Skating Under the Wire: A Mystery (Rebecca Robbins Mysteries) (22 page)

“Do you realize that your shoulder was dislocated and that the rest of your body looks as though it was used as a punching bag?”

Duh. “I had to try on a strapless gown today. Trust me, I know.”

“Then why in God’s name are you planning on investigating the thefts tomorrow instead of staying in bed and resting the way Doc Truman told you to? Are you trying to get yourself killed? Don’t you realize the person who almost ran you over could be the same person behind the thefts?”

“I’m not stupid,” I shot back. “Of course I know that.”

“Then what the hell do you think you’re doing?”

“My job.”

The two of us glared at each other. Tension crackled in the room. This wasn’t exactly the welcome home I’d been looking for.

Taking a deep breath, I said, “Look, I gave my word to Mrs. Johnson. Even if I hadn’t, I’d still be asking questions because it’s the only way to make sure I don’t get run over again. Whatever ticked off the driver isn’t magically going to disappear because I’m on the sidelines, waiting for Sean to make an arrest. I can’t just sit around doing nothing.”

“You can. What you’re saying is that you won’t.” Lionel shook his head and turned on his heel. “Get some rest and don’t do anything stupid.”

“Lionel.” I stood up too fast, got a head rush, and had to wait for it to pass. Then I hurried down the hall to reach him before he left. The slamming of the front door told me I was too late. Lionel was not only angry, he was gone.

Damn.

“Well, that was entertaining.”

I jumped, felt a jolt of pain, and turned to frown at the source of it. “What are you doing here?”

Sean rose from the couch and tucked his hands in his front pockets. “Your grandfather let me in and invited me to partake of the food. I don’t think he realized I’d be getting a floor show, too. Lionel was pissed.”

“Your observation skills are truly remarkable.”

Sean walked over and put a hand on my back. “You should get off your feet. Doc’s orders were to rest.”

I let Sean guide me to the couch and felt my body sigh with relief. “How do you know what Doc said?”

“Because I asked him.” Sean sat on the arm of the couch. “He’s fairly certain you won’t follow those instructions, but he’s ready to readmit you to the hospital if he gets word you’re doing cartwheels down Main Street. So you might want to make sure whatever plans you’ve made that ticked Lionel off don’t involve that.”

“Did you hear our entire conversation?” I asked. The idea of running into Sean while peering through Seth and Jan’s basement windows wasn’t appealing.

“Just that it has something to do with investigating the thefts.”

“And you’re not angry?” Lionel was in the midst of an emotional meltdown, and Sean was being reasonable. What was wrong with this picture?

“Why would I be angry? You agreed to do a job, and you’re doing it.”

“What happened to reminding me that looking into crimes isn’t my job? It’s yours.”

“You’re right,” he said. “It is my job. Ever since I turned ten, I wanted to go into law enforcement. Everything I’ve done since was to make sure I achieved that goal. Despite what you might believe, I genuinely want to help people.”

“And you like parking in loading zones.”

A boyish grin lit Sean’s face. “Yeah, that part’s good, too. A guy has to have a few perks. Do you know how many phone calls I get about some dog taking a dump on a neighbor’s lawn or a cat getting kidnapped by aliens?”

Nope, and I didn’t want to. “If it’s so annoying, why are you working for the sheriff’s department? The pay can’t be that great.”

“I do it for the same reason you’re going to get out of bed tomorrow and do what it takes to track down a thief no matter how much you hurt. Because as unimaginable as it might be, the two of us are exactly alike.” Sean leaned forward and picked the almost finished Sunday-paper crossword off the coffee table. “We can’t resist a puzzle that hasn’t been solved.” He threw the paper back on the table and leaned his elbows on his knees. “It took a couple of months and a lot of antacids to understand that. I assumed Lionel would’ve figured that out long before me.”

I shifted on the sofa and tried to ignore the way my nerves jumped. “Lionel’s worried.”

“There’s a lot of that going around.” Sean’s blue eyes met mine. “Although don’t think that means I’m not going to get angry when you stomp all over my cases, needlessly put your life in danger, or withhold information that could help me close them.”

Oops. “That reminds me…” I pushed aside the prickly feelings talking about Lionel caused and then jumped into something equally thorny. “I found a note taped to the bottom of Ginny’s teapot.”

“You what?”

I breathed a sigh of relief when Sean stood up and stomped around the room, pontificating about withholding evidence. When he came up for air, I told him to stay put and then went to my room in search of the clothes I’d worn on my ambulance ride. My jeans were torn and bloody. Even with a good cleaning they’d be a total loss. I was just thankful the front pockets were still intact, as was Ginny’s note.

“I thought the first ten digits were a phone number, but I was wrong.” I held out the paper. “There’s no such area code. Also, the letters feel familiar, but I have no idea why. I’m stumped, which should make you feel better, right? Oh, and I should probably tell you that Danielle Martinez thought there was a chance her almost mother-in-law ran me over with her car. Mrs. Lucas drives a Chevy Tahoe, which takes her out of the running, but I figured I should mention it. Just in case.”

“In case of what?” Sean asked, taking the slip of paper out of my hands.

“In case I’m wrong.”

Sixteen

A long, very hot shower
and twelve hours of sleep made me feel far better than I had the day before. The lack of communication from Lionel since he’d stormed out did not. I glanced at the phone a dozen times while getting dressed, waiting for it to ring. When it didn’t, I punched in Lionel’s number as Sean’s words from last night echoed in my head. Frowning, I pocketed the phone before hitting
SEND.

Lionel said he loved me. That was great, but I wanted more. I wanted him to “get” me. To understand I couldn’t just wait around for things to happen. Too much of my life had been spent that way. It started with my father leaving. After Stan walked out of my life, I stopped thinking about what I wanted. Instead, I made choices based on what other people told me to do. Competing at artistic skating meets. Going to prom in a hideous pink dress. Picking a college my mother didn’t feel was too far away. For the longest time, I’d told myself that Chicago was my way of breaking free, but Jasmine was right. I chose Chicago because Jasmine asked me to. Investigating the Thanksgiving Day thefts might not be the safest decision, but it was my choice and mine alone. Since danger could be involved, it would be best if I faced that danger prepared.

I rummaged through my fridge, pulled out bacon, and then found a frying pan. My stomach growled at the first whiff. I grabbed a bagel and pretended I wasn’t interested in the crispy salt-laden pork. I needed all the bacon I could get if I had hopes of escaping this next adventure with all my limbs intact.

George was in the middle of the rink, teaching eight toddlers how to coast. Parents on the sidelines waved. A few asked how I was recovering from my “accident,” and I assured them of my recuperation as I waited for class to end. When it did, George zoomed over and instructed me not to worry. Everything at the rink was under control and I should take the next several days off. If there was a problem, he’d call. The guy was the best nonmanager ever. Maybe he’d finally let me give him the official title as a Christmas present.

The sun was shining. According to my dashboard readout, the temperature was hovering in the midfifties. It was a beautiful day for breaking and entering.

A Santa scarecrow greeted me as I pulled into the Kurtzes’ driveway. The car clock read ten minutes past eleven. I cut the engine and listened for the sounds of angry growls. Nothing. Maybe Seth decided to take all the dogs with him after all. A quick call to Pop burst my burgling bubble. Seth, Jan, and their three favorite furry friends were getting ready for their close-up. The rest of the canine clan was still in residence. If I went through with this, the bacon was going to come in handy. If not—well, I’d get a BLT out of the deal.

Before I lost my nerve, I strode to the side of the house in search of a basement window to peer through. The first three window wells I came to were filled with dirt and the dried remains of this year’s crop of annuals. Apparently, Jan and Seth thought window boxes were passé. I circled to the back of the house and frowned. The two windows that weren’t being used to cultivate flowers were painted black. The only way I was going to find out what was hidden in the basement was to get inside.

The back door was locked, and Seth and Jan didn’t appear to be the key-under-the-mat or the fake-rock type of people. Now what?

I walked to the front of the house and glanced up and down the road. No cars were in sight. The only farmhouse within shouting distance was Bryan and Reginald’s place. No one was around to report my actions. Time to start testing the locks on windows and pray Stan and my grandfather were right about the lack of an alarm.

All the first-story windows in the front were secured. The trend continued around the rest of the house. I glanced at my watch. Yikes. It was almost noon. Pop and Stan expected the photo shoot to take two hours tops. That meant I had one hour remaining.

I considered my options while standing in the backyard. Unless I wanted to break a window or tunnel through the ground, I was going to have to declare defeat. Unless … I looked at the second-story windows and gnawed on my bottom lip. Living in a second-story apartment gave me a sense of security. Rarely if ever did I lock my windows. Pop always made sure his first-story windows were secure, but he never remembered to lock the ones upstairs. The higher altitude made it easy to be complacent. After all, anyone breaking into the house would have to haul around a ladder. It was hard to stay inconspicuous when dragging around ten to twelve feet of metal.

Hoping Seth and Jan were just as lax about their upstairs security, I made a quick trip to the old pump house behind their home. Eureka. An eight-foot ladder. Not tall enough to get to the second-story windows, but high enough to get me safely into the large oak tree on the right side of the house. Conveniently, the tree had a thick branch that extended near a back window.

I used my left arm to carry most of the ladder’s weight since my right shoulder was still feeling cranky. Leaves crunched under my feet. I unfolded the ladder under the tree and adjusted my purse strap over my neck so it wouldn’t get in the way. After rolling out my shoulder, I took a deep breath and began to climb.

When I was in grade school, I had a crush on a boy who loved to climb trees. To impress him, I learned to hoist myself into willows and elms. Of course, I was a whole lot smaller and lighter then. Branches that were thick enough for me to scamper across seemed a whole lot smaller now. Especially the one I was kneeling on twelve feet above the ground. Tamping down the rational part of me that said this was a bad idea, I started crawling the four feet of lumber that separated me from my destination.

One inch.

Two inches.

Three.

My heart threatened to leap out of my chest. My breathing came fast and furious. The healing injuries on my legs complained with every movement.

The branch slanted downward, taking my stomach with it. I stopped, took several deep breaths, and crawled the last three inches that separated me from the window. Now for the moment of truth.

I centered my weight, put my fingers on the ledge, and pushed upward. The window moved, and I pitched forward.

Yikes.

I hung on to the window ledge for dear life as the branch beneath me dipped and swayed. The world stopped as I waited to fall. When I didn’t, I shook off my panic, found my balance, and pushed the window up, up, up.

Crap. I’d forgotten about the screen. The good news was Seth and Jan hadn’t thought much about it either. The screen was dented and bent and had several tears. It took only a little finagling and the screen popped into the room beyond. It clattered to the floor seconds before I climbed inside.

Phew. I’d never realized how good it felt to have both feet on solid ground. Or in this case, faded mauve synthetic carpet fibers. In the middle of the bedroom was a brass bed covered with a blue quilt and a heap of pillows that looked incredibly inviting. For the first time, I understood why Goldilocks curled up on Baby Bear’s bed and risked being eaten to catch a few z’s. At least Seth and Jan wouldn’t eat me if they caught me snoozing on the bed. The worst that could happen was …

A throaty growl made the hair on the back of my neck stand on end. Slowly, I turned. Brown eyes blinked at me. A tail flicked. A mouth filled with teeth hung open as though anticipating its next morsel. In my delight to be alive and inside, I’d somehow forgotten about the Kurtzes’ three less than photogenic dogs.

The dog took a step forward and let out another growl. Gulp. This was bad. A line of drool fell from the dog’s mouth to the ground. Very, very bad.

Careful to keep my movements slow and nonthreatening, I reached for my purse and pulled the bacon Baggie free. The growling stopped, and the dog’s nose began to twitch. I snapped off a small piece of bacon and threw it on the bed. The dog leaped onto the mattress, and I bolted for the hallway door.

A bark from behind told me that Rin Tin Tin had finished his snack and was looking for more. Or maybe he was telling his friends about the salty smorgasbord I had clutched in my hands. I broke off another piece and threw it behind me as I dodged two potted plants and ran down the stairs into the living room.

The barking behind me stopped as chewing commenced. One dog down, but the sound of yips, growls, and scrambling feet to the left told me the rest of the pooch posse was headed my way. Doing my best impersonation of Hansel and Gretel, I scattered bits of bacon and limped through the kitchen to the basement door.