Previously Loved Treasures (Serendipity #2)(57)

“Staying in tonight?” Wilbur asked pointedly.

“Yeah,” Max answered and sat in the fat round chair at the far end of the room. His original intent had been to act friendly and socialize, but after only a few minutes his skin began to itch. It was the way Wilbur kept looking at him, waiting for him to make a wrong move. Twice Max readjusted his sitting position, leaning first to the left and then to the right, but the itching continued. Finally after less than five minutes, he stood and said he thought he’d retire for the night.

“Staying in?” Wilbur repeated.

If Max had a gun he would have at that moment put it to Wilbur’s forehead and pulled the trigger. He tried as best he could to hide such a thought when he looked back at Wilbur and answered, “Yeah, staying in.”

~

The problem was that once Max was back in his room, there was little he could do but remain there. At the moment he had nothing to sell and nowhere to go. He was low on cash and the Owl’s Nest was out since Freddie was already bitching about the unpaid bar tab. Maggie Sue was a gal who always up for a good time but only if somebody else was buying the drinks. He was stuck.

Max lay there looking at the ceiling and thinking of ways to get money and get even.

The following night was a repeat of events, and by the third night Max was near crazy. His thoughts got tangled in one another, and his skin itched from head to toe. Even the space between his toes itched, and scratching did nothing but cause his skin to break out in raw, painful welts. Whenever a new welt rose up, Max tried to soothe it with thoughts of what he would do to Wilbur.

Four nights later, Max heard the thump on the floor and suspected he’d found the opportunity he’d been waiting for. He waited a few seconds and listened. His room was directly below Wilbur’s, and he could hear everything. Max waited until he heard the second thump and the heavy footsteps that crossed the room and headed down the hallway toward the upstairs bath.

Max was quick and light on his feet. He scurried up the stairs without making a sound, then eased open the door to Wilbur’s room. His thought was to come from inside the room and shove the old man toward the staircase before he knew what was happening, but once inside the room Max saw a more lucrative opportunity. Wilbur’s watch lay there on the nightstand, an arm’s length away.

Max snatched the watch and dropped it into his pocket, but before he could position himself for anything else he heard the toilet flush. Seconds later the bathroom door squeaked open, and a swash of light fell across the far end of the hall. Max barely made it out of there and into Harriet’s room before the footsteps thudded back down the hallway.

Harriet was a heavy sleeper and although she rolled over, she never woke. Max stood with his back pressed up against the wall of her room, until he heard the groan of the box spring when Wilbur thumped back down on the bed. Slowing inching the door open, he checked the hall then eased out and slithered back to his room.

The watch was solid gold. Good for fifty, maybe sixty bucks. His luck was changing; Max could already feel it.

~

The next morning Max was up early and sitting at the breakfast table when the others arrived. He was like an arsonist, hungry to see the flames of his handiwork. Wilbur was last to arrive at the table, and he wore a look of concern.

Before Wilbur sat he asked if anyone had seen his watch. “I could’ve sworn I left it on the nightstand. But it’s not there.”

“Did you check the bathroom?” Laricka asked.

Wilbur nodded.

Others asked about the kitchen counter, the coffee table, and the pockets of what he’d worn yesterday. But Wilbur said he’d searched all those places.

“I can’t understand it,” Wilbur said. “This is the second time I’ve misplaced that watch.”

Caroline said nothing, because she knew the second watch was not Wilbur’s original timepiece. It was believable that the first watch had simply been lost, misplaced or forgotten, but this time it was too circumstantial. It wasn’t likely that a person who had carried a timepiece for more than fifty years could suddenly lose not one but two such watches in so short a time. Although she said nothing, her eyes moved from face to face looking for the telltale touch of guilt that comes with evildoing.

“Don’t worry,” Harriet said. “It’ll turn up just like it did before.”

Laricka, Louie, and even Doctor Payne echoed the thought; only Max held back.

Caroline looked at the far end of the table and waited for him to say something, but there was nothing. “Max?”

Caught unaware, he answered, “What?”

As he looked up there was a brief moment before he slid back into the mask he’d worn, and that’s when Caroline thought she saw the look in his eyes.

“Have you seen Wilbur’s watch?”

By then it was too late; Max was already back in disguise. “Me? Of course not, I went to bed early last night.”

When Caroline rephrased the question, adding, “Are you sure?” Max became belligerent and accused her of singling him out. “Why me?” he said. “Why ain’t you asking the doc, or Harriet, or Louie?”

Although Caroline moved away from the question, the fleeting glimpse of what she’d seen stayed with her. Thinking back on the countless times Greg swore he was working late, she could easily recall the look of a liar. There was a telltale sign in their eyes, an ugliness that once seen was forever remembered.