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Fred and Stan met me outside the hardware store. Johnny had taken the tour on, declaring, "You won't see that on the other tours!"
Everyone was in a tizzy that they might have seen an actual ghost. Neither he nor I bothered telling them it was probably an intruder. The last thing this island needed was reports of burglars. So, I handed over Echo's ghost box and Johnny had the good sense to switch it on and pretend like they were hot on the trail of some paranormal disturbance. But as soon as they were out of earshot range, I made a call to our local police station.
"You say there's been a robbery?" Stan asked, waddling forward with his hands resting authoritatively on his utility belt. "Because I was just getting ready to watch the ballroom national championships, and if I miss it because you're playing a prank—"
"Natasha and Dimetri are going to sweep," Fred stated for the record, his mustache twitching.
Stan turned to him, his face flushing. "It is going to be Jerome and Gennifer, Fred. Jerome and GENNIFER. This is THEIR YEAR."
They were interrupted by the shuffling footsteps of Ralph, the hardware shop's owner. He was wearing corduroy and a ratty flannel shirt. He adjusted the dial on his hearing aids.
"Say there's been a break in at the store?" he asked, pulling his keys out of his pocket. They were attached by a string to the belt loops of his pants.
Shakily, his hands fit the key into the lock and he slowly opened the door. It was taking so long, the burglar probably had enough time to escape, circle around, grab a drink at Trevor's saloon, and catch the ferry to head to the mainland.
It was dark inside, with just the moon illuminating the rows of pieces and parts. Ralph flipped on the lights and stepped inside, kicking aside a dustpan. "My personal security system," he said to me with a wink. "Got the idea from that movie Home Alone."
I guess that was one way to do it if you were sticking to a budget.
He waved his arm around the building. "Poke around! Heck, at this rate, I'd thank anyone who came to rob me. Save me on a liquidation sale."
"The face we saw was upstairs," I said to Stan and Fred.
They unholstered their pepper spray and crept cautiously toward the wooden steps, spinning around the ends of the aisles to make sure no one was lying in wait.
"What did he look like?" Ralph asked.
"Young. Maybe a teenager?" I said. "It was dark and I saw him for only a second."
"Hmmm..." Ralph mused.
But Seaside's finest were on the information like it was a case cracking clue.
"TEENAGERS, you say," Stan stated. He turned to Fred. "Write that down."
Fred put his canister back in his belt holder, reached a lanky arm into his back pocket, and pulled out a pad of paper. He shook his head. "It is always the teenagers..."
"Probably broke in for a joyride," Stan guessed suspiciously, glancing at the ceiling like one of them might be wedged up in the rafters like a ninja.
I frowned. "There's no vehicles here..."
"ON A WHEELBARROW!" Stan threw back at me. "Fred, do a count of all the wheel barrows. Then, head to the big hill to see if they are holding races."
But Ralph had wandered his way over to the wheelbarrow stack and said, "Nope. Nothing's missing. No wheelbarrow races, I'm afraid."
Stan's face fell, deflated. "Well. Let's see what else the hooligans could have gotten up to."
"He was upstairs," I repeated again, motioning that direction. "Maybe we should go upstairs?"
Stan motioned around the ground floor with two fingers while he kept his stance wide and grounded. "Fred. I need you to secure this space. Make sure nothing's missing. Report back if they've taken so much as a screw."
Fred took that literally as he nodded and pulled out a box of screws and started counting.
Ralph shuffled over and took it out of his hands. "The only screws loose are you two."
Fred seemed slightly offended. His Adam's apple bobbed up and down his long throat. "I was just doing my job."
"That's what they all say..." Ralph replied with a weary shake of his head. He jerked his thumb. "Come on! Up you go!"
Stan and Fred had a moment of jostling to see who was going to take the lead, although I couldn't quite tell if either of them actually wanted the job.
"I'd take the lead," said Fred, "and I'm happy to take the lead, but you're up for that big promotion and it could be very impressive to the board..."
"FINE!" hissed Stan, glancing up the stairs with fear. "I'm grateful for your generosity. And since I'm taking the lead, I'll make sure to let the commission know it was my bravery that bagged this criminal."
Fred pushed back. "I'm happy to take the lead if you don't want to."
"Get on with it already," said Ralph.
Stan took a couple deep breaths, steeling his courage, and then walked up, one hand outstretched with his finger on the teargas trigger, the other holding his flashlight. It was dark in the storeroom, and he waved the light around. "Come out with your hands up! We have you surrounded!"
Ralph rolled his eyes and pushed past him, flipping on the light. Stan and Fred crept in like they were black ops infiltrating a terrorist cell. Ralph sat down on a dusty rolling chair near the steps. I decided to keep him company. No one needed a face full of pepper spray because Fred spotted a shadow.
"Your grandmother still thinking of buying the old place?" Ralph asked.
"That's what she's been telling me!" I replied.
He nodded. "Good. Good. I'd be nice for it to stay in the Seaside family. Got a couple requests to turn it into loft apartments or something."
I crossed my arms. "Really?"
He nodded. "That Madison has some friends who are jig workers? Wouldn't be so bad if this place was converted into a woodshop."
I groaned. "I think she meant 'gig workers'," I informed him.
"Gig?"
"They work from home on their computers for tech companies."
His face hardened. "She was telling me they would need to expand the electricity in this place. I figured it was for the band saws."
"Probably for their computers and servers."
"Well. That ain't happening," he grumped.
"Ralph! Could we have you over here for a minute?" Fred called warily.
Ralph and I looked at each other with curiosity. Had they actually found something?
Ralph got up and shuffled over. "What is it?"
We walked around the corner and there were boxes of old stuff - old photo albums and odd pieces of china.
"This yours?" Stan asked. There was an accusation in his tone. "Doesn't seem the sort of thing to be in a HARDWARE STORE!"
Annoyed, Ralph waved him away. "Settle down, son." He turned to me. "Did your grandmother start moving in some things?"
"No," I replied. "I mean, this all should go in an old historical museum, but it isn't us."
"You confirm this isn't yours?" Fred stated.
"Never seen it before in my life."
Stan stepped forward. "Ralph, I'm arresting you on the charges of harboring stolen goods."