Well, the computer and printer were both intact, cordless phone was there still, the little nine-inch Sony in the corner was untouched. . . . Hey, could it be they hadn't actually lifted anything?
Then I remembered why I'd come upstairs. Off to the side, under the back stair, was a big walk-in closet I called my sword room, always kept under lock and key. I glanced over at the door.
Hold on. It was hanging open slightly. I strolled over and checked it more closely. The mechanism had been jimmied, professionally, but with enough force that the metal frame around the door was askew. Not a blatant entry, but a determined one.
My heart skipped a beat. That's why they didn't bother with TVs. These guys knew where the real action was, the lightweight, very expensive loot. I opened the door, took a deep breath, and felt for the light.
You could have heard my sigh of relief all the way out in the street. From the looks of it, nothing was missing here either.
Be sure now. I quickly glanced down the racks, mentally cataloging the pieces. Everything had a place, and all the places were still full. Strange. This stuff was worth thousands. Burglars break in to steal. So what happened? Maybe something scared them off. My sheepdog Benjamin, the fearless terror of the streets? He was now snoring at the foot of the stairs, but who knows . . .
Walton, you lucky stiff, this could have been a major hit. I cursed at the thought of having to have the door and lock repaired, made a mental note to remember to call the locksmith over by Sheridan Square in the morning, and pushed the damaged door closed.
What a hell of a night. I pulled the Sotheby's catalogue out of my pocket, recalling the auction that had inaugurated this fateful evening, and turned to chuck it in the file cabinet where I kept all the records for my hobby: prices, news clippings, correspondence, the rest.
The cabinet, one of those cheap tin jobs you buy at discount office-supply places, was slightly askew. What's this? I yanked open the top drawer and saw chaos.
Uh, oh. I went down the row, checking. Tell you one thing, my intruders had been thorough. Every drawer was a mess, just like the office. Then I got to the bottom, the one with backup data on the collection. Appraisals, provenance of the pieces, that kind of thing.