“I guess you know why we’re here again,” Deena said as she pulled the vase out of her bag.
Marie stared at the ground. “I don’t suppose you want a refund, do you?”
“Let’s walk over to the concession area and talk a minute,” Sandra said. “It will be more private.”
They sat at a picnic table and set their bags on the ground. Deena showed Marie the price tag. “Can you explain why you have Carolyn Fitzhugh’s vase in your booth? Also, where did you get all those pricey things to sell?”
Marie began to sob. Deena instantly felt sorry for her. “I took them from Mrs. Fitzhugh’s house. I don’t want to go to jail! I have my kids to take care of.” Her crying became louder.
“It’s okay.” Deena pulled some tissues out of her bag.
“No, it’s not okay. Stealing is a crime.” Sandra glanced at Deena then glared at Marie.
Deena wondered if Sandra was doing the good cop/bad cop routine. She softened her voice. “Why, Marie? Why did you take these things?”
“I know it’s wrong.” She hung her head and blotted her eyes. “I just needed the money. I have so little and the people I work for have so much, especially Mrs. Fitzhugh. She had a big closet upstairs where she put all the gifts people brought her. Sometimes, I would just—”
Deena looked at Sandra as Marie’s crying started up again. “Look,” Sandra said sternly, “after Mrs. Fitzhugh’s funeral, you are going to tell Estelle about what you’ve done. We won’t say anything for now. She can decide what to do about it.”
Deena handed Marie another tissue. “We don’t want to upset Estelle with this right now. She has enough to handle.”
Marie looked up at the two women through red puffy eyes. “You’re not going to call the police?”
Sandra kept up her serious demeanor. “No. But I want you to box up anything that doesn’t belong to you and take it back home. Don’t sell another piece. You will return it all to Estelle next week.”
Marie breathed a sigh of relief. “Yes ma’am. Thank you, thank you. I will do just what you said.”
“Everyone makes mistakes,” Deena said. “It’s what you do about them that reveals your true character.” She patted Marie on the arm, and they got up to go their separate ways.
Deena and Sandra walked in silence back to the booth with barbed wire decorations. At last Sandra spoke. “Everyone makes mistakes. It’s what you do about them that reveals your true character.” She snickered. “Where did you get that? A fortune cookie?”
“You forget that I was a teacher for twenty-nine years. We say stuff like that in our sleep.”
“You have such a soft heart. I’m not sure you’re cut out to be a crime fighter,” she said, patting Deena’s shoulder.
“I know. I don’t want her to get fired from those families. Everyone deserves a second chance.”
“You’re right. She actually reminds me of the stray dogs at the shelter—a little damaged but worth saving.”
Deena laughed and thought about Hurley. “Good point. After all, it’s not like she killed anybody.”
Chapter Twelve
After church on Sunday, Deena and Gary pulled out the rest of the holiday decorations from the attic. Luckily, he had replaced the reindeer socket on Saturday while she was in Canton. She had hoped to avoid another visit from Christy Ann Scrooge. Gary watched the Cowboy game while he hung ornaments on the tree. Deena worked on the barbed wire wreath she bought at the flea market. This one is going over the fireplace, she decided.
After cutting herself twice, she put on garden gloves to protect her hands as she glued on pinecones and poinsettias. She made a burlap bow to attach to one side. A sprig of bluebonnets completed the look.
“What do you think?” She held it up to show Gary.
“Nice,” he said, barely taking his eyes off the TV. “Bring it here and I’ll figure out how to hang it.”
The house was coming along nicely. She set out her ever-growing collection of Santa mugs on the buffet in the dining room. A glass cloche surrounded by vintage Hummel figurines gave a whimsical feel to the entry table. The empty boxes of decorations finally out-numbered the full ones.
“I’m thinking about donating some of these old ornaments and decorations to the thrift store. Do you care?”
“Looks nice,” he said. Obviously, his mind was on the game.
“Hmm. I’m going to dance naked in the front yard. Okay?”
“Fine. What?” He turned around this time.
“Just seeing if you were paying attention. Don’t forget to put out that ugly Dancing Tiki Santa,” Deena called from the kitchen. “Mom and Dad will expect to see it on the mantel.”
Deena’s parents would soon be flying in from Maui. This was the first time they would be back for a visit in two years. Gary’s sister, Nora, lived in Louisville with her husband and two children. It was their turn to come to Texas for the holidays. The reality of hosting the big family gathering had begun to sink in, and Deena was trying to stay calm.
As she piddled around the living room rearranging displays into small vignettes, a crackling sound drew her attention toward the den. Gary was kneeled on the floor picking up shards of glass.
“Oops. I dropped one.” He held up a piece of a vintage mercury-glass icicle ornament.
“Just leave it. I’ll get the broom.”
As she swept up the tiny bits of glass, her mind returned to Marie and the flea market. She could still picture all those expensive collectibles sitting on that table. How could someone just steal from their boss and callously turn around and sell the stuff? Didn’t she have a conscience? Maybe we were too easy on her, Deena thought. She carried the dustpan to the kitchen trashcan and emptied the contents. Marie was at the party. And we caught her red-handed stealing from Carolyn.
Deena shook her head to clear her thoughts. That’s ridiculous. Just because she took a few things that didn’t belong to her doesn’t mean she had something to do with Carolyn’s death. Still, she couldn’t shake the feeling that there was more to the story.
Trying hard to refocus on her project, she re-counted the number of house guests she would be hosting for the umpteenth time, still unsure if Estelle would be there with Russell. “Gary, me, Russell, Mom, Dad—”
The doorbell rang. “Uh-oh. What now? Is Rudolph humping Christy Ann’s elves?” She glanced out the front window and saw Russell on the porch. She opened the door and said, “Look who’s here. I was just thinking about you.” She gave him a brotherly hug.
“Is the game still on?”
“Just starting the fourth quarter,” Gary yelled from the den. “Grab a beer and have a seat.”
Deena cleaned up the mess on the kitchen table, happy with the progress they had made. She sat on the couch next to Russell. “How’s it going?”
“Fine, I suppose. I just left Estelle’s and thought I’d stop by.”
Deena waited for a commercial to quiz him. “So, what’s up with you and Estelle?”
“Oh, the usual.” Deena noted a pinch of sarcasm. “Found out she was engaged and now I’m just waiting for her to choose between him and me. That’s all.”
Gary slammed down the footrest of his recliner and stared wide-eyed at Russell. “Are you kidding?”
“When did all this happen?” Deena asked, motioning for Gary to mute the television.
“Can we talk about it after the game? I’m all talked out for now and just want to relax a few minutes. I’m starting to get a headache.”
Deena instinctively stood up to get a pillow and throw blanket. She turned off the overhead light. “Lay back. Just take it easy,” she said. “We’ll talk later.”
Food always helped when Russell felt a migraine coming on. She went to make sandwiches. Staring inside the refrigerator, she breathed in the frosty cold. How could this be? Estelle had been engaged? Poor Russell. She took out what she needed and went about preparing the food. A few tears slipped down her cheek.
They ate and watch
ed the game. Dallas kicked a last minute field goal to hold on for the win.
“Great game,” Russell said. “Thanks for letting me hang out.” He stood up to leave.
“Sit,” Deena ordered, and both Russell and Hurley obeyed. “Tell us what happened.”
He spent the next few minutes telling them about Blake Whitman and Estelle.
Deena could tell he was upset even though he was trying to play it cool.
“It’s tough, you know?” He rubbed his eyes. “I don’t even know if I want a long-term relationship. How can I expect her to pick me if I don’t know where this is going? That’s what I told her. The ball is in her court now.”
Deena could tell her brother was worn out. “Do you want to stay here tonight?”
“Nah, I need to get back to take care of Maggie. Thanks, though.”
She walked him to the door and patted his back. “It’ll work out. I’m sure of it.”
He offered up a weak smile.
After he left, Deena plopped down on the couch and pulled up the throw, hugging it to her chest. She ached for her brother. “What do you think?”
“It’s a tough one,” Gary said. “Either way, though, he’ll be okay.”
Deena leaned back and closed her eyes as Gary turned his attention to the next game. What would happen if they broke up? Would she and Estelle still be friends? She had considered telling Russell about finding the butcher knife at the thrift store and seeing Marie in Canton but felt the timing was bad. These thoughts meandered around her brain, and then suddenly they collided.
“Gary! I think I figured out who stole that knife!”
Chapter Thirteen
Sandra was excited to see what new donations had come in on Saturday when her niece was minding the store. Hannah had reported that the shop was busy, so she did not have time to look through the new items that were brought in. Monday mornings were usually slow, so Sandra knew she would have time to sort through the sales receipts and bags of donations.
Trying to juggle her Starbucks latte and a bag of croissants, she finally managed to unlock the front door without dropping anything. The light in the storeroom had been left on. No big deal, she thought. She had failed to turn it off a number of times herself. Flipping on the switch by the front door brought the shop to life. She set down her purse and the pastry bag on the back counter.
It was colder than usual in the shop, but the aroma of coffee filled the air and gave it the homey feeling Sandra had worked so hard to foster. In order to compete with Maycroft’s numerous boutiques and antique stores, she kept her front window display filled with vintage and unusual finds. Since the shop first opened, she had gained a loyal following of shoppers who always stopped by when they were in town. She even created a Facebook page to tantalize customers.
Hannah had left everything neatly organized on the counter, including several post-it note messages with smiley faces. She looked through the receipts and ate a croissant, knowing it would not be long before the neighbors in the surrounding stores popped in to say hello.
Sure enough, the bell jingled on the front door and Aaron from the dog grooming salon stuck his head in. “Howdy. We missed you on Saturday. Find anything in Canton?”
“Hey, come on in. Yeah, I found some cool stuff.”
“Speaking of cool, it’s freezing in here.” He rubbed his hands together before helping himself to a pastry.
“I’ll fix it.” She walked back to adjust the thermostat in the storeroom. “What the—”
“What is it?” Aaron hurried to the back room.
“Oh, no! Someone broke in.” The back door lay partially open. The deadbolt had splintered the doorframe. “Hannah must have forgotten to fasten the chain.”
“Don’t touch anything,” Aaron said. “I’ll call the police.”
Looking around the storeroom, she realized someone had rummaged through the bags and boxes that were stacked by the wall. She knew there was no money in the store because Hannah had dropped off the cash box Saturday evening with Ian. Nothing else in the back room seemed disturbed. Although she had dealt with a few shoplifters in the past, this was her first breakin. She tried to keep her cool in front of Aaron, but her hands felt clammy and her chest was tight.
“They’re sending someone over now,” Aaron said. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine. Just a little surprised is all. I wonder if any other shops were broken into?”
“If you’re okay here alone, I’ll walk around and check with the other owners. Maybe somebody saw something.”
“Thanks. Let me know what you find out.”
Sandra called Ian and left a message with his assistant. She didn’t want him to hear about the breakin from someone else. News traveled fast in Maycroft. As she walked down the aisles, nothing looked unusual or out of place. The glass case where she kept expensive items like jewelry and cameras was undisturbed. She flinched when she heard the bell on the front door jingle.
“Oh, Officer Nelson, it’s you.” Sandra was happy to see her.
“Sorry. Didn’t mean to scare you. So, what’s going on?”
Cassidy Nelson was Maycroft’s first female police officer. She had been on the force nearly ten years now and had a reputation for being a caring public servant who could also be tough.
“Someone broke in the back door. I was just looking around to see what might be missing.” Officer Nelson followed Sandra to the storeroom.
“Looks like whoever did this used a crowbar. When did you last see the door locked?” She pulled out a small notepad.
“My niece worked for me on Saturday. She would have locked the door before she left at around six. I didn’t come in yesterday.” Sandra fidgeted nervously with her nails, not sure if she should touch anything.
“So have you noticed anything missing or damaged? What about the register?”
“It looks fine. I haven’t opened it yet. I don’t keep money in it overnight.”
“Go ahead and check to make sure it wasn’t jimmied open.”
Sandra did as instructed. It opened with no problems. “That glass case over there has the valuables in it. It wasn’t broken into either.”
“It could be that whoever broke in got cold feet and left. Or they may have heard something that scared them off. Was there anything disturbed at all?”
“Just these boxes and bags in the storeroom,” Sandra said, walking toward to the back.
Officer Nelson pulled out her flashlight and examined the door carefully. She stepped out into the alley to look around for anything out of the ordinary. Two cars were parked further down behind some of the other stores. Several large dumpsters sat full, ready to be emptied after a week’s usage. When she returned, Sandra was on the phone with Ian.
“I’ll call you back. I love you, too.” She ended the call and looked anxiously at Officer Nelson. “What do you think?”
“I think you got lucky. You need a better lock on that door. I don’t think I can lift any prints from what I’ve seen.” She closed the notebook and put it back into her pocket.
“Aaron from next door was checking with the other shop owners to see if they had any problems.”
“Good. I’ll be doing the same. Unfortunately, these kinds of breakins happen in Maycroft. Luckily, though, we see fewer home burglaries than commercial. Is that your car parked out front?”
“Yes. My husband makes me use the front door instead of coming and going through the back alley.”
“That’s smart. Keep it up. I’ll let you know if something turns up.”
“Thanks.” The officer left just as Aaron returned.
Sandra motioned for him to come back to the storeroom. “What did you find out?” Her coffee was now cold, and she wanted to make a fresh cup.
“Three of the shops are closed on Mondays. I walked through the alley and everything seemed fine with all the back doors. None of the others said they noticed anything wrong. But George, the new guy who just opened the cigar shop, said he saw so
mething late Saturday night.”
She almost spilled the water she was pouring into the coffee maker. “What did he see?”
“He said he came back around eleven because he had left his cell phone in the store. When he was driving off, he saw a car turn out of the alley. A dark sedan. Indistinct. But he noticed the driver. It was a woman with red hair. He is going to tell the police officer about it.”
“Maybe that was the burglar. Or, it could have been the person who scared off the burglar.”
Aaron headed to the front. “I’ve got to get back to work. I’ll check on you later.”
Sandra sat on her stool waiting for her coffee to brew. The store suddenly felt strange and foreign. Of all the nice shops in town, why would someone want to break into a thrift store? Why would they look through boxes of donated stuff before getting the valuables? This is the second time in less than a week the police have been here. Then the thought occurred to her. Maybe the two events were connected.
Chapter Fourteen
Her bedroom was exactly seventeen steps from end to end, Estelle noted as she paced back and forth waiting for Blake to arrive. Why had she agreed to see him tonight? It had been less than a week since her mother’s death, and she was still trying to cope with the reality of being alone. Ever since she could remember, she had been by her mother’s side. After she graduated from a small Baptist college with a degree in English Literature, she had moved back in with her parents. Her mother hoped she would find a husband in college, but Estelle was shy and kept to herself.
Throughout the years, she had gone on a number of dates with young men who were the sons or nephews of her mother’s friends, but no one captured her imagination the way the characters did in the books she read. After her father passed away, she found a sense of self-worth by caring for her mother. Sometimes she suspected that her mother could do well enough on her own but let Estelle dote on her just so she would have something to do. Estelle considered herself a modern-day Emily Dickinson and spent much of her time reading and writing poetry. Although her middle name was Rose, named after her mother, it seemed she had never quite bloomed.
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