A tree branch, I told myself, when I heard it again. Or the security guard making his rounds. I moved away from the window, trying to decide if it would be better to attempt a dash across the courtyard and around the museum to the parking lot or creep over to my office and call the police. I hugged the quilt to my chest, my mind racing, wondering how solid the studio door’s lock was and whether I was overreacting. If it was a tree branch or the security guard, I’d look like a fool calling the police. That was another irritating thing about being the police chief’s wife—if I reported it, everyone and his brother would hear about it immediately and it would be the talk of the station. You’re imagining things, I thought when everything became quiet again. I calmly folded the quilt and started for the door. When I passed the dark window, like a shotgun blast it shattered.
I screamed and instinctively hit the floor, the quilt cushioning my fall. I lay there for a moment, dazed. Then, crouching low, I scrambled toward the light switch next to the front door and flipped it off. I wouldn’t be such an obvious target now. I sat with my back against the door, staring out at the broken window. I’d have to go past it to get to my office. Faint moonlight glinted off the broken glass covering the floor. Behind me, a fist pounded hard on the door.
“Mrs. Ortiz!” the security guard yelled. “Are you okay?”
I jumped up and unlocked the door. The guard stood there, his hand holding his cellular phone as if it were a gun he was going to draw.
“Are you okay?” he repeated. “I heard you scream and then I saw someone hop the fence and I couldn’t decide if I should run after him or come see about you and I called my dispatcher and he said to go see if you were okay to let the guy go and I called the police and are you okay? This is my first assignment . . . and you the police chief’s wife . . . oh, shit . . . I really screwed up—” I held up my hand for him to stop talking. He obeyed instantly, like a well-trained hunting dog. He hooked his thumbs in his thick black police issue utility belt in an attempt to hide their trembling. I flipped on the light and surveyed the damage.
I turned to the security guard. “What did he look like?” I asked.
His round blue eyes widened, making him appear about sixteen. He reached up and started picking nervously at a pimple on his cheek. “He was dressed in black. I was at the back of the pasture, checking the perimeter. I couldn’t see his face. He took off over the back fence and ran through the field and toward the feed store.” Next door to the museum was an acre of open pasture, then the parking lot of the San Celina Feed and Grain Co-op.
“He probably had a car waiting,” I said, more to myself than the guard, who was now shaking like a scared puppy. I looked back to the broken glass on the floor. A large rock sat in the middle of it, a piece of paper wrapped around it with a rubber band just like in an old “Spin & Marty” episode from the Disney channel.
I picked up the rock and read the message.
Cruel death is always near; so frail a thing a woman.
“What does it say?” the guard asked, his voice a close imitation of Barney Fife. Before I could answer, a deep voice called out, “Police.” I stuffed the note in my back pocket and whispered, “Forget this.” I scowled to make my point. He nodded dumbly.
Two officers stepped through the doorway. Neither of them looked familiar to me. Gabe had just hired five new officers in the last few months, and these were obviously two of them.
“What’s the problem?” the male officer said. He was short and bull-necked and had that glossy, grooming-brush haircut that seemed to be popular among male patrol officers. His partner was a young, snub-nosed woman with a neat, blond braid and serious gray eyes. Both walked in holding on to the top of their unsnapped holsters in the same way the guard had his phone. The female officer’s expression flickered with recognition when she saw me.
“Better call the watch commander,” she started to say to her partner. “That’s the—”
“We can handle this,” he interrupted her irritably. “Who called 911?”
She shrugged and fell silent, obviously the junior partner in this duo. At that particular moment, I blessed his arrogance. I’d prefer to tell Gabe about this myself.
“I did.” The guard’s voice quivered.
“So what’s the problem?” His face held a slight sneer, telegraphing his feelings about security guards with a turn of a lip.
I jumped in, suddenly tired of all the fuss. “Someone vandalized the co-op,” I said, holding out the rock. “I was in here working on a quilt, and someone threw this through the window. It caught me by surprise, and I screamed. Whoever it was apparently hopped the fence and took off toward the feed store.”
The male officer nodded and pulled out a notebook. “Did you get a look at him?”
“No, when I heard the window shatter, I hit the floor. Then I crawled over and turned off the light so I wasn’t an obvious target. Then the guard knocked on the door and identified himself. I recognized his voice and let him in. He’d already phoned the incident in to his dispatcher.”
His eyebrows lifted. “Quick thinking ... for a woman.”
Behind him, his partner blurted out, “Lowry, don’t be such an ass.”
Ignoring her, he turned to the fidgety guard. “What did you see?”
As the guard told his version I went over to the maintenance closet and pulled out a broom and dustpan and started sweeping up the glass.
“Need any help?” the female officer asked. Her name badge said B. Girard. I idly wondered what the B stood for—Beatrice, Barbara, Bertha?
“No, thanks, Officer Girard.” I dumped the glass into the trash can.
She watched me silently for a moment, then asked, “You’re the chief’s wife, aren’t you?”
I looked up at her and smiled slightly. “Guilty as charged.”
“This is kinda awkward,” she said, shifting from one foot to the other. In the quiet, the leather of her black gun belt squeaked like a new saddle.
“Not really,” I said. “Just treat me like you would anyone else. Make your report and go on with your watch. No one was hurt. It was probably just a kid screwing around.”
She looked at me doubtfully.
“Don’t worry,” I said. “I’m going home right after this and I’ll tell the chief myself. Don’t treat me different, Officer. Really, this is no big deal.”
“Want us to stick around while you lock up?” she asked, still not convinced that something special shouldn’t be done.
“That would be great,” I said. “I’m all right, but I think the security guard might be a bit skittish.” We glanced over at him talking rapidly to the male officer, his face flushed in agitation as he pointed and explained. The macho police officer looked as if he were listening to a mosquito buzz.
“Men,” she said, shaking her head.
“Enough said,” I agreed, and laughed.
She gave me a curious look. “Are you sure everything’s okay?”
“Absolutely,” I said. She followed me into the wood shop, where I found a square piece of plywood, a hammer, and some nails, and fashioned a serviceable covering for the broken window.
The male officer came over when I’d pounded the last nail in place and inspected my work. “Looks like we got all we need for our report here.” He turned and asked me, “Why didn’t you tell me you were the chief’s wife?” He made an unsuccessful attempt to keep the irritation off his face.
I put on my most innocent expression. “Is that relevant? Would you have come quicker if you’d known my identity? I’m assuming that all the citizens of San Celina get the same high-quality police protection. At least, that’s what my husband assures the city council and the mayor.” I smiled sweetly at him. Behind him, B. Girard grinned and gave me the thumbs-up.
“Uh, yeah, sure we do,” he said, snapping his holster shut. “You sure there isn’t anything else you saw?”
“I’m sure.”
“So, you ready to lock up now?”
“I
just need to hang this quilt in the museum and I’ll be through.” I turned to the security guard and said, “Would you help me with this?”
In the main exhibit room, he helped me clip the wooden hanger onto the top of the quilt and hang it in place. I stood back, making sure it was even, and then asked in a low voice, “Did you tell them about the note?”
He shook his head no.
“Good, just forget you saw it. I’ll take care of it.” I used my most authoritative tone.
He nodded, his face sober and slightly green.
“You said this was your first job with the security company?” I asked, feeling sorry for him.
He nodded again, looking as if he were ready to burst into tears.
“I’m going to tell your boss how well you handled everything. Calling 911 before you checked on things was smart. You did the right thing.”
“Thanks,” he said, his cheeks starting to return to a more normal color.
“Are you going to be all right for the rest of the night?”
He blinked rapidly and held the front door open for me. “No problem.” He started for his truck. “I’d better report to the dispatcher.”
The two officers were still outside, sitting in their blue-and-white patrol car. Officer Girard was on the passenger side filling out paperwork while Officer Lowry checked his hair in the rearview mirror.
“I’m leaving now,” I called to the officers. “Thanks.” Officer Girard looked up from her writing and gave me a half smile.
“You be careful now,” she said.
“You bet,” I replied.
It was past ten o’clock when I got home. Gabe was waiting for me on the front porch, his arms crossed. Apparently the officers weren’t taking any chances on getting in trouble and had immediately reported the incident to their watch commander.
“Ten minutes,” I said, walking up the steps. “That must be a record, even in this town.”
“What happened?” he said, his voice just this side of spittin’-fire angry.
“Excuse me, but I thought we’d come to a mutual agreement about you talking to me like I’m your wife and not a marine recruit.”
He unfolded his arms and tried again in a slightly less accusatory tone. “Are you okay?”
“The answer to that is obvious, seeing as I’m standing right in front of you. Next question?”
“Why didn’t you call me?” he demanded, then taking a deep breath, added, “Sweetheart.”
“I figured it would be just as easy to come home and tell you.”
“Were you going to tell me?”
“Of course I was.” I looked up at him and smiled. “Have I ever kept anything from you?”
“Benni, this isn’t something to joke about. You could have been hurt.”
“What did those officers tell you?” I asked, trying to keep my voice airy. He was right, but I didn’t want to think about that until I was safely inside with the door locked. “It was just a rock that some kid tossed through a lighted window. It startled me. That’s all.”
His blue eyes never blinked. A cricket chirped in a front bush.
I stood on tiptoe and kissed his unyielding lips lightly. “Everything’s fine. It was a simple case of vandalism. Don’t blow it all out of proportion.”
“Was it?” His voice was sarcastic in the dark. “Somehow with you, things are never a simple case of anything.” He took my chin and lifted it, looking intently into my face. “No more games. What did the note say?”
I jerked away. “That bigmouthed security guard—”
“The security guard knew about it?”
I looked up at him guiltily. “Uh, didn’t he tell you?”
“No. Officer Girard did.”
“What?” Well, so much for sisterhood. “But I didn’t tell her—”
“She was my first pick from the academy,” Gabe said smugly. “Her powers of observation were legendary, but what I especially liked about her was her understanding of the importance of following procedure and respect for the chain of command.”
“How—”
He smiled at me, enjoying his moment of triumph. “She watched you sweep up the broken glass. There was a rubber band mixed in with it. She said she guessed by the way you were acting that you knew more than you were saying and that perhaps something was attached to the rock.” He held out his hand. “Hand it over, Ms. Harper.”
I gave him a dirty look.
“When are you going to learn not to try to pull things over on me?” Gabe said, his voice dramatically weary. “I always find out.”
“Arrogance is such an obnoxious trait.”
He leaned down and kissed me. “There are times when my arrogance melts you.”
“Trust me, Friday, this isn’t one of them.”
“The note, please.”
I pulled it out of my back pocket and handed it to him. His expression turned cold.
“Who have you been talking to?”
“No one!”
He held up the note and wiggled it.
“I swear, I’ve hardly talked to anyone about Nora’s death. I’ve done practically everything but wear a sandwich sign saying ‘I don’t know anything about this case.’ I’ve maybe said a few things in passing to people, but honestly, I haven’t gone out of my way to investigate this.”
He looked at me silently for a moment, contemplating and processing the information I’d just given him. “You’re telling the truth,” he concluded.
I moaned in exasperation. “Of course I am. I hid the note because I just didn’t want everyone to know about it. It would’ve somehow gotten in the papers, and that would give the person who did it even more power. I was going to show it to you, really I was.”
He gave me a dubious look and looked down at the small piece of paper, rubbing his thumb across it. “You know, this time you might be right. If what you say is true—”
I growled deep in my throat.
“Okay, okay, sorry. As I was saying, since you haven’t really been asking questions about Nora’s death, this might be intended for me.”
“You?”
“What better way to divert my attention from investigating the Cooper homicide than giving me something more important to worry about—the safety of my wife.”
“It sounds like something one of the storytellers might say, don’t you think?”
He read the note again. “It’s from The New England Primer. But it’s been changed. The actual quote is, ‘Our days begin with trouble here, Our life is but a span, And cruel death is always near, so frail a thing a man.’ ”
“How do you know that?” I said.
He smiled slightly. “My mother’s a teacher, remember? She made us memorize poetry. It’s from the same book as ‘Now I lay me down to sleep. . . . ’ ”
“That was the first prayer I ever learned.”
He peeked out into the dark street, his face sober. “Let’s go inside.”
“You two done squabbling?” Dove said from her place on the couch.
“We weren’t fighting,” I said.
“And my peas are coming up purple this year,” she said.
“We’ll finish our discussion later, querida,” Gabe said, kissing the top of my head. “Buenas noches, abuelita,” he called to Dove.
“Good night, sweetie,” she said.
I flopped down next to her on the couch. “Speaking of fights, how’s the Battle of the Bible Verses doing? Who’s ahead, the Bruins or the Razorbacks?”
“Hmmph,” she said, sitting back. “You know what she did today? She called me an old woman. Said an old woman like me shouldn’t be wearing pigtails.” Dove grabbed her long white braid and shook it at me. “Does this look like pigtails to you? And who’s that old woman calling an old woman?”
“Has she heard anything from Uncle W.W.?” I asked, knowing Dove’s questions were purely rhetorical.
“No, and I think the woman has gone completely batty. You know, he was the only thing all these ye
ars that kept her from going over the edge. Ben called today and said she’s rearranged all the living-room furniture. Twice. He’s afraid to get up and pee at night, fearing he’ll break his neck ’cause she’s changed the coffee table while he was sleeping.”
“And you’re letting her get away with it?” I asked. “In your house? Boy, I sure wouldn’t if she were my sister.”
She gave me a dark, raptorlike look.
Whoops, overkill, I thought as I tried to smile innocently.
“Some things are more important than material possessions,” she said disdainfully. “I told you, I’m not going home until she apologizes. Now, get on to bed and finish your fight with your husband. I’ve got work to do.” She looked back down at her Bible. “I’m looking up the verses havin’ to do with pride. There’s more than a few that will apply to you-know-who.”
“Yeah, I sure do,” I said under my breath.
“You know, young lady,” she said, not looking up, “you harangue that boy way too much. If you keep givin’ him so much grief, someday he’s likely to think you aren’t worth it.”
I walked toward the bedroom, thinking, Nyah, nyah, nyah. Some advice from the haranguing queen herself.
“Don’t you make light of me, Albenia Louise Harper,” she said. “The Lord can hear your thoughts.”
I turned and looked at her, incredulous. Apparently He wasn’t the only one.
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