I gaped at Pop.
He must have taken my stunned silence for criticism, because he explained, “I’ve always taught you to respect other people’s space and property, but for most of his life your father has been a hemorrhoid on the butt of humanity. I didn’t want him putting stars in my friends’ eyes and then bilking them out of their Social Security checks. Now I know that he isn’t. I honestly think your father’s trying to do the right thing.”
“Really?” I hated the hope I felt. Each time my father disappointed, my mother or Pop had to help me pick up the pieces and put them back together. If he disappointed me again, I wasn’t sure I’d be able to get back up on my own.
Pop put a hand on my shoulder. “Your father has a lot to make up for. I have no idea if he can ever fix what he broke, but he has to start somewhere. Hanging around for the holidays and creating this business is that start.” Giving my arm a squeeze, he said, “Speaking of the holidays, I’ve been thinking we should order some Pilgrims for Thanksgiving.”
“Huh?”
“On Thanksgiving, some of the restaurants in the area make their employees dress up and deliver food. Having Pilgrims over for dinner has become the cool thing to do around here. I don’t want to look like I’m behind on the trends.”
Coffee cup in hand, Pop shuffled off, leaving me gaping after him. Flipping open my notebook, I tried to concentrate on the investigation. Still, my mind kept shifting back to what my grandfather had said about Stan. I wanted to believe he was right, that my father was trying to turn his life and our relationship around. Maybe this wasn’t the way I’d choose for him to do it, but Pop was right. Everyone had to start somewhere.
Wait. That gave me an idea.
My eyes scooted down the list of victims. The crimes had been going on for so long it was easy to forget that there was once a time when Thanksgiving robberies didn’t occur in Indian Falls. The thief started with one house. One set of stolen items. One set of victims. There had to be a specific inspiration behind that house being selected. If I was going to crack this case, I needed to figure out that reason. Starting now.
Seven
The first victims of the Thanksgiving Day thief were Seth and Jan Kurtz. All I remembered about them was that they gave out full-sized Snickers bars on Halloween. A serious craving for chocolate was the only reason my friends and I were willing to brave the Kurtzes’ six German shepherds. Either those dogs were no longer in residence at the time of the break-in or the thief moonlighted as a dog whisperer. Pop might know, but he was busy belting out “White Christmas” while sudsing up in the shower. Since Pop had been known to perform entire concerts before drying off, I decided to pay the Kurtzes’ farm a visit and see what I could learn on my own.
No one was home. Or, if they were, they couldn’t hear the doorbell. The dogs could, though. Judging by the frantic barking, there were at least five or six of them attempting to gnaw through the door.
Vowing to bring a box of Milk-Bones when I returned, I hurried back to my car in case the dogs managed a breakout. Since I still had time before the dress-fitting appointment, I steered to the farm down the road, hoping my friends Bryan and Reginald would be willing to dish on their neighbors.
The baby blue farmhouse had already been decorated for Christmas. Icicle lights hung from the roof. White reindeer in various poses were perched near the house, and a sleek white sleigh trimmed with lights and evergreens was parked near the bottom of the lawn. Christmas might be seven weeks away, but that wasn’t stopping Bryan and Reginald from decking the halls.
I couldn’t blame them for their enthusiasm. The two had moved here to try their hand at organic farming and country living. The transition hadn’t exactly been without challenges. While citizens around here had nothing against two men in love, it wasn’t familiar ground for Indian Falls. Especially when one of the men had long black dreadlocks and was built like a Mack truck. His intimidating appearance and a brush with the law when he was a kid were the reasons Reginald had come under suspicion when someone was boosting cars a few months back. Reginald and Bryan already liked me before I helped convince Sheriff Jackson that Sean had arrested the wrong man. After Reginald was sprung, they elevated me to best-friend status. I was hoping that designation would encourage them to talk with me now.
“Rebecca, what a wonderful surprise.” Bryan gave me a toothy grin when he opened the door and ushered me into the house. A large Christmas tree was standing in the living room with boxes of ornaments strewn around it. “Reginald is going to be unhappy to have missed you.”
My nose twitched at the scent of chocolate chip cookies. Score. Bryan not only liked to bake, he was damn good at it.
“Where’s Reggie?” I asked, following Bryan into the airy country kitchen. On the counter were cooling racks filled with cookies.
Bryan handed me a still-warm cookie and took another for himself. “He’s in St. Louis this week for a technology and farming conference. He hated leaving me alone to pack for our trip, but it’s better this way. Reginald panics when he packs. He worries that he’s going to bring the wrong thing and ends up taking everything he owns. No one needs ten pairs of shoes, especially ones big as boats.”
“You’re leaving town?”
“We’re spending the week with Reginald’s family. That’s why I have the tree up already. I want it to be ready to decorate when we get home.”
The cookie stopped halfway to my mouth. “You and Reginald aren’t going to be in Indian Falls for Thanksgiving?”
I glanced around the kitchen. In this one room, I spotted a Waterford crystal mantel clock, a small, high-definition, flat-screen television, a laptop computer, and a jar that I’d witnessed Reginald throwing spare change into. If the thief caught wind of Reggie and Bryan going away, he’d cash in big-time.
“This is the first time Reginald’s family has invited the two of us to spend a holiday with them.” His elfin features were filled with a combination of embarrassment and pleasure. “This means they’ve begun to accept that we’re a couple.”
Yay for acceptance. Boo to the timing.
“Have you heard about the Thanksgiving Day robberies?”
Bryan brushed a lock of blond hair off his face and frowned at his cookie. “Jan and Seth mentioned the robberies when we told them about our trip. They offered to keep an eye on the place so what happened to them doesn’t happen to us.”
“Did they tell you how the thief broke into their place?” When he gave me a blank stare, I explained, “One of the other victims hired me to track down the person behind the robberies.”
Bryan beamed. “That’s wonderful. Not to add any pressure, but I’ll feel better about leaving town knowing you’re on the case. You’ll probably have the thief behind bars long before Reginald and I hit the road.”
No pressure. Right.
“Jan and Seth said they had an early dinner with friends,” said Bryan. “When they came back to the house, it took them a while to realize someone had broken in. The dogs were sleeping in the living room. All the doors were locked, and there weren’t any signs of forced entry.”
So the dogs were there. Huh.
“Do the Kurtzes have a key to your house?” More important, did Reginald and Bryan have a key to theirs?
“Reginald gave Seth a key a couple of months back after he locked himself out and couldn’t find the fake rock the spare was hidden in.” Bryan’s blue eyes went wide. “You don’t think the thief will steal the key from Seth and Jan in order to break in here, do you?”
“Probably not.” Although anything was possible. “Do you know if Jan and Seth trust a neighbor with their spare key?”
“I doubt it.” He shrugged his slight shoulders. “Seth likes his privacy. He doesn’t let many people come inside his house, and when he does they aren’t left alone. Jan says not to take it personally, that he’s always been that way, but I can’t help being a little freaked out when someone follows me to the bathroom and stands outside the door to esco
rt me back. Reginald thinks Seth must be hiding hot televisions or a serious S&M fetish. I think he’s just plain old crazy.”
Maybe. Or maybe whatever Seth was secretive about was the reason the thief had targeted him ten years ago. A few more quick questions gave me Jan and Seth’s typical schedule. The two ran errands on Mondays. The rest of their week was split between walking the dogs and hanging out at the senior center, doing Jazzercise and playing Scrabble. Unless I wanted to help collect dog poop or brave being a doggy snack, I’d have to catch them during one of their forays to the center.
Armed with a plan and a tin of cookies, I headed for the Nothing Borrowed Nothing Blue Bridal Boutique. It was time to set aside my criminal investigation for something far more harrowing—a dress fitting.
The boutique on the north side of town was located on the same street as a weight-loss center, an attorney’s office, and the building that was shared by a dentist and a shrink. A bride could get her teeth whitened, sweat off excess pounds to fit into that ideal dress, draw up the prenup, and have a breakdown from the stress all without moving her car. The only thing missing was a liquor store. For that you had to hoof it a few blocks. I guess the town planners couldn’t control everything.
The store’s owner, Tilly Ferguson, looked to be lamenting the lack of alcohol when the bell above the front door announced my arrival. The woman was dressed in the same colors as her store’s decor—gray skirt, ruffled white shirt, and sensibly soled gray shoes. Between the clothes and her bouffant salt-and-pepper hair, the woman looked like a black-and-white movie begging to be colorized. Which is probably why Erica the Red sitting in the middle of the salon’s gray couch had Tilly looking like she was going to pass out.
With her cascading magenta hair, Erica the Red lived up to her name. The unnaturally red hair clashed violently with the pink-and-silver EstroGenocide T-shirt she was sporting, but Erica didn’t seem to mind. Erica liked taking risks. No doubt that was part of her motivation for going into Roller Derby in the first place.
“Hey, Rebecca.” Erica unfurled herself from the sofa. “How’s the investigation? The girls are stoked that you’ve become an official PI. If you need a couple of bodyguards, let us know. Things have been a little dull now that the season is over.”
My life had become entertainment for a group of girls who celebrated hip checks and fishnet stockings. How lucky was I?
“I should be okay on my own. The thief doesn’t have a history of violence.” Not to people, dogs, or property. Which, now that I thought about it, was kind of odd.
“Your grandfather seems to think the thief could change his pattern now that you’re involved.”
Sigh. “Why were you talking to Pop?”
She grinned. “He’s working Halle, Anna, and me into his act as backup singers. None of us can sing, but that doesn’t seem to matter.”
Of course it didn’t.
Before the conversation could disintegrate further, I asked, “Where’s Danielle? We should get started on the fitting.”
Tilly cleared her throat. “Danielle called a few minutes before you arrived. She had some kind of emergency and asked that we start without her.”
I tried to decide whether I was worried or relieved that Danielle wasn’t here to freak out about hemlines and broken frames. Since being worried would only result in my eating the entire tin of cookies, I opted for relieved and said, “Okay. Let’s get to work.”
Wow, was it work. My dress fit okay—if you didn’t notice that the designer assumed I would be wearing stilts. Erica’s dress was more of a challenge. While Erica had broad shoulders and the kind of chest most centerfolds paid top dollar for, my derby friend was still several sizes smaller than the original owner. The dress had enough excess material to reupholster the couch, which might not be a bad idea. The shiny, dark purple taffeta would look better as cushions than as a gown. On the other hand, the Hawaiian-looking floral pattern Danielle’s mother-in-law had lobbied for would have been worse. If I was going to wear mutant flowers, I preferred to be doing it on a beach.
Erica stood perfectly still as Tilly poured all her alterations skills into making the dress fit. Tilly pinned, poked, pulled, and looked like she was going to cry on at least three separate occasions before the appointment ended. The only measure that prevented a full meltdown was a promise that my grandfather would drop by later to serenade her. Even though the female senior population’s attraction to my grandfather wigged me out, I was not above using it to keep a grown woman from crying.
As soon as Erica was back in her own clothes, I made the next appointment and hustled us both out onto the sidewalk.
“Now what?” Erica asked as the door closed behind us.
“Now we give Tilly a couple of days to recover before going for the next fitting.”
“I wasn’t talking about the dress.” Erica laughed. “What’s the next step in the investigation? We have a thief to catch.”
We?
Erica was an awesome skater and a great friend, but the last time she tagged along to help investigate, property damage was involved. We were lucky to escape without a criminal record after I paid for a replacement window. Erica’s assistance was expensive. With Christmas fast approaching, my bank account was strained enough.
“I have to get back to the rink,” I said, huddling near the wall to avoid the wind. “We have two school groups coming in for holiday parties this week. I want to make sure everything is ready. Then I can focus on beating Sean at solving the case.”
Erica smiled. “I bet the hunky defender of justice won’t mind losing if it scores points with you. You’re lucky. Two hot men to juggle. I have a hard time dealing with one. Although mine is worth the effort. Archaeologists really know how to use their hands.”
Erica liked insisting that Sean’s frustration with me was more sexual than job-related. Every time I tried to convince her she was mistaken, she described Sean’s sexiest qualities. I blamed it on her day job. Erica wrote romance novels. After I found that out, I ordered all of her books. The woman was aces at describing the male anatomy, which was why I wanted to avoid another Sean dissertation now. Hearing about Sean’s rippling abs freaked me out.
“I’m glad things are working out with you and Xavier. Is he going to be your date for the wedding?”
Erica’s smile faltered. “I hope so. His team finished the excavation and is heading home. Without dirt to dig in, I don’t know how much time he’ll be spending around here.”
Erica’s head dropped, and my heart squeezed. Erica needed a distraction from her relationship woes. “Do you want to come back to the rink with me? You can skate while I get some work done, and then we can eat the rest of these cookies.”
Erica’s smile told me the answer was a resounding yes.
The rink was hopping when we arrived. Earth, Wind & Fire’s “September” blared from the speakers as a large portion of the Indian Falls High School population skated counterclockwise while laughing, flirting, and falling. Erica raced to the locker room to shed her winter wear. When she skated onto the floor in her EstroGenocide uniform, the teens cheered.
Confident that Erica wasn’t dwelling on relationship concerns, I dodged a couple holding hands and darted into the rink office. When I closed the door, the music muted, making me once again appreciate the renovations Mom had done a year before she passed away. When I was growing up, the warped office door frame and thin door made the decibel level only slightly lower in here than on the other side. Other than the door, Mom skipped renovating the rest of the office. She figured she had time to update the room later. Later never came. In a way I was glad. The scarred wooden desk, old trophies, and framed photographs made me feel as though Mom could walk through the door at any moment. On paper, the rink was mine. In my heart, it would always belong to my mother.
Sitting in one of the only additions I’d made to the room—a fake leather wheely chair—I fired up the computer and ran through the details for the upcoming school field t
rips. Once I knew we had adequate staffing and soda to keep the kids wired for hours of skating, I shifted my attention back to my investigation.
After flipping open my notebook, I ran a search on Seth and Jan Kurtz. There wasn’t much to be found. Aside from the original article that appeared in the local paper after the theft (in which Seth was quoted as saying he hoped God struck the thief dead), I learned that Jan was a member of the quilting circle and that Seth habitually placed second in the Women’s Guild’s landscaping contest.
I jotted down the couple’s hobbies and ran searches on the other victims. By the time I’d gone through all the names, I’d learned that a holiday tree-decorating contest had resulted in several small fires, an exposé of Barna Donovan’s goat-eating alien had appeared in the National Enquirer, and Betsy Moore’s neighbor and helper with horses, Amy Jo Boggs, was Ginny Chapman’s great-niece. It was a small and peculiar world, especially when you lived in Indian Falls.
Since my Internet search had resulted in nothing more than my sending four Facebook friend requests, I picked up the phone and dialed my grandfather. While the World Wide Web was short on details on the upstanding citizens of Indian Falls, I was pretty sure Pop could tell me everything about them, including their favorite ice cream, how often they attended church, and who needed prunes to stay regular. The CIA, FBI, and Interpol had nothing on Pop and his friends.
Voice mail. Drat. Pop was probably too busy taunting my father with a roll of toilet paper to answer his phone. Leaving a message, I asked Pop to stop by Tilly’s for a quick performance and to call me when he had a chance.
Deciding it would be best to wait to hear from Pop before questioning any more witnesses, I flipped off the lights and opened the door to the dance party on wheels. The new disco ball I’d purchased was spinning. Flecks of colorful light shimmered on the floor. The smell of pizza, popcorn, and sweat filled the air. Everywhere I looked kids were laughing, smiling, and having a great time. It was moments like these that made me understand why my mom loved owning The Toe Stop. This wasn’t a business to make piles of cash. It was a place where a community could celebrate being together. Since I still wasn’t sure what I wanted to be when I grew up, I figured this was a pretty good way to spend my time.
Skating Under the Wire: A Mystery (Rebecca Robbins Mysteries) Page 8
