by Rayna Morgan
Lea and Maddy made small talk while the men at the counter selected their donuts and finished their conversation with Maria.
When one of them stopped to pet Gracie on his way out, Lea smiled innocently, “Having a busy day?"
"Just stocking up on Maria's glazed donuts," he replied and quickly departed.
"They play it close to the vest," Lea observed as she moved to the counter.
Maddy queried Maria without pulling any punches. "Were they here to do a story on the burglary?"
"Oh, sure," Maria exclaimed. She waved her arms in her usual animated style of conversing.
"The man I was talking to is my cousin. He's the one who carries the television camera when they're interviewing someone," she explained proudly.
Lea pointed to several of the crullers in the glass display case, and Maria bagged Lea’s pastries as she talked.
"In the interview my cousin recorded, the police admitted they are stymied with these burglaries. They have no leads as to who is doing this bad thing. In the story airing tonight, the Chief will be asking the public to report any suspicious activity."
Lea reached over the counter to pay Maria. "Did you have any new customers in the last couple of days you haven't seen before?"
Maria shook her head, lapsing partially into her native language. "No, señora. Only my regular customers. Believe me, if I had seen any suspicious hombres, I would have told my cousin. I don't want evil men anywhere near my niños."
"I figure it must have been someone with an inside connection to the builder," a voice chimed in. All three of them turned to the speaker, easily pegged as a rancher from his sunburned face, boots, and black Stetson hat.
Maria walked over to refill his coffee cup. "What do you know about the burglary, Scott?"
The sisters gave the man a quick visual. He had thick, brown hair and a strong, defined face with features molded from granite. His eyebrows sloped downward in a grave expression over dark brown eyes.
"I know no one could have driven onto the property without passing the security guard at the front." He stirred sugar into his coffee. "I used to own land along this road. I sold that parcel to the developer building the condos. I know the property like the back of my hand.
“On one side, there’s a ditch a truck couldn’t cross. On the other side is a stone wall I built during the rainy season to keep flood waters from destroying the orange trees. The front is secured by wire fencing and the construction trailer where the guard stays during his shift."
"There’s a recycle yard at the back of the property," Maddy said. "Couldn't someone cross it to get onto the construction site?"
"I know the fellow who owns the yard. He keeps four Rottweilers on the property to make sure no one breaks in. If someone had been dumb enough to try to cross his property, the barking would have alerted the security guard and any neighbors for a mile in each direction."
Lea squinted. "Are you suggesting the security guard let the van in?"
"I’m not suggesting that at all. I know the retired cop who's working security there to supplement his pension. He's an honest guy. "
"Then what leads you to the conclusion it was somehow an inside job?" Lea persisted.
"The only way someone could get in was by knowing the routine of the security guard. He walks the perimeter of the property at scheduled times. I can tell you from the days I walked that dirt when I was growing oranges there, it's a good mile to the back of the property.
“Walking slowly enough to inspect everything as he went, the security guard would be away from his post for more than twenty minutes during any one of those patrols. More than enough time for someone to cut through the front gate and lay in wait to overpower him when he returned.
“From what I heard your cousin tell you, Maria, it sounds like that’s what happened. The burglars took care of the guard, drove in, and helped themselves to the goods."
"Did you give the police that information?” Lea asked.
The man shook his head. "That’s not my job. It's what they’re paid for, with our tax money, I might add. Besides, I'm not going to make accusations about any of the builders in the County. I've got land in agricultural reserve I may want to sell someday."
Gracie got up from the spot where she had been instructed to wait. She stood alert with her ears pointed. Lea looked for the source of the dog’s attention.
Two Hispanic men climbed down from the cab of a large truck parked at one of the pumps at the station. One took care of the fueling; the other walked toward the donut shop.
The man approaching wore black jeans and a black t-shirt, a knit cap on his head, and a red-and-black bandana around his neck. He had a stocky build, tattoos on both arms, and walked with an imposing swagger.
Maria's greeting was brief and to the point when he entered, unlike the broad smile and chattiness she offered most customers. "What will it be, Miguel?"
"Same as always, Maria, and put in an extra chocolate donut. I had a rough night. I need a sugar spike."
The man smiled, but his smile was sneering like he was laughing at an inside joke.
Lea placed a hand on Gracie's head to calm her. She felt the vibration of a growl emanating from a place deep in the dog's chest.
Maria noted Gracie's reaction. "Hey, girl, I haven't given you a treat today."
She reached into a canister marked ‘For Dogs Only’ and got a biscuit in the shape of a bone. She moved around the counter to where Gracie sat with her eyes fixed on Miguel and offered the treat.
Dropping money on the counter, Miguel grabbed the bag Maria had placed near the cash register and turned to walk out. As he brushed past Gracie, he glared at the dog with a look that caused the hair on the back of Lea's neck to stand on end.
Silence hung in the air after he left.
"Who was that?" Maddy gulped.
"One of the Ramirez brothers,” Maria said. She began to wipe the counter. “Their mother got sick and died several years ago. The father was no good. He left them when the last baby was born. The three boys grew up much on their own.
“They've been in and out of trouble over the years. The oldest one, Roberto, landed in jail. He was in my store just last week telling me he got out on parole.”
She measured coffee into the brewing machine and continued. "When they're not getting in trouble, they work construction. In fact, they work on the site that got robbed last night. They come in every morning when they fuel the company trucks."
"Sounds like they've had it rough," Lea sympathized.
"Yeah, you might feel sorry for them except for their attitude,” Maria said. “The Ramirez boys are mean. And they're rude. They all got bad manners. Not one of them shows any respect for their elders.
“Mark my words; no good is going to come from any of those boys. I won't miss having them as customers when they move on to another job."
Lea turned her attention to Gracie. The dog had relaxed since Miguel left the premises.
"He got your hackles up, didn't he, girl?"
After throwing a couple of dollars on the table, the cowboy gave Lea some advice.
"Dogs are smarter than people about a lot of things, especially when it comes to sorting out the good apples from the rotten ones. Pay attention to what your dog is telling you."
Tipping his hat toward Maddy, the cowboy walked out. A faint blush rose to Maddy's cheeks.
Lea turned to reassure Maria. "Don't worry. Our police department is very efficient. I know the man in charge of the investigation. I'm sure they’ll bring this burglary business to an end soon."
Maddy locked her arm in Lea's as they left the donut shop.
"Maybe we can help them do exactly that."
• • •
Lea got home in time to put finishing touches on a proposal for a prospective client and answer her emails before fixing dinner.
When her son called to ask if he could stay at his friend's house to eat and study, Lea agreed but reminded him it was his night to take out the tras
h.
"Be sure to do it as soon as you get home, so your dad won't have to tell you. And don't forget to thank Michael's mother."
She looked at the large roast in the oven and called Paul.
"Is Tom going to make it for dinner? If not, we're going to have a lot of leftovers. Jon's eating with the Thompsons.”
"I just talked to Tom. Since we're playing the early game, he won't be able to get away from the station in time. He'll try to come for dinner about seven-thirty, but there are no guarantees."
Lea pulled vegetables from the bin to clean.
"I’m glad he’s coming. I don't think he gets many home-cooked meals since he and his latest girlfriend have gone their separate ways."
"I'm sure he misses Linda's gourmet cooking,” Paul said, “but from the way he talks, it's all he misses of their relationship."
"Men," Lea scoffed. "See you soon. Good luck with your game."
Lea fed the pets and walked into the living room in time to watch the early edition of the news. The Police Chief, dressed in the starched uniform she had seen him in that morning, made his appeal to the public.
"Please keep your eyes open around any construction sites, either residential or commercial. Report any suspicious activity."
"Are certain sites more likely to be hit?" the reporter asked.
"Single family houses, especially those which are somewhat isolated, make good targets because there is less chance of a neighbor or passerby seeing or hearing a burglar. Any properties without fencing are asking for trouble. Appliances delivered to a site before locking doors and windows have been installed offer a timing opportunity savvy thieves watch for."
"If someone sees something suspicious, how should they react?" the reporter inquired.
"In no instance should a person approach someone they believe is engaged in illegal activity,” the Police Chief warned as he looked into the camera. “We've been fortunate that no one has been hurt, but these things have a way of escalating. Make the right move and call for help if you see anything or anyone you believe is out of place in your neighborhood."
Lea sighed. "If the Chief’s message asking the public for help is effective, Tom will be busy. We won't be seeing him for dinner, and we'll be eating leftovers tomorrow.”
CHAPTER THREE
Lea was right in her prediction of her and Paul eating alone. She was wrapping up leftovers when her cell phone rang.
"Hope I'm not disturbing you," Mrs. Allen began.
Calls from Mrs. Allen are almost always disturbing.
"Not at all. I hope you don’t have more intruders."
"No; thanks to you, my house is quiet. After all the trouble I caused last night, I’m calling because I don’t want to be an alarmist. I'd like to run something by you before calling the police."
Interest piqued, Lea walked out to the back yard so Paul couldn’t overhear. "What's going on?"
"I was at the grocery store and decided to take a little drive around the neighborhood on the way home.”
She doesn’t have the reputation as the neighborhood busybody for no reason.
“I was close to where they're building the two-story Spanish Colonial by the pond. Do you know the house? Red roof tiles and a turret."
"Unfortunately, I know it only too well. Our snoopy cat Sherlock has been there several times in the last couple of weeks. He seems to like foraging in the tiles and drywall on the site. He also loves high places. Since they haven't installed any windows or doors in the house yet, he's been able to climb all the way to the turret to check out the view. I saw him sitting up there a couple of days ago when I took the dogs for a walk."
"I was a block away from it when I saw lights inside the house. Like flashlight beams," she clarified, "in an upstairs room. Neither the builder nor the owner would be there this time of night. I wouldn't have thought much about it except for the recent news reports of the burglaries."
"Did you call the police?"
"No, I was afraid I was overreacting and shouldn't waste their time."
“I don't think that would be the case. I saw the Police Chief interviewed on the news tonight encouraging people to call in any suspicious activity they see. From his description of likely targets, that house might be prone to a break-in."
"There's no fencing around the property," Mrs. Allen agreed, "which would allow for easy access."
"Tell you what. I was getting ready to take Gracie and Spirit for their evening stroll. We'll go for a ride instead and see if there appears to be anything going on."
"Don't put yourself at risk," her neighbor warned.
"Don't worry. We'll keep our distance. The dogs will detect scents from quite a ways off and alert me. If they seem to be reacting, I'll call it in. You won't have to worry about sending up a false alarm."
"Thank you, Lea. Call and let me know what you find to put my mind at ease before I turn in."
"No problem. I'll get my super sleuths right on it." Lea laughed and rang off.
She walked into the living room where Paul was watching a basketball game and explained where she was going as she put halters on the dogs.
Without taking his eyes off the television screen, Paul asked, “Don’t you think you’ve wasted enough time playing detective for Mrs. Allen?”
"We won't get any closer than a block away,” Lea assured him. “Besides, she’s probably overreacting like everyone else in town right now. These burglaries have everyone on edge. I'll call you as soon as we head back home."
Jon came through the front door in time to see his mother getting the dogs ready to go somewhere. "Wherever you’re off to, can I go? I finished my homework at Michael's house."
"Not this time." Without disclosing any concern about possible danger, Lea offered a distraction to discourage her son from joining them. "Your dad’s making popcorn at half-time if you want to watch the rest of the game."
"Sounds good." Jon licked his lips and patted his stomach.
By the time Lea got the dogs into the car, Paul and Jon were hollering at the screen, Paul’s concern for his wife’s safety all but forgotten
• • •
Lea wondered if Paul was right. Was she going against her better judgment driving to the site? At least there was an empty field between the house and the end of the street allowing them to keep their distance.
She got out of the car at the corner to get a better view. Her heart skipped a beat. Mrs. Allen was right. There were lights in the house, and a black van was parked in the driveway with the loading doors open.
Her neighbor was right about something else. It wouldn't be the owners of the house at this time of night in the dark.
"Hurry up, Miguel," a voice hollered. "We're done here. We'll be late for the meet."
"Come on guys, we're out of here, too," Lea summoned the dogs. Hearing the urgency in his master’s voice, Spirit stopped rooted to the spot, but Gracie's instincts kicked in. She went racing toward the site, barking loudly.
The commotion aroused an instantaneous reaction. Two hooded figures came running out of the house, glancing frantically in all directions before racing to the van. Not bothering to secure the back doors, one jumped in the driver's seat and revved the engine while the other jumped into the passenger side.
"No, Spirit," Lea yelled, seeing Spirit join his sister racing for the back of the van. "Come back, Gracie."
The retriever hesitated between seeing the back doors of the van flying open in front of him and hearing his master's voice. But the strength of the border collie's hind legs propelled her easily into the back of the van as the vehicle leaped to life weaving crazily down the street. The last thing Lea saw as the van swerved around the corner was Gracie struggling to keep her balance in the back of the careening vehicle.
"Come, Spirit, now," she yelled with authority, sliding behind the wheel of her car and simultaneously opening the other door. The dog jumped into the car, and Lea took off in pursuit, hitting the speed dial button on her phone.
"Paul, call Tom at the station right away. Something terrible has happened." They were in a residential neighborhood, but Lea was driving as fast as she dared in pursuit of the speeding van. "As Mrs. Allen feared, there was a burglary in progress at the house. Two men stormed out when Gracie ran over barking and took off. They were in such a hurry, they didn't close the back doors of their van and she jumped into it."
"Oh, no," Paul moaned. "Don't tell me you're chasing them."
"What choice do I have? I've got to get off the phone. Call Tom right away. Tell him it's a late model, black, Nissan van headed toward the Pier on Beach Boulevard. I'll call back when I can."
Paul’s hands fumbled on the keypad as he dialed Tom's direct line at the police station.
"Tom Elliot," he heard the voice say, glad it wasn't a recording. "How may I be of assistance?"
"Thank goodness, it's you and not your voice mail." He quickly explained the situation exactly as Lea had related it.
"Okay, Paul, calm down," Tom said, adopting the tone he used when handling people in desperate circumstances.
"We're on it. I'll take another squad car with me. Don't worry; we'll find them. The van is probably headed for one of the freeway on-ramps to get out of the area as fast as they can. I'll alert the highway patrol units. They won't get far."
"Thanks, Tom. Please have Lea call as soon as you've located them."
"Of course," the Detective replied, cutting the call off and putting his game plan into action. Grabbing his jacket, he ran toward the parking lot.
• • •
As Lea waited impatiently for the street light to turn green, she thought how grateful she was Jon hadn't come with her. I could use another set of eyes to keep the van in sight, but this is hardly the kind of adventure I want my son to be part of.
The moment the light turned, Lea flattened the gas pedal, throwing Spirit back against the seat. "Sorry, big guy, but I don't have time to stop to put your seat belt on."
Spirit dug his claws into the car seat and held on for dear life, all the time staring straight ahead in the direction where Gracie had gone.
If I'm right about these guys wanting to get out of Buena Viaje as fast as possible, there's only one route that will give them access to the freeway headed north. Under the overpass to the frontage road running parallel to Main Street.
