Housebreaking Read Online Free

“Twenty bucks.”
    The man scratched the back of his neck. “Would you take ten?”
    * * *
    THAT AFTERNOON was the first day of autumn, technically, but it felt more like mid-July, the sky an endless canvas of pale blue, the temperature well into the eighties. After a few trips up and down the stairs, Benjamin felt the sweat dripping down his face and back.
    â€œThat’s a lousy delivery job.”
    Benjamin looked up to see Franky DiLorenzo coming across the lawn. Benjamin forced a laugh. “I’ll say.”
    They shook hands. In the silence that followed he became aware of Franky DiLorenzo eyeing his wrinkled slacks and button-down shirt, which he’d worn to work the day before. “A bit of trouble on the home front,” Benjamin explained. “I’ll be sticking around for a while.”
    Franky’s eyes flashed with interest. “I’m sorry to hear that.”
    â€œPart of life, I guess.”
    Franky DiLorenzo was wearing a T-shirt, shorts, and flip-flops. He wore this same garb into November, sometimes December. He was horseshoe-bald, a bit stooped in the shoulders, and thin as a marathoner, yet he seemed impervious to the elements and he never tired of physical labor. He’d worked as a mechanic for thirty years at a garage in town. Now he spent his days in his yard, mowing, trimming, repairing. He also did chores for Leonard and Betty Amato and other elderly people in the neighborhood—taking out their garbage, fixing what needed to be fixed—and he refused to accept any payment in return. Benjamin considered him a godsend, the way he helped out his father.
    â€œDid you see what’s going on at the Hufnagle place?”
    â€œNo.” Benjamin looked toward the bottom of the street, shading his eyes. He saw a couple of trucks parked in front of the old farmhouse.
    â€œIt finally sold,” said Franky. “Court-ordered, I heard.”
    â€œThat house has been empty for a long time.”
    â€œFive years almost,” Franky said and nodded. “A lawyer bought it, a guy named Andrew Murray. He’s about forty-five. He gutted the place—kitchen, bathrooms, wooden floors, central air. A hundred grand in upgrades, minimum.”
    â€œIs he going to flip it?”
    â€œNo, they just moved in. I met him and his wife a few weeks ago in the yard. She goes by her own name, Audrey Martin. A real pretty lady. They mentioned a seventeen-year-old daughter, but I haven’t seen her yet.”
    â€œAudrey Martin?” It had been many years, but the name clicked instantly.
    â€œDo you know her?”
    â€œI went to high school with an Audrey Martin. She was in the class ahead of me at Goodwin.”
    Franky shrugged. “It might be her. She’s about your age. They’re moving up here from Greenwich. He took a job at a firm in Hartford.”
    â€œYou’re amazing, Franky. Nothing gets by you.”
    Franky smiled. “Well, I like to keep an eye on the neighborhood, with all the break-ins lately.”
    â€œWhat break-ins?”
    â€œI told your dad, but I guess he forgot to mention it. Somebody’s been smashing car windows, stealing things out of garages and toolsheds.”
    â€œWhen did this happen?”
    Franky DiLorenzo leaned in close and lowered his voice. “The trouble started last year, about the same time this family moved into a ranch on Lostwood Drive. They’re from Texas. The mother’s divorced with two teenage boys on her hands. The oldest is seventeen. Billy Stacks. That’s the punk. He assaulted some girl in Texas when he was fourteen, I heard. Too young to do jail time. You’ll see him riding around the neighborhood on a motor scooter. He’s got a shaved head, tattoos all over his arms, wears his pants down below his waist. I got my eye on that kid.”
    â€œYou think he’s the one causing trouble?”
    â€œI can’t prove it, but I got my