Dougie's house hadn't changed since the last time I was there. No evidence of a new search. No evidence that Dougie or Mooner had passed through. Ranger and I went room by room. I filled Ranger in on the previous searches and the missing pot roast.
“Do you think it's significant that they took a pot roast?” I asked Ranger.
“One of life's mysteries,” Ranger said.
We walked around back and snooped in Dougie's garage.
The little yappy dog that lives next door to Dougie left his post on the Belskis' back porch and skipped around us, yipping and snapping at our pants legs.
“Think anyone would notice if I shot him?” Ranger asked.
“I think Mrs. Belski would come after you with a meat cleaver.”
“Have you talked to Mrs. Belski about the people searching the house?”
I smacked myself in the forehead with the heel of my hand. Why hadn't I thought to talk to Mrs. Belski? “No.”
The Belskis have lived in their row house forever. They're in their sixties now. Hard-working, sturdy Polish stock. Mr. Belski is retired from Stucky Tool and Die Company. Mrs. Belski raised seven children. And now they have Dougie for a neighbor. Lesser people would have been at war with Dougie, but the Belskis have accepted their fate as God's will and coexist.
The Belskis' back door opened, and Mrs. Belski stuck her head out. “Is Spotty bothering you?”
“Nope,” I said. “Spotty is fine.”
“He gets excited when he sees strangers,” Mrs. Belski said, coming across the yard to get Spotty.
“I understand there've been some strangers going through Dougie's house.”
“There are always strangers in Dougie's house. Were you there when he held his Star Trek party?” She shook her head. “Such goings-on.”
“How about lately? In the last couple days.”
Mrs. Belski scooped Spotty up in her arms and held him close. “Nothing like the Star Trek party.”
I explained to Mrs. Belski that someone had broken into Dougie's house.
“No!” she said. “How terrible.” She gave a worried glance at Dougie's back door. “Dougie and his friend Walter get a little wild sometimes, but they're really nice young people at heart. They're always nice to Spotty.”
“Have you seen anyone
suspicious hanging around the house?”
“There were two women,” Mrs. Belski said. “One was my age. Maybe a little older. In her sixties. The other was a couple years younger. I was coming back from walking Spotty and these women parked their car and let themselves into Dougie's house. They had a key. I assumed they were relatives. Do you suppose they were thieves?”
“Do you remember the car?”
“Not really. All cars look alike to me.”
“Was it a white Cadillac? Was it a sports car?”
“No. It wasn't either of those. I would have remembered a white Cadillac or a fancy sports car.”
“Anyone else?”
“An older man has been stopping by. Thin. In his seventies. Now that I think about it, he might have been driving a white Cadillac. Dougie gets lots of visitors. I don't always pay attention. I haven't noticed anyone looking suspicious, except for the women who had a key. I remember them because the older one looked at me and there was something about her eyes. Her eyes were scary. Angry and crazy.”
I thanked Mrs. Belski and gave her my card.
When I was alone in the car with Ranger I got to thinking about the face Mooner saw in the window the night he got shot. It had seemed so improbable we hadn't given it a lot of attention. He hadn't been able to identify the face or even give it much detail . . . with the exception of the scary eyes. And now here was Mrs. Belski telling me about a sixty-something woman with scary eyes. There was also the woman who'd called Mooner and accused him of having something that belonged to her. Maybe this was the woman with the key. And how did she get a key? From Dougie, maybe.