by Meg Benjamin
He slid his flashlight back into the loop on his belt, unsnapping his holster, then slipped through the door into the darkened shop. Now that he was inside, he could hear the faint sounds of the intruder at work, the thump of objects hitting the floor, the slight shuffling sound of his feet as he moved around the store. Nando stepped carefully down the short hall leading to the interior, patting his holster once just to reassure himself that the gun was there and ready. He could see shapes now, dark against slightly less dark, silhouetted against the glow from the streetlights down the block.
He measured his steps more carefully as he approached the entrance to the main room. The noises the intruder made seemed to mean he had no idea anyone was in the shop with him, and Nando wanted to keep it that way.
Slipping around the corner into the back of the shop, he started to step forward again when his feet suddenly jerked out from under him. It took him a moment to realize his boots were tangled in a piece of cloth hanging from a rocking chair at the side. A rocking chair that toppled over sideways as he jerked his feet away, trying to kick the cloth loose.
In the room ahead of him, the intruder froze and then moved quickly toward the front door. Nando threw the cloth away from his boots and pushed himself to his feet. “Stop where you are! Konigsburg Police,” he yelled, without a hope in hell that the intruder would pay any attention to him.
The man threw the front door open and burst out onto the street. Nando managed to jerk his service revolver from his holster as he dashed after him, trying to avoid the jungle of dangling angels on all sides. He ran out the entrance, only to see the intruder sprinting down the street toward the Lucky Lady. A man. Maybe six feet tall but hard to tell in the dim light reflected in front of him. No weapons that he could see.
“Hold it,” he yelled again, holding the gun loosely at his side as he raced after him.
Ahead of him the door to the Lucky Lady opened and light poured into the street, along with several vaguely familiar female shapes. The running man dodged around and behind them, keeping the women between himself and Nando as he ran.
“Out of the way,” Nando yelled frantically. “Get back inside. Now!”
The women froze, staring at him open-mouthed. Docia, Deirdre, Allie, Jess, Clem—Jesus, hadn’t anyone stayed home tonight? “Move,” he yelled. “Please!”
Docia grabbed hold of the women closest to her, pulling them back out of his way as he sped up again. He could hear the sound of the man’s footsteps echoing down Spicewood. He probably didn’t have a prayer of catching him now, given that he’d had to detour around what seemed to be a every woman in Konigsburg, but he had to try.
He turned up the street, pounding along the sidewalk, but by the time he reached the next corner he knew it was no use. He jerked his cell phone off his belt, punching in the number savagely. “Rollie, we’ve had another one. Margaret Hastings’ place. And the perp is still on the loose. I need backup. Now.”
Toleffson wasn’t pleased, but then neither was Nando. They’d searched every yard and vacant lot for a square mile around the place where the intruder had disappeared, but none of them had much hope that they’d find him. Instead they found a lot of semi-awake, semi-hysterical Konigsburg citizens, many of whom were waving their favorite weapons. Toleffson managed to get everyone calmed down, while Nando circled back to Angels Unaware again.
The damage at Margaret Hastings’ store wasn’t as extensive as it had been at Docia’s or Allie’s. Apparently, the intruder had just gotten started when Nando found him. Margaret was, however, very unhappy about the woven throw that Nando had managed to trample and the upended rocking chair, even though the chair had been for display rather than something she was trying to sell.
“It’s a genuine tapestry,” she told him, her blonde curls trembling in indignation. “From China.”
It looked like junk to him, but he wasn’t feeling exactly charitable about it. By that point, he didn’t give a shit what Margaret Hastings was upset about. He was too busy being upset with himself for letting the bastard get away.
He didn’t need to be told this was another black mark against him with the city council. First it was the whole poop policeman thing. Now, more seriously, he was the cop who’d let the thief get away—the cop who’d blown their best chance to get the bastard. Ham would ride it for all it was worth, and the city council might well agree with him.
When they all met back at the station house, Ham’s solution was simple. “You should’ve shot him.”
Nando blew out a breath, willing himself not to kick Ham’s ass. “When should I have shot him, Ham? When I was running after him? When he was dodging around the crowd of women outside the Lucky Lady? When would you have shot him?”
“I’d’ve taken the bastard out soon as I walked into the store,” Ham grumbled. “Should have yelled police and then blasted him.”
Toleffson pinched the bridge of his nose. “Suppose Avrogado had started firing and it turned out to be Margaret rearranging her stock? What does he say then—Oops? Have you ever bothered to read the Use Of Force Guidelines, Ham? They might be real useful to you in a situation like this.”
Nando sighed. “I was trying to get a clear shot at him when the women came out of the Lucky Lady. After that it wasn’t possible.”
“Damn fool women,” Ham muttered. “Should’ve been home where they belonged.”
Toleffson gave him a cold, silent stare, his eyes narrowed. Nando wondered just how long it would take Ham to remember that those particular women included the chief’s wife and sisters-in-law.
After a few seconds, Ham flushed the usual dull pink and started examining the pile of papers on the desk in front of him.
Toleffson turned back to Nando. “Did you manage to get a look at him at least?”
He sighed again. “Not in the light, no. He was tall, around six feet. Not too heavy, maybe one fifty or so.”
“Did he run like a young man?”
Nando paused, thinking. “Hard to say. He was fast over the short distance, but since I didn’t get a chance to run him down, I couldn’t say what his stamina was. He wasn’t a teenager, but I can’t give you much on his age beyond that.”
“What was he wearing?” Delaney asked, jotting notes on his legal pad. Ham gave him a poisonous look; Nando didn’t think he’d ever seen Ham jot down anything in his entire police career.
“Dark shirt and pants—looked like jeans. Baseball cap. He had it pulled down low, and he ducked his face away from the light.”
Toleffson stared off in the distance. “That’s interesting.”
“What was?” Delaney’s pen paused over his pad. The others sat up a little straighter.
“Sounds like he didn’t want anyone to see his face. Maybe he thought someone would recognize him. Seems like a casual thief would have just kept running and not worried about being recognized until later on.”
“So we’ve got an adult male whom somebody might recognize.” Nando rubbed the back of his neck. “Maybe the women saw him more clearly. They were closer to him than I was when he ran by.”
Toleffson pinched his nose again. “We need to question them. See what they remember.”
Nobody groaned, but everybody looked like they wanted to. Eye witnesses could be a royal pain in the posterior since none of them ever seemed to see exactly the same thing.
“I took statements last night,” Rollie said. “They were all pretty shook up, though. And they’d had a lot to drink. Nobody could describe him.”
“They’ve had some time to think about it now,” Toleffson mused. “And they’ve had time to sober up. They might have remembered something they didn’t think about when it happened. Who was out there in front of the store?”
Rollie pulled out his notes. “Docia Toleffson, Allie Maldonado, Jess Toleffson, Janie Toleffson, Morgan Toleffson, and Deirdre Brandenburg.” He flipped a page. “And Kit Maldonado. The others were in the doorway, but they said they weren’t close enough to see what was going on.”
Ham tucked his pen back in his pocket as he got to his feet. He gave Nando a look that was close to a smirk before heading out the door. Nando’s jaw clenched tight. No chance the town wouldn’t know he’d screwed up. The news would probably be all over the Coffee Corral by noon.
Toleffson turned toward the two part-timers. “Rollie, you and Dawson do a door-to-door on the houses around where he took off. See if anybody noticed anything since the last time we asked.”
Rollie groaned, rubbing his eyes. “Can I get some shut-eye for a couple hours first? I been on duty since six last night.”
Toleffson’s jaw tensed, but he shrugged. “Okay. Take a couple of hours, and then come back. Dawson, you do as much as you can on your own.”
Nando felt like pointing out that he’d been on duty now for close to ten hours himself and was dead on his feet, but he decided to let it go. He was already in enough shit for letting the son of a bitch get away. He pushed himself to his feet as the others headed out to the parking lot.
“You all right?” Toleffson asked.
He shrugged. “Sure. Just tired.”
The chief narrowed his eyes. “You played it right. The only thing you should have done that you didn’t was call Rollie so he could back you up before you went into the shop.”
“Yeah.” Nando blew out a breath. “In retrospect, I sure as hell should have done that.”
“Shooting at him on Main Street wouldn’t have been a good idea,” Toleffson said slowly. “Even if the women hadn’t been there, there’s too many people around and too much risk of damage. It wasn’t an option.”
“I know.”
But as he headed for his car, Nando had a sinking feeling the rest of Konigsburg wouldn’t see it that way. They’d want to know why he hadn’t drilled the bastard and asked questions while his body cooled in the dirt.
Brody worked to rein in his anger. Angry people made mistakes, and he couldn’t afford any. Not when he was so close to his goal.
He tossed a package of microwave popcorn into the machine and punched the buttons with more force than necessary. A beer would be good, but he’d stick to soda. Beer would only increase his fury, and he needed to keep a clear head.
He hadn’t expected the Konigsburg cops to be that much on the ball. They never had in the past, as he had good reason to know. He’d been careless, and he’d almost gotten caught because of it.
In the future, he’d take nothing for granted. He’d need to find out exactly how many opponents he had—how many men were on night duty, and how they were assigned. And he’d have to come up with ways to avoid them, which might involve learning something about their personal habits. It was annoying, a waste of his time, but clearly something that had to be done.
Not that it would slow him down. His plan was still in force, and still workable. He had no intention of turning back now. He’d decided to speed up his timetable, though, heading for the final, most important stop.
And if the Konigsburg police got in the way, he’d deal with them. He always had before.
Chapter Fifteen
Docia looked very tired the next morning and, unless Nando missed his guess, very hung over. She offered him a cup of coffee as she slumped into a chair at her kitchen table. Cal Toleffson wandered around behind her, fixing breakfast while he bounced their baby son on his shoulder. The kid was already the size of the average two-year-old, and he wasn’t even walking yet. Apparently, when both parents topped six feet, they produced babies who resembled Paul Bunyan.
“It all happened so fast,” Docia groaned. “We heard you yelling in the street and we heard someone running. I guess I just automatically opened the door without even wondering if it might be dangerous.”
Behind her back, Cal looked as if he’d tasted something sour, but he said nothing.
“Did you get a look at him as he ran by?” Nando asked.
Docia started to shake her head, then paused. “I guess I did, in a way. I mean, he was right there. But he was moving so fast and we didn’t know what was happening exactly.”
“Tell me what you can remember about him.”
She massaged her forehead. “He was tall. Not Toleffson tall exactly—” she threw a quick glance at her six-foot-six husband, “—but tall by normal standards, around my height. He had on dark clothes. I didn’t see his face when he ran by: he turned away his head away when we stepped out.”
“Hair color?”
She shook her head. “He had on a baseball cap. I couldn’t see.”
“Was he a young guy? Older? How did he strike you?”
Docia sighed again. “I don’t know. He wasn’t a teenager, but more than that I couldn’t say.”
Nando managed to keep his frustration to himself. It wasn’t like he’d expected anything more from her.
“He seemed…” She paused for a moment, massaging her forehead again.
“Seemed?”
“Familiar.” She grimaced. “I don’t know what I mean by that exactly. I didn’t recognize him but I felt like I’d seen him before. Does that make sense?”
“Maybe.” Nando leaned back in his chair. “Did he maybe remind you of somebody?”
Docia shook her head. “I don’t know. It was just this fleeting impression. That he was someone I knew. Or used to know.” She blew out a breath. “That’s all. And I know it’s not much help. Sorry.”
He flipped his notebook closed. “That’s okay. I didn’t think any of you were able to see much. But if you do think of anything more…”
“I’ll let you know,” Docia finished for him. “So was that the guy who smashed up my store?”
He shrugged. It wasn’t like it was any secret. “Probably. He managed to do some damage to Margaret Hastings’ place before I got to him. Not as much as what he’d done to your place or Allie’s, fortunately.”
“Margaret Hastings?” Cal said. “I didn’t know she was involved in this.”
“Her store was. That’s where the guy was when I found him.”
“That’s…strange.” Cal frowned. “Docia and now Margaret.”
Nando flipped a new page in his notebook. “Strange how?”
“Well, they were both involved in the Brody thing, Docia and Margaret.”
“But Allie wasn’t involved with Brody at all,” Docia said slowly. “What could these burglaries have to do with Brody anyway? We’re all members of the Merchants Association too, Allie and Margaret and me. It’s just as likely to be something that happened there. Hell we might all have had the same nutball customer who went off the deep end.”
Cal shrugged. “Probably coincidence.”
“Probably.” Docia rubbed her forehead again. “I’m sorry, Nando. That’s really all I can remember.”
“That’s okay.” He flipped his notebook closed. “Thanks for your help.”
“Yeah.” Docia gave him a dry smile. “I might have been even more help if I’d stayed inside the Lucky Lady instead of walking out into the middle of your chase last night.”
Nando gave her a tight smile. She was absolutely right, of course. “Don’t worry about it. We’ll catch him.” Now all he had to do was make that statement come true.
Kit figured Allie was lucky to have an assistant who could do the morning baking for her as well as open the café. Allie herself looked like she’d rather spend the day in bed in a darkened room with cotton in her ears to keep the noise down.
“Why did you let me have that much champagne?” she croaked after inhaling a cup of coffee. Wonder cut her a piece of coffeecake that she regarded with distaste.
“It seemed like a good idea at the time.” Kit checked her watch. She needed to get to the Woodrose early enough to sa
tisfy Mabel.
“Have the police been around?”
She shook her head. “Not yet. I don’t know what I could tell them anyway. I didn’t see more than a blur.”
“Me neither. Exciting finish for the evening, though.”
“It was that,” Kit agreed.
Allie’s eyes widened. “Oh my god, did anybody think to get the dresses? Did we leave them in the store after all that commotion? Will Janie’s mom remember whose is whose?”
Kit sighed. “Allie, your dress is hanging in your closet where I put it when we got home last night. Everybody else’s dresses went home with them too. Trust me, we’re good to go.” She checked her watch again. “Speaking of going, I’ve got to get out to the Woodrose before Mabel decides to dock my pay.”
Allie frowned. “We need to get you a better job someplace else—you’re way too good to be working for that screw-up. I’ll ask around and see if anyone else is hiring.”
Kit felt an odd pang. Could she actually feel some loyalty to Mabel? She blew out a breath. Not Mabel, but surprisingly enough, she found she felt a lot of loyalty to the Rose. Her restaurant, for better or worse. “It’s not such a bad place, Allie.”
The lunch crowd at the Rose was no better or worse than usual. Lots of women in tennis outfits, and men who looked like they’d either spent time on the golf course or wanted people to think that they had. They were drawing more and more groups of shoppers who were having a day in the Hill Country and had come to the Woodrose to have a bowl of Joe’s shrimp bisque and the Cobb salad he’d added after heavy pressure from Mabel. Of course, since it was Joe’s Cobb salad, it featured local goat cheese and toasted pecans. Kit only hoped the shoppers had someone to drive them back to wherever they’d come from since they probably wouldn’t be in any shape to do it themselves, judging from the number of wine bottles she was opening.
Mabel came to the hostess station around one thirty, when the rush was beginning to die down and the late stragglers had slowed to a trickle. “Did you get the scheduling software straightened out this morning, Kit dear? I need to start entering information.”
