Life's a Beach Then You Die Page 5

  Chapter Four

  I phoned my handyman, Steve to come and fix my door. While I was good with computers and electronic devices, I’m far from handy. In metal shop, my 3 ½ by 5 inch file card box ended up as 2 ½ by 5 inches. I couldn’t measure worth a damn. Worse than that, I was clumsy and dangerous. While building a C-clamp, my metal stock slipped out of the bending jig and flew across the room. I finally transferred out of the class after setting my lab coat on fire while forging a chisel. You never saw a happier shop teacher.

  Despite this experience, I would sometimes underestimate the challenge of a particular task and attempt a home repair. Whenever I did so, swearing ensued. Next, there would be blood and a call to a professional to fix the original problem plus whatever else I broke trying to fix it myself. Mariel had long ago learned to disappear whenever she saw me reaching for my toolbox.

  Since we bought this house, Steve quickly became one of Mariel’s favorite people, second only to our Exterminator. Florida has some big bugs. Luckily, Steve promised to come by later in the day. I was oddly amused by the realization that at least this time he wouldn’t need someone home to let him in.

  I phoned Ed McCarthy again. I needed to tell him about the theft and to see what he thought about sharing the disk data with Torres. It was doubtful kids stole the computers. More likely, the theft related to Ed’s client and I needed to find out what I could tell the police without violating confidentiality rules. Ed still didn’t answer either of his phones. I left another message. “It’s Max. You need to call me right away. There’s been a theft.” It seemed odd he was still unavailable at both numbers.

  After hanging up, I remembered what Detective Torres had said about making an insurance claim, so I phoned my agent. Vicki had just sold us new policies when we moved in a few months ago and I still had her direct line in my speed dial. She answered right away, told me how to file my claim and went on to ask. “When did the break-in take place?”

  “About an hour or so ago.”

  “In broad daylight? Did any of the neighbors see anything?”

  “You know, Vicki. I feel stupid I didn’t think of that myself. I must be more upset than I realize. Checking with the neighbors is a good idea. Thanks.”

  “You’re welcome, Mr. Fried. If you need anything else, just give me a call.”

  “Thanks.”

  We hung up and I sat, staring a while at the empty spot under my desk where I kept my computer. The office looked odd with only a monitor and no computer, so I went to my bedroom closet to see if my backpack was still there. Luckily, I found it on the closet floor under some golf shirts I wore in cooler weather and some sweaters I was saving in case I had to travel north. The backpack compartments were unzipped, but nothing was missing. My notebook computer was still inside. I got it out, set it up on the desk and turned it on.

  While waiting for it to start up, I realized just how much business I conducted on line and then how much of it was stored on my desktop computer. Since I just harvested all of Ray’s personal information from his notebook, I was reminded how vulnerable I now was. Whoever had access to my stolen desktop computer would also have access to any emails, letters or any other documents I had containing my account numbers. They could obtain from my computer registry files, any passwords I used for online banking or investing. All they needed was some free software from the Internet.

  So, the first thing I did with my notebook was to access my bank account on line to change my password. Then I changed the passwords for my 457K retirement plan and for Mariel’s two 401K retirement plans. I also checked all of the balances and looked for recent withdrawals. Everything looked OK I guess I got there in time.

  Next, I went to my paper files and pulled out a list of my credit card numbers. When we moved, I had photocopied all of my credit cards onto a sheet of paper I filed away in case I lost my wallet. I spent the next two hours on the telephone arranging for new cards. Since I didn’t like the idea of merchants having direct access to my checking account, I still had an unused debit card that came with my new Florida checking account.

  Lastly, I ordered a new computer online, paying extra for express shipping. I congratulated myself for having the sense to use my debit card instead of a credit card. The break-in shook me up enough that I could have easily charged the cost a new computer on a cancelled credit card. Clueless, I would have spent weeks wondering why my purchase didn’t arrive. On a positive note, every time I bought a new computer, I was amazed how much more I got for the same money I paid for my old one.

  Finally done with all of the requisite notifications, I had time to take a shower. Even if it didn’t make me feel better, at least I’d smell better. By the time I came out of the steamy bathroom, I was surprised to find my mood somewhat improved.

  Standing there clean, wet and wearing a towel, I was also thinking a bit more clearly now and Vicki’s comment came back to me. One of my neighbors might have seen something. I got dressed so I’d be more presentable. Since my wedding ring was still on my finger anyway, I put on underwear, cargo shorts, sandals and a golf shirt. With a pen and a pad from my desk, I went out to the front porch. When I reached for my key to lock the door, I realized it was unnecessary.

  I stood on the porch and surveyed my prospects. Across the street was Karl. He already told the police he didn’t see anything. To my right was Clara. She didn’t work and spent a lot of time at home. To my left was Diane. She worked days, but her pickup truck was in her driveway. Maybe she had been home today. I walked over, rang her bell and started to admire the Christmas lights on her palm tree.

  Diane opened the door wide, jingling the keys in her hand. She must have just arrived home. “Hi, Max. How are you?”

  “I’m fine, but someone broke into my house and I was wondering if you might have seen anything unusual.”

  Her mouth opened when she heard the news and then she said, “No, Max, I’m so sorry. No, I just got home. I just walked in the door.”

  “Oh, I didn’t realize you got off so early.”

  “I don’t. I left early today to pick up my mother at the airport.” She ran her fingers through her short hair. How’s Mariel taking this? The poor thing.”

  Ever since Diane heard Mariel screaming about a land crab she encountered in our garage, Diane has acted as if Mariel was a delicate flower. While it’s true Mariel claimed she saw an octopus in the garage, I like to think that her reaction was simply due to her unfamiliarity with Floridian fauna and flora.

  I chased the crab out with the pool net, but to be fair, the crab wasn’t the only incident. For example, since we arrived six months ago, there was also:

  1. The lizard that scooted in under the dishwasher when Mariel opened the front door. Later found dead in a cabinet (The lizard, not Mariel)

  2. The lizard Mariel found in the garage sink. I washed it down the sink drain.

  3. The lizard that Mariel found on the garage floor. I blew it out with the leaf blower.

  4. The GIANT grasshoppers (bigger that the lizards, even bigger than her fist) that hung on the outside of the pool screen. I blasted them with the water hose.

  5. The black snake that found its way into the pool cage. Pool net to the rescue again.

  6. The orange peel on the kitchen floor that someone (Mariel) thought was a lobster.

  7. The piece of lint on the garage floor in front of the clothes dryer that someone (Mariel) thought I should kill.

  Hence Mariel’s “Door Rules”. Rule number one stated that the garage, front and patio doors must remain closed at all times except for the time actually required to move something in or out. Rule number two applies only to the front door and the foyer door to the garage and it states one must open the door only a crack before opening fully. The intent of rule two is to startle the geckos so they run from the door instead of through it.

  After thanking Diane for her concern about Mariel and our misfortune, I walked down her driveway toward Clara’s.

  Whe
n I got to the curb, I saw the garage door opening on the house next to Karl’s. As it opened, a blue car pulled onto the driveway and into the garage. I didn’t know the folks who owned that house. Karl told me they lived about an hour and ½ away near Orlando and used an agency to rent their place to vacationers. A man got out of the car carrying a hardcover book and a shopping bag from the Publix Grocery store. I called out to him.

  “Hi.”

  He turned to look at me. He was tall and slim, slimmer than I was but not quite as tall. Probably in his late forties, he wore medium length blond hair and a neatly trimmed moustache. As I approached his car, he walked out of the garage towards me and said, “Hello?”

  “Hi, I’m Max Fried. I live across the street.” I pointed over my shoulder.

  The man shifted his shopping bag and his book to his left hand and offered me his right. As he extended his hand, I noticed an anchor tattoo on his forearm. “Nice to meet you, I’m Ralph. We’re renting the place for the week.” He gestured with his head towards the house behind him.

  For some reason he felt the need to explain using the word “We” because he went on to add, “My wife and kids are down the block at the beach. I got stuck with lunch duty.” He held up his grocery bag and smiled.

  “Nice to meet you, Ralph. I don’t want to put a damper on your vacation, but earlier today, someone kicked my in door and stole some computer equipment. I was wondering if you saw anything.”

  His smile disappeared. I was developing a real knack for spreading holiday cheer. “Really? Here? Geez, I asked about this kind of thing. The realtor told me this was a safe neighborhood.”

  “Did you see anything suspicious?”

  “Nah.” He shook his head. “I was here most of the morning on the phone with clients back home until I had to go out and run some errands. I’m really sorry to hear about this. I saw a patrol car on the street when I went out, but I thought he was just driving through. I really didn’t stop to think there was a crime.”

  I thanked him. He told me some more how he couldn’t believe things like break-ins could happen here, closed the garage door and went inside the house. I was willing to bet his vacation plans for next year would be different.

  I walked back across the street to Clara’s, rang her bell and waited. It took a few minutes but then I heard a cane on tile and movement behind the door. The door opened just a crack so she could see out. When she saw me, she opened it all the way and looked up.

  “Oh, Max. How are you and Mariel doing? The police were here earlier asking me if I saw anything. Unfortunately, I didn’t. The only time I went out today was to get my mail and I’m not one to sit by the window staring out. How can I help you?”

  “Thanks, Clara. You just did. I appreciate it. Bye.”

  She gave me a puzzled look, not the first I earned from her, and closed the door. I walked down her driveway, went home and into my office. Questioning more neighbors wasn’t going to help. I had already spoken to the closest ones. Besides, the police seemed to be canvassing the neighborhood. On the other hand, Clara gave me an idea.

  Perhaps, Eileen, the mail carrier saw something. I met her several times when she hand delivered packages too big to fit in my mailbox. I also spoke with her a few times when she delivered while I was doing yard work. She seemed to be a bright woman who didn’t let much get past her. Hopefully, she was driving up and down the block about the time of the break-in. Since she didn’t live on the street, I didn’t think it likely the police would speak with her. I looked up the phone number for the local Post Office and called.

  “New Smyrna Beach Post Office,” a man answered.

  “Hi, I’d like to speak with Eileen, the mail carrier please.” The phone was silent for a minute. Then, he said, “I’m not sure if she’s back yet. Hang on. I’ll check.”

  After waiting a minute or two, I decided they forgot me. I was about to hang up when I heard a woman’s voice. “Hello?”

  “Hello, Eileen?”

  “Yes. Who is this please?”

  I told her who I was and my address.

  “Oh, yes. How can I help you?”

  I told her about the break-in and asked if she had seen anything unusual.

  “Well, there was this one blue car parked for a long time. It was there long enough for me to visit all the houses on the block. It seemed odd because the driver sat slouched down in the driver’s seat with the engine off. I had to maneuver my truck around it to get to a mailbox. For a while, I thought the driver may have been hurt or asleep, but as I passed the car on my way back up the block, the driver sat up.”

  “Thank you, that’s very helpful. Do you know the plate number or what type of car it was?”

  “No, I’m sorry. Just that it was blue. I think it may have had four-doors. I’m not sure. I’m sorry I don’t recall. Next time I see something off, I’ll write down the plate number.”

  “Oh, it’s OK. Thank you very much. You’ve been a big help.”

  “OK, thanks. Bye.”

  “Bye.”

  I didn’t get much for my efforts, but you never know. I didn’t think this information would help much, but I decided to keep it in mind.

  Now that I exhausted my canvass, I was finally ready to take a closer look at the data on my iPod, a much closer look. Now, I had a reason to think there was more there than I had originally found.