Previously Loved Treasures (Serendipity #2)(65)



~

When Max finally came out of his room, he was more determined than ever. He’d taken a long hard look at his life and evaluated the things that could and couldn’t be changed. He’d never be any taller than he already was, but he could be more powerful. Money was the great equalizer. It made small men big and caused women like Maggie Sue to come knocking on your door. In the bleakest hours of night when he’d given himself over to the emptiness in his soul, he’d thought back on the way Maggie Sue had looked at the house and sighed, “Wow.”

First he would need money. With money he would get a lawyer, a good lawyer from Atlanta or Macon, someone who knew what they were doing and could get back what should have been his. Jim would have wanted him to have the house, Max was sure of it. It would be Jim’s way of making up for the past. Max thought back and tried to remember their boyhood days of running and playing together, but the image was always the same: Jim, bigger than life, and Max, a dark shadow that faded into the background.

That night when everyone else was asleep, Max unlocked the door of his room and stepped into the hallway. For a full minute he stood there listening for a sound: the voice of someone speaking, the hum of a television, anything that would warn of someone still awake. There was nothing. Once he’d figured out what he had to do he’d planned another raid, one more brazen than anything he’d dared before. He was no longer fearful of being caught, because his life could be no worse than it already was.

He first eased open the door to Doctor Payne’s room, and there on the dresser a scant arm’s length from the door was the wallet he was looking for. Payne slept with his back to the door, so Max stepped into room and grabbed the wallet. He’d planned to pocket the whole thing but changed his mind at the last minute. He wasn’t afraid of Payne, but neither was he looking to get thrown out of the house before the right time. Max pulled out a ten-dollar bill and laid the wallet back in the same spot.

He went in search of the things Edgar wanted to buy, practical things that could be sold to farmers getting by on a next-to-nothing budget. From the kitchen cupboard he took a cast iron skillet and a large spaghetti pot. From the hall closet, a stack of bath towels. He rummaged around looking for Louie’s toolbox and gave up when he couldn’t find it. As he headed back to his room with arms loaded, Max spied a pair of work shoes Louie had left laying in the parlor. He snatched them up and added them to the pile.

Tomorrow Max would return to Mackinaw. If the pawnshop wanted crap like this, then that’s what he’d give them.

~

Shortly before seven o’clock the sun crested the horizon, and the residents of the house began to wake. Max heard Clarence’s bark and the clip-clop of Sara’s footsteps. Moments later there were voices: Rose and Caroline. Pots began to clatter in the kitchen, but Max tugged the blanket over his head and closed his eyes again. It was the first time in more than two days he’d been able to sleep, and he cursed the interruption.

After several minutes Max heard Louie’s voice, louder than the others and obviously agitated.

“I left them right here in the parlor! Somebody moved them!”

At that point Max knew he could no longer sleep. He climbed from the bed, crossed the room, and pressed his ear to the door. As the frustration in Louie’s voice increased, so did Max’s pleasure in listening. A strange lopsided smile crossed his face when Louie said somebody had obviously stolen his shoes.

“Don’t be foolish,” Caroline answered. “Nobody wants those dirty old work shoes.”

Max hadn’t planned on going to breakfast; he had no interest in any of the residents or their boring jib-jab conversations. But he delighted in their misery. He quickly got dressed and hurried to the dining room.

On this particular morning the conversation focused on Louie’s shoes. None of the other items had yet been missed. One after the other, the residents offered thoughts and suggestions.

“Could they be under your bed?”

“Maybe the hall closet.”

“When was the last time you actually wore them?”

Max said nothing but sat with a smug look on his face, enjoying the party and trying not to let it show.

Rose finally looked at him and asked, “Max, have you seen Louie’s work boots?”

“Me? Why, I haven’t been out of my room for two days.” He forced a dry cough then added, “Nursing a cold.”

The discussion of where they might search continued, but there were no further questions aimed at Max. Even if there had been, he wasn’t worried. He was smarter than them. Last night he’d bundled everything together and carried it to the trunk of his car, so they could search his room if they wanted and they’d find exactly what he wanted them to find: nothing.

After breakfast Max was the last one to leave the table, and from there he went into the parlor and sat in the overstuffed club chair. Sooner or later they would discover the other things that were missing, so it was important for Max to seem nonchalant. He had to give the appearance of a man with no worries and nowhere to go. The only problem was Max did have someplace to go, and he was anxious to get started.

For almost twenty minutes he sat there fidgeting with a loose thread he’d found on the chair bolster and nervously bouncing his right foot up and down. When he could stand it no longer he stood and announced, “Think I’ll drive over to Harrington and visit a friend.”

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