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“Back door. Broke the door jamb.”
“Thanks.” I grabbed the comforter I’d been sleeping on from under the bed and took it downstairs.
Kelly was where I’d left her.
I wrapped the comforter around her and gave her a quick hug.
Yolanda spoke up. “I’m not staying here. I’ll be at Bogdan’s place.” She headed for the stairs.
“You should get together some clothes. You’re coming to my place,” I told Kelly.
She pulled away. “But this is my home.”
“The back door is broken. It’s not safe.”
She waved her arm around. “Why would anybody do this?”
“Thieves. But we need to get you dried off and warmed up, and now.” I urged her toward the stairs. “What valuables did you have in the house?”
“I don’t buy anything expensive. I’ve got a Coach purse I don’t use, I guess.” She climbed the stairs, and her tears began in earnest as she saw the destruction of her bedroom.
A single Coach purse made no sense at all for something like this.
I didn’t push her. “Do you have any garbage bags?” I asked, seeing only one suitcase in her closet.
“Under the sink in the kitchen.”
Detective Capra handed Kelly his card. “Ms. Benson, is that right?”
She nodded.
“What do you think they were looking for?” Capra asked.
I held back to let Kelly answer.
She sniffed. “I don’t have anything worth taking except my car.”
“I’ll need to talk to you tomorrow,” Capra told her.
I retrieved several plastic bags from downstairs, and returned to find Capra interrogating Kelly again.
“What about your roommate? What kind of valuables did she keep in the house?”
Kelly shrugged. “You’d have to ask her. I never saw anything particularly expensive.”
Seeing me, Capra backed off. “Tomorrow then.”
“Who would do something like this?” she asked, the question directed to the detective.
I answered before he could. “Local kids have been pulling jobs like this around here.”
The answer seemed to mollify Kelly. “I hope you catch the little bastards.”
Capra shot me a sideways what-the-hell? glance. “We’re doing what we can, as fast as we can.”
Kelly entered the closet and returned with a purse in hand. “It wasn’t my Coach purse they wanted after all.” The bag was sized for a child instead of an adult, and she’d said it was valuable. Women’s fashion never made any sense to me. Why pay extra for jeans with rips in them when a pair of scissors could get you to the same place?
We loaded her suitcase and several bags with clothes she’d picked up from the mess on the floor.
