Not Quite Perfect

“Maybe five hundred.” She tossed the empty envelope on the desk.

“It’s obvious there is a lot to go through to determine if anything else is missing. We’ll need you to sign the police report. I’m sure your insurance will want a copy. We have pictures, but the red tape for you to get copies I’m told is a pain. I suggest you take photos yourself for your insurance claim.”

Mary faked a smile. “Thank you. I appreciate your advice.”

“You live alone, is that correct?” Officer Taylor asked.

“I do.”

“You might consider installing an alarm system. Beef up your locks.”

Mary folded her hands over her arms and rubbed them. Glen moved behind her and placed his hands on her shoulders. “Do you think whoever did this will come back, when Mary’s here?”

“It’s hard to say. Whoever did this took a bit of time . . . like they knew you were gone. Destroying property and not stealing it suggests this guy is angry and wants to piss you off.”

“Mission accomplished,” Mary said.

“They might be too much of a coward to confront you personally.”

“Might be?” Glen asked.

“It’s hard to profile a suspect on one incident. The guy could have come looking for Mary, didn’t find her and trashed the place.”

Glen’s fingers squeezed Mary’s shoulders. Her hands on his reminded him she was under his grip. “She’s not safe here.”

“No more or less than she was last week. Only now you’ll be watching, locking things tighter. We’ll beef up patrol in the neighborhood. And if the prints come up with any possible suspects, we’ll call. If you come across anything you think we should investigate, we will.”

Mary removed herself from Glen’s grip and extended a hand. “Thank you, Officers. I’ll let you know if anything presents itself.”

Glen and Walt walked the police out the door, leaving Mary in her office.

Before they left the house, Glen stopped them. “Gentlemen . . . one more question.”

They both turned and gave him their attention.

“If Mary was your sister, your cousin, girlfriend, wife . . . what would you do?”

Officer Taylor spoke first. “I wouldn’t leave her alone. Not right away. Whoever did this was angry. Ripping up the furniture, destroying everything, messing with her car. This isn’t the act of some snot-nosed kid getting some kicks out of ruining someone else’s day.”

“It’s personal,” Walt said.

“When it’s personal, and the effect the perpetrator desired isn’t achieved—”

Officer Taylor finished his partner’s sentence. “It’s often repeated.”

Glen ran a hand through his hair and turned to the door behind him.

“What if we’re wrong?” Walt asked. “What if it was a random act?”

Officer Taylor released a sigh. “You said you’re a doctor.”

“ER. Pomona.”

The cop shook his head. “Then you should know better than most to believe none of what you hear and half of what you see.”

Glen watched a play of emotions pass Walt’s face.

“Ask yourself what you see,” Officer Taylor’s partner said.

“What do you see?” Glen asked.

“I see a beautiful, single woman living alone. These are the facts. She holds herself as someone who doesn’t make enemies but has a profession that digs into the past of others. There may be an endless list of possible suspects, but I believe that Miss Kildare does have a name or two swimming in her head.”

Glen had one and he didn’t know of any of her other clients.

“Single woman . . . does she date a lot? Could she have an ex-lover who’s upset with her?”

Glen looked to Walt.

“You’re the only guy she’s dated since I’ve known her,” Walt said to Glen.

“Keep your eyes open,” Officer Taylor told them. He removed a card from his breast pocket and handed one to each of them. “Call anytime. Nine one one works, too.”

When Glen and Walt stepped back inside, they both sighed like old men with a losing poker hand.

“What a mess.” Walt righted a chair that needed to find its way to the curb since half the stuffing had been removed from the back.

Glen glanced up the stairs. “I’m going to check on her.”

Walt nodded toward the door. “I need to update Dakota before she attempts to find out for herself.”

“Go! I’ll help Mary here.”

“I can call some friends to help with the mess.”

“Maybe. Let’s see what Mary wants to do.” Glen wasn’t sure more hands in the mix were wanted.

Glen found Mary standing over her desk, her hands anchoring her weight, her head hung low.

“Hey.”

She pushed away from her desk without looking at him. “Hey.”

“Are you okay?”

She huffed. “No . . . yes. I’ll be fine.” She knelt down and grabbed a handful of papers from the floor and brought the edges together by slapping them against the desk.

“Walt said he had some friends who could come over and help with the mess.”

“I don’t know. I need to sift through all this crap and find what might be missing before I invite people to help me throw stuff away.”

Glen pushed up his sleeves. “Where do you wanna start?”