No, unlikely as it seemed, a burglary was the only explanation. I looked around the living room to see if anything else was missing, but couldn’t spot anything obvious, and what Mum kept in the drawers of the dresser I hadn’t a clue, beyond the tablecloth and napkins that came out on special occasions, mail-order catalogues and the Yellow Pages and local telephone directories, all of which were scattered about the floor. Perhaps the burglar had been looking for money – but he’d be lucky! Apart from a jar of loose change on the kitchen shelf and the cash in her purse, Mum never kept money in the house, and more often than not Dad’s wallet was empty. He didn’t go anywhere to need cash, he always joked; he left that to Mum.
Had the burglar been upstairs? If he had, he’d have found little of value. Apart from her wedding and engagement rings, Mum didn’t go in for jewellery. But I’d better check, I supposed.
First, though, I’d have a good look around downstairs. I went to Dad’s office, and the minute I went in the door, my heart sank. The computer monitor, keyboard and mouse were still sitting on his desk, but the tower was missing, and the external hard drive too.
I swore softly. This was terrible. All Dad’s records were on that computer, meticulously backed up to the external hard drive in case something went wrong – correspondence, accounts, details of his suppliers and customers, everything to do with the day to day running of the farm. He was going to be utterly lost without all that, and if he was going to be incapacitated for long it would make it almost impossible for anyone else to take over the clerical side.
If I hadn’t had my new laptop and the memory stick Dad had lent me, I’d have lost all my notes for my investigation, too. Though it was as nothing compared to what Dad had lost, it would have been a big setback for me. Thank goodness for my laptop . . .
Or had that been taken too? I hadn’t noticed anything out of place in my room, but to be honest, the state I’d been in last night, everything but the bed could have been missing and I’d never have noticed, and this morning I’d been in a hurry to get out and make sure Mark had turned up to help Sam.
I struggled up the stairs and into my room, but everything seemed to be in place, and, to my relief, my laptop bag, still zipped up, was where I’d left it, tucked under the little upright chair behind the door.
I checked Mum and Dad’s room, but everything there seemed to be in order too, no drawers pulled out, and everything on the dressing table as it should be. It didn’t look as though the burglar had been upstairs, then. Perhaps Scrumpy, bless her, had frightened him off, and he’d decided to escape with the few things he had.
I was on my way back downstairs to call the police when the phone began to ring, and I hopped the last couple of stairs to answer it.
It was Rachel.
‘Sally! Are you all right? What’s going on?’
I lowered myself to sit on the stairs.
‘Oh Rach, you may well ask . . .’
I went through everything that had happened, glad that at least I was now able to tell her that Dad had regained consciousness.
‘You think he’s going to be all right, then?’ she said anxiously.
‘I certainly hope so. Things are looking a lot better than they were yesterday.’
‘It’s a terrible thing to have happened, though. Just terrible! I can’t believe it.’
‘That’s not all you won’t believe,’ I said grimly. ‘While we were at the hospital we were burgled.’
‘Burgled!’ Rachel repeated, gobsmacked.
‘Yep.’ I went on to tell her about it, what had been taken, and what hadn’t. ‘Would you believe they had the tele all ready to carry out as well, then just left it!’
‘Druggies,’ Rachel said. ‘Bet you – it was druggies, wanting something to sell so they could get their next fix.’
‘Perhaps. But out here . . . in the country? And if it had been any other night, they’d have found themselves looking down the barrel of Dad’s twelve-bore.’
‘Perhaps it’s just as well he wasn’t there when they broke in then,’ Rachel said wryly. ‘Have you called the police?’
‘Not yet. I was just about to ring them when you called. Not that I imagine they’ll be able to do much. The stuff that’s been stolen has already been fenced, I expect.’
‘There might be fingerprints . . .’
‘There might, I suppose. But . . . oh, sugar, I suppose I’m going to have to wait in until their scenes-of-crime people have been, and I wanted to go and see Dad.’
‘Tell you what,’ Rachel suggested, ‘why don’t I come over? I could stay until it’s time for me to pick the kids up from school. I was going to offer to drive you to the hospital, but perhaps I’d be more use fielding the fingerprint bods.’