How to Leash a Thief

by Cat Clayton

  Daniel’s blue eyes widened. “I don’t know, maybe.”

  He jotted down the details as I rattled them off, pacing back and forth.

  “If he was desperate enough, I think he could,” I said. It was definitely plausible. “I hear the surviving spouse is sometimes a suspect when a murder occurs.”

  Physically, the man was capable. Although I’d never considered Mr. Schirmack a violent man. But how well did I really know him?

  “I can’t seem to tie Mr. Schirmack in with Samson’s murder. So, let’s table it for now. In the meantime, I’ll get these names to Nick, and it’ll eliminate me from any suspicion, and our business will pick back up. You’ll see,” I said, hoping Nick would listen.

  Daniel took Cuff for a walk while I ordered shampoos and took care of some billing. I called Nick to let him in on the names Daniel and I’d come up with, but my phone call went to his voice mail. I didn’t leave a message. I also texted Caylee and asked her to lunch. She replied, YES!! Thank goodness. I needed to make my amends. Not only had I known her almost all my life, she was one of the few female friends I had. Most of my high school girlfriends had left this map dot town after graduation. I needed to fix this, even if I had to beg for her forgiveness.

  Cuff and Daniel returned. The walk had been good for Daniel, who waltzed in wearing a huge grin. Maybe he’d bumped into the UPS man in town. I informed him of my lunch plans.

  “I had too much to drink at the Tripps’ the other night, and well, I showed the worst side of me. So, I need to make things right,” I said.

  “Girl, what have I told you about pulling your pants down in public?” Back to his usual perky self, he grinned, pinching my chin.

  “Real funny.” I play-punched him in the shoulder. “I screamed at Brandon and said some terrible awful things. I hurt Caylee’s feelings. I was plain horrible.”

  Daniel scrunched up his nose. “Ouch. How did Nick react?”

  “Oh, as expected. He removed me from the situation. Apologized to them. I shamed him in front of Caylee and Brandon, and now to make matters worse, I’ve gotten him in trouble at work.” I wondered how much more Nick would put up with.

  “Hmm. Do you think lunch is a good idea?” He eyed me, one brow lifted.

  “I have to fix this. Maybe if I patch things up with Caylee, Nick will come around, too. I haven’t seen him since the night before last, and he’s not answering my calls or texts.” I had a bad feeling about Nick not answering my messages.

  He must be livid with you, Chiquita.

  I glanced down at Cuff. I know. Nick’s behavior was peculiar, but I owed it to myself to work it out.

  Daniel scooped Cuff up into his arms. “This little guy can hang with me. I’m dining in today. I was so upset earlier, I forgot to tell you, killer ensemble you have on.” He licked a finger and touched my hip. “You’re smokin’ hot.” He made the putting out a flame sound and laughed.

  In the front lobby, Daniel held Cuff in one hand and the front door open with the other. “So, you never said, are you okay after finding her? Mrs. Schirmack, I mean.”

  I stepped out into the hot July sunshine, letting it warm my skin. I hadn’t had a lot of time to process how I felt about the killer singling me out and threatening me. I slid my sunglasses down off my head and over my eyes, turning back toward Daniel.

  “It was terrifying. To be honest, I feel responsible.”

  “What do you mean?” Daniel asked, wearing a befuddled expression.

  “Well, maybe if I’d told Schirmack everything I knew the other morning, she wouldn’t have gone looking around on her own.” The ugly truth was I shared nothing with her because I didn’t want her helping solve the murder. I wanted to do it alone. And that made me feel worse.

  “Steely, I think what’s more important here is that it could’ve been you the other night,” Daniel said.

  I sucked in a breath.

  My sentiments exactly. It could’ve been you. Your interfering will get you killed, Chiquita.

  Why don’t you say what’s really on your mind? I thought.

  I just did.

  But when it really got down to the nitty gritty, they were both right. What happened to Flora could’ve happened to me. Admitting it was like a smack in the face. Tears sprung up, and I squeezed my lids shut to keep them from spilling out, thankful for the concealment of my sunglasses.

  “Steely, it’s okay to be scared,” Daniel said.

  “I’m fine,” I said.

  “I can tell you’re crying.” Daniel pulled me into a tight squeeze.

  You two are squishing me! Cuff yelped.

  “I’ll survive.” I tried convincing myself as I returned Daniel’s hug. “I have to go or I’ll be late for lunch.”

  Daniel stepped back, set a wiggling Cuff down, and took my hands in his. “Flora Schirmack’s murder is not your fault, but you need to be more careful. I’m here if you need to talk. Now, dry up those tears and go patch things up with Caylee.”

  “Thanks. Wish me luck.” I squeezed his hand and turned on my heels, leaving them behind.

  It worried Daniel. Can’t say I blamed him. The situation worried me too.

  I had one stop before lunch.

  I MADE A QUICK BEELINE for Baker’s Bliss. A closed sign hung in the window, the interior lights off. I peered in through the glass. Cute round tables with small vases of artificial flowers adorned the eatery. A pang of guilt struck my heart.

  “I’m so sorry, Flora,” I said.

  “S’cuse me?” a male voice said behind me. “Why’re you sorry?”

  I whirled to find a disheveled Mr. Schirmack standing behind me, hands dangling at his sides.

  “Oh, hi, Mr. Schirmack. I’m very sorry for your loss.” I studied him closely.

  “Uh huh,” he said. He looked as if he’d slept in his khakis and white t-shirt, his salt and pepper facial hair in desperate need of a razor. He moved past me and checked the front door.

  “Just needed to make sure we’d locked the front door. Guess Bliss will be closed for, well, I’m not sure we’ll even be able to reopen,” he said.

  The thought of Baker’s Bliss never reopening saddened me. The town would have to depend on Orsack’s for good pie. And the town would miss spunky Mrs. Schirmack and her delicious gossip.

  “If you need anything, please let us know,” I said. “And I really hope you’ll be able to reopen the bakery someday soon.” I tried to be as tactful as possible on the next part. “Can I ask you about two nights ago?”

  “What do you mean?” he asked.

  “On the evening of our night janitor, Samson’s, murder. I drove by and saw the lights on here. Were y’all working late?”

  His bloodshot eyes squinted at me and anger flashed across his face. “You have a lot of nerve, missy. My wife is dead. It’s none of your concern, but if you must know I was here trying to repair our commercial oven; it’s kaput. A new one will cost me about twenty grand. And we’re eleven months behind in our mortgage,” he said in a hoarse voice.

  “I’m sorry to hear that.” I swallowed hard. I recalled Flora saying they’d fought terrible over money issues, but bringing it up now wasn’t appropriate. “Did she have life insurance? Maybe that will help matters.”

  Tears welled in his eyes and spilled down his cheeks. “Our problems are none of your concern. Now, if you don’t mind, I’ve got a funeral to plan.” He turned and stormed away.

  As I peddled my feet down the sidewalk, I considered the level of his anger. His hostility bordered on explosive. And he was hiding something. I saw it in his eyes. But what? He had the opportunity, and his motive could be money if Flora had life insurance, but would he kill his wife? If so, I needed to be more cautious than ever.

  A man who’d murder his own wife wouldn’t think twice about taking me out if I got too close to the truth.

  Chapter 9

  The aromas of freshly baked bread and pot roast engulfed me when I entered the café. My stomach rumbled. I spotted C
aylee already seated at a table in the room's corner. I joined her. We munched on warm bread from a basket while we ordered salads and iced tea. We made small talk until our plates arrived.

  “I want to apologize for the other night,” Caylee said, picking out the julienne carrot slivers from her salad. She lined them up on the side of her plate. Dressed in a purple tennis skirt and a white polo, her make-up appeared pristine. I guessed she’d scheduled her tennis lesson for after our lunch.

  I stared at her in disbelief. “Caylee—”

  “No, I shouldn’t have opened my big mouth,” she said, her face lined with guilt. “You’d had an awful day, and you were probably still in shock. I had no right to interfere with you and Nick.”

  “Nothing about this mess is your fault,” I said. “I’m the one who entered a crime scene before they cleared it, even if it is my shop. I should know better. I’m the one who sneaked to the field to see the burned truck and ended up with a dead body in my shop. I’m the one who’s now being stalked by some killer creeper! It was me who got Nick in trouble, not Brandon, and not you!” My hands trembled as I took a swallow of sweet iced tea.

  “Shh. Keep your voice down.” Caylee surveyed the town eyes upon us. “They’ll talk. You know they will.” She studied me, pushing her plate to the side. Setting her elbows on the table, she rested her chin on her fists, leaning close to me. “Honey, you’re more like family to me than a friend, so apology accepted. Now, what’s this about you being stalked? Is Nick aware of this?”

  “Not yet,” I said, and told her the little I knew about the guy.

  “I can’t seem to keep my nose out of trouble lately. I’m a complete mess. Mama always seemed to keep my butt in line, but now that she’s...” I had a difficult time spitting the word out. “Gone. I feel so lost.”

  Caylee reached across the table, resting her hands on mine. “Sugar, it’s only been a short time since you lost your mom. You’re still grieving. Cut yourself some slack.” She gave me a reassuring look and squeezed my hands. “But I’m encouraging you to come clean with Nick about all this. Whoever is harassing you is dangerous and I don’t want you to get hurt.”

  She was right. “I know, and I will tell him,” I said. “I’m so sorry about ruining dinner. It rattled me to the core to find Flora dead. And the wine hit me hard.” I shrugged.

  “S’okay, sweetie. All’s forgiven. Let’s forget the whole thing,” she said with one of her sugary smiles. “Now, tell me how it’s going over at the shop.”

  SHORTLY AFTER, WE PARTED ways with a promise I’d appear at her parents’ annual 4th of July party in a few days.

  As I walked away from her truck, my skin broke out in goosebumps.

  Glancing around, I found the reason. Leaning against the outside brick wall of the J & L Dime Store, a tall man in a straw cowboy hat pulled down low over his face, seemed to watch me from across the road, his hands shoved in the front pockets of his dark jeans. I sucked in a breath and froze.

  Flashbacks from the bank robber hit me like a ton of bricks. Just as I was about to turn and run, Sauren exited the drugstore and joined the man. What the heck? She gave me a friendly wave as the man tipped the hat back on his head. It was Seth. Feeling relieved, I tossed up a little wave myself. Seth tipped his hat in my direction and then pushed away from the wall. The two of them, arm in arm, strolled in the opposite direction.

  I shook off the heebie-jeebies and headed back to the shop. I’d only made it two blocks when I heard a low, grumbling motor behind me, slowly approaching. I turned and saw the black Buick from last night beside me on the road.

  I panicked and dove to my left, which was head first into an overstuffed clothes rack in front of Gypsy Seams, a Boho clothing boutique. Lucky for me they were having a sidewalk sale. I scrambled between the hanging clothes like a two-year-old, weaseling my way through to the other side. Scanning the rack, I snatched a floppy straw sun hat from up on top and pulled it down over my head.

  An older woman approached and began browsing the sales rack, giving me a peculiar glance.

  “Don’t mind me!” I said in a harsh whisper.

  Incognito, I peeked out between the clearance items and noticed the black car idling at the curb directly in front of the rack, as if it—the car—was watching me. I shivered despite the summer heat. The car’s tinted windows rolled up tight concealed the face of the driver. H-e-double-hockey-sticks! I couldn’t see a darned thing.

  Adrenaline bolted through my veins and I yanked the clothes on the rack back around my face. Closing my eyes, I willed the black car to disappear. Go away. Go away...

  “Excuse me... are you gonna move anytime soon?” the browsing woman asked.

  “I was here first!” I hissed. Couldn’t she see I was busy?

  “How rude!” she said, stomping into the front door of Gypsy Seams. A bell clanged as the door whooshed closed.

  Crouching behind the rack, I pretended to browse, flipping through the hanging items, looking at nothing in particular except a blur of colored fabrics. The motor roared as the driver revved the engine. My heart skipped a beat when the tires squealed and the car peeled out.

  That was close.

  I forced my wobbly legs to move forward.

  “Hey, you! Stop right there!” I heard a female voice shout behind me.

  I halted in my tracks and slowly turned around.

  The shop owner, Ms. Stella, stabbed her hips with bangled fists. All jingle and jangle, she barked at me, her broom skirt flowing. “You going to pay for that?”

  Oops. I patted my head. The hat.

  Unless I wanted the police department called on me, I’d better give it back. I removed the hat, jogging toward her, my hair crackling with static.

  “Sorry! I got distracted.”

  “Well, are you going to buy it?”

  I handed her the floppy hat. “Oh no. Sorry. I don’t care for the way it fits.”

  Ms. Stella snatched the hat, frowning. “I should’ve called the... wait a minute, aren’t you the Lamarr girl?”

  I nodded. “Yes, I’m Steely Lamarr. Nice to meet you.” I extended my hand.

  Her untamed, jet-black hair billowed in the hot breeze, as fierce green eyes stared into my soul.

  I guessed she wasn’t much of a hand shaker and dropped my hand.

  “You’re supposed to be one of those Citizens on the Watch people.” She pointed a bony finger in my direction.

  “Yes, ma’am. I’m sorry for the trouble,” I said.

  Before she could put a hex on me, my cell buzzed in my pocket. “Look, I wasn’t trying to steal the hat. But I’ve gotta take this. Again, I’m sorry.”

  I turned on my heels and strode down the sidewalk.

  I answered my cell phone. “Hello?”

  “What’re your plans this evening?” Nick asked.

  It took me a second to gather my wits. “Only plan is the COW meeting. Why? What’s up?”

  “We need to talk.” His tone was cool, his speech curt.

  “Um, okay.” This didn’t sound good. “Hey, I had lunch with Caylee. We patched things up,” I said to him. Maybe whatever he was feeling would change if he knew I’d made amends. I crossed my fingers and said a little prayer to whoever was listening.

  “That’s not what I wanted to talk about. When will you be home?”

  “I can be home by seven.”

  “See you then.”

  I tried adding an “I love you” but he disconnected before I spit the words out.

  Two old-timers sitting on a bench under the awning of the barbershop looked up as I approached. I knew them from COW, although we weren’t exactly friends. Donny Thomas rode an old-fashioned bicycle around town with a gaudy wire basket on the front, lined and filled with soil. Inside, a tiny vegetable garden flourished. The bicycle rested against the brick wall, a plant with curled tendrils and huge yellow blossoms spilled over the basket’s edge. Both men sneered in my direction. Bill Evans, the other gentleman holding a cane, shook a c
rooked finger at me as I passed.

  Apparently they’re not Steely fans.

  “Good afternoon, gentlemen,” I said, smiling.

  They gawked, whispering.

  I considered returning their scowls with a dirty look, but, thought better of it. Save yourself the embarrassment and keep walking. You’ve got bigger problems besides these two old-timers.

  A dreadful wailing greeted me when I stepped inside the shop. Daniel was howling along with one of our clients in the back washroom. Elvis must be in the house. His owner stood on his tiptoes under the wall-mounted TV, with his right ear stretched up toward the small speaker.

  “Can’t hear a darn word with those three carryin’ on back there!” Elvis’ owner, a pudgy man with a quivering turkey neck peered at me and then turned his attention back to the afternoon news.

  “They’re something else, aren’t they?” I said, heading for the counter.

  “What’s that you say?” He turned, cupping his right ear. “Heard you’ve had yourself some trouble around here!”

  I didn’t want to be rude and tell him to turn his hearing aid up, so I smiled and yelled back. “Yes! Yes, we have! But the police department is doing their best! No worries!”

  Ignoring his skeptical glance, I strode into the groom room.

  Sitting on the floor up on his hindquarters, Elvis, the large basset hound begged for the dog treat in Daniel’s hand, his front paws rowing in circles. Cuff perched on the grooming table. All three bayed as if it were a full moon, their howls filling the room.

  I cleared my throat behind them.

  Daniel whirled around, dropping the treat on the floor. “Oh! Didn’t know you were back.” His face flushed with embarrassment. “Sorry. Cuff and I were teaching Elvis a new trick.”

  Elvis snatched the peanut-butter biscuit off the floor, devouring it in one swallow. He barked, sounding more like a death wail than a bark.