by Destiny Ford
Chapter Eight
I grabbed some lunch and went back to the office. I worked on the layout of the upcoming paper, and edited a few articles between bites. I was almost done editing the community news—reports of all the things happening in the smaller towns around Branson Falls that usually included what people had for dinner and who won the most recent family board game—when I got a phone call from Bobby. “Hey, Kate. We had another robbery. You should get over here.”
I knew it was serious when I was getting a personal call from the police and not hearing it over the scanner. “Where are you?”
“The Collins’ house over by your mom and dad’s. I’ll text you the address.”
I hopped in my Jeep and sped to the scene of the latest crime.
Bobby was standing outside with a frantic woman who was waving what appeared to be photos in front of his face. Bobby was dodging her in an attempt to avoid a paper cut on his nose. As I got closer, I recognized the woman as Trina Collins, a stay-at-home mom with a slightly eccentric side.
“I can’t believe you’re still here!” she yelled, her tone frantic. “Go! Look for Selma!”
My eyes widened. Who was Selma? Had the robberies escalated to kidnapping? If so, that would explain why I’d gotten a personal invitation to the crime scene from Officer Bob.
“We’re doin’ our best,” Bobby said. “Let us do our job.” He turned to me. “Hey, Kate.”
“Who is Selma and what was stolen?” I asked.
“Selma is my baby!” Trina screeched, her eyes wide with worry.
My gaze shot to Bobby. “A baby was taken?” I looked around, wondering why there were only two cop cars on the scene if the robberies had escalated to kidnapping.
Bobby heaved a long-suffering sigh. “Selma is her favorite house plant. A wood sculpture was also stolen.”
“I don’t care about the sculpture!” Trina yelled. “I care about Selma!”
I blinked. “A plant?”
Bobby nodded, his eyes closed like he couldn’t believe house plant recovery was part of his life.
“I tried to make a missing person’s report, but the police said no.” Trina’s voice was full of fury as she glared daggers at Bobby.
Bobby put his hands up in defense. “We talked about this, Trina. Repeatedly. A plant ain’t a person.”
“Maybe not to you!”
Bobby expression shifted to sympathetic. “It’s listed with all the other stolen items. We have pictures of it, and I’m sure Kate will put the photos in the paper for you too so everyone can be on the lookout.” Ah, that’s why he’d called me. He was trying to calm Trina down and thought offering to have house plant Selma spotlighted in the paper like a kid on a milk carton would be a good way to do that. I was annoyed at being used for half a second, then remembered that Bobby helped me all the time and I should return the favor. I probably would have put the photo in the Tribune anyway.
“We’ll find your plant,” Bobby said.
“You better!” Trina said. Anger warred with sadness and made her voice break. “She needs to be home before she misses her next dose of fertilizer! And what if the person who stole her doesn’t know the proper watering procedure?”
I’d had a lot of house plants in my life. Some of them I’d even managed to keep alive, but none of them had offered me a relationship like Trina seemed to have with Selma. “I’m sure someone will find it,” I said. “I’ll even post a photo on the Tribune Facebook page today.”
“Thank you,” Trina said, blinking back tears as her neighbor came over to console her.
Once she was out of earshot, I turned to Bobby and asked, “Was the wood sculpture valuable?”
Bobby motioned me over to his patrol car. “Yeah. It was done by a famous Branson wood carver, Ron Storm. The piece was of the Teton Mountains. Most people from out of state wouldn’t know what it was, or that it was by Storm, but a lot of people who live in Branson would have recognized it and seen the potential value.”
I raised a brow. “This is the first robbery where something of value has actually been taken.”
“That we know of,” Bobby amended.
I gave him a look. “I don’t think anyone is fighting over the Pope family’s TV remote.”
Bobby shrugged. “You never know.”
“Are you planning to search for the sculpture locally?”
Bobby nodded. “Yeah, but stolen items like this are always hard to find. A lot of times thieves will take the item out of the area and sit on the item for months before selling it so they’re less likely to get caught.”
“Where do you look for something like that?”
“Pawn shops mostly. And we list the items in a database that all Utah law enforcement has access to. But a lot of stolen items are never recovered.”
Before I’d moved back to Branson Falls, I’d done a story on art thieves. Ron Storm’s sculptures were part of the art world. Big ticket and famous items were hard to sell, unless you were selling them underground and on the black market—which was rather lucrative. A Robert Storm sculpture wasn’t a DaVinci, but they were all western cowboy and landscape themed pieces, and they were definitely popular with a segment of Utahns, western art fans, and collectors. But trying to track down one piece when there were other similar pieces done by Storm, was going to be a challenge. Maybe I’d ask Hawke if he had any resources that could help. Because Hawke always had resources—legal or not, and there hadn’t been a time he’d been unable to offer me assistance yet. I’d get ahold of him and find out.
“Thanks for letting me know about the robbery, Bobby. And for throwing me under the bus with the Selma situation.”
Bobby’s lips spread into a wide grin. “I figured you would’ve posted the story with a picture of the plant anyway. Now you can add some info on contactin’ the police if someone sees Selma.”
“Glad I could help,” I said dryly.
He laughed.
I finished scribbling some notes, borrowed a photo of Selma from Trina, and waved at Bobby.
A text buzzed as I was getting in my Jeep.
It was from Drake.
I’ve decided I’m fine with your ringtone since the song opens with the words Hot August Night, and that’s pretty indicative of a recent night we had.
I could feel my cheeks heating as I read the words. It had been close to August. It had definitely been hot. And I’d stopped things before they hit scorching. And now I was going to think of that night every time Drake called. I scrunched up my nose at that. I probably needed to find him a new ringtone.
Since I was in the area, I decided to stop and give Gandalf some cuddles. His happy face, unconditional love, and kisses, always made my day better.
I knocked as I opened the front door and went inside. The house smelled like cinnamon and happiness and I wondered what delightful thing my mom was concocting. I found her in the kitchen, her shoulder towel in place, hair a frizzy mess, and she was frantically breaking up what looked like pumpkin dog treats. As I got closer, I realized some of them didn’t look like dog treats at all. Some of them looked a lot like penises. I had zero interest in my mom and dad’s sex life, but I was suddenly very curious about these cookies. “Soooo,” I said, pointing to the countertop, a multitude of questions clear in my eyes.
She glanced up at me, a wild look in her eyes. “I tried a new recipe for these dog treats and the dough didn’t hold together as they cooked. One end of the bones broke off! On every cookie! Instead of thirty little bones, I got thirty very naughty little treats!” She said it all so fast and frantic that it came out like one long, high-pitched, run-on sentence.
I couldn’t hold back my laughter and burst into a fit of giggles. It took me several minutes to compose myself enough to speak. “That might possibly be the best story I’ve heard in weeks. This could be your greatest Catasophie ever!” My mom had a tendency for getting into crazy situations and causing disasters. The frequency of her incidents had led people around town to merge
the words “catastrophe” and “Sophie Saxee” and call them Catasophies. She was not a fan, but I thought it was an apt description.
She pointed a cookie at me without realizing she was using an excited bone end to make her point. “My adventures don’t need to be ranked.”
“You’re right. It would be an exercise in futility anyway since it’s a constantly evolving list.”
If her eyes had been lasers, I’d be mostly dead.
“What did Gandalf think of the cookies?” I asked, picking one up and smelling it. It smelled like a dog would like it fine, penis or no penis.
“Well I certainly didn’t give him any! They look like porno cookies, Kate! Porno!”
That explained why Gandalf was sitting patiently next to the island, kinking his neck to look up in hopes that one of the broken wieners would drop. “I suspect Gandalf doesn’t care in the least about the shape of his treats. He just wants to eat one.”
She looked at me like I’d lost my mind. “What kind of grandma would I be if I gave penis cookies to my grandpuppy?!”
“An epic one,” I offered.
She glared at me. “No! Horrible, Kate! I would be horrible! I have to fix this and make them random shapes. He can have some once they’re not X-rated anymore.”
I laughed at her insistence and discreetly pulled out my phone to snap a photo for my scrapbook. This was an event I never wanted to forget. “I mean, it should make you feel pretty good to know you’ve already done some accidental testing and could easily open an erotic bakery.”
She threw a set of bone balls at me and I deliberately let them fall to the ground. Gandalf was pleased and scarfed the treat right up without taking even a millisecond to consider the shape of what he’d eaten.
“Gandalf loves them!”
My mom huffed an exasperated sigh. “What are you doing here anyway?” She asked. She was obviously trying to change the subject so we weren’t talking about her pumpkin penises anymore.
“There was another robbery around the corner.” I tilted my head in that direction. “The Collins family.”
“What?” My mom’s eyes were huge, like she hadn’t anticipated that a robbery might actually happen in her own neighborhood. Given the frequency of the thefts—and my mom’s luck—I was wondering if she’d be next. “When did this happen? And why didn’t I know about it?”
“I’m not sure. I’m surprised you didn’t hear the sirens.”
She glanced down at the cookies and frowned.
“Then again, you were pretty distracted with your wiener treats.”
She threw her shoulder towel at me. “Stop saying that!”
I giggled and gave Gandalf another piece.
“Tell me more about what happened at the Collins’?”
I told her about the wood sculpture and the plant. “Oh my,” she said with serious concern. “Trina will not handle it well if she doesn’t get that plant back.”
“She seemed to be having a bit of a fit,” I agreed.
My mom shook her head in disbelief. “I can’t believe someone is invading homes this way and taking personal items with so much meaning. What if we’re next?” she asked, her voice going up an octave.
“It would require a pretty brave thief to take you and your reputation on. They’ll probably avoid your house because proximity to you alone could be a trap.”
She stuck her tongue out at me. “I think we’re all at risk, and something needs to be done.”
“The police are doing their best, and I’m trying to find some connection but haven’t yet. Lots of people are working on it, though. Speaking of which, I need to get to the office.” I bent down and gave Gandalf a few pets and a little kiss on the top of his head. He tolerated it—mostly because I think he was under the impression I had more erection cookies for him. I grabbed some balls off the counter and handed them over, thinking I’d get a reprimand from my mom, but I didn’t. Instead, I found her blankly staring at the wall like she was concentrating really hard.
I snapped my fingers. “Mom, are you okay?”
She glanced over at me and waved her hand in front of her like the spontaneous meditation hadn’t been odd. “I’m fine, but until this town is safe and sound again, I’m going to be on watch.”
“That sounds ominous.”
She didn’t reply and went back to breaking up her bones. I waved and yelled “I love you” on my way out the door.
As I drove by Inked AF, I saw Sasha and Axel outside. Axel was waving his arms in the air, his face screwed up in anger and Sasha looked like she was on the verge of tears. They were clearly arguing and I felt for them both. Relationships were hard enough as it was, but add in a business partnership to that and both could quickly fall apart if they weren’t managed separately. Good relationships embraced conflict and pushed through it instead of pretending it didn’t exist, or would magically go away. The key was good communication and a willingness to listen to one another, understand, accept responsibility, and compromise. I hoped they would be able to work out whatever it was they were going through.
I got back to the Tribune and dropped my bags in my desk drawer before sinking into my chair.
“Hey,” Spence said from his office. “I wondered where you went off to.”
I woke my computer up so I could write down the notes about the Collins robbery, and post Selma’s photo on the Tribune Facebook page. “Someone egged Drake’s house.”
Spence’s brows rose. “Any idea who it was?”
“He says it could be anyone. My money is on Ned and his buddies who were upset about his vote to legalize sex outside of marriage.”
Spence rolled his eyes. “It was such a ridiculous law.”
I nodded in agreement. “We could have both been thrown in jail for that one.”
“I think I would have been in more trouble than you,” he mused.
“Probably. Anyone in particular you’d be in trouble with?” I asked nonchalantly.
Spence had been sneaking off randomly and giving overt hints that he might be seeing someone for a while. I wondered how serious it was. I didn’t want to push him, and knew he’d introduce me when he was ready, but I was super curious.
Spence’s eyes sparkled at the question. “There might be.”
I arched a brow. “Any chance I’ll get to meet the special someone soon?”
Spence chewed on his bottom lip. “I would say there’s a good possibility.”
I grinned and went back to the summary of my day so far. “After Drake’s egg situation, I got a call from Bobby. There was another robbery.”
Spence’s brows rose. “Where?”
“The Collins family, in the same neighborhood as my parents.”
“What did they take?”
“A Ron Storm sculpture, and a house plant.”
“A plant?”
“Mrs. Collins was far more upset about the plant than the art. Though Bobby tells me the art is worth significantly more.”
Spence whistled like I’d made a massive understatement. “An original Ron Storm sculpture is definitely worth some cash. It seems like the thieves are taking really random things.”
“I know,” I said, nodding. “And at first it seemed like they were taking things that were worthless. It makes me wonder if the victims don’t realize everything that has actually been stolen from their houses.”
“It’s a possibility,” Spence said. “I don’t think I’d be able to pinpoint exactly what was taken in my house after a robbery. Is there anything tying the robberies together yet?”
I shook my head. “Not that I can see, but I have a theory.” It’s one I’d been considering since I left the Collins’ house. “All of the people who have been targeted so far are transplants to Branson Falls. They didn’t grow up here.” Spence looked at me thoughtfully and I continued, “The Pope family moved to town recently, Betty Turner moved to Branson years ago from California, and the Collins family has only been here for about ten years.”
Spence tilted his head, considering. “So you think it’s someone who doesn’t like new people moving to town?”
I shrugged my shoulders. “Maybe. Ella mentioned The Ladies not wanting new people in the area. Maybe they’re not the only ones. I know there have been a lot of people upset about the tattoo shop and coffee shop opening. They’re blaming outsiders for everything that’s happening. Maybe the robbers are trying to make sure nothing else new and unfamiliar is brought into Branson Falls. They could also be trying to get rid of the stuff that’s already here. I think Sasha and Axel are having a hard time and they’ve only been officially open for less than a week. The coffee shop seems to be doing okay, but I’m sure that’s because they sell non-coffee sugary drinks too. But I’m going to talk to Sasha and Axel tomorrow and see how things are going and if they have any more insight.”
The back door chimed and Ella sauntered in. “Howdy,” she said, grabbing a donut from the treat counter. I didn’t even know the donuts were there. Clearly, my treat radar needed an adjustment. I got up and grabbed a glazed and thickly frosted chocolate donut with peanut topping for myself. It tasted like heaven.
“Did anything else happen while you were out and about?” Spence asked.
“I saw a car with two people in full costume get-ups on my way back here. A moose and a cat. I followed them but they turned into a neighborhood and I lost them there.”
Spence stared at me, his own donut halfway to his lips.
And I wasn’t done. “There was someone dressed up as a squirrel sitting in their car and watching me and Hawke at the park the other night too. It was weird. Have we had any other reports about costumed creepers lately?”