To Sketch a Thief (23 page)

Chapter 31

W
hen the sun came up, Rory was dressed in sweatpants and a heavy sweater. She had the .45 in her hand and an evidence bag in her pocket. Since Hobo hadn’t so much as growled in the past few hours, she didn’t really think she needed the gun. Whoever or whatever had spooked him was no doubt long gone. Still, the weight of the weapon in her hand felt wonderfully reassuring.

While waiting for daybreak, she’d had plenty of time to review the night’s events from a somewhat calmer perspective. It was entirely possible that what Hobo had heard was just a raccoon on the roof looking for a room to let. With the car being their only predator on the island, the raccoon population was booming. Most of the people Rory knew had had one or more encounters with the animals, who often tore up roofing tiles and dug their way into attics and crawl spaces. The great American dream of owning a home seemed to extend to the four-legged species as well. And although Rory had no desire to go through the hassle and expense of hiring a trapper to remove one of these squatters, a raccoon was definitely preferably to a hit man.

As soon as the first rays of daylight sifted through the windows, Hobo’s alert status ratcheted up several notches. The moment Rory headed toward the kitchen door, he jumped up, clearly determined to be the first one outside. She unlocked the door, but it wouldn’t open more than a few inches with Hobo standing there doing his impression of a doorstop. She tried to push him out of the way, but he refused to give any ground. She tried ordering him to move and bribing him with a treat. No success. She even tried tugging him out of the way. The bottom line was that she had maybe ten or fifteen pounds on him, but he had a lower center of gravity and four sturdy paws that seemed rooted to the floor. They were at an impasse.

She was debating whether she could beat him to the front door, when he resolved the dilemma for her. By shifting his position, he was able to squeeze his snout into the opening between the door and the frame and widen it by another couple of inches. Then, using his body like a wedge, he wriggled in far enough to push the door open the rest of the way. With a triumphant bark, he glanced over his withers to see if Rory had witnessed his accomplishment.

She gave him a “way to go, what a good boy” cheer, thinking he must have sacrificed an entire layer of skin in the effort. She leaned over him to hold the storm door open so that he could be the first one out. It seemed like the least she could do under the circumstances.

With the last obstacle out of the way, Rory fully expected him to go barreling through the doorway, but he took two steps outside and started snuffling the immediate area around the door. Her pulse quickened; she’d never heard of a raccoon trying to gain entrance through a door. That was a much more human thing to do.

Hobo had moved away, nose to the ground as he followed the scent to the side of the house where the gate led into the backyard. He spent a few minutes investigating that area before he returned to the kitchen door. From there he widened his search until he’d scoured the entire yard.

Trusting Hobo’s nose and instincts, Rory started looking for evidence of a would-be intruder around the door as well. It hadn’t rained in several days, so the ground was hard and dry, not likely to hold footprints. She still took the time to examine the soil between each of the bushes that bordered the door and ran along the length of the house. Nothing. When she reached the gutter at the left corner of the house, she found the earth around it still damp. Since the purpose of leaders and gutters was to funnel and drain water away from the house, the ground around the gutters was always the last to dry out. And it was there that Rory finally found a set of tracks, animal tracks big enough to have been made by a raccoon or an opossum. The discovery seemed like a small victory for a moment, before logic came knocking. Animal tracks were nearly as ubiquitous as trees on Long Island’s north shore. And if there weren’t any human footprints, it only meant a trespasser hadn’t crossed through the small area around the gutter. Rory also found it worth noting that Hobo had snuffled his way past the animal tracks without lingering or showing the least interest in them. Had his nose already told him the prowler wasn’t an animal?

When they’d finished investigating the backyard, they went into the house, where Rory grabbed Hobo’s leash and hooked it to his collar, after which they proceeded to check out the unfenced property in the front.

Hobo pulled her straight to the living room window, where he conducted a careful inspection of the flower beds beneath it, before sinking to the ground with a grunt of frustration. Rory’s search wasn’t any more successful. She found some broken branches on one of the azaleas there, but the frame around the window was intact. There was no chipped paint or other evidence that someone had tried to pry the window open from the outside. She finally gave up with no more information than when she’d started. Only Hobo knew what he’d heard or smelled during the night, and he wasn’t talking. One thing was certain though: Rory wouldn’t forget to set the alarm anytime soon.

L
ater that afternoon, while Rory and Hobo were wedged together napping on the living room couch, Julia called to report that she’d spoken to Debbie at Dog’s World and ordered the second puppy.

“She didn’t sound at all suspicious about the request?” Rory asked as she struggled to extricate her arm from under Hobo’s head so she could sit up.

“Not at all. In fact, we had a nice little chat about the two dogs she has.”

Listening to her, Rory couldn’t help but smile. Julia was really perfect for the role she was playing. With her gentle singsong voice, who would imagine that she’d be involved in a nasty piece of police business? Sometimes the fates were kind. The fates and Marti Sugarman in this case. Rory would have to thank her for sending Julia her way, assuming everything went smoothly with sting number two.

“Did Debbie give you any idea when they might have the puppy for you?” she asked.

“No. I did try to press her on it, though.” Julia gave a self-conscious twitter of a laugh. “I fibbed and said my birthday is in two days and that I’d love to have the puppy by then. Of course I don’t normally condone lying,” she added quickly, “but I thought in this case it might be forgiven?”

Rory didn’t know why Julia was casting her in the role of confessor, but she did her best to assure the teacher that such a little white lie should certainly be forgiven, especially since it was done in the pursuit of justice and for the public good. Where had those words come from? Maybe she’d missed a calling in the ministry. Zeke would certainly have enjoyed overhearing that strange bit of conversation. Rory was surprised to catch herself thinking about him and, what’s more, wondering when he’d be back. You’d better be careful what you wish for, McCain, she warned herself.

Regardless of where her comforting words had come from, they’d apparently struck just the right chord with Julia, since her tone had brightened perceptibly. “This is really quite exciting for me, you know. The high point of my day is usually a cup of tea and the newspaper when I get home from work. So, what’s next?”

Rory reminded her that there wasn’t anything to do until Dog’s World called to set up the puppy’s delivery. A sudden sense of déjà vu prompted Rory to run through Julia’s role with her again to be sure there were no misunderstandings. She stressed that her involvement would be minimal—she was to open the door, accept the puppy, pay the deliveryman, thank him, close the door and stay put until she heard from Rory, no matter how long it took. Absolutely no ad-libbing permitted. The last thing Rory needed was another Helene in the making.

Chapter 32

T
hree days later Julia received the call from Dog’s World to set up delivery of her new puppy. Although Rory had made it clear that she could arrange it around her work schedule, Julia had insisted on doing it as soon as possible. She had plenty of sick days accumulated, and she didn’t mind in the least using one of them for such a worthwhile cause. With that in mind, she arranged to take delivery the next morning. Rory was secretly thrilled. The sooner they proceeded, the less chance Dog’s World could get nervous and once again pull the plug.

On the morning of the delivery, Rory didn’t take any chances. She arrived at Julia’s two hours early. The teacher lived in a tidy gray and white town house complete with a little front porch just south of Main Street in Huntington. Although the people at Dog’s World had no reason to be wary of this particular transaction, they might have instituted safeguards across the board since they’d recently come so close to being duped by Rory. Sending a scout to check out each home and its environs before a delivery made good business sense if you were in the business of deception.

And Rory didn’t want to be setting up her stakeout when someone might already be watching for such activity.

She’d borrowed her mother’s beige sedan for the day, since she’d sold her Honda, and Mac’s snappy red convertible, was too likely to attract attention. For her plan to work she needed a nondescript car in which to follow the delivery guy back to his boss.

Julia had asked her neighbors across the street if Rory could park in their driveway for a couple of hours. Since the couple were empty nesters and left for work before Rory planned to arrive, they’d been happy to oblige.

Rory backed into their driveway and parked with the car facing Julia’s house. From this vantage point she could view the entire block. When she’d done a dry run earlier in the week, she’d been pleased to discover that the street was a cul-de-sac, which meant that the traffic was minimal and consisted mainly of residents’ cars and the occasional delivery truck.

She spent a few minutes observing the activity on the block. A man dressed in a suit and carrying a briefcase exited one of the town houses, got into the car parked in the driveway and drove away. A woman in a bathrobe came out of another house to claim the newspaper lying on her walk. Only two cars were parked at the curb; both appeared to be empty. There was no sign of anyone who didn’t belong there.

Rory had left herself time to check on her protégé and to give her the photo of the stolen Cavalier, once again compliments of Leah. Rory was acutely aware that this might well be her last shot at catching the dognappers. If anything went wrong they would surely curtail their operation or completely abandon it. While that might put an end to the dognappings, it didn’t bring the perpetrators to justice. And Rory wanted justice, not only for the people who’d suffered the loss of a pet, but for the animals themselves, especially Hobo, who’d come so close to dying at their hands. Julia opened the door before Rory had a chance to ring the bell. The teacher was beaming with excitement, her cheeks even rosier than Rory remembered them. As Rory was ushered inside, she heard the muted barking and whining of the two dogs in residence.

“Lola and Louis, I presume,” she said with a smile.

“Yes, well, I decided it would be best to keep them in the bedroom, out of the way, what with a new puppy arriving and doors being opened. They’re little, but they’re fast.”

“They don’t sound happy about their incarceration.”

“They’re complaining because they’re not accustomed to being cooped up. I’m afraid I spoil them terribly,” she added with a shrug that as much as said she wasn’t going to be changing her ways anytime soon. “Speaking of spoiled pooches,” she went on enthusiastically, “have you heard about Marti’s windfall?”

Rory shook her head. She had no idea what the teacher meant.

“Well,” Julia said, grinning like a little kid with a secret to tell, “a family over in Greenlawn had Tootsie all this time. They say she didn’t have a collar or ID tag when they found her, and they claim they never saw any of the flyers Marti stuck up all over town. I don’t see how that’s even possible,” she interrupted herself to editorialize, “but once the flyers were brought to their attention, they called Marti, who told them to contact the police.”

Rory was happy to hear that Tootsie was okay, but a bit surprised that Marti had done the right thing. She would have figured Marti to take the path of least resistance and simply keep the dog she’d coveted. Could she really have misjudged the woman so badly?

“Contacting the police was Marti’s idea?” Rory couldn’t help asking.

“I suggested it would be the right thing to do,” Julia admitted, “but I’m sure Marti would have come to that conclusion herself.”

I wouldn’t bet the house on it, Rory thought, but she kept the thought to herself. If Julia chose to be naïve about her new pal, it wasn’t Rory’s job to educate her.

“Anyway,” Julia went on, “since Brenda was gone, and her sister didn’t want the dog, the police told Marti she could keep her.”

“Marti must be ecstatic.” Rory was actually glad for the woman who’d so recently learned that her husband was not only a liar and an adulterer, but also a murderer. Quite a guy she’d married.

“Oh, she is,” Julia said, “ecstatic and then some. Now, may I offer you some coffee or tea before zero hour?”

Rory couldn’t help thinking that “milk and cookies” would have sounded more natural coming out of Julia’s mouth. She politely declined, adding that she kept liquids to a minimum when she wouldn’t have access to a bathroom. She’d learned that uncomfortable lesson during her first stakeout.

Julia’s brow furrowed as she considered this bit of information. “That never occurred to me. With my bladder, I wouldn’t be at all suited to undercover work.” She laughed her birdlike laugh. Rory joined in. One less applicant for the clandestine services.

She gave Julia the photo and told her to keep it out of sight until the deliveryman left. Once he was gone, Julia was to compare the new puppy to the photo and call Rory immediately. If the photo of the stolen puppy didn’t match the puppy Julia was given, it would be pointless for Rory to continue following the van.

Rory spent a few minutes doing some role-playing with Julia, until she was satisfied that they’d left no room for error. She felt like NASA’s mission control doing a final systems check. Everything was A-OK. They were as ready for launch as they would ever be.

She suggested Julia read or watch TV to pass the time. With any luck that would keep her excitement from reaching critical mass and endangering both the project and her safety. Then Rory made sure that Julia had her cell phone number, availed herself of the bathroom facilities and headed back to the car to wait.

She’d borrowed a curly blond wig from Helene in case the deliveryman had been shown a photo of her. She would try to stay out of sight, but that wasn’t entirely within her control. She planned to slouch down in the driver’s seat and take a peek only when she heard a vehicle turn down the block. If the deliveryman got suspicious and decided to check out her car, she’d say she was waiting for her friend to get home and hope that the wig threw him off. Although she intended to stay at least two cars back when she was following him, if the intervening cars suddenly changed lanes, the wig might again be the factor that saved the day. She’d addressed whatever contingencies she could imagine, but she found herself wishing that the marshal had been around to give her plan a stamp of approval or to point out something she might have missed. She’d grown accustomed to hearing another perspective, even if it was one she rarely agreed with.

“Come on, McCain, stop second-guessing yourself,” she said as she pulled on the wig. She flipped open the little mirror on the sun visor to see if she had it on straight. The wig was on fine, but one thing was certain: blond was definitely not her color. She scooted down in her seat and prepared herself for a long wait.

A
total of six cars came down the street in the next hour and a half, along with a water delivery truck. Rory was feeling nostalgic for the cars her parents had when she was little, the kind with the bench-type seat in the front. Her back ached from the need to keep a low profile, and, no matter how she maneuvered, one part of her body or another was being jabbed by the gearshift in the center console. The cold added to her discomfort. Though she’d dressed in layers, the temperature was in the forties and it had worked its way into her bones. Heat was only a button away, but that would mean turning on the engine, and she couldn’t take the risk, especially this close to the delivery time.

Two minutes before the appointed hour Rory heard another vehicle turn down the street. She counted to ten before risking a look. An unmarked white van had pulled into Julia’s driveway. Rory instantly recognized the young man who stepped out of the van. The sketch she’d drawn from Zeke’s description was amazingly accurate. Either he was assigned to the Huntington area or he was the only deliveryman Dog’s World employed. She took note of the van’s license number before she ducked down again. If she lost him en route back to his boss, at least she’d be able to track down the owner of the vehicle.

Unable to watch what was happening, she had to depend on what she could hear. She listened for the high-pitched yapping of a puppy or the sound of voices at Julia’s door. Nothing. She hadn’t even heard the van’s door close. She wanted desperately to take another look, but managed to hold herself back. Then she heard Julia calling out a bit shrilly.

“Hello-o-o. Dog’s World man, over here, over here.” She’d probably been glued to the window like she was when Rory arrived. So much for reading or television.

“Just a minute, ma’am,” the deliveryman called back to her. “I’ll be right there.”

Rory’s heart double-timed it into her throat. There was only one reason Julia would be yelling those words—he was headed away from her, toward the car where Rory waited. He’d obviously been instructed to check out the area before any transaction went down. She had to hope that Julia managed to distract him enough that he forgot his initial concern about her car. She withdrew the .45 from the holster at her hip. She’d never been a Girl Scout, but she was a big fan of their motto.

“Hey, I don’t have all day,” Julia shouted with a healthy dose of attitude. “I have to get to work, you know.”

Rory was surprised to hear this unexpected alter ego of Julia’s take charge. Gone was the lilting teacher’s voice. This Julia could do an award-winning stint in
Taming of the Shrew
.

“This’ll only take a minute, ma’am.”

Judging from the volume of his voice, Rory knew he was still coming her way.

“It’s now or never, buddy,” Julia replied. “I’m already late.”

If the man replied, Rory didn’t hear him. He might have been trying to decide whether it was more important to obey his orders or to please a repeat customer. Or her least favorite option—he might be slowly sneaking up on her car. Seconds ticked by as she waited for him to appear at her window.

“If you don’t get over here right now, you can just take the dog back with you.”

“I’m coming,” Rory finally heard him say in disgust. “I’m coming.” To her relief his voice was fainter than it had been. He’d recrossed the street and was on his way back to Julia.

Five minutes later Rory heard Julia’s door slam shut, followed quickly by the sound of the van starting. Then she heard it back out of the driveway.

She risked a quick look to see which way the van turned when it reached the nearby cross street. Once it was out of sight, she started her engine and tucked the gun back in its holster. She was turning the corner when her cell phone rang. Julia was as certain as she could be that the puppy was the stolen one from the photo. Rory thanked her and promised to let her know how the sting played out. Now came the tricky part—pursuing the van without being detected.