Rock Wolf Investigations: Boxset

by Dee Bridgnorth

  Duke wondered if Sellers realized just how telling his choice of words was in this case. “Mathias is the guy who she was engaged to once upon a time?”

  “Yes. He knows her better than anyone else. That’s for sure. He can tell when she’s lying and when she tells the truth.”

  “Wow,” Duke said with barely leashed sarcasm. “I had no idea the Branson PD had sprung for the advanced body language reading class.”

  “What?”

  Duke made an expansive gesture with his hand. “Well, you’ve just told me that your friend Mathias, I’m assuming he must have some serious rank around here, is somehow qualified to analyze and diagnose body language that is totally contrary to what a possible victim is telling you.”

  “Victim,” Sellers scoffed. “You must be joking. And Mathias is a sergeant. And quit bullshitting me about this body language training. Mathias was engaged to the woman. He knows her intimately. Obviously.”

  “No. Not obviously,” Duke fired back. “They weren’t married, correct? You said engaged. And, as I believe the rumor mill has it, there were allegations of abuse in the relationship. It’s interesting that you are so willing to stand behind your brother in blue when it’s pretty obvious he’s biased against this woman.”

  Sellers was sucking in a breath to be really offended. That was immediately obvious. Duke headed him off. “Look, man. I’m not saying your buddy doesn’t have a right to be pissed off. If a chick dumped me and then told everyone I’d been beating her or some shit, I’d be pissed, too, but you’re supposed to be professionals.”

  “She left him at the damned altar,” Sellers said flatly. His expression was absolutely dark. “We were all there for the ceremony. The church was packed. The minister was just sort of standing there twiddling his thumbs. I think the church organist ran out of hymns to play. And she still didn’t show up. We all watched Mathias get humiliated.”

  Duke pressed his lips into a tight line. This was bad. There was no doubt in any man’s mind that a guy who had suffered that kind of public insult had a reason to be pissed off about it. But that didn’t absolve an officer of the law from his duty of making sure he treated every potential victim who came to file a report with respect.

  Pinching the bridge of his nose, Duke decided he just needed to cut straight to the chase. “So, what you’re saying is you never took a report, filed a report, or even listened to the possibility that Olivia Houghton could be telling the truth about her concern for the recent string of property thefts at the Moonrise Theater.”

  “That is accurate.” Sellers gave a nonchalant shrug. “And I don’t intend to do anything about it either. That theater is on the decline anyway. If this helps it along, that might be better for all of us.”

  Damn, that was harsh. Duke couldn’t begin to imagine what he would feel like if he had someone so casually dismiss a concern that was likely to end in the loss of his career. The word crushed would not have even begun to cover it. Of course, pissed might have come close.

  “Okay.” Duke knew he had to be willing to be flexible. When an entire police department was set against a local person, that person was really out of options, at least personally speaking. “What if I do some digging around, some surveillance, and maybe some interrogation? Are you going to listen to what I have to say?”

  Detective Sellers looked at Duke for a long moment. Then he rolled his neck back and forth until it cracked. “I suppose,” he began with a long emphasis on each syllable. “If you could bring me some actual evidence, video or something, perhaps photographs, I would think about the possibility of opening an actual police investigation. But I’m giving you fair warning, Dunbar, we are not going to be devoting manpower or financial resources to what is now considered to be a bullshit case.”

  “I understand that perfectly clear,” Duke growled. “You’ve made it very plain that you don’t take the report seriously.”

  “There is no report.”

  “Exactly.” Duke raised an eyebrow. “But you have to remember that I’m a paid detective. I’m not a public office man. That means I can be paid the same amount to investigate a missing kitten if someone has the cash. I don’t care if she’s lying. If she is lying, then I’m basically being paid to figure that out and shove it in her face.”

  That seemed to appeal to Sellers. The man’s lips twisted into a smirk that wasn’t flattering and didn’t make Duke feel any kindlier toward the man. But that wasn’t really the point at the moment. The point was just getting Sellers on board with the idea that someone else could put in the time and effort to investigate this case. Not that Duke had ever considered himself to have a diplomatic nature. He would rather deal with those cows.

  “Fine.” Detective Sellers gave a nod of his head as though he were a king allowing a lowly knight the chance to go on crusade. “You spend the money, the time, and waste the resources to look into this pickpocketing matter. Whatever you find, you bring back here to me. I’ll have a look at it and the department will act accordingly.”

  “Gee, thanks for that,” Duke snorted. Then he shook his head and stood up. “Though I can hardly blame you, I suppose. At some point we all have to ask ourselves if we believe the people we are serving and how much that’s worth to us.”

  Detective Sellers narrowed his gaze on Duke. “I’m not sure I appreciate the insinuation you’re making.”

  “And I’m not sure I appreciate the way you’ve handled this case, but I think it’s safe for us to agree to disagree about each other’s opinions, right?” Duke shrugged. “I’ll go work my case and I’ll come back and let you know what I find. In the meantime, I suggest you try your best to find an open mind when it comes to whatever I do find.”

  “Oh, I’ll keep an open mind,” Detective Sellers assured Duke. “And of course, I’ll keep a cell open too. You know, for when you discover the lying woman in this case is the one who you should be pointing the finger at.”

  Great. This case should be a rousing success to add to my resumé.

  Chapter Five

  No matter how long Olivia was in the stage business, she would never get tired of the excitement that each and every show brought into the theater. She always got that same nervous fluttery sensation in her gut, that feeling of heightened awareness when the house lights were on and the aging theater was brightly lit so the cracks of bygone years didn’t quite show up so clearly. The low din of voices in the huge front hallway, the smell of popcorn and spun sugar candy from the snack bar were all a part of the business of show business and Olivia felt as though she would never tire of being in the background making all of this happen for the enjoyment of those hundreds of people who had purchased a ticket and were eagerly waiting to see the show.

  “Are you ready?” Olivia asked as she poked her head into Riley’s green room.

  The space was filled with things to keep Riley occupied and happy while he waited for his cue to go on. The stage was occupied by the trio of fiddle playing dancers that Olivia had hired to be Riley’s opening act during the heavily trafficked summer season.

  Riley looked up from staring at his tiny red chihuahua, Chili Pepper. He gave Olivia a noncommittal shrug and an expression that suggested he wasn’t really ready for much of anything at all. “I guess. Chili is kind of tired of this, aren’t you, girl?”

  First of all, Chili was a boy. Olivia had never been able to understand why Riley felt as though the dog portion of his dog and pony show needed to be female. The pony was female. Her name was Snooker. She was currently waiting just offstage in a small enclosure filled with shavings and stocked with hay to keep her happy.

  “I think I need a new act,” Riley said with a yawn. “I’m getting bored with this one.”

  Olivia cringed. A new act wasn’t cheap, especially when it usually came with trained animals. There had been that one year about three seasons ago that had ended with Riley requesting a chimp and a trained pig. The chimp hadn’t been possible on their budget and the pig had been a surprisi
ngly difficult thing to procure. There were pigs a plenty, but apparently, not trained pigs.

  “Surely, Snooker isn’t ready to retire,” Olivia told her uncle as she mentally went through her Rolodex of possible retirement homes for a Shetland Pony of indeterminate years who actually hated children and refused to let anything larger than Chili on her back.

  “No. I just need to add something to the act,” Riley muttered. He picked up Chili and held the dog out in front of him as though he were staring at the tiny creature with the bulging eyes and the endless tremor in his itty bitty legs for the first time. “Maybe I should go check the animal shelter. We could add a rescue dog to the act. That would really bring in the cash.”

  Olivia rolled her eyes. “Is that what this is about? The money? Because then I should tell you the money is fine. We really don’t need to add anything. You’re just fine. I promise.”

  “Oh.” Riley scrunched up his nose. “I thought that Harvey said we were operating in the red.”

  “That’s because Harvey keeps paying himself too much money,” Olivia retorted. It made her mad every time she thought about it. “He’s trying to take the percentage that he promised you and reduce it to enlarge his own take. That’s all. And I don’t think that it’s because he’s getting less than we promised he would either. He just wants more.”

  “Can’t we stop that?” Riley actually looked at Olivia as though she had some magic wand she could wave in order to marvelously make their theater manager a reasonable human being.

  “No,” Olivia told her uncle. “We can’t. You know why? I’ll tell you. It’s because the theater property is more valuable now than the show is profitable. And there’s nothing we can do about that. The strip is getting full. There are lots of shows wanting to come in, acts that want to build new theaters and tear down the old stuff and renovate and things like that. And in the midst of that, the old theaters, like this one, are suddenly sitting on a pretty valuable piece of land.”

  Riley at least looked as though he was grasping the concept. Then he shrugged. “I still think it would be better for the show to add a rescue dog.”

  “Fine. Get a rescue dog,” Olivia said with barely leashed irritation. “But don’t expect me to train the dog for you, too. My talents don’t extend that far. I’ve told you.”

  Riley only shrugged. Then the bell rang and it was time for him to go on stage. The bell meant the fiddle playing dancers were done with their act and running off stage in a fit of girlish giggles. The group was in their late twenties and still acted as though they were sixteen. At least they were fabulously talented as they did backflips while playing the violin; not exactly a run of the mill talent.

  Olivia watched Riley go from pouting uncle to showman in the blink of an eye. The sight never failed to astound her. She peeked around the edge of the curtain and watched as her uncle exploded onto the stage with Chili in his arms and Snooker the pony prancing along beside him. The three of them went through their introductory act with enough panache to make even the most sarcastic audience member smile and laugh.

  From her position at the far left of the stage, Olivia could see bits and pieces of the show from a whole new angle. But it was the audience that captivated her. Beneath the lights she could see them as she usually could not. They had faces and expressions. There were kids and adults and grandparents and they were all laughing or pointing. Kids were standing on their parents’ laps or bouncing up and down in the aisles with the force of their excitement. They sang along with the songs and they clapped when they were told. And then Chili the chihuahua went on his nightly romp through the audience in a part of the show that was commonly called “The Role Reversal.”

  Snooker trotted off stage, carefully and skillfully navigating the extra wide stage steps on her way to find her little dog. Of course, all of this was happening with Uncle Riley trailing along behind the duo, apologizing to the audience members and saying the most outrageous things possible to get a laugh.

  At one point, Olivia thought she spotted someone in the audience who looked suspicious. There was a person small in stature who seemed to be poking about in the aisles. People were absolutely riveted to what was happening with the dog and pony show and they didn’t even seem to see the person poking about.

  Pushing her way back to the backstage area, Olivia ran as quickly and quietly as she could around the side of the theater. The door there was oiled, so the hinges did not give her away as she slipped from the backstage area to the front stage area. Her heart was pounding. Maybe this was it! She was going to finally discover who had been stealing wallets and rifling through people’s purses at the theater!

  Olivia spotted the suspicious person almost immediately. She—it was definitely a she—was down on her hands and knees in one of the aisles. The people around weren’t paying her much mind. It was so strange. Perhaps she’d given them some cock and bull story about losing an earring.

  Creeping closer, Olivia climbed four short flights of cement steps to the middle section of the seating area. Back on stage, Snooker was giving Chili a serious talking to for his recent antics. Kids and adults alike were laughing until they presumably peed their respective diapers. Even the parents looked amused, which was always a bonus at a show like this one. You could entertain the very young and the very old with the same material, but the middle age group was sometimes lost in translation.

  Finally, Olivia reached out and grabbed the foot of the woman. A small woman. It was difficult to tell how old. But not that old. She turned and gave Olivia a round-faced look of surprise. Then, to Olivia’s shock, she produced a toddler.

  “I’m so sorry,” a woman whispered. “He gets away from me sometimes. I just got so distracted by the show! We’ll go back to our seats now that I got him.”

  Olivia bit her lip. She had found herself in quite a pickle for sure. The woman was not technically supposed to be up and around during the show, yet the toddler provided the most amazing excuse for her behavior. Was it a real thing, or was this just the cleverest ruse on the books?

  “Come with me, please,” Olivia whispered and waved to the young woman.

  The mother held her squirming blonde-haired, blue-eyed baby boy in her arms and followed Olivia to the side door. Olivia took her out into the small backstage area where the fiddle players waited for the center stage cue.

  “I’m sorry,” Olivia told the mother. The woman was wearing a bag crosswise over her shoulder so it rested against her hip. “I know this is going to sound really weird, but can I look inside your purse?”

  “Excuse me?”

  Olivia swallowed. She had a feeling this was going nowhere good and yet how was she supposed to stop when it could just be the best ploy ever invented for pickpocketing a crowd?

  “Like I said, I know this sounds odd, but we’ve had a lot of problems here lately with people having wallets stolen or things taken out of their purses.”

  “And you think I was letting my child wander about so I could steal other people’s stuff?” The woman’s voice was getting louder and louder with each word spoken.

  Olivia put up both hands. The boy wanted down. He was an imp, absolutely advertisement worthy and adorable. “Please keep your voice down. I’m not trying to be insulting. Look at it from my perspective.”

  “Who are you?”

  “I manage the show,” Olivia said quickly. “I’m either looking at a quirky one-time strange occurrence, or the best diversionary tactic for picking pockets ever invented.” It was on the tip of Olivia’s tongue to suggest the mother might be flattered that Olivia thought her capable of coming up with such an inventive way to steal wallets. Thankfully, Olivia’s brain kicked in and closed her mouth before she made a bad situation worse.

  The mother grunted and shifted her bulky toddler to her free hip. Then she tugged until the strap came over her head. “Here. If you must, but if anything is missing in my purse, you and I are going to go and have a chat with the police.”

  At whi
ch time the Branson Police Department would happily oblige this woman by putting Olivia under immediate arrest and throwing her into the nearest jail cell while violating all of her civil rights and probably ditching the U.S. Constitution in the process. Yes. The entire department was that set against her. Sad, but true.

  Olivia hastily opened the bag. Considering the mother had offered a look, it did not seem likely that she was a thief. Although, there were two wallets in the bag. But upon closer inspection Olivia discovered that one of them was actually a checkbook. Olivia hadn’t known that people still carried that sort of thing.

  “Here you go. Sorry.” Olivia zipped up the bag and held it out to the young mother. “Uh, to compensate you for the inconvenience, I’ll be leaving you a fifty dollar credit down in the retail store.”

  The young mother suddenly looked a lot happier. “Really? Thanks.”

  “No problem. Sorry for the inconvenience. I won’t lie and say that I’m glad someone wasn’t using a kid to rob people’s purses because that’s just diabolical, but it would have been nice to solve the case.”

  The mother shrugged and followed Olivia back out and into the theater. Olivia smiled at her before she opened the door to let the mother and child back inside. “Just go to the register and tell them Olivia left you a credit of fifty dollars to be used toward your purchase.”

  “Thanks, I will.” The mother bounced her little boy on her hip. “And I hope you catch your thief.”

  “Yeah. Me too.”

  Olivia let the mother and child back into the auditorium and then turned around to head for the store. She needed to remember to put a note at the register. She’d forgotten the woman’s name, but it should be easy enough to describe her for the cashiers.

  “Wow. That was interesting.”

  The sarcastic voice could only belong to Hilary Allenwood. The bottom feeding, muckraker of Branson had a very memorable drawl to her voice that few people could or would want to imitate.