TALBOT PETERS MUST have gone out the back door almost as soon as George and I walked out to the boardwalk. We'd talked about whether someone we didn’t know well should have access to the cash register, but George and Scoobie and I thought one of us would be with him at all times. However, nothing was taken. Not even the cash from the honor sugar bowl.
Several customers came in as I was refilling the Sunday School teacher’s cup. Why can’t I remember names better?
George checked the bathroom to be sure Talbot was not in there on the floor. Nope.
Half an hour later it grew quieter again and I knew how to work the cappuccino machine. I had intended to call Morehouse ASAP to tell him about the note, but the customer rush had delayed me.
I walked out to the boardwalk to make the call. It was so quiet I could hear the waves breaking, even though it was low tide. It would have been a peaceful fall day if the seagulls weren't squawking over which one got to sit on the top of a bench a couple stores down.
Just before I pushed the send button for Morehouse's mobile number, Talbot Peters' face came into my mind. He had the sort of questioning expression he'd worn when standing by the cash register as George and I sat in front of him. Damn. I thought I knew who put that note in Joe's pile of mail.
I walked back into Java Jolt and looked at the clock above the coffee machines. Three-thirty. Scoobie would be done working by now. He said he would come to the shop when he got off, since it was the first day "you novices are operating it." When Scoobie got to Java Jolt, I'd think of a reason to get back into Mrs. Hardy's upstairs apartment. If my instincts were right, the note would already be gone.
George tilted his head by way of asking me to join him behind the counter. In a low voice, he said, "I had him hang his jacket on one of those pegs by the back door. It's gone."
"Somehow, I think he was here to look for something, not do a favor for Joe."
"I asked if I could do a reference check," George said. "I apologized, but he said he understood we didn't know him, and that I couldn't get in touch with Joe right then."
"Who did he have you call?" I asked.
"Some guy named Mike who works at Trenton City Hall. I have the number in the back."
"Did this Mike answer the phone himself?"
"Yeah." George ran fingers through his hair. "Coulda been anyone answering. Even Peters himself."
"Listen, George, I want to go look at that note again. Tell Scoobie about it, but not that I’ve gone back there, okay?"
He narrowed his eyes. "Why?"
"Because I want to be sure it's still there."
George's expression changed from puzzlement to realization. "Crud."
Scoobie came in, looked at me, and said, "You look like you need a nap."
"I'll grab one before I go finish planning the costume donation and giveaway thing with Megan this evening." I looked at George. "Catch you guys later."
"What?" Scoobie asked, looking between George and me.
I yawned. "George'll tell you about Talbot. We can talk tonight, okay?"
Scoobie nodded and kissed me on the cheek. I made it out of there just as a group of teachers came in for after-school voltage.
MRS. HARDY WAS surprised to see me.
"I should have looked at those pictures a few times as I took them. May I go back up to take a couple more photos in the kitchen?"
She looked as if I was trying her patience.
I smiled, I hoped in an engaging way. "If you don't want to climb the steps, I can be up and down in a jiffy."
"Come in." She walked back to her kitchen and returned with the key. "If I can't trust Madge Richards’ niece, who can I trust?"
Gulp.
If I hadn't been so tired I'd have jogged up the outside staircase to the second level. Sure enough, the mail was spread out on the kitchen counter, as if someone had gone through it. The death threat was gone.
Discouraged, I walked back down the steps. Why hadn't I thought to go to the house as soon as we knew Talbot had left Java Jolt? Or maybe the disappearing note had been a good thing. We could be sure someone was angry with Joe.
Crud. Before heading home I stopped at Harvest for All. I hoped Megan would be there and we could have our costume logistics discussion so I didn't have to go out again tonight. She was not, but Connie was talking animatedly to Monica, who seemed her usual half-befuddled self.
The door dinged as I walked in. "Hello Connie. Nice to see you."
She gave me her engaging smile. "I appreciate all you've done for me. I wanted to volunteer some."
It no longer surprises me that people who have little are the most likely to give to others. "That would be fabulous. Megan usually does a volunteer training session on Friday afternoons. It's short."
She looked disappointed. "Oh, I guess I can wait." She brightened. "Unless you could do it now. I could help you stock shelves or something." Her eyes roamed the pantry.
"Hmm. We ought to wait for Megan. She likes to get everyone started the same way. She knows a lot more about the customer work than I do." In reality, I probably know as much, but we like to establish that Megan is the formal supervisor. I've even talked her into taking twenty-five dollars a week, which comes out to about two dollars an hour. We call it an honorarium.
"Oh, okay. I'll come back Friday."
"One o'clock," I said. "And thank you."
Connie left, and Monica turned to me. "I didn't realize you knew her. I was being a bit stand-offish because I hadn't seen her before."
"Mary Margaret brought her, but it's good to be cautious when we don't know someone well. I think we have her information somewhere. She was going to bring in a Medicaid card so we'd know she's eligible for regular service."
"Good," Monica said, straightening her cardigan. "I get tongue tied when I try to give instructions."
That explains the confusion at the bake sale tables.
I PULLED INTO the gravel drive and sat looking at my house. Scoobie and I had intended to paint the porch railings this past summer. That seemed trivial right now.
My mind saw the mail in Joe's apartment. Before neatening it I had taken a couple of photos of the letters littering the table. The Nancy Drew part of my mind thought maybe we could tell something about when the note had been left by where it was placed in the pile. The logical portion told me to get real.
Talbot Peters was the only explanation for the theft. How on earth could he have gotten up there? Glumly, I thought he probably had special skills with a credit card or some kind of fancy lock pick.
Nuts! I remembered Mrs. Hardy had a hearing aid in at least one ear. In summer there would be lots of people around to notice a stranger on Mrs. Hardy's exterior staircase. Since a man usually lived up there, and Talbot had a similar build to Joe's, the few people around at this time of year would not have given Talbot a second thought.
I turned off the ignition, got out of the car, and walked onto the porch. When I opened the door, Jazz bolted out. "Jazz! Jazz!" I looked toward traffic in the street and stifled a scream.
A car swerved to avoid her and Jazz made it across Bayside Street. Barely. I couldn't run as fast as she could, but I made time pretty quickly. Straight across from where she had crossed was the open gate to Charlotte Evans' back yard.
I ran into the yard and looked around. Very few houses near the beach have manicured lawns. It's sandy soil, at best. The Evans are wealthy. What I could see of the back yard looked like a botanical garden. I didn't know the names of any plants except the roses. So many places to hide.
The back door opened and I recognized Charlotte’s voice. "Jolie, I think your cat ran back there." She pointed to the back of the lawn, left corner.
My voice caught. "She's never run out like that."
"Something must have scared her." Charlotte walked off the porch. As I went toward the back of the small yard she shut the gate so Jazz couldn't run out.
"Thanks," I called back to her. I got to the four-inch tall line of bricks in front of the plants and stooped. "Jazz?"
She meowed, and I almost cried. "Come out, baby."
It sounded as if she was behind the largest rose bush, which was surrounded by what remained of the summer crop of zinnias, whose name I'd just remembered. "Come on." Jazz apparently moved a few inches closer, as I could see her green eyes.
I tapped the bricks, hoping she would think it was a game. She meowed more loudly, but didn't budge. I didn't feel like getting scratched by a bunch of thorns.
Charlotte was behind me, every bit her perfectly coiffed self. "Walk to the gate with me. She'll think you're leaving and come to you."
I stood, not wanting to do as she suggested, but not about to contradict her when my cat was in her garden.
"Come on. Talk normally, as if you've forgotten all about her. I’ll start. It was nice of you and your friends to operate Java Jolt for Joe."
"Oh, it should work out." After we’d gone a few steps I turned my head. Jazz was sitting on the bricks. I patted my thigh, something Scoobie does when he wants Jazz or the dogs to pay attention to him. She trotted to me.
I picked her up and sobbed once. "Why did you run?"
Charlotte put a hand on my shoulder. "The idea of losing a pet is unbearable."
I looked at her as I sort of slung Jazz to my shoulder. "Thanks so much. So silly.."
"Not at all."
I walked across the street, rubbing Jazz under her chin. She wanted to get down and I was trying to distract her. When we got to the front door it was all I could do to keep a grip on her. I opened the storm door and pushed the main door open with my foot.
I gasped. "No wonder." I had the presence of mind to pull the storm door shut just as Jazz jumped down.
Whoever had searched the house had been thorough. The cushions on the rocker were slashed and someone had picked up the small area rug and tossed it a few feet from where it usually sat. The couch cushions were on the floor but not slashed.
I stood in the doorway and called a familiar number. Morehouse picked up on the third ring. "What, Jolie?"
"I...I should have called 9-1-1."
AUNT MADGE PULLED UP at the same time as the police cruiser. I was on my porch swing. I'd left Jazz in the house. She had tried to come out with me, but I didn't think I could hold onto her long enough to get her into my car, so I swung my foot in her direction and she backed up. I'm pretty sure she gave me a dirty look.
Two male officers who looked like high school students ran toward me, but Aunt Madge beat them. She’s the fastest eighty-plus woman in New Jersey.
"Someone in there now?" the taller one asked.
I shook my head. "I'm pretty sure no, but I didn't look."
They walked into the house the way police do on TV, guns straight in front of them, yelling "clear" as they moved from room to room. I had a brief sense of dread. What if they get shot going through our house?
Aunt Madge had sat next to me on the swing at some point. I hadn't even noticed. She put an arm around my shoulder. "I thought all that happened was you almost lost Jazz. Are you hurt? Charlotte said you were about to cry."
I shook my head and turned teary eyes to her. "Jazz got out. She could have been killed."
"You got her though." Her tone was designed to soothe me, and it helped a bit.
I nodded at my front door. "I put her down when I walked in. I made her stay when I came back out. She'll be under the bed with Pebbles until people leave."
Charlotte Evans came to her front door and waved. Aunt Madge waved back and then turned her attention back to me. "She called as you were leaving her yard. When she said you were crying I hopped in the car."
I looked at her clearly. She still wore the apron she uses to bake afternoon bread for her guests. Today her hair was dark blonde. She uses temporary color and changes it every month or so. I smiled, still teary. "I'd like to see you hop."
The shorter officer came out to the porch. His brown hair curled so tightly it looked like a perm. "No one there, but we'd like you to stay out here until one of the senior officers arrives." He walked off the porch toward his police cruiser.
The other patrol officer opened the front door and leaned out. "Is that a skunk under the bed with the cat?"
"Yes, but she's more scared of you than vice versa," I said.
"And she doesn't spray," Aunt Madge added.
Morehouse's car pulled up. The patrol officer near the cars talked quietly to him, and Morehouse came over to Aunt Madge and me. "What the hell is this about, Jolie?"
I burst into tears and he actually stepped back a foot. "How would I know? Why does, does stuff always happen to me?"
I WOKE UP ON the bed in my old room at the Cozy Corner. Someone had called an ambulance, but I refused to go to the hospital. If Morehouse had had a sedative he would have forced it in me, but I said I didn't want anything, only to be away. When I said I didn't care if anything was taken, he realized I wouldn't be any help and let me leave with Aunt Madge.
It was comforting to see the familiar antique furniture, minus the rocker, which Aunt Madge had given me as a housewarming present. The meow from the bottom of the bed meant Jazz was at the B&B with me. I didn't remember bringing her. Maybe Scoobie is here.
The door opened and he peered in. "Decent nap. Next time you should probably crash at Java Jolt." His attempt at humor pretty much failed.
I took in his expression, which now included a frown. Not his usual countenance, but we don't get our house broken into every day. Jazz sailed off the bed and into the hallway. That did make me smile. "I bet the dogs were glad to see her."
I sat up and Scoobie sat on the bed next to me. "Yeah, Mr. Rogers didn't even mind when she jumped on his back and, you won't believe this, Miss Piggy tried to give Jazz a bone."
"Is the house okay?"
"They didn't do much in the bedrooms. Morehouse said to leave cushions on the floor and drawers and stuff open in the kitchen. He wants you to see if anything is missing."
"Our computers? They were in the bedrooms, right?"
"Fine. Yours was on the chair in front of the desk. Looked as if they were trying to get it unattached from the printer when you came home."
"Wow, I guess they went out the back. Did the police take mine?"
He nodded. "Dusted for prints. I told them they could take it, but they aren't going to check your files until they talk to you. I think they need your permission."
"I’m not letting them check my files," I huffed, and then sighed. "Now we really know Joe is hiding something from us."
"Or someone thinks that," Scoobie said. "I heard Morehouse tell Dana to make sure Joe was still at the hospital."
"Hey." I sat up. "How'd they get in?"
"I know I didn't leave it unlocked, you didn't right?" When I shook my head, he said, "Lock picks, maybe."
"That makes me feel really safe." Not!
"The first thing out of George's mouth was he bet we didn't have the security system on." Scoobie gave me a questioning look and I nodded.
George bought the system for me last year after Aunt Madge reamed him out for an article she thought made me less safe at home. I didn't like the article either, but I liked the system. Why don't I set that every day?
"I need to go make Joe say who hates him enough to come after me." I started to get out of bed and Scoobie put a hand on my shoulder to keep me seated.
"You can get in line tomorrow." He frowned. "He won't go anywhere. Madge already invited him to stay here for a couple of days. Harry's picking him up at the hospital tomorrow."
That’s great. Someone may want to kill Joe and he’ll be staying here. "Umm. There’s something we need to talk about. Maybe you, me, and George."
Scoobie looked at me with suspicion. "What did you do?"
"I hate it when people ask me that!"
Scoobie raised his eyebrows.
"I’m sorry I snapped."
"Okay, you get a pass today." He squeezed my knee. "What is it?"
"Okay, George told you about the note when you got to Java Jolt."
"Yeah, and I don’t like it, but it’s not our business."
By the time I finished telling him the note was gone and I thought Talbot Peters might have taken it, Scoobie was reaching into his pocket for his mobile phone.
"Are you calling George?"
Scoobie almost snorted. "The police. They…"
"Can you wait one minute?"
"Why?"
"I guess I’d like to talk to Joe about…" When Scoobie looked about to disagree, I touched his arm and continued. "There’s nothing for them to find now. Think how upset Mrs. Hardy will be if the police show up at this time of night."
Scoobie considered that. "Okay. No sense waking her up."
Now, if he can forget about it later…