Something Missing_ A Novel - Matthew Dicks [23]
The most recent project that Martin was working on was the acquisition of a silver serving tray worth more than $3,500. The tray was stored on the bottom shelf of the cabinet with a number of items atop it. Covered in a thick layer of dust, Martin was certain that the tray hadn’t been touched in years, but as it was a very large item, acquiring it made him nervous. He had continued monitoring the hutch, taking photos of the contents as he normally would, but was also going so far as to apply a thin slice of tape across the cabinet doors whenever the previous seal had been broken. Martin reasoned that if the Grants weren’t opening their hutch very often, it would be unlikely that they would notice the missing tray.
Martin had scheduled this next acquisition for later on in the month if everything continued on its present course, and so as he made his way across the living room and into the dining room, Alfredo still resting on his shoulder, he hoped that the hutch would show no signs of recent use. To his delight, the tape across the cabinet was still in place, indicating that the Grants had not touched it in almost six weeks.
“Hubba-bubba,” Martin whispered, an expression that he had picked up from Alfredo a while ago, and one that he had begun using with Jim, much to Jim’s chagrin.
“I can’t hear you,” Alfredo sang out. This was one of Alfredo’s favorite phrases.
“Pretty bird,” Martin replied apologetically, knowing that this would please his friend. Checking his watch, Martin saw that he had just over a minute before time expired, and so he moved quickly, returning Alfredo to his perch and handing the bird a walnut (making sure that it was completely eaten before turning to leave). As he exited the back door, locking it behind him with keys that he had copied long ago after finding a spare set hanging on a hook in the basement stairs, he heard Alfredo’s familiar “Arrivederci!” ring out through the house.
“G’day mate!” Martin replied, stuffing the burlap into the large black backpack that he had left by the door, heading southwest through the trees toward his car, with a surprising spring in his step.
Twelve miles southeast, in Middletown, was the home of doctors Max and Emma Reed. The Reeds, a couple not yet in their forties, were among Martin’s best clients for a number of reasons. Financially, they fit his criteria perfectly. Highly successful but rarely home, the Reeds’ kitchen was well stocked with items that often gathered dust, passed their expiration dates, and generally went unused. The Reeds did their grocery shopping through Peapod, a delivery service operated by a local supermarket chain that allowed homeowners to place their grocery orders online and have the products delivered for a minimal charge. As busy as they were, the Reeds had a standard order that they placed each week with little variation. This meant that the same two pounds of tomatoes were delivered to their home every Tuesday, regardless of their current supply. Upon receiving the new order, the Reeds would simply rotate the week-old tomatoes into the trash bin, since it was unlikely that they would find a need for four pounds of tomatoes in any given week. For the Reeds, the money wasted in discarded perishables was offset by the time it would take to inventory their stock and alter their order.
This worked out beautifully for Martin. Having become familiar with their standard order (after accessing the Reed’s personal computer), and by timing his visits just prior to a Peapod delivery, he was able to acquire items, particularly perishables such as meat and produce, with little concern over the Reeds becoming aware of his acquisitions. In fact, he felt that he was doing the Reeds a favor, since these items would normally be discarded