Murder Buys a T-Shirt

by Christy Fifield

  Receipts, checkbooks, order forms, inventory sheets—all piled haphazardly where they had fallen. I picked up the pile and put it on the counter. I would have to sort and refile every scrap of paper.

  In the stockroom, I found proof Bluebeard wasn’t the culprit. I stood there with my hand over my mouth. The back door stood open, the lock broken and the doorjamb splintered.

  This time I had to call Boomer.

  I waited in the store for the police, sitting at the counter because I didn’t trust my legs to hold me up.

  I tried to make an inventory of missing items, but from where I sat, I couldn’t find any. In the back, my so-called office was a shambles, papers thrown everywhere.

  Behind the counter, the computer had been turned on, but the welcome screen blinked enigmatically, challenging someone to enter a correct password.

  At least they hadn’t been able to breach my system.

  After a few minutes, the initial shock subsided, replaced with red-hot anger. Someone had destroyed my back door and invaded my store—my home. A chilling thought occurred to me. If someone broke into the shop, they might have gone upstairs. And I hadn’t heard anyone leave.

  The idea was enough to send me to the front of the store, with its large windows overlooking the sidewalk. I suddenly needed to be where I could be seen.

  My hands shaking with the realization that I might not be alone, I pulled my cell phone out and dialed the number for The Grog Shop next door.

  “Guy?” I said when he answered. “Guy, could one of you come over here? I think someone broke in, and I’m waiting for the police, but I just don’t want to be alone, and I had to call someone because I don’t know if whoever it was has left, and I can’t go upstairs in case they are—”

  The front door burst open while I was still babbling, and Guy, the phone still in his hand, wrapped me in his strong arms.

  “It’s okay, Glory,” he said, smoothing my hair as he’d done so many times when I was a kid. “I’m right here, and Linda will be right behind me.”

  He stopped. “Especially since I just ran out the door without telling her where I was going.”

  As if to reinforce his words, Linda came through the door a few seconds later, concern evident in every move. “Guy Morton Miller,” she hollered, “are you trying to give me a heart attack? You pick up the phone and go running off without so much as a by-your-leave—”

  The scene in front of her finally registered, and she ran to us, joining the family hug. “Glory, what’s wrong?”

  “Look around, woman,” Guy snapped. “What does it look like?”

  “It looks like that fool parrot trashed the place. Again.”

  I shook my head, pushing Guy and Linda away to stand on my own feet. “No. Anyway, Bluebeard didn’t break in the back door.”

  Linda craned her neck, looking past me to the storage room and the back door beyond just as Boomer Hardy came through the front door.

  “Miss Glory.” He tipped his Smokey Bear hat to me and took a pad and pen from his shirt pocket. “Can you tell me what happened?”

  “Where do I start?” I asked. “I just came home and found it like this.”

  “How long have you been here?” he asked.

  “Just a few minutes,” I said. “I found the mess, and Bluebeard was upset so I tried to calm him down. It was after that I found the back door broken in, and I called you.”

  “And is this the extent of the damage?”

  “I, well, I haven’t been upstairs yet, so—”

  “Upstairs?” he interrupted sharply.

  “Yes. My apartment is up there, over the store,” I gestured to the staircase in the back.

  Boomer turned to the pair of patrol officers coming through the front door. “There’s an upstairs apartment. She hasn’t been up there yet.” He turned back to me. “Is there anyone else living here, anyone who might be up there?”

  I shook my head.

  “Pets?”

  “Just Bluebeard, and he’s down here in his cage.”

  As if on cue, Bluebeard stuck his head out of the cage and fixed the police chief with a beady glare. “Keep it down. Trying to #$&%$% sleep here,” he squawked.

  All three officers chuckled, the bird’s curses breaking the tension that surrounded them.

  “Okay.” Boomer gestured to the officers. “Check it out. Carefully.”

  I watched, wide-eyed, as the two men drew their guns and started up the staircase, flattened against the walls on opposite sides of the narrow flight.

  Boomer turned back and continued asking questions. “How long were you gone?”

  “I went out right after lunch. I had an appointment with Clifford Wilson, and I stopped at the bookstore across the street on my way home. Then I decided to go over to Frank’s and pick up a couple things, and it was still nice out so I decided to walk, and that took maybe twenty or thirty minutes before I got back here—”

  Boomer held up a finger, interrupting the torrent of words. “So you were gone from about one until,” he glanced at his watch, calculating, “three fifteen? Three thirty?”

  I scratched my head, trying to concentrate. “Probably closer to three thirty.”

  “And you left the shop closed for that time?”

  I nodded. “Usually I get somebody to take care of it while I’m gone, but it’s been pretty quiet around here the last week or so. It seemed like a good idea at the time.”

  “It might have been,” the chief replied. “Nobody was here to get hurt when the intruder came in.”

  The thought sent ice water through my veins.

  One of the patrol officers sounded an all-clear from the top of the stairs. “Doesn’t look like he even got up here,” he called down.

  “Did you hear anything when you came in?” Boomer asked. “Like anyone moving around, or things being moved, or a door closing?”

  I drew in a sharp breath, and my knees threatened to give way. “Do you mean—like was someone in the shop when I came back?”

  He nodded. “That’s exactly what I mean.”

  Guy offered an arm to lean on, but I waved it away. The moment of weakness had passed. All my stubbornness came rushing back; I was determined to handle this myself.

  “No.” I surprised myself with the force of my answer. “Bluebeard squawked when I came in, swore a lot, and yelled about a bad man. But that was it. The guy was long gone.”

  “Well, he was gone,” Boomer conceded. “How long would be anyone’s guess. As awful as this might sound,” he went on, “it’s probably a very good thing you didn’t come home sooner. You could have walked in on him, and that would have been a bad thing.”

  I HAD TO CONVINCE GUY AND LINDA TO GO BACK TO their store in the middle of the investigation, since there was nothing they could do, and they shouldn’t be closed during the after-work rush minute.

  Keyhole Bay was much too small to have a rush hour.

  I finally assured Boomer nothing was missing, but that only seemed to make him more concerned, rather than less.

  “It was probably just someone looking for cash or stuff they could easily fence,” I said, showing him the monster safe under the stairs. “They didn’t know I kept all the cash locked up, and the stuff I carry isn’t easy to resell.”

  He didn’t look convinced. “Or he was looking for something and hadn’t found it yet when you walked in. Maybe he was gone, but maybe he wasn’t. That back door was wide open.”

  I tried to dismiss his concerns. If I took them seriously, I wouldn’t be able to sleep tonight. Not that sleep was very likely, anyway.

  We were still debating the possibilities when Karen bustled through the front door, her face clouded with worry.

  “Not you, too!”

  “Yes, me, too!” she shot back. “I came as soon as I could get away from the station.” She put an arm around my shoulders, and looked hard into my eyes. “Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine,” I reassured her. “It was just a break-in while I
was out, and they didn’t take anything. I don’t think they even knew about the safe.”

  Boomer wedged his way between us, challenging Karen for control of the conversation. “What can I do for you, Miss Freed?” he asked, his tone clearly making it an official question.

  “Glory’s my best friend, and I heard the call.” She tightened her grip on me. “I just came to see if there was anything she needed. Especially after the last time.”

  Boomer swiveled his head toward me. “The last time?”

  I glared at Karen. “It was nothing.” I looked back at Boomer. “The night Kevin Stanley crashed his car,” I couldn’t bring myself to call it an accident, “we came back here, and the place was a mess. But it was just Bluebeard having a tantrum, I’m sure.”

  “Your friend here doesn’t seem so sure.”

  “My friend is a professional muckraker who doesn’t know when to keep her mouth shut.”

  Boomer looked from me to Karen and back again before shaking his head in surrender. “Okay, so there wasn’t a ‘last time’ according to you. But that bird did not break in the back door this time.”

  He gestured to the door in question, where the two patrol officers were erecting a rough barrier of planks to keep it closed until I could get it repaired in the morning.

  “My advice would be to stay somewhere else tonight, just in case the guy decides to come back.”

  “Is that really necessary?” I asked, at the same time Karen offered her place for the night.

  “Yes,” they said in unison. It was the first thing they had agreed on since Karen came through the door.

  I gave in but not without a lot of pouting. I didn’t want to leave the place empty overnight, but Karen and Boomer ganged up on me, and I trudged upstairs to pack the essentials into my gym bag.

  I was on my way back down when I heard a familiar male voice at the bottom of the stairs.

  Jake!

  I had completely forgotten our lesson in the aftermath of the break-in. I hurried down the last few steps, rehearsing an abject apology. At the same time, I remembered the half-and-half and bananas, the bag abandoned on the counter when I came back from the store. I would have to throw away the cream.

  I never got the chance to offer my apology. The minute I came into sight, Jake spoke up. “You go with Karen,” he said.

  Since when were they on a first-name basis?

  “The police are about through here,” he went on, before I could offer a protest. “I’ll be right across the street, and I can keep an eye on the place tonight.”

  “You don’t need to do that,” I argued. “You’re going to want to go home at some point.”

  He shook his head. “I have a cot in the back, and I have stocking to do tonight.” A momentary grin dispelled the worry lines around his mouth, then disappeared. “I don’t think you’re much in the mood for a computer lesson tonight anyway.”

  I could see this was one argument I was not going to win. Everybody was lined up against me, and all I could do was tag along as Karen loaded my bag into her SUV.

  Boomer and the officers left, promising to increase the overnight patrols for the next few nights and to keep an eye on the place while I was gone.

  I vowed to myself it would only be for one night.

  Jake walked with us to Karen’s SUV after I settled Bluebeard in for the night. I hated to leave him alone, but he got upset every time I took him out of the shop. He was safest locked in his cage with the blanket draped over it. I hoped.

  Bluebeard looked as if he wanted to say something, but he remained silent in front of the other two. I gave him an extra biscuit, checked his water one more time, and locked the door behind me, rattling the lock to be sure it was latched.

  When I was settled at Karen’s with a shower, a snuggly robe, and a tall glass of wine, she started in with her own version of the third degree. Mostly about Jake.

  I was quick to distract her with the copy of Uncle Louis’s will and the tale of my conversation with Julie.

  “There is something really wrong with her marriage.” I told her Julie had basically confirmed her pregnancy, and I was certain Jimmy wasn’t happy about it. Solicitous maybe, but not particularly happy. And I had the definite impression she hadn’t told anyone else.

  “My guess?” Karen replied. “There’s something off with Jimmy. The guy’s an ego on two legs, used to getting by on looks and charm. That’s not enough to make a marriage work and it’s certainly not enough to be a good dad.”

  Her assessment reminded me of Shiloh’s description of him as a showboat. Was that only this morning? It seemed like at least a week ago.

  I told her what Shiloh said, and Karen nodded emphatically. “Exactly. He’s used to being the big star and not having to actually, you know, do anything. Remember, he was a big star with the lot-boy job and no real responsibilities last time he worked for Fowler. He probably expects the same treatment this time, and I can’t imagine Fowler letting him get away with it.”

  “Except…” I repeated the part about Jimmy getting back on the university team. “Although a wife and baby could definitely put a crimp in that plan. He sure wouldn’t be able to play the big man on campus with a wife at home.”

  Karen shook her head. “No, he wouldn’t. But he could be the feel-good comeback story of the year. And Fowler would know how to spin it.”

  “So why hasn’t Jimmy gone back already? Why is he driving a tow truck for Fowler? He sure doesn’t look like he’s still disabled. Not the way he’s hopping around that truck and flexing his muscles around the shop.”

  A slow smile spread across Karen’s face. “I think I know how to find out,” she said. “An old friend of mine is covering the college sports beat for one of the big papers.”

  I would just bet the friend was male. Karen had dated several of her colleagues after her divorce. But she hadn’t been ready to settle down, and eventually, they all moved on. But, just like with Riley, she stayed friends with them all.

  She picked up her cell phone, punched a speed-dial button, and within seconds she was laughing and reminiscing with someone whose deep, unmistakably male voice leaked from the phone in a pleasant rumble.

  I leaned back, sipped my wine, and closed my eyes. It had been a very long day.

  I must have dozed off, because the next thing I knew, Karen was grabbing my wine glass. “You cutting me off?” I said, trying to snatch the glass back.

  “Just trying to keep you from pouring it all over yourself in your sleep.”

  “I wasn’t asleep,” I said, though I was pretty sure I was close.

  “Would you like to just call it a day and head for bed?” she asked. “Or maybe you’d like to know what I found out.”

  Like I said, she had a talent for torment.

  “Of course I want to know!” I sat up straight and looked at her expectantly. “What?”

  Karen sat back down on the sofa, her canary-eating-cat grin firmly in place. “I found out why Jimmy Parmenter got bounced from the football team.”

  “Judging from your smug expression, I’m guessing it wasn’t because of an injury.”

  “Actually, it was. Sort of. But it wasn’t his injury. It was the broken rib of the guy he punched.”

  “A fight?” I felt like a deflated balloon. I had been all ready for some real gossip, and all she found out was that Jimmy got into a fight and got suspended.

  “Oh, way more than a fight. It was a frat party, and he went out of his mind. Nobody knew exactly what set him off, but he tore up the place, busted a couple windows, and punched out the chapter president when he tried to calm him down.”

  “Yikes!”

  “But that’s not the worst part.” Karen leaned forward. “When the campus police took him in, they ran a drug scan. It’s standard practice. Keeps them on good terms with the city cops, in case they have to be called in. Jimmy had a couple beers in him, not enough to account for his behavior. But he tested positive for steroids. He was juicing, and t
he fight was pure ’roid rage.”

  She clasped her hands and shook her head. “Fowler didn’t have a backup plan, even though he might not have known it. Jimmy’s banned for life.”

  IN THE MORNING, I WOKE UP TO FIND AN EMPTY house and a note from Karen. She had the early shift at the station, but she’d left coffee in the carafe and biscuits and honey on the table.

  She’d also called Felipe and Ernie, and Ernie was waiting for my call to take me home.

  Once I was showered, caffeinated, and in clean clothes, the world looked a lot friendlier than it had the night before. The sun was out, but the temperature was mild, and I wanted some time to think about what Karen had told me.

  I locked Karen’s door carefully, put the gym bag over my shoulder, and headed home.

  It was about a mile and a half from Karen’s place to mine, and a light sweat had broken across my brow in the last quarter-mile as the sun grew warmer.

  I was unlocking the door when someone approached me from behind. Heart racing, I turned, holding the gym bag in front of me like a shield.

  “Whoa,” Jake said. “Just wanted to make sure you were okay. I thought you were going to call me to pick you up.”

  “Call you?”

  “I gave your friend Karen my number,” he said. “Told her I could come get you if she needed me to.”

  I thought back to the note on the table. It said, “You don’t have to walk. Just call for your ride home,” and gave a number. It didn’t actually say it was Ernie; I just assumed.

  I smiled weakly. “I just needed some alone time, to think. Walking seemed like a good idea.”

  There didn’t seem to be anything else to say, so I thanked Jake for his help and let myself in the shop. It was still a mess from the night before, but there didn’t seem to be any new disarray.

  So far, so good.

  But after a few minutes picking up, I realized I couldn’t concentrate. I’d already called someone to repair the back door, but the workman wouldn’t be able to get there until late in the afternoon.

  I needed to get out, to do something.

  And I knew where I wanted to go.

  On the way, I stopped for doughnuts.