Seeing Is Believing (3 page)

Leslie felt as if her stomach would
collapse inside her. She sat at a table in the front while Reed went behind the
counter and retrieved the coffeepot, bringing it over to refill their mugs. She
quickly put in a packet of sugar,
then
stirred it
absentmindedly.

When he'd sat back down, she glanced up,
alternating her gaze between Reed and Chester. "Someone was in the back room,
taking their illegal contraband, weren't they? They were back there while I was
up here, working, or while we were sitting here, eating and drinking and
talking."

"Yes." Reed nodded at her. "I'm really
sorry, truly I am."

"You're not interested in the ghost
town,
you're here to see if I'm a drug smuggler." She
sneered at him, but the look quickly disappeared. He was being very nice,
really he was. That didn't mean she liked him, though. She was pretty upset
about the fact Chester might have thought she was a drug smuggler.

"How did you know to target the boxes
coming to my shop?" She glanced at Reed.

"We had an informant," Reed replied.
"Drugs let the warehouse in Dallas Thursday night going in three different
directions. It's the luck of the draw that I was assigned to your store."

Leslie took a packet of sugar, wiggled
it around,
then
tore it open, turning it over and
slowly letting it drip into her coffee cup. "Who took them, that's what I want
to know."

"Me too," Reed said. "The fact they got
to them so quickly means they were waiting nearby, ready to take the items the
first chance they got. And it didn't take long, did it? Who was that woman who
was here earlier?"

"Betty Whitehouse? She lives just over
the border, in
Tres
Leches
.
She comes in about twice a month to buy a pie."

"Do you trust her?"

"Trust her? She's a sweet little old
lady who drives fifty miles to buy her husband a pie, of course I trust her.
She and her husband own a ranch, complete with cattle and horses and lots of
hired hands. They provide a great economic boom to our area, and they make lots
of money. They don't need to smuggle drugs."

"Or, she's a sweet little old lady who
drives fifty miles to distract the clerk after drugs have been delivered to her
store, so someone can slip into the back and take stuff from the box. Maybe
they're not doing as well as you think they are."

She narrowed her eyes at Reed. "I don't
like your tone of voice. Don't you dare blame Mrs. Whitehouse for
anything.
"

"You say she comes in twice a month?
When was the last time she was here before today?" He was staring at her now,
with those green eyes that seemed to go straight to her soul. She wanted to
reach across the table and slap the smile from his face.

"She was here last week."

"Really?
And what is
today, the six, seventh? And she's already been here twice this month, when she
only comes in twice a month usually?"

The hairs on the back of Leslie's neck
bristled.
She couldn't, wouldn't, believe Mrs. Whitehouse had
anything to do with drug smuggling.
After all, she'd been coming into
Leslie's shop since it opened two years ago. Surely she hadn't been doing this
all along.

"You're full of it." She stirred a
packet of sugar into her coffee, took a sip and grimaced. "Yuck."

"I would say so," Chester said. "That's
about the third packet of sugar you've put in there."

"Something's got to be done." She banged
her fist on the table. "Shouldn't you be
back
there
taking fingerprints or something?"

"Fingerprints of
a box that's already been handled by at least ten people?"
Reed shook his
head. "It wouldn't do us any good. Neither would
fingerprinting
the door. Someone would just say they'd been in the alley at some point in time
and touched the screen."

"That's just dandy," Leslie said. "So
they just get away with it? What are you going to do?"

Reed leaned toward her and she gazed
into his eyes. His presence was calming, and him moving a little closer made
her feel better about what was happening. Surely he had a plan. Surely he could
make things right? Couldn't he? She still couldn't quite believe this was
happening at all.

"I have a plan," he said softly,
glancing between her and Chester. "But you may not like it. You have two other shipments
coming in, don't you?"

Her eyes widened. "And just how do you
know that?"

"Best you don't have any idea how I
know," he said softly. "Suffice it to say when we think someone is receiving
illegal drugs, we have them checked out. The company says they've already
received shipping information about two more delivers here, one tomorrow, and
one next week."

"That's right." Leslie tried not to be
too upset about the fact someone had been looking at information about her,
probably both about her private life and her personal life. "They were supposed
to be Halloween treats, to bring more people into the store, to make things
festive for the holiday."

"Well, your treats have turned into
tricks, but I'm going to help you figure out who did it, and we'll take care of
it together."

She narrowed her eyes, studying him. He
was a handsome
man, that
was for sure: right at six
feet tall, two hundred pounds; he had wavy dark hair and those gorgeous green
eyes that made her feel as if she could melt on the spot. She pursed her lips,
then
sighed.

She didn't know the man from
Adam, that
much was true. But she'd known Chester since she
was a little girl, and if he said things were going to be all right,
then
they would be. She looked at the deputy in question and
he nodded, giving her a look that let her know that, no matter what, he'd also
be there, helping her cope with this.

Leslie looked back at Reed.
"All right.
Tell me your plan."

*****

"Is this your subtle way of telling me
I'm fired?" Leslie glanced at
Tambi
, who stood in the
doorway, gently bouncing Josh on her hip.

"What? No!"

"Well, when I come in for work and see a
man wearing an apron and doing what I normally do, I get a little nervous."

Leslie put the faxed papers she held on
her desk,
then
turned to her friend. "I told you
yesterday, he's just a friend of Chester's
who's
down
on his luck. I offered him a part-time job to work in the mornings, while
you're not here."

Tambi
didn't look
convinced, though, and Leslie felt a twinge of guilt for lying to her friend.
She'd wanted to tell her the truth, but Reed had insisted it was a bad idea.

"If she's not in on it, giving her that
type of information could make things dangerous for her, if the person, or
persons, responsible start asking questions. Best to let her think I'm just a
new co-worker. Only you, Chester and
myself
will know
the truth."

At the time he'd said the words she'd
been convinced. But now, staring at
Tambi's
worried
face, she wasn't so sure. She had to shore up her friend's sense of belonging
at Spice is Nice.

"I'm not firing you, and you can take
that to the bank. I just did this as a favor to Chester."

Tambi
nodded,
although she still seemed a little less sure of herself. Leslie knew
Tambi
needed the money from both her jobs to make ends
meet, and that seeing Reed behind the counter only made her think bad things.

"Why don't you go and tell him he's
relieved," Leslie said with a smile. "Then you can work the after-school rush.
You can leave Josh here with me, if you want."

"That's
okay,
my mom's coming by for him. She says she doesn't get to see him enough."

Leslie wondered if that was the reason
for Carol's sudden interest in her grandson, or if
Tambi
asked her to come by because she thought Leslie didn't want Josh in the store
anymore. She decided not to push the issue, though, and nodded.

"Fine.
When you
relieve Reed, would you send him back here, please?"

Tambi
nodded, and
about ten minutes later Reed came through the door, still wearing his apron.
The sight made Leslie smile. The white garment meant to protect his clothing
did nothing to detract from his masculinity. He was absolutely gorgeous.

"You rang, boss?" He winked and her
heart beat just a little faster.

"Here are the tracking papers they faxed
to me. According to them the box weighed forty pounds when it shipped."

He took the papers and frowned. "Would
you say that's how much it weighed? After all, you lifted it."

"Yes, when it first got here that's how
much it weighed. But you know as well as I do that when we picked it up
yesterday afternoon and put it on the scale it weighed fourteen pounds."

He nodded. "
Sorta
smart on their part, I think. A forty pound box is heavy, yeah, but not over
the top. Don't make it so heavy that someone will want to investigate, or
charge more for it."

He sat down on the edge of her desk.
"How many boxes are coming in today?"

"Three." She walked to her desk and
picked up a sheet of paper. "Then, next week, the shipment with the T-shirts
has five boxes."

Leslie watched him consider the
information. "If I were them, I wouldn't put anything in the today's box; that
would throw you off, or so they would think. I would wait until next week, with
the T-shirts."

She felt as if her world was crashing
down on her. "Of course, they may not do it at all anymore. Yesterday could
have been a one shot thing, not that we really believe that."

"Obviously you don't, since you're still
hanging around."

"Gee thanks, nothing hurts my ego like a
woman who says I'm still hanging around like I'm three-week old garbage."

She smiled at him, her mood lightening
just a little. "I didn't mean it that way." She shuffled around just a little,
then
cleared her throat. "The truck should be here with my
delivery in less than
ah
hour. I'm going to make the
driver wait while I check out the box."

"No, you're not."

"Yes, I am." She gave a low grunt. "This
is my business we're talking about."

"And finding out what's going on is my
business. Don't make me regret telling you what's happening."

Leslie turned so fast she felt
lightheaded. She put her hand on the desk to steady herself. "Listen to me,
while I repeat myself very slowly. I agreed to act as if you worked here to
help you investigate, but this is my business that's on the line, and if I want
to make the driver stick around while I check things out, then I will."

"If you do that, you're jeopardizing
everything. They can't know we're on to them. We have absolutely no evidence
from yesterday."

"Exactly,
which is why
we need to catch them in the act today.
" She nodded approval at her
reasoning.

"Yes, we do, but we don't want them to
know. I doubt very seriously the driver is in on this, but if you open the box,
and find drugs inside, the first thing he's going to do is go back and tell his
superiors, then they shut things down and we're out of luck."

"That won't happen."

"Watch and see. You'll follow my rules
on this." He stood up, and Leslie was reminded of his size, his strength.

"Listen, this is my store..." She jerked
her head toward the knock at the back door. "There he is now. The point is
mute. I'm doing it."

She hurried toward the door, pushing it
open so the deliveryman could wheel his dolly inside. There were five boxes and
she frowned.

"Hey Frank. I'm only supposed to get
three."

He pulled out his machine and punched
some numbers. "They all have your name on them," he said, shrugging. "Maybe
you've got a surprise here."

"Well, let's
ope
..."
Leslie's words stopped when Reed grabbed her. He twirled her around,
then
slapped her behind. Her outraged cry filled the back
room and he slapped her behind again. Pain from the sharp slap radiated through
her buttocks and she gasped in outrage, putting her hands on her hips and
backing away from Reed.

Then he turned to the deliveryman and
winked. "Sorry, just a little game we're playing."

Frank grinned, trying to hide his
obvious laughter. Leslie glared at Reed,
then
turned
back to Frank. "I'm going to...ouch!"

This time she stepped away from Reed,
who had swatted her behind twice more. And this time Frank laughed out loud.