.”

“That's so thoughtful. I think almost everything has been taken care of, but you may wish to speak to Sister Ann Marie. She's in charge of running the Thrift Shop and can tell you if they need any help. Sister Ann Marie is in the Shop right now. You’ll have to enter from the church. The Shop closes at four o’clock on Saturdays and we’ve locked up the front entrance for the night.”

I followed the Father and we made our way from the chapel, through a back office, and then into the Thrift Shop. We found Sister Ann Marie putting items back on display shelves. For the most part, the Thrift Shop looked in good shape. I could tell merchandise had been moved around, but nothing appeared broken. The Father returned to the Chapel, probably to continue his own work of restocking pews.

“Good evening, Sister. I'm sorry to bother you while you’re trying to work. My mother is a volunteer with the Red Hat Society. She's out of town right now, but she happened to hear about the break in the other night and sent me over here to find out if you needed any help.”

I said another prayer that the Lord wouldn't strike me down for lying to a nun, and of all places, in a church. Two prayers in one evening. This was a record for me.

“Oh, bless your hearts. The Red Hat ladies have always been so generous with us. Who is your mother?”

“Annette Marshall. She's the Community Services Chair.”

“Your mother is so thoughtful. No, dear, there's really not much to do. No serious damage was done, just a broken window and that has already been repaired.”

“Do you know why this happened?”

“Sin and evil can't always be explained, dear,” she said in a Mary Poppins voice. “Some day when you're older, you'll understand what I'm talking about.”

“I mean, was this just vandalism, like a high school prank?”

“Oh, I don't think we'll ever know that for sure. The police were here for hours trying to see if any evidence was left behind. They couldn't find a thing. They interviewed all of us, asking us over and over if we remembered seeing anyone who came into the shop that looked like they were 'casing' the place. None of us could remember anything suspicious. In the end, the police concluded it was a random act of crime – nothing premeditated. They said they would step up patrols on this street, just to keep an eye out on the place. But I told them it wasn't necessary, that a higher power was watching over our church and store.”

If the police couldn't find any evidence here, I certainly wasn't going to be able to connect Todd with the break-in. I was getting ready to wish Sister Ann Marie a good night when she said something to herself that made me nearly drop a load in my pants.

“And to think, your mother went out of her way to drop off that last box of donations. Sure enough, that was the only thing stolen.”

“I'm sorry, what was that, Sister,” I asked.

“Oh, I was just thinking, your mother and her volunteers dropped off so many boxes last Friday, all full of donations for the Thrift Shop. They must have given us ten or fifteen boxes. Then a few days later, she stopped by to drop off one more box of stuff right before she and your father left on vacation. I told her she shouldn't have changed her schedule just to drop off one box. But she said some friends of her son made a special effort to collect donations, and she wanted to honor their charity by getting the items to us right away.” Sister Ann Marie shook her head. “She was so proud the items in that last box were all new and would fetch good money for our homeless outreach program. It just pains me that box was stolen.”

“Sister, how do you know that that specific box is missing?”

“I don't think I normally would have noticed, but I remember when your mother dropped off the items, she and I marveled at the condition of the donated items. Everything in that box was so unusually well-kept, and most of it looked like expensive electronics. I put the box aside so that I could ask a younger member of the congregation to help me price the electronics. I had planned to do that tomorrow, after the sermon. I had no idea how much these things go for, but I wanted to get the most for the donation.”

“The entire box was taken,” I asked.

“Oh yes, dear. What a shame. If I would have known the box was going to be stolen, I would have just sold the stuff to that man who was asking about them that exact same day.”

I couldn't believe what I was hearing. “There was someone in here on Thursday asking about the box of stuff that was later stolen?”

“Well, not exactly. A man came in here on Thursday morning and said he was a buyer of used electronics, like cell phones and computers. I told him we rarely have electronics for sale at the Thrift Shop, mainly just household items, books, clothing and kitchen appliances. I told him that the Lord was looking out for him, though. A box of electronics had just been donated, but that I needed to price them before I could put them up for sale. He said he would be willing to give me top dollar if he could buy the items before I put them out in the store. I insisted that I needed to price everything first and he could come back the following week if he was still interested.” The Sister chuckled to herself and shook her head, “I guess even I'm susceptible to the evils of greed. I just wanted to get as much money as possible for the Thrift Shop.”

Was this conversation for real? I knew I was a little naive, but even I could see that all of this was too coincidental. I guess all these years of being a nun probably sheltered her from the evils of the world.

“Did he leave a business card or anything,” I asked.

“No, he said he'd just stop by again in a few days.”

“Can you tell me what he looked like?”

“My goodness, you're asking more questions than the police. He was a good looking man, older than you, professional, well-dressed. That's about it I can remember. I wasn't really focused on him when he stopped in on Thursday.”

This conversation was going nowhere. That description could fit just about anybody. “Just out of curiosity, Sister, do you know what time the break-in occurred?”

“The police asked us that, too. We don’t know for certain, but Father Andrews told the police that he was still in the chapel until almost ten on Thursday night. On Friday, I was in at six. So, it must have happened sometime in between.”

When I couldn’t think of any other questions, I wished Sister Ann Marie a good night and left my phone number in case she thought of anything more about the break-in. Then, feeling a little selfish, I suggested that she call me if she could think of anything I could to do help the Thrift Shop.

On my drive home, I convinced myself the break-in at St. Theresa's was no random criminal act. I was sure Todd was behind it, but I had no way of proving it. The only information I had was that the break-in took place sometime between ten on Thursday night and six on Friday morning; the only thing missing was a box of newly donated electronics; and a good looking man was asking about buying electronics the previous day. If this were a cop show on television, that would have been more than enough clues to solve the crime. But in the real world, this wasn't much to work with.

By the time I made it home, I was wiped, first from the conversation with Kimberly, then being chased out of G1 Salon, and finally from the conversation with Sister Ann Marie. I nuked a frozen meal and spent the rest of the night in front of the television. It was Saturday night and I really should have tried to find something social to do, but I didn't think I would be good company. I fell asleep in front of the television, watching Saturday Night Live.

Hindsight being 20/20, the fact that the entire box of donated items from Brian and his friends was stolen from St. Theresa's church meant that the owner of the smartphone, assuming he was the culprit of the break-in, now knew I was still in possession of the phone. Of course, being a little short on deductive reasoning skills, that notion completely slipped my mind.

Otherwise, I could have avoided a lot of heartache.