Lorraine Bartlett - Tori Cannon-Kathy Grant 00.5 - Panty Raid

by Lorraine Bartlett

  “That’s right.”

  “Could he have forgotten to lock it last time he was down here?”

  “He doesn’t have much in here. There’d be no reason for him to come down here. God knows he’d never do laundry.”

  Tori opened the door and inspected the contents. The boxes had obviously been tampered with, as garland and strings of Christmas lights were haphazardly hanging from opened boxes that had been shoved into the space. Tori stood on tiptoe and moved the contents around on the top shelf.

  “Oh, damn! It’s gone.”

  “What’s gone?” Kathy asked.

  “A bottle of sherry. I was going to give it to my grandma next time I made it to the bay. I put it in here because I didn’t want it cluttering up my kitchen.”

  “How long ago was that?”

  “Same time as the Christmas decorations. I really do need to get off my butt and visit my grandparents. They’re not getting any younger.”

  “Could Billy have taken it?” Kathy asked.

  Tori shook her head. “Billy? Drink sherry? Not in this lifetime.”

  “Isn’t your grandmother a diabetic?”

  “She only has a glass of sherry on special occasions.”

  “Maybe we should go to Home Depot and get another lock,” Kathy suggested.

  “I guess,” Tori said.

  “We should do it now—before we break open a bottle of wine.”

  “I could use a drink about now,” Tori admitted. She closed the door. “Let me go get my purse and we’ll head to the store.”

  “Should we get something to eat while we’re out?” Kathy suggested.

  “I was thinking of ordering a pizza.”

  Kathy’s expression soured. “I feel like I live on pizza. That’s all the night crew at the motel ever orders in.”

  “What sounds good to you that’s easy to make?”

  “Let’s hit the prepared food section at Wegmans. They have everything,” Kathy suggested, “and we can nuke it.”

  “Any time I don’t have to cook is a good day,” Tori said.

  They left the storeroom, closing the door, and headed out to the lobby, then back to the apartment for their purses. They had lots of hours to talk about the panty thief. For now, their mission was clear. Get a new lock and get something either decadent or comforting to eat. No doubt about it, they had their priorities straight.

  The grocery store was bustling with holiday weekend shoppers stocking up on hotdogs, hamburgers, buns, and cold salads from the deli counter. Tori and Kathy walked up and down the aisle, carefully perusing the plastic containers filled with ready-to-eat foods the grocery store had made. “We could get mac and cheese,” Tori suggested.

  Kathy shook her head. “Good as they make it, I survived on a little too much of it the first couple of years after college. It got so I almost forgot what meat tasted like.”

  “They have really nice julienne salads.”

  “Are you in a diet mood?”

  “Not with those cookies you made still sitting in my kitchen,” Tori countered.

  They reached the end of the cooler and started back down again. “Pot stickers are good,” Kathy suggested.

  “Okay, we could get them and at least two more things. We did say we’d stuff ourselves.”

  “How about one of these little quiche Lorraine’s? I haven’t had quiche in about a million years,” Kathy suggested. “And then to balance it out, we could split one of those salads, because that would counteract the fat in the quiche and the pot stickers.”

  “And the cookies, too?”

  “Probably not, but that’s the cross we have to bear.”

  “Sounds like a plan,” Tori said. She got the salad while Kathy got the quiche and they headed for the check-out counter.

  “I’ve been thinking about your panty poacher.”

  “And?” Tori asked.

  “What time of day do you usually do your laundry?”

  “In the evenings.”

  “After work or on the weekends?”

  “Both. What are you thinking?”

  “We should stake out your laundry room tonight.”

  “That would be kind of difficult, since there’s nowhere to hide,” Tori said.

  “You don’t seem to think your thief is one of the residents, so it must be someone who’s entering the building, stealing your panties, and then leaving again.”

  “Are you suggesting we sit in my car or something?”

  “We could try it. The lot outside your apartment isn’t exactly well lit, so we shouldn’t be seen.”

  “You’re right, and that’s one of my chief complaints about the complex.”

  It was their turn to check out, and they pooled their resources, paying in cash. Tori carried the bag out to the car.

  “How does this guy even know when I’m doing laundry?”

  “The dryer exhaust,” Kathy said simply. “He can probably hear it.”

  “You’re right. I hadn’t thought about that. What if I put a load in, we go sit in my car, and then the guy doesn’t show up?”

  “At least you’ll have clean laundry,” Kathy pointed out.

  They got in the car and Tori started the engine. Dusk was still a couple of hours away when they arrived back at her apartment complex. They trudged upstairs and put the appetizer in the microwave. Kathy got out plates, bowls, and cutlery, while Tori pulled out the toaster oven for the quiche. “Break out the wine and we can feast on the pot stickers while we wait for the quiche to heat through.”

  “Sounds good to me,” Tori said, and soon after they were ensconced in chairs in the living room, sipping wine while Daisy lolled at Tori’s feet, purring with glee.

  “So, what time do you think I should put in the first load of laundry?” Tori asked.

  “What time do you usually do it?”

  “About nine”

  “Good. It ought to be dark by then.” Kathy glanced at the clock on the wall. “We’ve got a little more than two hours to wait. That ought to give us plenty of time to eat.”

  “What if our guy doesn’t show up tonight?” Tori asked, cutting a pot sticker in half with her fork.

  “I’m sorry I can’t be here more than just tonight, but you’re no slouch. You can lay in wait for the guy tomorrow, or the night after, or the night after that.”

  “And do what while I’m waiting?”

  “Pull out your e-reader and read.”

  “Except that my e-reader glows in the dark. That would give me away for sure.”

  “Listen to the radio and hum?” Kathy suggested.

  Tori laughed. “Yeah, I could do that.”

  Darkness had fallen by the time Tori grabbed the laundry basket full of towels from the back of her closet, ready to start the sting. Meanwhile, Kathy gathered up the glasses, wine, and cookies for sustenance while they waited in the parking lot in Tori’s car.

  Once the washer was chugging along, they retreated to the parking lot. Upon their return from the grocery store, Tori had selected a parking space where they could watch the front of her building to see anyone who entered. They settled in for what they hoped would not be a long wait.

  “I’ve only got enough dirty clothes for two loads,” Tori told Kathy, once she’d refilled their wineglasses.

  “Who says you can’t wash clean clothes?”

  Tori shrugged and sipped her wine. “I don’t think I’ve ever done this before.”

  “Done what? Been on a stake-out before?”

  “No, drunk wine in the front seat of my car.”

  “So you have been on a stake-out?” Kathy asked, her tone light.

  “Well, no. Hand me a cookie, willya?”

  Kathy passed the container. “I’ve never been on a stake-out, either. It looks really boring when they do it on TV; that’s why we have wine and cookies.”

  Kathy sipped her wine, but then leaned forward, squinting as she looked through the windshield. “Hey, someone’s coming.”

  To
ri leaned forward, too. Sure enough, a figure moved in the shadows. It carried a bag. They ducked down in the seats as the figure passed.

  “It’s a guy,” Kathy whispered.

  “Yeah,” Tori agreed, but he’s going to the Dumpster, not my building.”

  “Scratch one suspect.”

  “Maybe not. He could be throwing away evidence. Let’s see what he does.”

  They watched the man as he retraced his steps, heading back to his own apartment building, then sat back in their seats and resumed sipping.

  “Do you ever think much about the days when we used to hang out?” Tori asked.

  “All the time,” Kathy said. “It seems like my job is my life. Sometimes I wish I could step back in time … back to when anything seemed possible. Back to when I didn’t have to work nights and weekends in a job with no real future.”

  Tori nodded. “But at least you’ve got goals and made plans. When I think of the future, long-term, I don’t see Billy in it.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry.”

  “When you think about it, it’s kind of odd that we ever got together. Taking a breather right now is actually a good thing. Maybe absence really does make the heart grow fonder. We’ll see.”

  They were quiet for a while, sipping wine—crunching cookies—just being comfortable in each other’s company. Tori finally broke the quiet. “This is kind of like Thelma and Louise.”

  “Except they were criminals—we’re the good guys, or gals,” Kathy suggested. “And, we’d need a convertible. I don’t know about you, but I want a car that’s going to survive a rollover.” She paused. “Then again, I’m driving an aging Focus, so what the heck do I know about car safety?”

  Tori smiled. “I’m sure your Grandma Nancy would have preferred you drive a tank. That way the rest of the world would keep out of your way.”

  “She was protective. Maybe overly so, but I turned out all right. Didn’t I?”

  Tori nodded. “You’re okay.”

  “Just okay?” Katie asked.

  “Better than okay.”

  Kathy drained her glass. “Okay.”

  Movement on the sidewalk outside another of the buildings caught Tori’s attention. “Look,” she said, and Kathy leaned forward, too. “Sorry,” Tori apologized as it became evident that the figure walking along the sidewalk outside her building wasn’t a man, but instead was an elderly woman. Her stooped gait registered the years she’d walked on the planet. “False alarm.”

  Still, the woman turned at Tori’s building and entered.

  “Are you sure?” Kathy asked.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Do you know that woman? Does she live in your building?”

  “No.”

  “Then, you can’t dismiss her as a suspect.”

  “Oh, come on. Why would an old lady want to steal my underwear?”

  “Ah, that’s the question,” Kathy said. She made sure the screw cap on the wine bottle was tight before setting it on the floor mat, then turned to put the Tupperware container, no-longer filled to the brim with cookies, on the back seat. She opened the car door.

  “Where are you going?” Tori demanded.

  “To get a better view.”

  Kathy got out of the car and a puzzled Tori followed.

  “You can’t think—” Tori started, but Kathy shushed her into silence.

  They moved up the sidewalk along the building so that they were directly opposite Tori’s building. The woman stayed inside for only a minute or two before she came back outside. She held something in her hand.

  “Oh, no,” Tori groaned.

  “Oh, yes,” Kathy said. “Come on. We’ve got to follow her.”

  “Why? She couldn’t possibly—”

  “Tori—think outside the box.”

  “I hate that expression.”

  “So do I, but sometimes it works,” Kathy said, already on the move. She took the lead and Tori reluctantly followed, trailing the woman two buildings down, where she entered. They were only a few paces behind, and stepped inside the building in time to see the door to Apartment 1 close.

  “Now what do we do?” Tori hissed.

  “You have to knock the door and confront her.”

  “And what do I say?”

  “I don’t know. Fake it.”

  “Fake it?” Tori demanded. She swallowed hard before she strode up to the door and forced herself to rap three times on the steel security door.

  For several long seconds nothing happened, but Tori could have sworn she was being eyeballed via the peephole. Then at last the door opened on a chain. A woman much younger than the one they’d followed appeared. “Yes?”

  “Hi,” Tori very nearly squealed. “My name is Tori Cannon. I live in the building two doors down.” She gestured toward Kathy. “And this is my friend Kathy. We … we—” and then she ran out of things to say.

  “We were wondering about the other lady who lives here,” Kathy piped up.

  “My mother?” the woman asked.

  “Yes. You see, we followed her back here after—” And that’s when Kathy ran out of things to say.

  “After she visited the laundry room in my building,” Tori finished.

  The woman’s brow furrowed. “What are you saying?”

  “It seems that your mother is a panty pincher,” Kathy said.

  The woman’s face twisted into a malevolent glare. “What?” she demanded.

  Tori swallowed. “Well, for the past couple of weeks, someone has been stealing my underwear. At first I thought it must have been some kind of pervert, but then tonight we staked out the laundry room and … well, we saw your mother go in and come out with some of my undies.”

  “Are you insane?” the woman asked, her voice tight with anger.

  “I don’t think so,” Kathy said. “Could we speak to her?”

  “No!” the woman said, and was about to shut the door when a voice behind her called out.

  “Susan, who’s at the door?”

  “A couple of nuts, mother,” the woman said tersely.

  “May we please speak to your mother?” Kathy implored.

  “No!” the woman said angrily.

  “Susan!” the older woman called again, and appeared right behind her daughter.

  “Hello!” Tori called. “Can we talk to you?”

  “Susan, don’t be so rude. Open the door,” the older woman commanded.

  The chain was removed and the door thrown open.

  “Hello!” the older woman called brightly. “I’m Mary; and you are?”

  “Tori and Kathy,” Tori said, jerking a thumb in Kathy’s direction. “We were wondering what you were doing in the laundry room a couple of doors down.”

  “Getting material,” the older woman said with pleasure.

  “Material?” Kathy asked.

  “Material?” her daughter asked with a curious glance over her shoulder.

  “Yes,” Mary said with a broad smile.

  “What do you need material for?” Tori asked.

  “For my product, of course,” Mary said, as if it made perfect sense, which it did not.

  “What do you make?” Kathy asked.

  “Catnip mice,” Mary explained. She waved a hand, beckoning them inside. They followed the old woman as she trotted across the immaculate living room. In the corner of the room was a very hairy cat bed, where an elderly cat slept. Beside the little bed was a fabric tube made of purple lace.”

  “I recognize the cloth on that toy—it used to be my underwear!” Tori exclaimed.

  “You must be mistaken,” Susan said firmly.

  “Mary, do you always get your material from the other dryers in the complex?”

  The old woman smiled. “Where else am I going to get it? Susan won’t let me drive to the fabric store anymore. She took away my car keys.”

  “Mother!” Susan implored.

  “I grow my own catnip,” Mary said proudly. I’ve planted it in front of every one of the ap
artment buildings. It’s a hundred percent organic—no pesticides. Then when it grows tall enough, I pick it and dry it in my bedroom.”

  “You do?” Susan demanded.

  “Yes. I’ve got a bunch of cardboard under my bed. It dries out quite nicely on it. Of course it takes a couple of weeks. My first crop this year is now ready to be made into catnip toys. My other daughter, Linda, brings me pillow stuffing she gets at yard sales, and I make the catnip toys and sell them in her booth in a craft store the next town over.”

  Tori’s mouth dropped open. “Made of my underwear?”

  “Good Lord, Mother!” Susan practically wailed. She turned her anguished eyes toward Tori. “I am so sorry. I don’t know what to say—how to apologize.”

  “Perhaps a trip to the fabric store might be in order,” Kathy suggested. “If you got her a couple of fat quarters of fabric, it would stop her visiting the laundry rooms around the complex.”

  “I’m so sorry,” Susan told Tori. “I’ll be happy to replace whatever it is she’s taken.”

  “Well, I did have a bottle of sherry that’s gone missing.”

  Susan turned on her mother. “Do you know anything about that?”

  “I found it.”

  “Do you mind if I ask where?” Tori asked.

  “In a closet. The door was open. I figured if it wasn’t locked, nobody cared about what was inside.”

  “Mother, you’re not supposed to drink alcohol. It’ll mess up your medications.”

  “I only have a little drop at night—after you go to bed. And it’s strictly for medicinal purposes.”

  Tori held up a hand. “You don’t need to replace it. I just want her to stop taking my things—and anything else she’s been helping herself to from the rest of the laundry rooms in the complex.”

  “Be assured, I’ll be keeping a much closer eye on her,” Susan said firmly.

  “Do you have cats?” Mary asked, happily.

  “Well, yes,” Tori answered. “We both do.”

  “Then perhaps you’d like one of my toys. Maybe you’d tell your friends about them and where to get them, too.”

  Tori looked at Susan, as if to get permission. She nodded. “I think that would be very nice.”

  “Yes, thank you,” Kathy chimed in.