Fast Money: A Shelby Nichols Adventure

by Colleen Helme

  “Did she tell you to meet her here in her office?” I asked.

  “Yes,” he paused. “Something’s not right.” Dimples glanced around the room. “See this? The pencil holder’s been knocked over.” He was thinking that Jessica might have found out about Greg, which explained the agitation of her phone call. If Greg suspected she knew, or had walked in on her while she was talking to Dimples, she might be in danger. That would explain why she wasn’t here. If Greg had her now, he might kill her if he was desperate enough.

  “Maybe he’s got her, and he’s going to kill her,” I said, repeating his thoughts.

  “I was thinking the same thing,” he said. “Wait here. I’m going to see if they’re still in the building.” He started down the hall, and I followed. I didn’t want to wait. What if Dimples needed me? If Greg was there, and thought of killing someone, I would know before he did it.

  Dimples stopped, realizing I was right behind him. “What are you doing? I told you to wait.”

  I shrugged. “I think I’ll come with you. You might need me.”

  “No. Go back to the office. This could be dangerous, and I don’t want you hurt.” He was also worried that I would get in the way and mess everything up.

  “I won’t get in the way. I promise.”

  Dimples froze. Did I just say exactly what he was thinking? How…it must be the premonitions thing. He shook his head. “I don’t have time for this. Please go back.”

  “I have a feeling that you need me. I’ll be fine. Let’s go before Jessica gets killed.”

  He huffed out a breath. “Fine.” He was angry with me, and hoped he wasn’t making a big mistake. He continued down the hall and focused all his attention on finding Jessica.

  I opened my senses wide, hoping to pick up any stray thoughts that might belong to Jessica or Greg. We went through the offices, and turned down a hallway that led to some double doors with ‘storage’ marked above them. Dimples cautiously pushed the door open, finding a staircase leading downward into a warehouse-like area.

  Walking down the staircase was like walking into a cave. Dim light from an area to the right gave us enough light to see where we were going. At the bottom of the stairs, we found rows of shelves spaced vertically in front of us, and to the right was an open area with larger items. Here, the lights were turned on, and faint sounds of someone moaning came from that direction.

  Dimples drew his gun and inched forward toward the sound. Rounding the corner, we found Jessica. She was at the far end of the room, propped up against a crate. Her hands and feet were bound with rope and her mouth tied with a gag. Blood oozed down her side and pooled on the floor. Had she been shot?

  Dimples glanced around, wondering where Greg was. I listened for him, but could find no trace of his thoughts. That didn’t mean he wasn’t here, and my stomach clenched. Maybe I should have waited in the office and called for backup.

  With the chance that Jessica was bleeding to death, Dimples had no choice but to help her. Keeping his gun out, he slowly crossed the floor in her direction. He was wishing I were a real detective with a gun so I could back him up, but there was no help for it now.

  I inched forward as well, keeping out of the light with my back against the row of shelves. As Dimples closed in on Jessica, I caught the thought of stay steady and squeeze. My pulse leapt, and I yelled. “Look out!”

  Dimples dropped and rolled just as a shot rang out, missing him by inches. I didn’t know where Greg was, but from the cursing in his mind, I knew he was close. Dimples was thinking the shot had come from somewhere behind me, and I ducked down, ready to crawl to a more protected area. Lucky for me, there was a large wooden crate on the bottom shelf a few feet away, and I took shelter behind that.

  Another shot fired, this one tracking Dimples as he ran back toward the stairs. He was trying to draw the shooter after him, away from Jessica and me. I wasn’t sure that was such a good idea, especially when I heard footsteps running down the other side of the row of shelves. They stopped directly behind the crate, on the other side of the aisle from me, and I cringed. Greg was thinking that I had to be close, and maybe he could take me hostage.

  Dimples realized his mistake when Greg didn’t follow. He also thought he couldn’t shoot at Greg because I could get caught in the crossfire. So instead, he decided to negotiate.

  “Give it up, Greg,” he called. “We have the museum surrounded. There’s nowhere to go. Don’t make things worse. Surrender peacefully, and let me get Jessica the help she needs before she bleeds to death. You don’t want her murder on your hands.”

  A string of profanity came from Greg’s mind. How did we know it was him? Where was I hiding? I was his ticket out if he could only find me. I had to be close. Thinking he might see where I was if he looked under the shelf, he dropped down to his knees.

  Knowing he’d see me, I frantically pushed against the crate, hoping to topple it onto him. It barely budged, and I pushed harder, putting my back into it. It started to give, but too slowly to catch Greg. In a move I didn’t anticipate, he pulled the crate toward him and onto the ground. I jumped up to run, but he reached through the shelf, and caught one of my legs with his hand.

  I shrieked, and slipped down onto my hands and knees. My purse fell to the ground right in front of me. As Greg scrambled through the shelf after me, I grabbed my stun flashlight. Before he could get through the hole, I planted the flashlight against his neck and pushed the button.

  One million tooth-jarring volts of power slammed into him, and he flopped like a fish before his eyes rolled back and he passed out. Breathless, I scooted back, relieved he was no longer a threat. Dimples rushed toward me at a dead run.

  Skidding to a stop beside me, he glanced between us. “What did you do to him?” Then he noticed my flashlight. “Is that a stun gun?” Wow, was he ever impressed. “Way to go, Shelby.” He raised his hand to give me a high five, but I was shaking so bad, it took a while to get my hand up. We connected, and Dimples began his examination of Greg, taking his gun and checking his pulse.

  “Is he dead?” I asked. Sometimes people died from being stunned, and he looked awful. His face was white with dark circles under his eyes, and drool was running from his mouth. Kind of like a zombie. I wondered if the Mexican had looked like that too. Of course, I hadn’t stuck around long enough to see.

  “Nope. Just out cold. Your stunner must carry a lot of power.” He pulled Greg the rest of the way through the shelf and cuffed him. Next, he hurried over to Jessica, and called for the paramedics and an ambulance.

  I took a deep breath and concentrated on getting my legs under me. They were a little shaky, so I grabbed onto the shelf for support. Getting to my feet made me feel a little better, but it was another moment before I could walk. I was surprised at how much getting my ankle grabbed like that shook me up. After all I’d been through lately, I should be used to stuff like that by now. Maybe it was starting to get to me.

  By the time I shuffled over to Dimples, he had the gag and ropes off Jessica. He laid her flat and propped her feet up. It looked like she had been shot in the shoulder, and Dimples was thinking that she should be all right, but even the shock of a wound like hers could still kill her.

  All that blood was making me woozy and I leaned against the wall for support. I didn’t want to think about what a close call I’d had, so I focused on the sound of sirens and wondered what had happened to the receptionist. Had she been out to lunch all this time?

  That’s when I heard her. She knew something was wrong down here, and was thinking what a fool she was to believe that Greg had dumped Jessica for her. Then it all came together in her mind, hitting her like a ton of bricks, that Greg was the one who had stolen the paintings, and she had helped him. Coming further into the room, she caught sight of Greg in handcuffs, and Jessica hurt and bleeding. With a little scream, she ran forward, thinking Jessica was dead.

  “She’s not dead,” I told her.

  She glanced at me and starte
d sobbing. “I didn’t know. He had me run some errands for him so he could talk to Jessica down here. I left him the keys…a few times…I didn’t know what he was up to.”

  “It’s all right,” I said. “Jessica’s going to be fine, and Greg will go to jail. Especially if you cooperate with the police and tell them everything you know.”

  She was berating herself and thinking how stupid she was. I pulled in my senses to block out her thoughts, and did what I could to calm her down. The cops and paramedics rushed down the stairs, and I sagged with relief, eager to let them take care of the receptionist and Jessica.

  By then, Greg was stirring, and when the police got him up, he managed a halting gait with their help. He had a dazed look on his face, and his hair was poking up, kind of like he’d been shocked. Big time. I couldn’t help the satisfied smile that curved my lips.

  I glanced at Dimples and noticed the same smile on his face. He caught me looking at him and smiled even bigger. It made his dimples swirl in and out, and my attention was caught by that crazy dance they did.

  Dimples took charge, explaining what had happened to the detectives and cops that were helping out. My legs were still a little shaky, so I found a chair to sit on while I waited. It was beautifully carved out of old wood, and I hoped it wasn’t the kind that you were meant to look at but not touch.

  The police motioned to me, and Dimples told them that I would give a statement after we got back to the police station. Once he had everything settled, he was ready to leave and came over to my side.

  “You did good,” he said. He was proud of my resourcefulness, and glad that I hadn’t fallen apart under the stress. “That stun gun was a great idea.” Then he thought about how I hadn’t stayed upstairs like he’d asked, and how close I’d gotten to being killed.

  I didn’t like him thinking about that part, so I defended myself. “It’s a good thing I came down here with you. I think he was waiting to kill you. Jessica must have told him you were coming, and he didn’t have time to finish her off and leave before we showed up.”

  “Yeah, but I never should have come down here without backup,” he answered. “I put you in danger.”

  “Probably, but Jessica’s life was at stake. You didn’t want her to die because you waited upstairs. Coming down here so fast probably saved her.”

  He thought about it and secretly agreed with me, but now he’d have to think twice about how much he involved me in the future. If anything happened to me, it would be his fault, and he didn’t think he could live with that.

  “You ready to go?” he asked. None of his thoughts showed on his face.

  I was touched that he didn’t want me to get hurt, and thought he was probably right. I didn’t need to worry that helping him would kill me. I was involved with plenty of other things that would do that already. “Yes,” I answered with enthusiasm.

  “Let’s go then,” he said, and took my arm to help me up the stairs.

  It was nice to lean on him a little, since my legs hadn’t decided to work properly yet. I took solace in the fact that I had done a good thing here, and it made me feel less shaky. Soon, I had enough strength to walk out of there without Dimples’ assistance, but I kept my arm in his anyway. Why spoil a good thing?

  Chapter 11

  We got to the police station, and promptly went to work on my statement. Dimples helped me fill it out, but it was a long, drawn-out process. It gave me a deeper appreciation for everything the detectives had to do.

  With a jolt, I realized I was supposed to meet Chris at the bank. I checked the time and gasped. How had it gotten so late? I quickly called him. “Is it too late to go to the bank?” I asked.

  “No, they don’t close until six. We can still make it. What took you so long?”

  “It’s a long story. I’ll tell you all about it later.” I checked the form and realized I wasn’t quite done. “I can be there at five-thirty. Will that work?”

  “Sure,” he replied. “See you then.” We disconnected, and I hurried to finish up. At five-thirty, I handed my statement to Dimples.

  “Looks good,” he said. “I’ll walk you out to your car.”

  “Thanks.” I picked up his thoughts, that he owed me a lot and felt bad that I still had to worry about Mercer. I wondered how he would feel if he knew Mercer had saved my life. He probably wouldn’t believe it. It was still hard for me to believe.

  “Don’t forget to recharge your stun gun,” he said, smiling.

  “Ha. That’s one thing I won’t forget to do,” I answered.

  “Good. See you later.”

  I drove away, completely worn out. After today, I wasn’t sure I had it in me to meet with Uncle Joey. Maybe I could call and set it up for tomorrow. That would be much better.

  I spotted Chris’ car in the bank’s parking lot and hoped he hadn’t been waiting too long. He was talking to Blaine, the bank manager, as I walked in. He caught my gaze and smiled, sending my heart into little flip-flops. It made me a bit nervous to tell him what I’d been doing this afternoon. Maybe I could give him a watered-down version that didn’t have any shooting in it. More likely, he’d find out the truth, and then I’d be in trouble.

  It only took a few minutes to make the transfer back into my old account. If it was that easy, giving it back to Uncle Joey should be a piece of cake. There was no need to be nervous. It would all work out.

  Chris and I checked to see how much interest we’d earned from the five million. My visions of lots of money were dashed to find a measly two thousand dollars. With nearly three weeks of having five million dollars in my bank account, that’s all we’d made?

  Chris wasn’t too surprised, since he knew interest rates were pretty low. But it was still disappointing. My fantasy of being nicely compensated on the interest was destroyed. It left me depressed, thinking that what I’d been through had definitely not been worth it. Maybe I’d have to re-think my strategy about giving all the money back.

  We finished up with the bank manager, and after politely shaking hands, walked out to the parking lot.

  “Are you okay?” Chris asked. He was thinking that I was unusually quiet and lost in my own little world. “How did it go with Dimples?”

  “Great.” His question caught me off-guard, and I had to switch gears back to the heist. I decided to put a positive spin on the case and leave a few details out. “With the curator’s help we caught the thief.”

  “Was it the person you thought it was?” he asked.

  “Yes,” I smiled. “That’s why it took me so long. I had to stay at the station and give a statement. But at least I don’t have to deal with that case anymore, so that’s positive.”

  Chris nodded, knowing that when I talked about something being positive, it usually meant there was a whole lot of negative to go along with it. He raised his brows. “So what exactly happened?”

  I sighed, knowing that he wouldn’t relent until I told him all the details. Still, I had to try. “Quite a bit actually. Do you want to hear the long version or the short version?”

  “Okay,” he said, his suspicions correct. “You wouldn’t tell me that unless there’s something you don’t want me to know. Spill it. What happened?”

  “Maybe we should wait until we get home.” I really didn’t want to tell him yet. “I mean, it is a long story.”

  Chris huffed, knowing he was getting the run-around. “Fine. I’ll see you at home.”

  I got in my car with guilt flaring down to my toes. I knew he would worry all the way home, but seriously, I was right there and I was okay. So what did it matter? But that wasn’t right. It mattered to him. Who was I trying to kid? Did that mean I couldn’t work with Dimples anymore? Maybe when I explained to Chris that Dimples realized he’d handled it wrong and wouldn’t put me in danger like that again, Chris would be all right with it. That’s what I’d tell him at the beginning; then he wouldn’t get upset when he heard the whole story.

  Feeling better, I followed Chris home with a l
ighter heart. It was always good to have a plan. That was my new motto. From now on, I’d think things through and figure out a plan. So what was the plan for meeting with Uncle Joey tonight? Take Chris, take the gun, and take my stun flashlight. If I could get him to give me twenty thousand dollars for my trouble, that would be even better.

  I arrived home to find two hungry teenagers. It was the one thing I could always count on. “I’d better fix dinner right away,” I said to Chris. Telling him my story would have to wait until after this crisis.

  He narrowed his eyes, but was resigned to waiting. I whipped up some spaghetti and meatballs. By the time dinner was over, it was nearly seven-thirty and hardly any time at all before we had to leave for our meeting with Uncle Joey. With a gasp, I realized I hadn’t re-charged my stun flashlight and quickly plugged it in.

  That was all the encouragement Chris needed. “You used your stun gun,” he said. It was not a question. He leaned against the kitchen counter with his arms folded and his eyebrows slightly raised, a clear invitation to talk.

  “Yeah,” I said. “It was pretty crazy.” I spilled my guts and told him everything, including how Greg grabbed my ankle and I stunned him in the neck. “That thing really carries a wallop.”

  Chris shook his head. “That’s it,” he said emphatically. “No more working with the police.”

  “I was afraid you’d say that,” I answered. “If you want to know, Dimples really felt bad about it. He was thinking that he would never let anything like that happen again. So, I could probably still work with him.”

  “It doesn’t matter what he thought,” Chris said. “Can he guarantee that you’d never be in harm’s way? No, he can’t. And you…you’re not trained for this kind of work. Maybe if you were a police officer or something, it would be different…but you’re not. You can’t do this anymore.”