Old Maid's Puzzle (19 page)

"You never told me," Buster said. He looked hurt. "Is it a big deal?"

He said that almost wistfully. Like if it wasn't a big deal, it was no biggie that I forget to tell him.

"It's huge," I said sheepishly. "A spot on Wonderful World of Quilts could make QP a destination shop." At his blank look, I explained. "A shop that quilters travel to, just to say they'd been there."

"Congratulations," he said.

"Kym's the star of the show," Kevin said. He had his arm around her and was smiling proudly. Kym agreed.

I couldn't argue with that.

Kym said, "Come to the store to watch it, Buster. Friday morning at ten-thirty. Kevin's bringing in the big TV. I've invited a bunch of people. My parents, my quilting bee. It's going to be a party."

I hadn't heard any of these plans. Buster wasn't the last one to know. I was.

THIRTEEN

"BEFORE YOU SAY ANYTHING, let me just say, Kym picked the restaurant."

"No kidding," I said. I let him off the hook. "It was okay."

"Are you ready for a stellar end to an awesome evening?" Buster asked as we waited for the valet to bring the truck around. We'd hung around after Kym and Kevin had left, listening to jazz, the Wally Schnalle Quartet, playing in the courtyard. The music helped me recapture the sexy mood I'd been in earlier.

"Awesome?" I said. "I don't know if I'd call it that."

He swung around, puzzled.

I said, "After all, there was Kym" I smiled at him to let him know I wasn't really mad at him. It wasn't his fault that Kym and Kevin came as a set.

Buster opened the passenger door and helped me in. He tipped the valet and climbed in the driver's seat. He checked his mirror and pulled out. "Yeah, but you and Kevin..."

I needed to put an end to this. I didn't want a lifetime of double dates. "Look Buster, I admit that I didn't realize until tonight how much I missed just hanging out with Kevin."

He nodded eagerly. "He told me he misses that, too."

I can't do it with Kym. "Next time let's invite Kevin to come with us to the batting cages. I see enough of Kym at work. It's like me forcing you to spend more time with Sanchez."

He laughed warily. His partner was not the most fun guy.

I said, "Or worse, Anton Zorn." I said his name like Zorn did, with all capital letters. "What is it with you two, anyway?"

Buster signaled and made a right turn on Hedding. His eyes were on the road ahead, and I couldn't see them. Dating a homicide detective meant I'd become more aware of body language and facial expressions. But being a detective, Buster knew how to hide his feelings.

His voice was neutral, as though what Zorn thought didn't mean much to him, but his words told me different. "He thinks I'm a green know-it-all who relies on the computer too much."

"How long has he been in homicide?"

"I don't know-thirty, forty years. Since the last Ice Age. To him, finding a murderer is all gut and experience. Since I have very little of that, he's suspicious"

"And because he's an unevolved human being, that comes out as petty jealousy," I said.

"Something like that." Buster smiled at me and touched the back of my hand reassuringly. "He's not the only guy on homicide that didn't want to see me become a detective. I'm younger than everyone else. Proving myself is just part of the job. No big deal."

I hadn't realized things had been so tough for him. I waited for him to say more, but nothing came. He was finished talking about work.

I patted his knee. "I think you're pretty special."

We were stopped for a light. Buster broke his thoughtfulness and moved in for a kiss, smiling. I happily raised my face to his. I loved the smell of him.

He put an arm around me. "Have I told you lately how much I like having you in my life?"

"You said you had the perfect end for this evening?" I purred, moving closer to him on the bench seat. We'd been in this truck a zillion times since our lunchtime tryst six months ago, but right now, I was feeling the good vibrations we'd left behind.

"I believe I used the term stellar," he said.

"Sex, Buster. That's what I want. Full on, mind-blowing, total body contact, your naked body next to mine. So close I can't tell where you begin and I end." There. I said it. I asked for it.

"Whoa," Buster said, revving the engine, loud. The young driver in the car next to us looked frightened. Horny couples were probably not covered in Driver's Ed.

He drummed his hands on the steering wheel, looking up at the signal. He pressed the accelerator and pretended to run the red light. "Is anyone looking?"

I laughed. "If you get a ticket, that'll just slow us down more. Get us home without police intervention."

He cruised through the green light. I leaned against him, looking at the stars out the windshield. It was a clear night. My belly thrummed in anticipation of the rest of the evening. It was only eleven, so we had plenty of time for sex and a good's night sleep. I would salvage this night. I sighed happily, rubbing his arm. I didn't want to move away from him. His body was so solid next to mine.

My cell rang in my purse, jarring me. Who was calling me? I glanced at the readout and saw it was the alarm company that QP used. My heart sank.

I sat up straight and answered. "Dewey Pellicano," I said briskly. Maybe it was just a sales call, trying to sign me up for more services. I would cut the operator right off.

"You're the contact for the Quilter Paradiso?" the voice said. "Your alarm is going off. We've notified the police. Thank you," he said, hanging up abruptly.

Buster looked over, eyebrows raised in question.

I ended the call, holding the phone out for emphasis. "The alarm is going off at the store," I said. "I can't believe this. Not now. This has never happened before."

"Probably just a squirrel or a crossed wire," Buster said.

I liked those scenarios. "Or the wind. That back door, if it's not closed just right, the wind can open it up."

Buster did an illegal U-turn to head us back toward the store. Breaking traffic rules now, for such a pedestrian reason.

He said, "When I was on patrol, we got these calls all the time. Usually it's nothing. I'll have you back to your place in no time."

"You'd better," I muttered.

Officer Wong was standing outside the shop in the back parking lot, on his cell phone when we arrived. He nodded at us and continued talking, "Yes, Detective Zorn, I'll let you know if there is anything here that relates to Bascomb. Right now, it looks like a routine breakin."

Breakin? My gut tightened, and I saw worry crease Buster's face. I knew he was reflecting the look on my face.

Wong was standing between me and the back door. I tried to go around him, but he held his hand up. He closed his phone and nodded at Buster, who nodded back.

"What's going on?" I said, while the two of them did their copdance exchange of expressions. Meaningful to them, I was sure. Buster was low on the homicide food chain, but he still had more prestige than Wong, even though they were about the same age. The police hierarchy was as complicated as a bee hive.

Wong said, "The call came in. When I got here, the back door was ajar. I've searched inside and found no one," he said to me.

"Does it look like someone forced their way in?" Buster said. A cold clammy sensation set up in my stomach. Buster was examining the lock and the door jamb, touching nothing, his eyes narrowed and brow tightened.

Officer Wong shook his head. "No sign of that." To me, he said, "I'd like you to go in and see if anything is missing."

I crossed the threshold tentatively and turned the alarm off. Most days I was the first one in the store, often before first light, but now the normal shapes looked sinister. I turned on the light that illuminated the hall. Buster was right behind me. I could feel his breath on my neck. I reached back and squeezed his hand, grateful for his presence.

We went through all the rooms, slowly and methodically. Buster asked me questions about where things had been. As far as I could see, nothing looked out of place.

Buster and I stood in my office. I checked the safe. The door was closed and securely locked. Buster looked for scratches on the surface to see if it might have been opened, but it was impossible to tell if they were new ones, or old, the result of me fumbling with the key lock on it.

I opened the safe using the key on my chain and checked the contents.

"Who locked up tonight?" Buster said, after I'd determined nothing was missing. "Is it possible that they just forgot? Then the wind caught the door and set off the alarm."

"It's possible," I said. "This is a crazy week. We're all really busy. Everyone's a bit absent-minded." I called Vangie. She picked up on the first ring. I knew she'd be waiting for Letterman to come on.

I said, "Sorry, I know it's late, but did you lock the back door?"

Vangie sounded like she was eating popcorn. She chewed noisily in my ear. "I left the store before Kym did. She was supposed to lock up. I bet she forgot. You know her, she's always in such a hurry."

Last month Kym had closed up and left a customer still in the bathroom. I'd gotten a frantic cell-phone call. "Damn. She must have gone out the front without double-checking the back. Sorry to bother you. I'll see you in the morning."

I hung up. Wong had joined us. I said to him, "It doesn't look like anyone was in here. I think the door just got left unlocked. One of my employees is a little lax."

Officer Wong looked grim. "Can you please follow me? I want to show you something."

I looked at Buster in a panic. My knees weakened. What had Wong found? Oh, please, not another body. I didn't want to move. Buster applied gentle pressure to the small of my back, and kissed my hair.

Wong was waiting in the kitchen, legs spread wide apart, arms akimbo. He looked stern. "Do you usually leave the keys on these hooks?" He pointed to the metal key rack that my mother had brought back from a buying trip back East. There were six metal houses, each one painted with a different quilt design. All of our keys hang from the hooks on the front doors during the day. Two store keys hung there now.

"When people come to work, they put their purses in the cubbies and put their keys on the hooks. It's convenient," I said. I finished weakly. "People around here lose their keys. A lot."

"Most of your employees have keys to the store?" Wong said. "And the keys hang here all day, with people in and out?"

I was getting the picture. "None have gone missing," I said defensively.

Wong said, "I'm saying, it wouldn't be difficult for someone to come in while the store was open, make a duplicate, and put the key back without your knowledge."

"And it's just foolish to leave this key here." He handed me the key clearly marked "safe"

I pocketed the safe key and accepted defeat. "I'll take the rack down tomorrow," I said.

Buster said, "You need to change the door locks."

That would cost hundreds of dollars. "I can't afford that right now.

Buster wasn't letting it go. "How many people have keys to the store, Dewey?"

I tried to count. When I realized all my mother's old employees might have keys, I stopped at a dozen.

"Everyone who has a key is trustworthy. My mother never had any trouble," I said.

Buster and Wong shared a look. To them, it was a cruel world, full of people ready to take advantage. "I believe you that your employees are nice people," Buster said. "But they have sons or boyfriends or nephews or nieces who might find the key a handy way to get in and help themselves to your stuff."

Wong said, "Happens all the time."

Buster and Wong were double-teaming me. I protested, "There is no way it's one of my employees."

Buster shrugged. "Chances are we'll never know. All I'm saying is you should think about changing the locks."

Sure, right after paying off my credit cards.

We rechecked the front door. It was secure. I walked with Wong and Buster out the back, reset the alarm and locked the door.

We started to say goodbye to Wong, when we heard raised voices. They were coming from the back of the parking lot, along the fence. Most of the cars were gone, only that hulking van remained behind. A second patrol car was parked on the street.

Tim Shore was talking with a policewoman.

"What's he doing here?" I asked, still ticked off at Shore for trying to pin the damage to his van on me earlier.

Wong said, "He was in his van when I got here. The noise of the alarm woke him up."

My scalp tingled. "He's sleeping in my parking lot?" I was incensed. "Where does he get off? Did you cite him?"

Wong shrugged. "He said the vehicle won't start, and he was afraid to leave it alone. Said it already got damaged once here."

I didn't care if Shore heard me. I raised my voice. "That guy is a scam artist."

Buster and Wong exchanged another look. I was getting mad that they weren't taking me seriously. I got louder. "He tried to tell me that that dent on his side panel was fresh. It's practically rusted. Not to mention someone would have to be a contortionist to hit his door the way the van is parked."