by Rayna Morgan
Standing between the two men, Lea reached out her hand to Sunny. “I’m Lea Austin. You’re the one Ryan speaks so highly of.”
The man shook hands without taking his eyes from his cousin. “All I’m suggesting is that we get to the bottom of this. I can’t afford to have any more shipments stolen.”
“Nor can I,” Ryan agreed, “but this isn’t the time or the place. We’ll talk at the family dinner this weekend.”
Sunny looked at Lea and fumbled for his keys. “Glad to meet you, Mrs. Austin, but I need to go. Sorry for the interruption.” He gave his cousin a parting look. “Since it happened just outside Buena Viaje, I’m filing a report with the local police.”
Ryan shook his head as he watched him retreat. “He’s wasting his time. I’ve already tried that.”
“The police aren’t making any headway?”
“We’ve only talked once since I reported the thefts, and they weren’t encouraging. Tracking nuts is apparently more difficult than tracing goods with inventory numbers. In the meantime, the tension is mounting at family outings.”
Ryan looked as though he’d lost his best friend which reminded Lea of her friend at the police department. “I know a detective in the crimes division. I could ask him for an update on your case.”
“Would you? I’d appreciate that.”
She smiled as she picked up her shopping bags. “Anything to help. There will be tension in my own family when I show up with no pistachios.”
CHAPTER THREE
When her parents arrived that afternoon, the dogs clamored to the front door. She hurried to keep them from knocking her father down in their eagerness.
“Gracie, Spirit,” she hollered. “Let the poor man in the house.”
“It’s okay. I’m glad to see them, too.” Warren Conley dropped to a knee and embraced the pets.
“I’ve been waiting for you, Gramps,” Jon called, racing down the stairs. “Our chess game is ready.” The gangling teenager towered over his grandmother as he put his arms around her.
The man stood and hugged the boy. “After dinner, I’m all yours.”
Barbara Conley followed her daughter to the kitchen. “Smells like your special marinade. Be sure to give me the recipe so your father won’t be disappointed the next time I cook ribs.”
Lea smiled. Her mother’s culinary skills were less than noteworthy even though Barbara spent hours watching cooking shows on TV. Her father was the better cook, and he never opened a cookbook. “Go out to the patio and relax. I’ll bring something cool to drink.”
She carried a tray with cheese and crackers and a pitcher of tea to the table. She observed her dad carefully as she poured the beverage into ice-filled glasses. “How are you doing, Dad?”
Her father had suffered a stroke shortly before his retirement from a distinguished career with the San Diego Police Department. A partial paralysis on his left side prevented him from pursuing his dream of sailing his boat to South America, but through a vigorous rehabilitation program, he had regained most of his dexterity. He had re-channeled his energies into writing a book about his exploits as a policeman and lecturing at police academies and conventions.
He answered in a husky voice. “I’m fine. I wish you and your mother would stop asking me that question.”
“Don’t be grouchy, Warren,” Barbara scolded. “Lea knows you tend to overdue. It’s one of your failings.”
“Be grateful I have so few. Now that I’m through chasing bad guys, the only thing that’s overdone is your pot roast.”
Lea stifled a giggle as she returned to the kitchen. Hearing the dogs run to the back door, she sighed with relief. “Just in time,” she murmured.
Paul winked on his way to the backyard. He pressed Warren’s shoulder as he walked behind his chair and leaned over to kiss Barbara on the cheek. “Anyone besides me ready for a cocktail?”
* * *
Her sister walked through the front door as Lea closed the oven after basting the meat with her special sauce. Maddy raised a large bowl covered with plastic wrap and called to the people in the back yard. “I brought potato salad, Dad.”
“That’s my girl,” Warren hollered back.
Lea observed her sister’s glowing, bronzed complexion. “You’ve been catching rays. Did you take time to make the salad, or did you pick it up at the deli?”
“Does it matter?” Hazel eyes sparkled under pencil-thin eyebrows. “It’s the thought that counts and I was thinking of Dad’s favorite things.”
“You have such a way of weaving excuses, Mad.”
Paul entered the kitchen and pulled a blender out of the cupboard. “We haven’t seen you for a couple of days. What have you been up to?”
“Working, gardening, running on the beach,” Maddy answered casually.
Warren came up behind her. “That sounds pretty laid back for you. Don’t you miss the big city?”
Maddy turned to hug her father. “Not for a moment. Besides, it’s only an hour away if I need a fix.” She looked at him closely. “You doing okay, Dad?”
“Not you, too!” Warren growled.
“I should have warned you,” Lea said. “That’s the wrong question to ask.”
The doorbell rang.
“I’ll get it,” Maddy offered, glad for an excuse to leave the room.
The tall, blond man in khakis and a button-down shirt was one of the main reasons she didn’t miss her former life. She leaned forward for a light embrace against his six-foot three-inch frame. “Hi, Tom. I was hoping you’d come.”
“Me, too. I mean, I hoped you were coming.” He smiled sweetly and held up a bottle of wine. “I brought your favorite, just in case.”
Taking the bottle, she wrapped her arm through his. “Did you bribe the crooks to give you a night off?”
His mood lightened as she steered him to the back yard. “It may not last but for now, you have my undivided attention.”
“I’m glad.” She enjoyed their relaxed friendship, enhanced by common interests of familiarity with law enforcement and the heartbreak of divorce. “Dad loves trading war stories with you, but save time for me.”
He tweaked her nose. “Count on it.”
“Hey, Tom, glad you could make it,” Paul called out. “You two want a Margarita?”
“No thanks, I’ll have wine,” Maddy said. She smiled at Tom.
* * *
Lea cleared the dirty dinner plates. “Dessert now or later?” she asked.
“I’m stuffed,” Warren said. “Later, please.”
Lea knew her father was eager to join Jon for their game of chess, but she wanted to ask him some questions.
She put an arm around her son. “How about letting your grandpa enjoy a cup of coffee before you two get started?”
“Sure, Mom.” He called the dogs. “C’mon, guys. I’ll take you for a walk.”
“Let’s go to the living room,” Lea told the others. She gave her husband a tray and followed him with a steaming pot of coffee. She filled a cup, added cream, and handed it to her dad. “I heard an interesting story today.”
“I’m all ears.” Warren swirled the black and white liquid with a spoon and settled against the cushion.
“I went to the health food store to get pistachios for you and Jon.” She filled her mug and set the pot on the table. “Unfortunately, there weren’t any.”
“They were out when I needed them for my softball game,” Paul recalled. “What’s going on?”
“That’s what I asked the manager.” She inhaled the rich aroma of the coffee. “Somewhere between the farm and the retailers, the nuts have been getting hijacked.”
“People stealing nuts, what next!” Barbara moaned.
“Stolen nuts come across as a joke in the media, but food heists are no laughing matter.” Warren set his cup aside and folded his arms across his chest. “Food and beverages have replaced electronics as items most often stolen. Nuts are among the hottest items on the black market these days.”
>
Maddy chuckled and leaned toward her father. “Did you experience this nutty problem when you were with the department?”
“We had our share of cargo thefts. By the time I left the force, it had become a state-wide problem stunning farmers and law enforcement alike. Over thirty truckloads of nuts in six months worth almost ten million dollars.”
Paul whistled. “That hurts. Do they make out that well on things besides nuts?”
“You’d be surprised,” Warren said. He leaned forward, placing his elbows on his knees. “There was a case upstate in a year of drought and poor harvests when tomato prices were sky-rocketing. A gang hijacked six tractor loads of tomatoes and cucumbers in a heist worth $300,000.”
Tom stretched his legs. “My favorite was the stinky case in New Jersey of a guy caught with a semi-trailer of Muenster cheese with a street value of $200,000.”
Warren frowned. “It doesn’t impact only the farmers. It trickles down to retailers and consumers. The problem has become so bad, officials consider it an economic act of terrorism.”
“Holy smoke!” Maddy nibbled a fingernail. “Have you run into it locally, Tom?”
“In California, it’s mostly nuts, but in other parts of the country, thieves have stolen shrimp, chocolate, and bourbon.” His eyes got larger. “All sorts of weird things including maple syrup, Nutella, and chicken wings.”
Paul snickered. “Chicken wings!”
“That was before the Super Bowl, buddy,” A grin spanned the detective’s face. “Can you imagine football parties without wings?”
Barbara frowned. “Is that why almond prices are so high?”
Lea raised a finger. “More than almonds, Mom. Pistachios, cashews, and walnuts, too. One of the manager’s major concerns is people complaining about the cost.”
“Can’t they stop the thefts, Dad?” Maddy asked.
He shook his head. “Not likely. Tracking nuts is far more difficult than tracking other stolen goods. With no serial numbers, they can’t be tagged or traced.”
“That would be a problem,” Paul agreed. “Besides, there’s nothing suspicious in driving around with a load of nuts in central California.”
“If policemen pull a truck over, they have to prove the nuts are stolen,” Tom said. “Otherwise, the guy goes on his way.”
“To make matters worse,” Warren pointed out, “even if thieves get caught—”
“Few are caught,” the detective was quick to add.
“The crime is grand theft.”
“That translates to no jail time in this state,” Tom explained, “or at least minimal, with the overcrowding of the jails.”
Maddy spread her hands. “Where do they sell the goods?”
“There are middle men who transfer stolen food the same way they fence jewelry,” her father responded. “The thieves can also sell direct to road-side stalls, mom-and-pop grocers, or fruit and nut shops. Plenty of grocery and convenience stores take sub-priced items with no questions asked.”
Maddy pulled on her ear. “But where do they store the stuff until they get rid of it? An eighteen-wheeler full of cheese is not something you hide in the fridge.”
Her father grunted. “For many of these boosters, storage safety isn’t a huge concern. It makes the black markets a possible hazard for consumers’ health. On more than one occasion, our officers found food waiting to be sold that wasn’t stored in proper conditions.”
Maddy scrunched her nose. “Ugh, that’s disgusting. I’m glad we had this conversation after we finished eating.”
Lea decided it was time to focus on the information she needed. “Have you heard of recent developments in local thefts, Tom? The store manager filed reports with the police.”
“Excuse the pun, but unless these hijackers go nuts and kill someone, my team won’t get involved. There was scuttlebutt in the robbery division, but I don’t remember the details.”
“Any chance you could find out the latest status?” Lea busied herself refilling cups to avoid her husband’s cryptic gaze.
“I’ll call you if I run down anything,” Tom replied.
“Don’t let my nosy wife waste your time, pal,” Paul advised.
“You can’t stifle Lea’s love of a mystery.” Warren smiled fondly as he put an arm around his daughter. “This apple didn’t fall far from the tree.”
* * *
Maddy and Tom left the others and walked outside to enjoy the stars and cool night air. Maddy laid on a lounger and twisted strands of hair between her fingers. She watched Tom settle into a wicker chair, spreading his long legs in front of him. A smile tipped the corners of her mouth.
He looked at her. “What are you smiling at?”
“It seems like we’ve known each other a lot longer than we have.”
“Yeah, I know what you mean.”
“You’ve become a closer friend in a few months than my ex was in eight years of marriage.”
He grinned. “I guess we’ve got what the single guys at the precinct call good chemistry.”
“Whatever it is, it’s good for me.”
“It’s good for me, too.” His face grew more serious. “I have a hard time shaking off work when I leave the station. I’m not one of those lucky stiffs whose job ends at the end of an eight-hour day. I can’t turn it off and tune it out.”
Maddy stared at the moon. “When Dad was with the force, I remember the nights he came home before I went to bed. We’d go to the park after dinner and play catch until the sun went down. Sometimes, after chasing a stray pitch, I’d come back to find him staring into space. He’d insist we return to the house and I knew the pieces of a case he was working on had snapped into place.”
Tom shook his head. “Hardly fair for you.”
“I didn’t mind. I was happy for the time he gave me.”
The detective looked at the ground, suddenly ill-humored. “Not the best way to raise kids.”
She stood and twirled in front of him. “But look how well I turned out.”
His face broke into a wide grin. “Very well indeed. You’re a light in my life. I wish we’d become friends earlier.”
She sat beside him. “We attract people into our lives according to who we are. Who I am now isn’t who I was. If we’d met in another time and place, we wouldn’t have noticed each other.”
“Not possible.”
“As we know ourselves more, the choice of people we surround ourselves with changes. You and I tune into each other now because I’ve tuned into myself.”
A buzzer attached to Tom’s belt went off. They looked at each other and smiled.
“We couldn’t hold off the bad guys forever,” she said.
* * *
Lea dried the last dish as her father walked into the kitchen. “How was your game, Dad?”
He beamed. “That son of yours is getting too good for me. He won again.”
“You didn’t give him any breaks, I hope.”
“No way. He beat me fair and square.” Warren sat on a stool at the counter. “The days of my throwing the match so he could win are over. His victories are well earned.”
She gestured toward the coffee machine. “Would you like another cup?”
“Not for me, thanks. It will keep me awake.”
“Are you having trouble sleeping?”
“A bit. Thankfully, not from the stuff that kept me up nights when I was with the force. The cause now is age more than unsolved cases.”
Lea took off her apron and sat beside him. “I used to watch you,” she said.
He expressed mild curiosity. “Watch me what?”
“I’d creep downstairs when Mom thought I was asleep. You were at your desk with papers and pictures sprawled out in front of you. The lamp cast shadows across the photos. You hovered over them with a magnifying glass.
“The chair creaked whenever you leaned back,” she said, without looking at him. “You'd pull a pipe from the rack and use a small gadget to clean it. From a canister at the edg
e of the desk, you grabbed a clump of tobacco and tamped it into the bowl. It was an automatic gesture. Your eyes weren’t on the pipe; they never left the pictures.”
Her father looked amused and she continued. “You’d strike a match and hold it to the bowl while you puffed. Once the pipe lit, you’d spin your chair and stare out the window.” She locked eyes with him. “I wanted to crawl inside your head to see the scenario being played out.”
“I had no idea. I never heard you on the stairs.”
“I’d catch myself holding my breath and realize I’d stopped breathing.”
“You could have joined me. I wouldn’t have told your mother.”
“I didn’t want to disturb you. Besides, I knew you wouldn’t share your thoughts.”
“I suppose you’re right.” He nodded his head slowly. “The rule with your mother and me was that I didn't talk shop. It wasn't proper dinner conversation for two young girls.”
“I would have loved to hear. Much more interesting than listening to Maddy brag about her winning field goal or Mom describe her flower show.”
Warren grinned. “Hopefully, I’ve made up for it since my retirement by sharing my stories.”
“It’s not the cases so much as how you pieced together the facts to find the guilty party that fascinates me.”
“Yes, that was the fun part.” His eyes sparkled. “You’re like me in that regard. Maddy’s a doer. You’re a thinker.”
“It's the reason Jon prefers debate to basketball.” She poked her father's arm. “And why he’s beating you at chess.”
* * *
When their guests left, Lea turned out the lights while her husband locked the doors.
“Great dinner tonight, babe,” he told her. “Are you coming upstairs?”
“As soon as I put things away in my office.”
When she heard her husband in Jon’s room saying good night, she turned off her computer and picked up her phone. Talking with her father had inspired her. She tapped in her neighbor’s number.
Ida answered on the second ring.
“I hope you weren’t in bed,” Lea said.
“Heavens, no,” the older woman assured her. “I’m staying up as late as possible so I’ll fall asleep and not lie there listening for noises.”
