“Anything is possible,” said Lou, talking to himself.
“Finished.” Ollie stepped out of the bedroom.
“Did you see an old black and white photo anywhere?” asked Lou.
“Nope. Why?" Ollie had a smudge of raspberry filling on his upper lip.
"It's a loose end. I don't like loose ends. As far as we know, Kathy didn’t swing by the apartment after the media event. But that’s only supposition on our part. We could be wrong. We can’t account for every minute of her time, right? If she did drop by before going to the newspaper to write up her article, the photo could be here.”
“Yes, but we’ve gone over this place once. The only thing on the walls is a cheap poster of Britney Spears," said Ollie. “We didn’t find any photos anywhere.”
Lou shook his head. “But that picture was important to Kathy. Important enough that she stuck around and bullied Cara into selling it. So why hasn’t it turned up?”
“Could it be at the newspaper office?” asked Ollie.
Lou shrugged. “It’s possible, I guess.”
“Maybe the burglars took it,” said Ollie. “Or she could have hidden it somewhere. Dropped it in a mailbox?”
“Ms. Lahti?” Lou went over and squatted next to the young woman. “Do you know if Kathy came home after the media event? Did you see any indication she’d been here? We’re wondering what might have happened to the photo she bought. Maybe she came back and dropped it off at the apartment before going to the newspaper office.”
“It isn’t here,” she said.
“Could your burglars have taken it?”
“No,” she said. “It isn’t here, and it wasn’t here.”
“You know that how?” prodded Lou.
“I just know,” said Darcy.
Not helpful, thought Lou. “Ollie? Out in the hall.”
The two men stood head to head, speaking in low whispers.
Lou shook his head in disgust. "We've got nothing. No phone. No picture from The Treasure Chest. Just an empty frame No witnesses. No evidence. No motive. Nothing!”
“Not true,” said Ollie. “I’ve got Ms. Simmons’ notebook computer. Don’t panic until I go through that little Dell and see what I can find. We’ll probably find something there!”
On the drive to the station, Lou talked over the case with Showalter. “What I really need is to interview Mr. Green and the others at the newspaper office.”
"See if you can shake any peaches out of his tree," said Showalter.
“Oranges,” Lou said.
“Oranges?” Showalter repeated.
“We’re in Florida now. Peaches grow up in Georgia.”
CHAPTER 25
~Cara~
Two patrol cars flew past, heading in the direction of my store. They had on their bubble lights but didn’t use their sirens.
“Maybe they’ll catch the creeps in the act,” MJ said.
“Crud,” I said. “I now officially declare this A Totally Rotten Day.”
“Except for dinner together and the concert,” said Skye. “That was terrific.”
“Don’t forget that hunk who carried you up to your sofa and spent time in your bedroom,” said MJ.
“Jason was in your bedroom?” Skye’s eyes grew big. “I didn’t hear about that.”
“Just to grab a pillow and towel to put under my legs,” I said, waving away her excitement.
“Right. If he’d been in my bedroom,” said MJ, “I would have—”
“Whoa! Down girl,” I said. “We better start walking back toward the store.”
The three of us were quiet, except for Jack, who growled as if he were an attack dog.
“Hush, little fellow,” I told him. “You are not big enough to throw your weight around. I know you think you are, but you aren’t.”
“Wow, we’ve had ringside seats to two crimes in one day. This has to be some sort of a record,” said Skye.
“And most people don’t think retail is that exciting,” said MJ.
“Ha, ha, ha,” I said in a grumpy voice.
“Cara, the whole point of this evening was for you to step back and put things into perspective,” Skye reminded me.
“Could be worse,” said MJ. “Could be raining.”
“You do realize that rain is in the forecast don’t you?” I asked.
“Uh-huh,” she said.
We found a spot across from The Treasure Chest where we could watch. We stood there, thirty feet from the front door of Pumpernickel’s, craning our necks. I could see that my right display window was broken. Shards of glass hung loosely from the molding. I knew what the replacement would cost and inwardly I groaned. Sure, I have insurance, but there’s still a deductible, and claims can drive up your rates.
A female police officer in uniform stepped out of the front door of The Treasure Chest and started snapping pictures with her phone. After clicking off a few, she unrolled yellow “Caution” tape, taking it out as far as the streetlight on the corner.
I crossed the street. “Hello?”
“Miss? Stay clear, please. This is a crime scene.” She waved me back.
“Unfortunately, it’s my crime scene.” I reached into my back pocket and withdrew a business card. “I’m Cara Mia Delgatto. This is my store. Those two women? Across the street? Those are MJ Austin and Skye Blue. They both work with me. I live in one of the apartments upstairs and Skye lives in the other unit.”
The officer glanced at my card before nodding. “I’m Officer Valerie Blaze. Look, I can’t let you interfere with what we’re doing to secure the scene. All three of you need to wait in my patrol car. It's around back. I'll walk you there.”
She got her partner to come and watch the front of the store while she led us, Pied Piper-style around to her police cruiser. I took the hump, and the three of us sat shoulder to shoulder on the back seat, saying nothing in the dark and the quiet. Fortunately, Jack didn’t make a peep either. The way we were huddled together reminded me of a slumber party, only without pajamas and a Ouija board.
My last thought as I fell asleep was, I sure hope there’s something left for us to sell.
CHAPTER 26
~Lou~
“No one’s been hurt, sir, except for the burglar who is presently at large. He cut himself going through the front window. The location has been cleared,” said Officer Valerie Blaze, her gray-green eyes bright with adrenalin.
“Brief me on the situation.” Lou had been at the station doing the inevitable paperwork that followed any investigation, but seemed endless when there was a homicide. When he heard the dispatcher say there was a break-in in progress, at The Treasure Chest, he’d dropped everything and raced to his car.
“I was the first responder, sir,” said Valerie. “Officer Ensign here was my back up. We pulled up in time to see an individual rummaging around in the back room. The beam from his flashlight was visible. The back door was his entry point. I shouted a warning as we entered. I called for the perpetrator to halt. He went racing through the front of the store. I pursued him, but he had a head start. I heard glass breaking. He must have broken the plate glass window and then barreled through it to escape. When you go inside, you’ll see there’s a copious amount of blood on the glass and surrounding window frame.”
“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 s
eeing 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, as if she’d forgotten she was angry with him, and then immediately let it go.
“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 inside the shop.”
“We hightailed it back to where people were,” 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.”
CHAPTER 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. She was leaning against the car window and snoring lightly Skye had tucked herself into a ball with her forehead resting on her knees. We all woke with a start when Lou opened the door.
“Okay, ladies. All clear,” said Lou. He offered Skye his arm, while MJ and I scrambled out the other side.
Officer Valerie Blaze’s name suited her, because her eyes snapped and crackled with intelligence.
"I need to take 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 wrote our names in 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 had been strewn everywhere. The sugar canister had been knocked over, and 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 Valerie 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. “Must have been misled by the Storage Closet sign and that cheap combination lock. Doesn’t look very professional—and that worked to your advantage.”
“Yes,” I said, as I sent up a prayer of thanksgiving.
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 vault every night,” said MJ. “Cara had the new safe installed some time ago.”
“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.”
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.
“It’s not that bad,” 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 biggie. I can put it up again.”
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 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?”
"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 over a sheet of plywood tonight. We can tack vinyl over the whole shebang. It won't look pretty, but it'll get you through the evening."
“I don’t think this was an act of vandalism.” I watched the fingerprint techs as they spread their silt-like powder on various surfaces. “Otherwise more of our merchandise would have been destro
yed.”
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.
Second Chance at Life Page 8
