“I pursued him across the street,” said Officer Glenn Ensign, “but there was a get-away car waiting next to Pumpernickel's. The license plates were covered with tape, so I couldn't get any numbers. Otherwise, the situation is under control.”
“Has anyone contacted Cara Mia Delgatto?” asked Lou. “She’s the owner.”
“I stopped three women from entering the store,” Valerie continued. “One of them says she's the owner. The others work here, or so they say. They're all sitting in my squad car. "
"Lead the way," said Lou. As they came even with the bumper of Valerie’s squad car, he saw the silhouettes of three heads in the back seat and relaxed a little. He hadn’t wanted to ask specifically about Skye, but seeing the profile of her curls, he now knew she was safe.
Lou opened the passenger door of the squad car.
“Skye? Cara? MJ? Are all of you okay?"
"I knew you'd get here fast." Skye grabbed for his hand and then immediately let it go, as if she’d forgotten she was angry with him and then remembered her pique.
“I came as fast as I could,” said Lou, stunned by the electricity of Skye’s touch. “None of you entered the building while it was being robbed, did you?"
“No,” said Cara. “We were at the far end of the alley when I noticed a light moving inside the shop.”
“We hightailed it,” said MJ.
“I called it in,” said Skye.
“Good thinking,” he said.
"Thanks for coming, Lou," said Cara.
"Long time no see, pal," said MJ.
“Just doing my job.” That was beginning to sound lame, even to him. “Wait here. I’ll check on our progress inside.”
27
~Cara~
“I wonder if this has anything to do with Kathy’s death,” I said to my friends.
“Don’t be ridiculous,” said MJ. “The bad guys always return to the scene of the crime. The Treasure Chest wasn’t the crime scene. At least, it wasn’t until this happened.”
“True,” I said.
“We need more illumination around this building,” said MJ. “Always have. Essie considered putting up motion sensitive lights on the back and the side.”
“That wouldn’t be too hard to do,” said Skye, as she yawned. “Or too expensive. When Dick was bumping around in his gas station at all hours of the day and night, no one dared to bother us. But no one is looking out for us anymore.”
“I hope we still have something to sell tomorrow night,” I said, talking to myself as well as to MJ and Skye.
We sat in the squad car for what seemed like an eternity. I dozed off again, only to wake up with my head on MJ’s shoulder. Skye had tucked herself into a ball with her forehead resting on her knees. MJ was leaning against the car window and snoring lightly.
“Okay, ladies. All clear,” said Lou, as he re-opened the car door to the passenger side. He offered Skye his arm, while MJ and I scrambled out the other side.
The female officer introduced herself as Valerie Blaze. The name suited her, because her eyes snapped and crackled with intelligence.
"I need to take all of you inside so you can tell us what's missing, if anything. Looks like our creep busted the lock on the back door to get in. Unfortunately, we think he was wearing gloves. I guess you already know he exited through one of your display windows," said Lou.
“Yeah, I saw it,” I said. I'd managed to forget about the window while I was taking my snooze. “Lou, do you think this has anything to do with Kathy Simmons’ death?”
Instead of correcting me and saying it might not have been Kathy’s body in the Toyota, Lou said, “Doubtful. She wasn’t killed inside your store.”
As we stepped over the crime scene tape, Officer Blaze took down our names for her log book. “We’re almost done inside, but you can’t touch anything. Not yet.”
The back room had been tossed. Coffee grounds littered the floor. Trash was thrown everywhere. The sugar canister had been knocked over, so granules crunched underfoot. The in-box on MJ’s desk no longer corralled her paperwork. Papers were on the floor, resting on the trash can, and scattered on her desktop.
"Could I go to the bathroom?" I asked.
Officer Blaze nodded. "The techs are done in there."
I could tell. A fine film of fingerprint powder covered all the handles. One of the techs had also left up the toilet lid.
Or did he?
"Officer?" I called out to Officer Blaze. "Could you come here a sec?"
"Skye was the last person to use our restroom this evening before we went to the concert. Have any of your techs used it?"
"No."
"Then I think my burglar was in here. He left the toilet lid up. I have a hunch he took off his gloves, because, well, it would be awkward with them on. See that picture over the toilet? It's crooked. My son used to lean one palm against the wall when he relieved himself. Maybe the burglar did, too."
She nodded. "Hal? Get in here with that fingerprint kit."
To me, she said, “Sharp eyes. Might not pan out, but definitely worth our time."
Other than a few scratches around the locks, my filing cabinets were untouched. “My dad taught me to lock these up at the end of each work day,” I said.
“Looks like you need to tell him thanks,” said Officer Blaze.
“I think he already knows. He’s dead, but he never feels far away,” I said
“The scumbag missed your office entirely, Cara,” said Lou. “Foiled by the Storage Closet sign.”
“Yes, my inefficiency worked to my advantage.”
Officer Blaze turned a thoughtful gaze on me. Her chin was large for her face, but it wasn’t unattractive because it gave her an air of determination. “Any idea what the burglar might have been looking for?”
“No,” I said.
“What about your Highwaymen paintings?” Lou asked.
“I put them in the new vault every night,” said MJ.
“Where’s that?” asked Officer Blaze.
I walked over to a large shelf unit against the wall. Since it was on casters, I rolled it to one side and exposed the door of the safe. After twirling the dial, the door lock released. The paintings were there. A quick glance confirmed they hadn’t been disturbed.
“Thank heavens,” said MJ.
“What else?” asked Lou.
I didn’t move.
“Cara? Did you hear me?” he asked.
“I’m afraid to look,” I said. “If all our Old Florida Photos are destroyed, I don’t know how we’ll manage to pull off our VIP Event.”
“It’s not that bad, Cara,” said Skye. “Looks like the burglar was taking them apart when he got interrupted. The velvet curtain has been knocked down, but that's no biggy. I can put it up again.”
Two pictures had hit the floor. Bits of glass glittered like a field of diamonds. The photos were missing from those. Three other photos hung crookedly. Yet another had a broken frame. Overall, not as bad as I’d feared.
The rest of our sales floor seemed fine. In fact, the only sign we’d been burgled was the general disarray. Doors on cabinets were standing open. Drawers had been opened and upended. Display bins had been dumped. Basically, our invader had tossed the joint. It felt more like a temper tantrum than an organized search.
The burglar had been searching for something. But what?
“I checked the cash register. Our thief didn’t bust it open,” said Skye. “Maybe because of that sticker saying that all our cash is in the safe.”
“Whoever did this wasn’t in it for the money,” said Lou.
“Or the Highwaymen paintings,” added Officer Blaze.
“But he did have a good poke around and he left in a hurry,” I said.
The broken display window grinned like a jack-o-lantern. The thief had taken a big risk by exiting that way.
“Your creep cut himself pretty badly,” said one of the crime scene techs to Officer Blaze. “Lost a fair amount of blood.”
The coppery smell confirmed that our burglar had bled copiously.
The distant rumble of thunder put us all on notice. A heavy rain would soak the interior of the store. “What are we going to do about the window? MJ? Do you know anyone?”
"I’ve got phone numbers for a couple contractors,” said Lou. “Let me make some calls. I’ll see if I can get one of them to bring around a sheet of plywood. We can tack vinyl over the whole shebang. It won't look pretty, but it'll get you through the night."
“I don’t think this was an act of vandalism,” I said, watching the fingerprint techs as they spread their silt-like powder on various surfaces. “Otherwise more of our merchandise would have been destroyed.”
Lou’s eyes apologized as he asked me, “When did you last hear from your sister? Could she have anything to do with this? I know she’s been sending you emails and letters, trying to get your goat.”
“Sorry, Cara,” said MJ.
I shrugged at her. So both MJ and Skye had been talking about me behind my back. The realization left me feeling vulnerable. “Whatever.”
To Lou, I said, “I saw Jodi last week. She and I bumped into each other at the grocery store. She did a lot of flashing her engagement ring and asking how business was. Preening and smirking.”
“Other than that?” He raised an eyebrow.
“I get letters. Words cut out of magazines telling me what a loser I am.”
“Damage to your property?”
“Eggs have been thrown against the front windows. Flowers yanked out of the big urns outside. Tomatoes smashed against my car. Phone calls. Childish stuff. Pranks.”
“It’s escalating?”
“Yes.” The word came out a hiss. I hated to admit the sort of havoc that Jodi was causing in my life. She’d managed to push me off-balance and keep me there. So much so that when Tommy had wanted to visit last weekend, I’d suggested he stay at school. His first semester had not produced stellar results, and he didn’t need another distraction, like worrying about his mother.
“Have you heard any more from Cooper Rivers?” asked Lou.
“Not since the holidays. But he and Jodi have called in their RSVPs to come tomorrow night. Uh, Jack is squirmy. Mind if I take him upstairs and put him in his crate?”
Officer Blaze volunteered to accompany me. “I cleared the second floor, but it doesn't hurt to be safe. Doesn’t look like our creep made his way up here. But, he could have popped the lock on your apartment with a credit card and reclosed it.”
“Right,” I agreed. I felt totally defeated and violated. Officer Blaze’s presence was more welcome than I would admit.
The policewoman insisted on going inside first while Jack and I waited.
A minute later, she motioned an “all clear,” and I entered my apartment.
Officer Blaze stood in the center of my living room. Staring at the empty space, the cardboard boxes, the battered card table and the metal folding chair, she cracked a smile and said, “Love what you’ve done with the place.”
28
~Cara~
Friday morning
Cara’s apartment over The Treasure Chest
By seven, I was up and dressed. Although I felt like I’d been hit by a truck and dragged down a dirt road, I was also eager to get us ready for our big VIP event. I took Jack out the front door, consciously avoiding those parking spaces behind Poppy’s gas station.
Jack did his thing and raced back to the store. He was eager for his kibble breakfast.
First order of business for me, after I had a cup of coffee, was mopping up fingerprint dust and picking up stray papers.
An hour into my straightening and cleaning, Skye joined me. We worked side-by-side to replace the lost photos. We also changed out “new” frames for those with broken glass. I thanked providence that I’d purchased extra frames when we’d gone on our initial buying spree.
MJ came in early, too. She swept up the shards of glass from the display window and called someone to fix it. Before she got down on her hands and knees to mop up the blood on the floor, she told me, “The new glass will be installed by two this afternoon. The repairman is going to change the back door lock. That’ll give us a couple hours before the event.”
I didn’t ask how she’d conjured up such efficient help. In addition to her five ex-husbands, she’s dated every man in town, giving her a huge network of contacts.
Sid and Honora wandered in at ten, as planned. They gawped at the mess.
“My, my,” said Honora, her eyes big as twin goldfish swimming behind her glasses.
"Someone went ham on this place," said Sid. Translation: Someone went nuts in here. He poured himself a big mug of coffee and added a packet of hot chocolate mix.
“What happened?” asked Honora.
“Someone broke in last night while we were at the concert,” said Skye, and she filled them in on last evening’s excitement.
"You have to be kidding,” said Sid.
“Anything taken?” Honora started her tea.
“Wow. We must be riding the crest of a crime wave. Did you hear they found that missing reporter?” asked Sid. “Kathy Simmons? She was stuffed in the trunk of her Toyota. It must have been parked right behind our store. I can’t believe I missed all the excitement.”
MJ dumped a red bucket of dirty water and Lysol into the sink. "We know all about Kathy Simmons. We were there when they opened the trunk. But we couldn’t talk about it. Police orders."
"Sick," said Sid. Translation: Awesome.
"Wrong word, buddy," I said. "It's a tragedy. As a show of respect, we’re all going to wear a black ribbon pinned to our clothes tonight. In fact, why don’t you can run right out and buy ribbon and safety pins. Here’re the keys to my car."
“What a shame,” said Honora, watching Sid leave as she stirred sugar into her tea. “Kathy was a lovely young woman. Very ambitious.”
“You knew her?” I asked.
“Yes, indeed. She came to the house and interviewed both me and EveLynn about our work. Wrote two nice articles for national magazines. Did you know it’s very hard for freelancers to collect their money? It is, I guess. A real pity because she was definitely living on the edge of poverty. Now tell me what I can do to help get the store ready for tonight.”
I opened the store at our appointed hour, and a steady stream of traffic flowed through our door. Several customers mentioned that they had scheduling conflicts, but would have liked to attend our evening event. As the afternoon went on, more and more customers came in. In fact, Skye and MJ had to help me wait on people. We were busier than we’d ever been. In fact, I didn’t get a chance to sit down all day. Too much to do.
The rat-a-tat-tat of jackhammers drifted from across the alley. Peeking out our back door window, I saw three workers in orange tee shirts. All were busy breaking up concrete. A dull ache started in my head, so I popped a couple of Advil.
A corresponding pain gripped my heart. Poppy’s gas station figured into my earliest childhood memories. I loved the old Coca Cola machine and the cold glass bottles. The tanks of shiners or minnows would entertain me for hours. Swallowing hard, I reminded myself that the next convenience store (complete with gas pumps and a garage) would provide more services and more jobs, including a spot for my grandfather to ply his trade as a mechanic.
Right at two, a truck arrived with a huge sheet of glass. Three men worked to fix the front window. A new lock was installed in no time. Sid took my car again and got new keys made for all of us.
I closed the store at four to give us an hour to put our feet up and change into nice clothes. Honora looked a bit tired, so at my suggestion, she snuggled up on my sofa and took a nap. I heard Skye’s footsteps and realized she’d knocked off work early at Pumpernickel’s in order to change for this evening.
Honora opened her sleepy eyes and yawned.
“Nice nap?” I asked.
“Exactly what I needed,” she said.
“The bathroom is all yo
urs,” I told her. “I’m going downstairs.”
Standing in my office, I took a few minutes to go through the day's mail. The bills went into my inbox, the solicitations into the trash, and the typed envelope addressed to me, I opened with a sense of dread.
Sure enough, it was a piece of "hate mail." The kind I'd been getting for nearly a month. After calling me all sorts of names, the sender suggested that I sell up and leave town.
I put the letter into the shredder, watching with satisfaction as the blades ripped it to pieces.
Honora walked past and stuck her head in. “Cup of tea, Cara, dear?”
That sounded great.
Sid came out of the downstairs restroom, looking quite presentable in his serving uniform. Black pants, a skinny black tie, and freshly ironed white shirt. I loaned him one of my father’s tie tacks to keep his necktie out of the food. After pinning it on awkwardly, he asked, “What do you need me to do?”
“Fill the armoire,” I said.
“I can help,” said Honora. “Let me rinse out my cup.”
While they stocked the cupboard with bath crystals, foot scrubs, skin lotions, MJ and I finished the food prep and setting serving utensil on the table. Since we didn’t have to worry about customers overhearing, Honora and Sid took the opportunity to ask more questions about the break in.
“Seriously? You can’t tell if they took anything?” said Sid.
“No. If my computer had been out in the open, they might have tried to grab that.”
“Doubtful,” said Sid. “That hard drive is a relic. Who’d want it? It’s got a lot of memory, but it isn’t fast. And fast is where it’s at.”
“Not always,” said Skye, with a grin as she walked past us. She’d changed into a gauzy skirt and adorable sweater.
“I wonder why they knocked pictures off the wall and took them out of the frames,” said Honora.
“I think I can tell you what they took,” said Skye, coming out of the back room. In her hands was the box of extra photos. She’d labeled manila dividers to separate the photos into categories. “There isn’t a single photo of a person in this box. Not even one.”
Kiki Lowenstein Books 1-3 & Cara Mia Delgatto Books 1-3: The Perfect Series for Crafters, Pet Lovers, and Readers Who Like Upbeat Books! Page 100
