Michael and Jorge were so caught up in their discussion that they didn’t notice the sudden flurry of activity at the door of the Spare Attic.
The police were leading out their suspects: Clarence Rut-ledge and Caroline Willner.
Chapter 19
Caroline waved cheerfully at us, as if her midnight arrest for burglary were merely a continuation of the day’s festivities. Clarence looked a little more serious, which meant that the grim reality of their situation had begun to sink in with him. Then again, perhaps Caroline, like Dr. Blake, had become accustomed to the occasional brush with the law in her years of rescuing and defending animals. Clarence would get used to being in hot water if he kept hanging around with Caroline and Dr. Blake.
Curiosity got the better of me, and I began to inch a little closer to the action.
Clarence and Caroline were both dressed entirely in black—black coats, pants, hats, shoes, and gloves—though the foot-and- a-half difference in their heights made the effect more comical than threatening. As I moved closer, I could see that Clarence’s black garb was largely wool and leather, while Caroline had donned a quilted black velvet coat with faceted jet buttons and a fuzzy black crocheted scarf and hat set. What the well-dressed felon wears to an evening crime. Caroline had also smeared eyeblack under her eyes, the way football players do on sunny days, though presumably it was intended to reduce her visibility rather than to protect against glare. Apparently Clarence had decided that his beard made the black paint unnecessary.
“I’m afraid we’ll have to take you down to the station for questioning,” the chief was saying.
“Oh, dear,” Caroline said. “In this weather?”
The chief scowled at her but said nothing. I couldn’t help myself.
“If you’d wanted better weather for your arrest, you should have picked better weather for your burglary,” I said. “Do you need anything? Like the name of a good criminal defense attorney?”
I had pulled out my notebook-that-tells-me-when-to-breathe and flipped to the back, where I keep a list of useful phone numbers—including two local lawyers who had represented wayward friends and family members in the past. I ripped out a clean sheet and began copying the names.
“Thank you, dearie,” Caroline said. “But I’m sure we can work this out amicably.”
Clarence gave her a startled glance and stuck out his hand. I gave him the numbers. The chief looked annoyed, and Caroline shook her head as if sorrowful over his lack of confidence, but Clarence tucked the paper away in his pocket and seemed a little less stunned.
“Thanks,” he said. “Say, could I leave my motorcycle at your house for the time being? I don’t think the chief can spare anyone to ride it into town, and there’s no place here to lock it up.”
“Fine with me,” I said. “Maybe Michael would be willing to try riding it back to our house.”
“Absolutely,” Michael said, stepping forward. “Happy to oblige.”
The chief nodded.
“Sammy,” he said. “It’s getting colder by the minute. Why don’t you check out that motorbike so Meg and Michael can be on their way?”
Sammy went over and removed the saddlebags from Clarence’s motorcycle. We watched as he gave the bike itself a cursory once-over, then nodded. Clarence pulled his keys out of his pocket, held them up so the chief could see them, and then, after the chief nodded his permission, tossed them over to Michael.
“I should get going,” Michael said. “In case the snow starts up again earlier than predicted. And while there are still some people coming along behind me to dig me out if this thing gets stuck.”
“We’ll have someone here for another hour or so,” the chief said.
Michael nodded. He climbed aboard the motorcycle, started it, and began riding it slowly across the snow-covered parking lot toward the only slightly less snow-covered road.
I watched while the officers guided Clarence and Caroline into the back seat of one of the cruisers. The cruiser followed in Michael’s wake, with the chief’s car bringing up the rear.
There were still two police cars in the parking lot, though, along with an enormous truck that I recognized as Caroline’s—the one she’d brought the elephants in.
Had she driven the truck out here in this weather? Or did they have another partner in their scheme, whatever it was?
Where was the animal angle in all this? With both Clarence and Caroline involved, there had to be a bird or animal welfare issue behind the burglary. In the several years we’d had a storage unit at the Spare Attic, before moving to our enormous house, I’d never seen any wildlife other than mice in the walls and birds nesting in the rafters. There were probably whole colonies of birds and mice there still—while Doleson might not cherish them and want to protect them, he would never have bothered spending money on extermination. No wonder the Spare Attic was rapidly emptying.