Rock Wolf Investigations: Boxset

by Dee Bridgnorth

  Of course, he was handsome, too, if you liked cowboys with dirty blond hair and green eyes anyway. Not that Olivia liked or disliked cowboys. She didn’t like or dislike anyone as a rule. She was more of a live and let live kind of woman.

  “Olivia, there you are.” Riley appeared out of nowhere in the corridor in front of her.

  Olivia’s heart nearly banged its way out of her ribcage. She took a few hasty steps back and wondered if she was going to faint. “Riley! Would you make some noise or something? It’s dark in here. You just scared the tar out of me. Where did you come from?”

  In the dim glow of an overhead emergency light box, Riley looked confused. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize you hadn’t seen me. I’ve been standing there since you turned to walk in this direction.”

  “Really?” This was unwelcome news. Apparently, it was rather distracting to let herself think about handsome men like Duke Dunbar. “I’m sorry. It’s probably just the lighting. I was looking for you.”

  He seemed taken aback. “Me? Why?”

  “I just finished meeting with the security company about the pickpocket thefts.” Olivia expected to see interest in Riley. It was hard to see much at all, but she at least expected him to show attention to the topic.

  But he didn’t. “Oh, well that’s nice, I guess. I think the police were right. We should just get a few more cameras or something. I’m sure it will taper off without us spending a bunch of money we don’t have on a security service we don’t need.”

  “Riley!” Olivia chided. “It’s gotten to the point that the guests in this theater aren’t safe from predatory people lurking about ready to steal their wallets! Do you want people to start saying they can’t come to your show because it’s too costly to risk having their purse stolen?”

  “No!” Riley looked irritated. And then he looked uncomfortable. “But it’s not much, Olivia. I just think you’re overreacting. That’s all. Besides, Harvey has been threatening me about just closing the theater and kicking us out. If he’s really doing to do it, then this would give him an incentive to go ahead, don’t you think?”

  Olivia wasn’t entirely sure she disagreed with Riley about this. “Look. It’s not going to cost a penny. I promise.”

  “What?” Riley looked panicked. “Are you serious? I can’t afford a security team to come and look for pickpockets!”

  “You’re not paying for it,” Olivia said through clenched teeth. “I’m paying for this out of my own pocket because it’s the right thing to do.”

  For just a second, Olivia thought Riley was going to be normal, or at least the way he used to be. Back when he used to be warm and caring and would have never dreamed of letting her spend her own money on something to his benefit. Back then he would have at least insisted on splitting the cost with her since it would benefit both of them.

  “Well, then I guess it’s your loss,” Riley said with a sniff. “You can’t blame me though when it fails to turn up anything of value. The police are the ones who have to catch the thief, you know. If you want him arrested, it has to be official. Some low rent security guard can’t do that.”

  Olivia bristled. She didn’t like Riley’s insinuation. Like she hadn’t bothered to find a decent detective or someone who could adequately assess the situation and at least help them find a way to stop these incidents from happening. “I don’t think I would call him low rent,” Olivia finally told Riley. “Rock Wolf Investigations comes highly recommended in the Branson area. Their clients are part of the really high-end crowd. They take care of singers, songwriters, actors, and players and even the big outlet malls.”

  “Yeah, because catching shoplifters at a department store is just like catching a pickpocket in the theater,” Riley muttered with a shake of his head.

  That seemed to be the end of their interaction for the afternoon. Riley turned and walked away from Olivia without another word. She wondered what had happened to him.

  She didn’t do this job because it was the best paying or a way to get a promotion. Olivia did this job because she believed in the availability of good clean family fun in the Branson market, and nobody did that better than Riley Saunders.

  With a deep sigh, Olivia gave up the notion of talking with Riley any further and headed back to her office. She passed by a dozen or more members of the staff on her way back toward the front of the theater where her windowless office existed in a tiny corner of the building with lights that provided enough to see by. Her office was a crowded little space with a desk and a chair and a filing cabinet.

  Olivia set down to work and within five minutes she was totally buried in receipts, show schedules, video clips for possible opening acts, and all of the other nonsense that came along with managing a show like Riley’s. She forgot anything about a man named Duke Dunbar and the fact that Duke was supposed to be going down to the police station to talk to Detective Sellers about her case.

  Knock. Knock. Knock.

  Olivia’s door wasn’t closed. With the exception of show time, her door was rarely closed. There just wasn’t enough space in the office to work with the door shut. When she looked up, she decided she needed to rethink that policy as soon as possible.

  “Hello, doll.”

  “I’m not your doll, Mathias.” Olivia went back to her bookwork, even though she was officially too distracted to even begin to remember what she was reading. “Why don’t you keep on walking and just head back out of the building?”

  Instead of leaving, Sergeant Mathias Caprico leaned insolently against the doorframe and stared at her as though he were blatantly stripping her naked with his gaze. “Poor little girl. Still trying to say you were treated wrong by the police? Do you really think anyone believes your story?”

  “I don’t think it matters whether or not anyone believes my story, Mathias,” Olivia said, keeping her tone mild. “I think it matters if my story is true. And it is. You didn’t take the theft problem in this theater seriously because you want nothing more than to make my life more difficult.”

  “You’re so self-centered,” he told her suddenly. Shaking his head, he gave a little cluck. Considering he was wearing his uniform, the gesture was more than a little inappropriate. “You just think all of this is about you. Everything is about you. It’s all you, you, you!”

  This had always been Mathias’s thing. That constant nagging accusation that she was too needy or too unwilling to consider his needs instead of her own. It had plagued their entire relationship, from their first date right up until Olivia had left Mathias standing at the altar.

  “Right.” She wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction of winding her up. No doubt that’s what he was there to do. “You’re totally right. I’m the most selfish person on the whole planet. Nobody is as selfish as I am.”

  “Would you stop?” His expression twisted into something ugly. “Now you’re just being rude.”

  “I’m being rude?” She snorted and shook her head. “You barge into the theater and start mouthing off about how I’m full of it and that I’m selfish and I’m the one who is being rude? I feel like there’s something about those concepts that just don’t match.”

  Mathias came further into the office and for a moment, Olivia felt the familiar tightening in her chest. She felt that fear, that worry that Mathias was going to grab her and hurt her, hit her, or kick her or use some horrible stranglehold on her. The man was a police officer. He had once used a taser on Olivia and told her if she tattled, he would just do it again. And there was no doubt in Olivia’s mind he would. The man was absolutely insane.

  “You should go now,” she suggested to Mathias. “I’m sure you have better things to do with your valuable on-duty police officer time than threatening me.”

  “I do as a matter of fact.” He loved to do this. He loved to taunt her by saying he was going to go out with some woman or another. To hear him tell it, one would think he was the Casanova of Branson, Missouri. “I have a wonderful meeting with a woman named Jose
phine. She’s a lawyer.”

  “Getting sued, are you? Too bad, so sad,” Olivia said quickly. “But I’m sure you can talk your way out of it. And if that fails, you can bully your way out. You’re good at that.”

  “Really, I think I’ll be plenty good at getting you arrested. That’s what I intend to do,” he informed her. “You and that crook of an uncle of yours.”

  It was all an empty threat, as always. Mathias loved empty threats. He loved to make her sweat and make her think he had actually talked to someone about her or put her name on some local terrorist watch list. He loved the idea of messing with her head and making sure she was always off balance.

  “See you later, sweetheart,” Mathias told her with a sickening grin. “It’s going to be such a wonderful day. You’ll see.”

  Olivia watched him go and could not help but wonder why he had stopped by at all. It wasn’t like this was a usual occurrence anymore. There were times that Olivia could almost hope he had totally forgotten about her. Like he could never even want to see her again because he’d forgotten anything about her or her name. And maybe he was going to just slip away into her history and be forgotten. Then he would stop by her office or her home and that hope would just disappear.

  Picking up the business card on her desktop, Olivia turned it over and over again as though just by doing so, she could call up the presence of one handsome security officer in worn cowboy boots, jeans, and a white T-shirt. That was really her very last hope. At least she felt as though it was. The idea that somehow, some way, Duke Dunbar could come through for Olivia and prove that she was right, that there was a pickpocket working the Moonrise Theater and that she could not only catch the perpetrator, but somehow save the act, the theater, and her career as well.

  “Fat chance,” Olivia whispered. “I’ll be lucky if I don’t wind up in jail myself.”

  Chapter Four

  The Branson Police Department did not occupy a particularly large building in the city. In fact, like most state offices in the area, the police department was located in what had once been a sprawling mall complex, which meant the brick building included turrets, strange outdoor patio areas, and also a good deal of window space.

  Duke entered the building through the main entrance and let the desk sergeant know he wanted to talk to Detective Sellers. It was odd; Duke knew the sergeant and the other officers lounging about behind the duty desk were familiar with who he was and who he worked for. It wasn’t like Titus Holbrook was unknown or disrespected in the local law enforcement community. But right now, that clout did not appear to be doing Duke any good at all.

  “What are you in for?”

  Duke turned to find himself staring at a very familiar and not necessarily welcome face on the Branson tourism scene. Hilary Allenwood had been a reporter in the Branson area for years now. She was a sensationalist. You always wanted to cringe when you read her headlines. They were guaranteed to stir up bad feelings and send morale and public opinion dropping through the floor.

  “I’m not in for anything,” Duke told Hilary in what he hoped was a nonchalant voice. “Just doing a routine visit for a new case.”

  But that was the wrong thing to say. It absolutely piqued Hilary’s interest. The ginger-haired reporter went on point like a hunting dog. “What case? Is there something going on in this town that I don’t know about? I bet if you let me know why you’re here, I can help you.”

  Hilary was notorious for making deals like that, which she never held up. Generally, there was just a lot of backstabbing and bullshit, which made it fairly easy for Duke to shake his head.

  “No thanks. I think I’m fine on my own.”

  “Dunbar,” the desk sergeant called out. “What is this about?”

  This was an odd change up. Duke frowned. “Tell Sellers it’s in regards to the thefts over at the Moonrise Theater.”

  The desk sergeant smirked and Duke wanted to know why. What was so strange about his request?

  But Hilary was already laughing. And that wasn’t good at all. At least not in Duke’s opinion. The woman was a snake just curled up and waiting to strike.

  “What?” Duke finally asked her when the duty sergeant disappeared once again. “You think you know something? Fine. Dish.”

  “Dish,” Hilary snorted. Then she crossed her arms. She was a nondescript sort of woman who always looked like a tourist—cargo shorts, tennis shoes, and a light blue short-sleeved polo shirt with the paper’s logo on the right sleeve. “Fine. I feel like it might behoove you to know the show manager at the Moonrise Theater was once engaged to be married to one of the sergeants here in the department.” Hilary let that sink in for a moment before finishing with no small amount of relish. “You could say it didn’t end well. Lots of accusations going both ways I believe.”

  Duke felt his gut tighten with distaste. This might explain Olivia’s response to the idea of involving the police in this investigation. “What kind of accusations?” he asked quietly.

  “The usual kind.” Hilary sounded off-handed and maybe even dismissive. “Physical abuse. All kinds of emotional trauma and angst. All lies, of course. “

  “Of course,” Duke murmured. He thought about the way Olivia Houghton had acted in his office. She was certainly a woman who seemed as though she had been burned one time too many and was now gun-shy thanks to the experience.

  “All right, Duke,” the desk sergeant said with a smile of amusement. “Detective Sellers will see you now.”

  Duke turned and headed for the door that would lead him to the back of the department and the offices. At the last second, he turned and nodded to Hilary. “Thanks for the tip.”

  “Oh, anytime,” she said with a nod. “Remember, I scratch your back, you scratch mine.”

  He knew that meant she already had a particular topic in mind and wanted to make sure Duke owed her a big enough debt to make him pay up.

  Duke followed the desk sergeant through a maze of buildings to an office at the very end of a row of what had probably once been shops of some kind. It was a round room, and the effect was rather odd. It felt small and tight, but there was an eleven foot ceiling and even a pointed rooftop.

  Detective Sellers was not familiar to Duke, but that wasn’t a surprise. The Branson Police Department was considerably large and somewhat spread out because of the vast amount of foot traffic space they had to cover in a sprawled out metro area that was both a small town with big city tourism problems.

  Sellers was a man in his thirties with threads of gray in his dark brown hair. He wore a fashionable black suit with a navy blue dress shirt. His entire appearance suggested he was trying very hard to work his way up the ladder at the police department. No doubt he had not appreciated being bothered with something like a petty pickpocket complaint to begin with. Perhaps that was what the entire issue was between Olivia Houghton and Detective Sellers.

  “Sellers.” Duke offered his hand across the cluttered desk and received a cordial and rather cool handshake in return. He reminded himself he had to be polite no matter how much he wanted to be rude. “Thank you for agreeing to see me on such short notice.”

  “Uh huh. What’s this about the Moonrise Theater?” Sellers immediately demanded. He had not bothered to get up from his desk or to offer Duke a seat in the chair on the opposite side. “I told that woman just to leave things be and to hire someone to put in a few extra cameras. She cannot use the police department as her personal public relations and marketing tool. We are not going to investigate some random thefts to get that dump of a theater’s name in the Branson register.”

  Duke went ahead and helped himself to the chair. He was tired of standing and he had a feeling this was not going to be a pleasant interview anyway. “So, you’ve got reason to believe there is no pickpocketing going on in the theater? No reports of theft? No tourists complaining about the Moonrise because they had their wallet stolen while they were at the Riley Saunders show?”

  “Well, we’ve had a few.”
The detective still seemed skeptical. “You’ve got to realize that the number of people coming in here on a daily basis to report a wallet missing or to claim their purse was stolen is absolutely enormous. I bet we get eighty calls a day. Easily. Half of them are tourists who should be talking to a lost and found office somewhere. But they all want the police to go in search of their credit cards. It’s usually not a police matter. End of story.”

  Duke let that sit for a moment. He had no doubt Detective Sellers was correct. And yet he could not feel if there was indeed some history between the police department and Olivia Houghton, that she might not get a fair response from the department when she had a problem.

  “I wonder,” Duke began slowly, “if you actually went to one of the shows at the Moonrise and just sat there to watch the crowd.”

  The expression on Detective Sellers’s face told the story long before his mouth did. “Of course not,” he said with derision. “I don’t have the sort of imaginary manpower and time that it would take to go visit every single one of these places to make sure there are no little sticky fingered bastards in the crowd.”

  “So, you dismissed her concerns even after this long without even making an attempt to visit the theater to mollify her?” Duke didn’t care if the detective didn’t like Olivia Houghton. He had been negligent. “You didn’t actually go to the theater at all?”

  “I didn’t have to!” the detective said defensively. He looked as though he were about to come up out of his chair. “I can already tell that she’s full of it. All right? Mathias took the initial report. He knows her better than anyone. He knew she was just lying.”