The Crafty Teddy (27 page)

I was shoving some more mail into the document box when Ash came through the front door, holding a small sheet of paper. I said, “Success?”

“Ack! That truck reeks of cigarettes! And everything is sticky with tar.”

“It’s a glamorous habit.”

“Anyway, there was nothing in the shed but a bunch of junk, but I found this tucked behind the clip on the driver’s side sun visor.” She handed me the sheet. “It’s a receipt from the Shefford Gap post office.”

I squinted at the faint gray printing. “And he used a MasterCard to ship something to Fridley, Minnesota, by priority mail last Tuesday.”

“Twenty-three dollars. Probably he was mailing either bears or a quilt.”

“It also may mean that Gage and his partner meet in Shefford Gap.”

“Why?”

I nodded at the roomful of expensive electronics. “These guys were doing a huge business, which means Gage has to meet his partner regularly to deliver the merchandise. Yet the bearded guy has only been seen once or twice around town.”

Ash nodded. “So they rendezvous at the post office, which is away from town and also where the checks are delivered.”

“That’s how it looks to me. Excellent work, honey.”

Ash dimpled. “I had a great teacher.”

Tina emerged from the hallway carrying a couple of grocery bags. “I hope you guys came up with something, because other than a couple more pairs of shoes, all I found was dirty clothes, a dirty bathroom, and even dirtier magazines. Did this guy ever stop smoking?”

“Ash found a receipt from the Shefford Gap post office and I’ve only just begun to look at this, but it’s pretty incriminating.” I tapped the side of the document box. “Gage is supposed to be marginally employed, but there are statements from four different Valley area banks that show he’s got over twelve thousand bucks.”

“Why did he split the money up like that?” asked Ash.

“He had to. Everybody around here knows how badly the museum is doing and that the county had slashed Gage’s pay. Twelve grand in a local bank would make folks suspicious and somebody would be bound to talk.”

“And it’s all profit from the counterfeiting operation.” Tina’s jaw tightened with frustration. “I wish there was some way we could seize the accounts.”

“There may be and we can talk to the commonwealth’s attorney about that tomorrow. And if you really want to ruin Gage’s day, there’s something else you might consider.”

“What’s that?”

“Drop a dime to the Internal Revenue Service on him. You can bet he hasn’t been paying any taxes on this income and, whatever else happens, you know the auditors will get their pound of flesh from him, with interest.”

Tina brightened. “Ooh, that’s nasty. I’ll call them tomorrow.”

As Ash and Tina ferried the evidence out to the patrol car, I filled out the receipt and inventory of everything we’d removed from the home. I left a copy of that form along with one of the search warrant on the dining table. It was pushing 11:00
P.M.
by the time we left Port Republic and we were all tired. There was little conversation as we drove to the sheriff’s station.

We were in Tina’s office and in the process of logging the new stuff into evidence when Sergei came in. Either he was wearing a new baked goods–scented aftershave lotion, or there was dessert in the stack of four white plastic foam food containers he carried.

“Oh my, that smells good. Apple cobbler?” Ash asked.

“Your dear mother’s recipe as a matter of fact. She was kind enough to share it with me.” Sergei handed her a box and a plastic fork. “You’ve been working very hard and I thought you might enjoy a snack.”

“You didn’t have to do that,” said Tina.

Sergei gave her a dessert and a diffident smile. “But I wanted to, Sheriff.”

“Well, thank you, and I’d like it better if you just called me Tina.”

“I’d like that too.”

Ash flashed me a surreptitious grin. As we ate the delicious cobbler, we took turns briefing Sergei on the investigation. Mostly, he stayed quiet, but when I mentioned following Sheldon Shaw up into the mountains without backup, he called me a “damned fool,” which elicited nods of agreement from the women.

When we finished dessert, Tina rubbed her eyes and said, “That was wonderful, but all that sugar is putting me to sleep.”

“Me too,” said Ash with a yawn.

Tina lazily waved a hand at her. “Stop that or you’ll make me start doing it.”

“Sorry.”

“So, tomorrow.” Tina paused to yawn. “See? Anyway, do we have a consensus on Gage? Is he the killer?”

I said, “He’s a USDA Prime scumbag, but I no longer think it’s likely he murdered Merrit.”

“Why not?”

“For starters, when Gage was arrested, his main worry was about what Holly could say about him; not the murder.”

“Which means he’s more worried about the fraud charges than the homicide,” said Tina.

“And maybe one of the reasons he wouldn’t say anything or give us the killer’s name was because he was frightened of the guy,” Ash added.

“Which segues into the other reason I don’t think Gage is our murderer. I think it’s a safe assumption that whoever capped the round off at me during the burglary also killed Merrit. Yet we didn’t find a firearm or ammunition in Gage’s house.”

“Perhaps he disposed of it,” Sergei suggested.

“Professional assassins do that, but not your typical crook. I’ve never understood why, but they almost always hang on to a gun.”

Ash said, “And there’s one other thing that tends to rule Gage out—at least from burglarizing our house. The left brake light on his Trooper isn’t broken and the lamp cover doesn’t look new.”

“Then we’re looking at the bearded guy as the killer,” said Tina. “I guess tomorrow we have to do a stakeout in Shefford Gap.”

“Agreed. I think we’re only going to get one shot at this, because once the bearded guy finds out Gage is in custody, he’ll pull a warp-speed U-FAP.”

“Huh?” said Sergei.

“Unlawful Flight to Avoid Prosecution,” I explained.

Ash wore a puzzled expression. “Tina, maybe I’m a little confused, but it sounds like you want
us
to do the stakeout. Wouldn’t you want some of your regular deputies?”

“I’ve got some good people, but none of my deputies has even one-twentieth of Brad’s experience with surveillances.” Tina moved some crumbs around with the plastic fork and then tossed the utensil into the plastic foam container. “Look, this could be dangerous and I have no right to ask, but will you guys please help me with the stakeout?”

“Of course,” said Ash.

“And I wouldn’t miss it for the world,” I added. “Especially since it will give me the chance to introduce myself to the guy who broke into our home, tore up our teddy bears, and took a shot at me.”

Sergei cleared his throat. “Tina, I’d like to offer you my services also. The restaurant is closed tomorrow, and although I’ve never been a policeman, I do possess some talents that might be useful for this operation.”

“Oh, like your time spent as a raven?” I nonchalantly asked.

“Bradley, you are a bloody wretch.”

“What’s a raven?” Ash asked.

“A rabid Edgar Allen Poe fan,” I said quickly, deciding it was probably best for my long-term health not to tell the women that a “raven” was the spy-craft label for a secret agent whose primary function is to serve as a gigolo. Not that I thought Sergei had ever performed that function during his espionage career, but guys like to tease each other unmercifully.

“I’m happy to serve in whatever capacity you wish…so long as you do not make me sit for hours with him.” Sergei gave me an exasperated look.

Tina shyly said, “I’d like your help very much, Sergei. Maybe we could team up together in one vehicle while Brad and Ash are in the other.”

I said, “So, you’ve got your surveillance team. Now we’re going to need two unmarked cars. We can use our SUV.”

“And I can get a plain-wrap sedan from the county motor pool.” Tina turned to her computer and, after clicking the mouse a couple of times, began typing.

“So, what time do we meet tomorrow morning?” Ash asked.

“The post office opens at eight and it’s an hour to Shefford Gap. Six-thirty?” Tina asked as the printer began to spit out a sheet of paper.

Ash twisted my wrist slightly to look at my watch. “That’s less than seven hours from now. I guess we’d all better go home and get some sleep.”

I said, “Actually, I think it might be a good idea if maybe we did a quick recon of Shefford Gap tonight. It’d be useful to know the lay of the land and whether there’s mail in our suspect’s post office box. What was the box number again?”

Tina flipped through the pages of her notebook. “Twenty-seven and it’s registered to Adam Mumford. If you really think it’s necessary, we’ll go, but I have to check on my kids first.”

“And we have to let Kitch out of his crate,” Ash yawned.

Sergei said, “Look, there’s no point in all of us driving up there. So, why don’t we do this? Tina can take Ash home, while Bradley and I scout Shefford Gap. We’ll be back before you know it.”

“Sounds good to me,” I said.

“But I should be doing that,” Tina said half-heartedly.

“You need to check on your children and get some rest for tomorrow, boss,” I said.

“I suppose.”

“And you’ll come right home?” Ash asked.

“Don’t I always?” I asked and then quickly added, “Don’t answer that.”

“Don’t worry, Ashleigh. I’ll keep him out of trouble,” said Sergei.

“Before you go…” Tina took the sheet from the printer, signed it, and handed it to me, saying, “Here.”

“What’s this?”

“It’s your permit to carry a concealed firearm.”

“I don’t think I’ll need that tonight.”

Tina looked solemn. “Probably not, but tomorrow may be a different story. This guy has already taken one shot at you and I want you to be able to defend yourself if he tries it again.”

Twenty-three

No sooner had we slammed the SUV’s doors shut, than Sergei said, “You and your bloody smart mouth. Are you trying to make things more difficult for me?”

“Sorry about the
raven
crack,” I replied while starting the truck.

“You should be, especially since your wife promised that you’d be on your best behavior.”

I gave him a look of astonishment. “And you believed her? When did you talk to Ash?”

“When she picked up your dinner. She pulled me aside and quietly told me that I should stop wasting time and let Tina know how I feel about her. That’s why I brought dessert over.”

“Again, sorry. She didn’t get the chance to say anything to me about that…just like she didn’t mention her interest in going into police work.”

It was Sergei’s turn to gape at me. “What?”

“Yep. Apparently I’ve infected her with the cop virus and Tina wants her as a deputy—not that I blame her. I’d hire Ash as a cop in a hot second.”

“But how do you feel about that?”

“Proud, surprised, kind of scared. It’s a violent world, even here in the Valley.”

“But she’ll have the benefit of your mentoring,” said Sergei, in what sounded like an artificially hearty tone. “She’ll be fine.”

“I hope you’re right.”

We headed westward across the valley, but not at my customary breakneck speed. Deer often cross the unlit highway at night and if you’re traveling too fast, you can’t see the animal until it’s too late to avoid a collision. And sometimes the deer isn’t the only one who meets its maker in the crash.

Shefford Gap was about thirty miles southwest of Remmelkemp Mill, on the other side of the Shenandoah Valley, in the hilly farm country beneath the Allegheny Mountains. We drove through Harrisonburg and into a rural area primarily populated by Amish families. The combination of a new moon and no streetlights meant that it was as dark as the inside of a closed coffin. We had to stop several times to shine a flashlight at street signs.

Turning on to Vaughn Quarry Road, we drove through gloomy apple orchards and at last arrived in Shefford Gap. It was after midnight and the place was like a ghost town. The community consisted of two churches—one Baptist and the other Mennonite; an abandoned fruit and produce shop; a combination convenience store and gas station, which was closed for the evening; and a brick post office the size of a two-car garage. As I expected, there was a light on inside the post office, providing illumination for late visitors wanting to drop off mail or check their PO box.

“I’ve seen worse places to conduct a surveillance,” I said.

Sergei grunted. “True, but we’ll have to set up awfully close to the post office.”

“Yeah, but if we move any farther out, we’ll be on the edge of the orchards and still be conspicuous as hell.”

“I know. Hopefully, this place will look a little less deserted tomorrow morning, when the store is open and there are some people around.”

Pulling into the post office’s gravel parking lot, I said, “We’ll make sure there isn’t a back door to this place and take a quick look at the P.O. box to see if there’s any mail. Then we’ll head home.”

“Suits me. It’s been a long day.”

Despite appearances, someone must have been up and astir in the village. As we climbed from the SUV, a car horn beeped twice from the direction of the gas station. Then a vehicle engine roared to life. Obviously, the horn was intended as some sort of signal. I glanced at Sergei who nodded in silent agreement.

We froze in our tracks as the post office door flew open. Two men bolted outside and charged down the steps toward us. Since I was looking into the light, the only thing I could initially tell about them was that one was a little shorter and heavier than the other. Meanwhile, a pair of headlights flashed on in the convenience store parking lot and the vehicle began to race toward the post office. I didn’t know what we’d interrupted, but the odds were that it was illegal.

“Hold it there!” I yelled.

I grabbed the taller man’s bicep, but he twisted from the hold and a split-second later I was staggered by a punch to my left temple. At the same time, I could hear the sound of a struggle as Sergei tackled the other guy. Shaking my head to clear my vision, I swung my cane at my assailant. He dodged the blow, but made no attempt to escape to the orange Hummer, which had skidded to a stop on the side of the road. Instead, he dove at Sergei, who had the other man in a rear wristlock.