Chapter 35
I peered into the glass door of Kowalski’s a few minutes later, furious, then I rattled the knob. I’d hurried back to my bike and ridden over here as soon as I left the store. But this place was closed for the day, and it seemed to be locked up tighter than bark on a tree. I banged on the door, anyway, but it didn’t get me anywhere. Why was he closed on such a gorgeous day right in the middle of tourist season?
Ed had a lot of nerve, planting fake rats and real droppings in my store and then reporting it to the health inspector. That is, I assumed it was Ed. Somehow I doubted he bought those rats for a Halloween party, like I had made up in my story to the shopkeeper.
“Ed,” I called. “You in there?” I knocked again. Silence was the only response. I cursed him silently, too. I clattered back down the stairs, the hard soles of the biking shoes making as much noise as a clog dancer, except with a lot less grace.
Taking the rat out of the bag, I tucked it into the little pouch under my seat, where I kept a spare inner tube, glad it fit. Now what to do with the bag? It was a nice compact paper bag with handles and the store’s logo. A place like this would have a Dumpster around back. I clomped along the side of the store, skirting around a privacy fence until I reached the rear. A shed, or maybe a garage, was at the far end of the parking area. Weeds pushed up through cracks, and trash mixed with leaves hunkered in every corner. There was a Dumpster, all right, which smelled bad enough to knock a dog off a gut wagon. The odor of sour garbage turned my stomach.
As I walked, my toe hit a stone on the ground and I almost stumbled. When I looked down, the same black shapes I’d cleaned up this morning littered the ground. So Ed had real rats, and this was where he got the droppings. I threw my bag up and into the Dumpster. As I turned to go, my gaze traveled over the garage. The sliding doors sat half open, revealing a black car. Ed’s car. So he is here, after all. Maybe he hadn’t heard my knocking. Oh, well. I was going to let it go, at least for now. He’d deny staging the rats at my place even if I did talk to him.
After I hustled back to the front, I shivered as I straightened my bike from where I’d leaned it against a lamppost. A cloud hurried over the sun, turning the gorgeous day into a chilly fall afternoon. The sweat from my earlier ride chilled me, too. From out of the corner of my eye, I caught a movement from the store and glanced back at the door, but I saw no one.
On second thought, I figured, my ride home could wait one more minute. I leaned the bike back against the pole and pulled my phone out of the zippered pocket of my shirt; then I pressed the number for the South Lick Police Department. I asked for Buck and waited until he came on the line.
“Heard about the rats. Too bad,” he said. “I was hankering for a burger for lunch.”
“They weren’t real rats,” I said. “I studied the pictures and they’re all identical.”
“You sure about that?”
“I am. Real rats wouldn’t be sitting on a table with their heads all at the same angle, and their tails, too. The droppings were real, unfortunately. Listen, I’m over in Nashville, and I happened into a Halloween store.”
“Glad you’re getting your shoppin’ done, Robbie. Listen, I’m kind of busy here.”
“Wait a minute. They sold the identical rats as in the picture the health inspector sent me.”
“Oh?”
Now his attention was on me again. “Yes, and the proprietor told me Ed Kowalski bought a couple dozen of them from her last week.”
“Oh. Now that’s pretty interesting.”
“He’s afraid of my competition,” I ventured. “I’m sure he wants to have my restaurant shut down because my food’s better than his.”
“I will look into this.”
“Can you tell the health inspector? Her number just goes to voice mail and says to call back during regular business hours. I’m at his store now and I saw droppings all around his Dumpster out back.”
“I’ll see what I can do.”
“Thanks. I’m riding home now—”
“Riding what? You got a horse now?”
“No, my bicycle.” A horse? What century does this man live in? “So I should be home in half an hour or so. I try not to answer my phone while I’m riding, in case you call.”
“Got it. Ride safe, now.”
I thanked him and disconnected. It was time for me to go home. With any luck, Graciela would have written to say Roberto was out of surgery and out of the woods.