How to Leash a Thief

by Cat Clayton

  “Fine,” I said, grabbing my bag from under the counter. I refused to promise or look Pop in the eye.

  “One more thing. Who all has keys to your back door?” he asked.

  “Me and Daniel. No, wait. Officer Jackson still has Daniel’s. Why?”

  “Just wondering. Are you carrying your pistol?”

  “It’s in my glove compartment,” I admitted, avoiding eye contact with him.

  “I’d rather you carry it in your purse or on your body,” he said.

  “I don’t want a gun, Pop.” Not anymore.

  He shook his head. “I’ll never understand that. You watched both me and your mother carry a gun for work your entire life. You used to be such a great shot.” A look of disappointment spread across his face.

  “Can we talk about this some other time, please?” The conversation about carrying my pistol wasn’t one I wanted to have at the moment.

  “I’ll drop it for now. Night, Steels.” He kissed me on the top of my head and left.

  I realized as I locked the door behind Pop, that Cleo Peters had changed the lock on the back door yesterday. Could he have made a copy of the key? And why, if he did it, would he want Flora Schirmack dead?

  I killed the lights in the front waiting room. “Wanna go home and see Trigger?” I asked Cuff on our way out the back door.

  He yawned. I thought you’d never ask.

  If I told Nick about the Buick, maybe he could use the department’s resources to check it out. It’d be a relief to fess up and finally get honest. Mama always said honesty’s the best policy. I’d tell him about everything. All of it. All the times I’d snuck out, showed up at crime scenes, pillaged through his pockets, followed up on suspects and ran my own secret investigations. Tonight, I’d come clean.

  Do you think that’s a good idea, Chiquita?

  Yes. I do.

  Okay. You the boss.

  NICK REFUSED TO MEET my eyes. I leaned down and pecked him on the mouth, but his lips were cool and stiff. Okay, so he’s still pissed at me.

  He opened a beer, propped his elbows up on the table, and cleared his throat.

  “Are you aware the mayor halted all activity with the COW?” Nick took a swig of beer, and continued, “And because of your snooping, you’re a person of interest in the case?” I sensed Nick’s anger simmering, on the verge of a full-blown boil.

  I braced myself, my gut instinct cautioning me. “I know. Chief Becker stopped by the meeting and informed us. But he knows I had nothing to do with those murders or the bank robbery. He and the mayor are trying to intimidate me, so I’ll back off. I told him my suspicions of Mr. Peters and Mr. Schirmack. I also told Officer Jackson to look at that friend of Samson’s, the guy called Banjo. Because of the bank robbery, I really think the clues point to someone with money issues.” I paced on the deck, trying to link all three of them to money.

  “You’re not a cop, and this isn’t a game, Steely,” he said.

  “I know—”

  “Damn it! Let me finish. What the hell are you thinking?” Slamming his beer down on the table, he gaped at me. “Do you realize how serious this is? I got a week off without pay for the little sleuthing shit you pulled the other night!”

  A week? Yikes. “I’m so sorry about that. But look, the first murder took place at my shop. This evening, I found Flora’s body there. Virgil and now Ranger are both missing. I feel responsible to do my part in finding both dogs, especially Virgil. He has no one now that Samson is gone.” I turned to face him. A bulging vein throbbed in his neck.

  “I don’t want an apology. I don’t need your explanations, nor do I care about two dogs missing!” His blue eyes pierced into mine. “I want to know. How did you hear about the first victim the other night?” He forced each word through gritted teeth.

  I backed up a few paces. He’d never raised a hand before, but he was spittin’ mad at the moment. “Well, I um... I heard it on your police radio,” I said, stammering like an idiot.

  “You’re joking. Right?” He tossed his head back and laughed.

  I shook my head, not getting the joke. “I’m telling you the truth.”

  “All these times you’ve been using my scanner?” His gruff voice boomed, echoing in the yard.

  “Look, I’m sorry.”

  “Sorry ain’t gonna cut it. Not this time. I’ve told you before. You don’t listen,” he said, bolting out of the metal chair. It flipped backwards, crashing onto the deck with a clang. Nick stormed inside the house and yanked the sliding door shut.

  The dogs stopped playing in the yard, gazing innocently at me. Cuff yipped. You okay, Chiquita?

  I righted his chair and slumped into it, stung and embarrassed. Nick had never screamed at me before, and he’d never run out on a conversation. Maybe something besides work trouble and me had gotten into him. I heard him banging around inside the house. What the heck was he doing? Rearranging furniture? And then like a wrecking ball, the thought hit me.

  He was packing to leave.

  Cuff trotted over to me. What’s up?

  I peered down at Cuff through a blurry ocean of tears. “He’s mad at me.”

  Well, that much is obvious.

  My insides ached. Nick was walking out on me. “Oh gosh. How do I fix this?” I asked out loud to no one in particular.

  The first thing you will do is get a grip. Then you will march your butt in the house and promise to never, ever meddle again. That’s what your Mama would tell you. Now go.

  “Okay.” I sniffed, wiping away my tears.

  I tucked my tail, retreated inside, and the dogs padded in behind me. Trigger collapsed in the center of the kitchen floor. Cuff trotted along with me down the hall, coaching me.

  Keep your wits, Chiquita.

  “I’ll try,” I whispered.

  When I entered the bedroom, my suitcase sat on the bed, wide open, haphazardly filled with my clothes. What in the world?

  “Finish packing your things,” Nick said, his eyes cold and severe.

  My stomach dropped to my boots. “My what?”

  “You heard me.” He popped open another beer. “We need a break, and since this is my house, I think you should go stay with your father for a while.”

  “Just like that?” I asked. Cheeks tingling, I wanted to puke. I could see him leaving to cool off, but not asking me to leave. It sounded so... permanent.

  Hold yourself steady, Chiquita.

  “Enough is enough. I can’t let you sabotage my career. My job is on the line because of you!” His face blushed plum, and his voice echoed through the house.

  Sabotage? I wasn’t trying to ruin his job or get him fired. He had to know that! “The last thing I want to do is hurt your career, Nick. I’d never do that to you. I have too much respect for the badge.”

  “That’s funny, because if you had respect for the badge, you wouldn’t get in the middle of our investigations! You don’t think about anything but yourself. You’re a self-absorbed brat, and I’ve had enough of this playing house with you.”

  He was wrong. I respected the law, but sometimes, I felt they might need help. Like a fresh pair of eyes. Nick’s insults went off inside me like a bomb, my mind whirling. I spoke in a soft voice.

  “Hey, is there something else bothering you? I feel there is more than just me looking into this case,” I said.

  He snorted and shook his head.

  “Nick, give me another chance. I promise—” I began.

  “No, Steely. It’s obvious your promises are empty. I’m so furious with you I can’t even think straight. I’m going for a drive while you pack. Please be gone by the time I get back.” He flipped a baseball cap on his head, grabbed his truck keys, and walked out, slamming the door behind him.

  I could understand his anger, but this unwillingness to work things out... it wasn’t the Nick I knew, or that I thought I knew. My suspicion that something else was wrong—very, very wrong—intensified.

  Throwing open the backdoor, I chased af
ter him. “Nick! Wait!”

  Chiquita! Don’t chase him!

  “Go back inside, Steely,” he said, opening his truck door.

  You don’t wear desperate well! Cuff nipped at my heels. No woman does!

  This can’t be happening. “Please, stay and talk. We can work this out. I know we can!” I grabbed for his arm.

  “Let go,” he said, pulling away from me. He climbed into the truck.

  “Don’t leave. What do you want? Name it. I’ll do it. Please don’t go,” I said, begging him.

  Oh no. Don’t beg. Begging’s for dogs, not humans. Cuff whined at my feet.

  Nick slammed the truck door and backed up.

  “Stop! Don’t leave!” I shouted behind him.

  He sped up, leaving me in a cloud of dust. I dropped to the ground; the gravel digging into my knees. Oh jeez, my poor knees. My poor heart. It ached so badly I thought it would seize up and quit beating.

  Shh, Chiquita. Cuff licked my hands. Please don’t cry.

  But cry, I did. I waited, watching his truck turn out of the driveway, hoping he’d turn around so we could talk.

  He didn’t.

  Chapter 11

  Over a stiff glass of rum and Coke, I rehashed the story, word for word, to my Pop. The sweet liquid concoction warmed my insides. If I disappointed Pop, he gave no sign. He heard me out and offered his condolences. No rants. No scolding. No tearing into me because I’d meddled or been shot at. He only listened and offered me support and a shoulder to cry on. He was exactly what I needed at the moment.

  Tucked into my old bed, I glanced around. The adolescent purple and black décor still adorned the room. Softball trophies and academic awards decorated the shelves and walls. I plugged in my fairy nightlight, grabbed a stuffed bear from the foot of my bed, and drifted to sleep, listening to Cuff serenading me a lullaby.

  MY TERRIBLE-AWFUL NIGHT had left me in zombie mode.

  “Hey,” Daniel said and snapped his fingers as he breezed past me pouting at the front counter of the shop. “You can’t sit around all day feeling sorry for yourself. We’ve got other things to worry about. Like keeping you alive and off the suspect list, and how we will deal with the slew of cancellations today.”

  Earlier, I’d filled Daniel in on the dismal events of the night before. So far, he had had little to say about it, but I knew it was coming. Sitting on the stool, I buried my face in my hands. I couldn’t think about anything besides my life unraveling at the moment.

  “Steely Sue,” he said, his voice kind and calm. “Did you hear me?”

  Good luck, friend. Cuff wiggled in my lap. You are crushing me, Chiquita.

  I straightened up and looked Daniel square in the face. “My relationship is a total disaster!”

  “I’m sure Nick’ll come around. But, if he doesn’t, it’s his loss,” Daniel said, shrugging.

  My left eyelid began twitching. “No. I’ve really done it this time. He wouldn’t even hear me out!” If I didn’t get a hold of myself, I sensed an all-out tantrum coming on. I began opening the drawers at the counter, searching for something sweet. Each one I found empty of anything resembling sugar, I slammed closed.

  “What are you looking for?” Daniel asked.

  “I don’t know. Chocolate. A lump of sugar.” I slammed the last drawer. “Pie would be great, but Bliss is closed!”

  Daniel rolled his eyes. “Pie later, drama queen. I’m sure once Nick calms down, he’ll call you. But you’re missing what’s most important here. The cops have you on their radar and there’s a killer on the loose who’s already sent you one warning.”

  Two warnings, but who’s counting? I stared out the front window. I wanted to shrivel up and die. The love of my life broke up with me.

  He’s not the love of your life. There are more dog biscuits in the box.

  “So, now you think you’re some kind of expert on relationships? A love guru?” I said, nudging Cuff.

  Daniel studied me with wide blue eyes. “Um, Steely, you okay?”

  I shrugged.

  “Look,” he said, taking a broom out of the utility closet and sweeping up dog hair. “I can see you’re in no mood to talk strategy right now. You need to clear your head first. Couples have disagreements. It’ll blow over. Until then—”

  “A disagreement? This was not a typical spat. It seemed so...” I struggled to find the word. “Final!” My voice shrieked like a mouse with its tail caught in a trap.

  Ah! There goes that squeaky voice again.

  “All right.” Sighing, Daniel’s eyes fluttered in frustration. “Get your panties out of a wad. Enough whining. Nick isn’t always Prince Charming. Why don’t you go run your errands now? Sheesh. No sense moping around here. When you get back, we can put our heads together.”

  Daniel was the only man on the planet who could accuse my panties of being in a wad. Anyone else would’ve ended up with my fist under their chin.

  “Fine.” I gathered Cuff and strode out the back door and almost collided with Cleo Peters.

  “Mr. Peters?” I said. “May I help you?”

  He spun around. “I seem to have misplaced one of my best hammers. I, uh, thought maybe I left it here when I replaced that lock of yours.” Sweat dripped down the sides of his face.

  A hammer, huh? Like the one found by Mrs. Schirmack’s body? I contained my shock and decided since the police took it as evidence, I’d better not say anything. The hammer may be the first clue tying him to Flora’s murder scene, and Samson died of blunt force trauma to the head. My suspicions about him elevated.

  “Why didn’t you come to the front door?” I tried not to stammer or show too much emotion.

  He shoved his hands in his pockets. “Well, first I looked around the back door area and here on the ground. I was on my way to the front of the shop to ask you and Daniel.” His eyes darted around the alleyway. “So, have you seen it?”

  “Your hammer? No, I can’t say I have. But if we find it, I will let you know,” I said.

  Shrugging, Cleo glanced around the back parking lot. Another sweat droplet raced down his hairline and disappeared into the neck of his white t-shirt. “Well, I best be getting back to the store. Good day, Ms. Steely.” He hurried off, nearly running into the brick wall as he rounded the corner.

  This was all getting crazier by the minute.

  I drove in senseless circles around town before deciding to stop at the city park for some fresh air. I rolled the Bug into a parking spot, climbed out, and stretched. The sunshine was medicine to my mind, lessening my stress level.

  I know you’re feeling the whole sunshine and rainbows thing, but can we find a tree? I gotta take a whiz.

  Letting Cuff lead the way, I followed him into the small park’s entrance. He lifted his leg on everything. Hard to believe the little guy had so much in him.

  I can’t help it. Look at all the trees! Park benches! And oh, the best of all... a fire hydrant!

  I planted myself on the first bench available, leaned back, and contemplated my situation.

  The giant oaks shading the bench whispered in the gentle, hot breeze. Long, arching branches dipped down and hung low over the grass. I really had no one to blame but myself for the mess I was in. I’d allowed my curiosity to get the best of me. I’d taken actions I couldn’t undo, and what was worse, I didn’t want to. I’d call that self-sabotage.

  You’re a real glutton for punishment. Cuff lifted his leg on a lamppost.

  “You can say that again.”

  Funny, he retorted.

  We both alerted to the sound of crunching gravel. I glanced up and noticed an oncoming jogger. Maybe he’ll sprint by us. I crossed my fingers. I’m not in the mood for small talk.

  Cuff backed up against my legs, snarling. Stranger danger. His thought came in loud and clear.

  I eyed the jogger approaching as I made preliminary notes. Aviator sunglasses. Ball cap pulled down low. Broad shoulders. Tan skin. Nice legs.

  Suddenly, fear strapped me to
the bench, my arms prickling. What if it was the driver of the black Buick?

  “Cuff, up!” I hissed.

  The jogger was too close for me to make a break for it. Cuff jumped up on the bench beside me, his trembling lips pulled back, exposing tiny needle-sharp fangs.

  The concealed man stopped directly in front of me and lifted his ball cap, revealing his face.

  Officer Jackson.

  Grr... Just what I needed.

  He pulled out his earbuds, sweat glistening on his golden skin, his black athletic shirt stretched tight across his pecs and biceps.

  “S’up, buttercup?” He removed his sunglasses. Giving me a crooked smile, he waved to Cuff. “Hey, little dude.”

  Watch who you’re calling little. Dude. Cuff grumbled a low, throaty growl.

  Glaring at Jackson, I scratched Cuff between the ears. He climbed up on my lap, positioning himself between the officer and me.

  “Cuff doesn’t like chauvinistic men. And anyway, shouldn’t you be working?”

  “Supposed to be my day off, but they cancelled days off for the time being. Getting a run in before I have to head back to the station.” He stretched his hands over his head, reaching for the sky and bent over, touching the ground, palms flat on the sidewalk. He did this little moaning thing, causing my cheeks to flush.

  Are you drooling, Chiquita?

  I snapped my jaw shut and tried not to gawk at his flexibility and the way his shirt revealed bulging, taut muscles. Thank goodness his eyes were on the ground and not witnessing my pathetic moment of weakness.

  “Well, carry on then,” I said, brushing my hand as if swatting at a fly.

  “Day off for you?” He popped back up, catching me staring.

  Since when were the two of us on a chitchat level? I pursed my lips. “I’m not in the mood, officer.” I set Cuff on the ground and jumped up, pushing past Jackson.

  He reached out, his damp hand gently clutching my arm. “Hey, hold up a sec.”

  “What?” I said, yanking my arm away from his touch, as if the mere contact of his skin burned me. I wheeled around, facing him head-on. “Don’t you think you’ve done enough damage?” Not that I wanted an answer, but I waited for his reply, anyway.