Parchment and Old Lace

by Laura Childs

  “Ah,” Theodosia said. “I see you’re learning the ropes.”

  Kaitlin lifted her chin. “I really want to work here with Aunt Brooke when I finish school. I think it would be inspiring to be surrounded by such beautiful things all day long.”

  “Are you interested in jewelry design, too?” Theodosia asked. Brooke was a terrific designer. Her forte was sterling silver free-form bracelets and earrings. And she sometimes crafted enormous knuckle-duster rings with gemstones wrapped like enticing little packages in tiny strands of gold wire.

  “I’m taking some design classes right now,” Kaitlin said. Her eyes roved the shop, taking in the packed house, the busy buffet table, and her aunt Brooke, who was suddenly smiling and waggling her fingers in Kaitlin’s direction. “Oops, gotta get back to work.”

  “Hey, Brooke,” Theodosia said, raising a hand.

  Brooke waved back. She was in her mid-fifties, yet athletically built, with a sleek mane of snow-white hair. Though she was juggling about a million details tonight, she still looked calm and in charge.

  Kaitlin tried to push her way through the crowd, then hit an impasse as three women started jumping up and down and screaming over a diamond bracelet. She changed course toward the front of the shop, circling around the largest of the jewelry cases.

  Theodosia’s eyes followed Kaitlin as she cut across the shop, then she turned back to talk to Haley. Just as she was about to ask Haley if she should duck into the shop’s small office and brew a couple more pots of tea, there was a sudden, earsplitting crack.

  “What’s that crackling sound, lightning?” Haley’s brows knit together. “Is there a storm coming?”

  Startled, figuring some hapless soul had fallen headlong into one of the glass cases, Theodosia glanced quickly around the shop—only to find herself shocked at what was happening.

  The plate glass window at the front of the shop suddenly bent inward, as if an F5 tornado were bearing down full force. A millisecond later, a spider web of cracks appeared. And then, like a knife slicing through butter, the shiny chrome grill of a black SUV shoved its way right through the showroom window.

  Shards of glass flew everywhere, nicking and slashing. Surprised cries turned into terrified screams as people lurched and fought to get out of the way. Even more frightening was the enormous black truck that relentlessly powered its way into the shop, all cylinders firing, engine roaring like a runaway locomotive.

  Reacting to the onslaught, Theodosia reached a hand out, fumbled for the top of Haley’s head, and shoved her to the floor. More screams erupted as the SUV continued to accelerate and grind its way into the shop.

  Like special effects in an action flick, two more panels of glass exploded inward like a hail of bullets. Everyone shrieked in fear, and Theodosia felt the sting of glass and plaster raining down upon the back of her neck.

  Gripping Haley’s hand now, Theodosia pulled her along as the two of them, on hands and knees, scrambled for refuge behind the counter at the rear of the store. Constructed of wood and metal, with only the front done in glass, the counter would offer better protection than the all-glass cases.

  “What’s . . . ?” Haley began. She wanted to pop up and look.

  “Stay down,” Theodosia ordered. “Roll into a ball and cover your head.”

  “But what about . . . ?”

  Theodosia shook her head. This was bad, people were injured. She could hear them screaming. Slowly, carefully, fearful of what she might see, Theodosia peered around the end of the counter.

  The jewelry shop was pure chaos, a war zone. The black SUV had rammed itself all the way into the shop, its throaty motor still rumbling. Slivers of glass lay everywhere while people crouched on their hands and knees, cut and bleeding. The truck’s blast through the front windows had literally pulverized many of the jewelry cases and brought in a rush of cool mid-November air.

  Theodosia’s first thought was, “Who’s hurt? How can I help?” Then her gaze shifted, and she found herself staring directly into the blazing eyes of a red demon.

  But no, the more rational part of her brain told her. It was someone, a person, wearing a hideous mask. A terrorist? Here in little old Charleston?

  Quick as a snapping turtle’s bite, two more demons tumbled out of the black truck, all dressed head to toe in black clothing and looking like hellish clowns in some bizarre circus act.

  “Down! Down! Everybody down!” one of the demons screamed.

  Theodosia was pretty sure the screamer carried a snub-nosed pistol in his right hand.

  Theodosia ducked behind the case again, her wonked-out brain continuing to scream, “Terrorists!” But she knew it couldn’t be. A split-second later, a surge of adrenaline kicked in and she realized she was probably smack-dab in the middle of a bold, highly orchestrated, smash and grab robbery.

  It was the kind of robbery she’d only heard about—the kind that took place in London or Paris or Monaco where daring vandals slammed stolen vehicles directly through storefronts and made off with millions of dollars’ worth of jewelry or Chanel and Dior purses.

  She snuck another look just as one of the demon invaders pulled a silver canister from his jacket pocket.

  “Go!” the demon shouted to his companions.

  Now all three robbers pulled gas masks over their demon faces. The leader twisted the lid, there was a loud pop, and black smoke billowed from the canister. A smoke bomb!

  Blind panic set in among the screaming, terrified guests. They stumbled and tripped over each other, fighting wildly to escape. Coughing and choking, some tried to lunge for the front door; some blindly tried to batter their way toward the back of the shop. Theodosia flipped Haley’s apron over the girl’s face and pulled her scarf up over her own face for protection.

  The vandals, all wearing rubber gas masks that made them look like high-tech versions of the Elephant Man, went straight to work like practiced professionals. Brandishing shiny hammers, they methodically smashed each and every showcase, snatching pearls, diamonds, and gold jewelry from their black velvet nests.

  The robbers crunched their way toward the back counter where Theodosia and Haley remained hidden. The glass shattered in the front panel, and Theodosia heard a hand scrabble around, grabbing jewelry like mad. The robber was so close to her she could hear his breathing, a kind of ptew ptew ptew through his mask.

  White-hot anger sparked inside her. Slowly, carefully, she put a finger in the notch of the cabinet’s sliding back door. If she could catch a glimpse of him, see anything that might identify him. She waited, one eye tearing from burning smoke, yet pressed up against the narrow crack. And was rewarded when a black-gloved hand reached over and grasped a spectacular blue-green alexandrite necklace. Observe, she told herself. Think. Try to take something away from this. Some kind of information or clue.

  Just as she’d almost given up hope of seeing anything, the hand scuttled sideways and she caught sight of a small expanse of skin. Was that a woman’s hand? Maybe. It was a smaller hand, that’s for sure. And, under the fingers of the stretchy black glove that the robber wore, could that little bump be a ring?

  Then the hand pulled away with the necklace, and Theodosia caught just a hint of light blue lines etched against pale white skin.

  The smashing, screaming, and grabbing seemed to go on forever, although Theodosia later figured it was probably more like two minutes all told.

  Just as suddenly as they’d begun, one of the robbers, the one who’d released the smoke bomb, yelled “Time!” and they all jumped back into the black SUV.

  They floored the vehicle, and, like an Indy car in reverse, it shot back out of the shop into the street. There were more loud revving sounds, almost like the scream of a motorcycle, and then a screech of tires on pavement.

  Theodosia had been holding her breath, one hand clutching Haley. When she heard the SUV take off, she hal
f stood and looked over the counter.

  People were crying and coughing and moaning softly. Hunks of jagged glass lay everywhere, as if a giant kaleidoscope had shattered. A few larger pieces reflected the red-green of the stoplight down at the corner and the neon lights from the Red Peppercorn Grill across the street.

  “Is it over?” Haley asked. Her voice was hoarse and shaky.

  “Yes, but stay where you are.” Theodosia could hear the faint wail of sirens several blocks away. An alarm had been triggered, or someone had dared to call 911 on their cell phone. Help was on the way, thank goodness.

  Across the shop, Brooke scrambled to her feet, her eyes wild with fear, her body shaking uncontrollably. “Is anybody hurt?”

  Loud moans and cries rang out in response.

  “I’m cut.”

  “There are slivers in my hand.”

  “Please help me.”

  The sound of sirens was growing closer, Theodosia thought. Now they were just two or three blocks away.

  “The police are coming,” Theodosia called out over the screams, trying to sound braver than she actually felt. “There will be ambulances, EMTs to help all of you. Just stay where you are and try not to move.” She figured the EMTs were the pros, they’d know how to triage the wounded. As far as everything else—the stolen jewels—that would just have to wait. The injured guests took precedence now.

  “Kaitlin?” Brooke called out. She was hunting frantically for her niece. “Honey, where are you?”

  “She’s over here,” a man cried out. “I think she’s hurt pretty bad.”

  Brooke staggered her way across the front of the store, glass crunching underfoot as she tried not to step on the injured or fall headlong into the jagged, empty cases.

  “Kaitlin?” Brooke called again as she finally reached her niece, who was lying prone on the floor. She bent down over Kaitlin’s body. “Honey, I’m here.” Her voice was ragged and tight with fear. Her hand reached out and gently touched Kaitlin’s face. Then her voice rose in a strangled gargle. “Kaitlin?”

  Theodosia, sensing disaster, began to pick her way toward Brooke and Kaitlin.

  “Don’t touch her,” Theodosia warned. “The ambulance is here.” Red and blue lights strobed from out in the street. “Let them . . .”

  Brooke was bent over Kaitlin now, sobbing.

  “Brooke.” Theodosia’s voice was a sharp bark, trying to get through to her friend. “Don’t move her. Let the EMTs take care of her.”

  But Brooke would have none of it. Lifting Kaitlin’s head, she gently pushed back her hair to reveal a daggerlike hunk of glass embedded in the girl’s throat. Kaitlin’s eyes had rolled back until only the whites were visible. She was no longer breathing. The poor girl was gone.

  Brooke’s scream rose in a pitch-perfect high C that melded with the blaring sirens of the police cruisers and ambulances that had finally arrived on the scene.

  Watch for the Next Scrapbooking Mystery

  CREPE FACTOR

  Holidays in the French Quarter of New Orleans bring cathedral candlelight concerts, elegant Reveillon dinners, and bloody blue murder. Who on earth is stalking the upper crust of New Orleans and can Carmela catch this maniac before he kills again?

  And Watch for the Next Cackleberry Club Mystery

  EGG DROP DEAD

  When Suzanne makes a run to pick up some homemade Cheddar cheese, she’s shocked to find one of her very best farm-to-table vendors dead in his barn. As cows bellow and moo, she hunts around for clues and finds . . . nothing. So who could have murdered this gentle farmer? Land-grabbing developers, over-the-top animal rights activists, nasty neighbors, or even his wife?

  A WARNING TO READERS: AN ENTIRELY NEW SERIES FROM THE AUTHOR OF THIS BOOK COMING SOON FROM BERKLEY!

  If you enjoy pulse-pounding thrillers, if you like intriguing female protagonists, you’re going to love the first book in this brand-new series:

  FINDERS CREEPERS

  AN AFTON TANGLER THRILLER

  by Gerry Schmitt

  Writing as Laura Childs, this author has brought you the New York Times bestselling Tea Shop Mysteries, Scrapbooking Mysteries, and Cackleberry Club Mysteries. Now, writing under her own name of Gerry Schmitt, she is bringing you an entirely new series of sharp-edged thrillers. Gerry has ratcheted up the suspense, set the stakes even higher, and created exciting, memorable characters that sizzle on the page.

  We know you’ll be intrigued by Finders Creepers, the first in this series that features Afton Tangler, single mom, Outward Bound enthusiast, and liaison officer with the Minneapolis PD, as she gets pulled into a bizarre high-profile kidnapping.

  Looking for more?

  Visit Penguin.com for more about this author and a complete list of their books.

  Discover your next great read!