by Cy Wyss
“They’d have to prove I took those pictures. I received them anonymously in my inbox, as usual.”
“Sure. And if they search your computer, they won’t find any traces of the files, right?”
“Heavens no.” At least, thought PJ, not in any form that could ever be decrypted.
“And if we try to find out who sent those pictures, we’ll hit a brick wall, right?”
“Right.”
Robert flashed her a brief smile. “Good girl.”
She laughed. “All that was just to scare me into being cautious?”
“Even if you’re not arrested over this, you’re never, ever going to live down the Peeping Jane title, are you?”
“Actually, I like PJ. It suits me.”
Robert’s eyebrows raced up his forehead. “It does?”
“It could also stand for ‘photo journalist,’ you know.”
PJ gave him her brightest smile.
* * *
The next morning, someone banged on PJ’s door at eight. She’d only gotten home a scant hour previously and awoke groggy and confused. The banging sounded again, nearly making her fall out of bed. From the commanding loudness of it, she figured it was Robert, probably come to chew her out for the article on the theft again. She stalked through her living room while putting on her bathrobe and threw open the door, hair wild and flying.
“You—”
She stopped short, already thoroughly regretting her appearance. It wasn’t Robert. It was someone new. Someone in a police uniform. Someone with emerald eyes and tawny brown hair. Someone tanned, with full lips and a square jaw, whose physique could have been on the cover of a fitness magazine.
“Uh,” PJ stammered.
She blushed. Very clever, she thought. I’m sure I’ve already won him over with my incredible vocabulary, not to mention my crazy hairdo.
The man smiled. The day was gray and spitting with rain, but with that smile, PJ felt like the sun was out and standing before her, radiating heat and light into her very heart. She practically started shaking.
“Hi,” he said.
She was sure she must have the goofiest smile plastered on her face. It was nothing like the sun, rather probably like an obstreperous yard gnome. She was a yard gnome in the presence of the sun. She was amazed she didn’t melt away completely into a puddle of stupid smile at the man’s feet.
“Hi,” she said.
“I’m Jake Tipton.” Then, as if suddenly remembering who he really was, he added, “Detective Jake Tipton.”
“You’re on duty?”
What a stupid question. He was in uniform—of course he was on duty. PJ wanted to facepalm but found herself paralyzed, holding the doorjamb and bracing herself in the frame so she didn’t fall down, thanks to her weak-kneed stance.
“Actually, I’m not due at work until nine, but I was up and ready and figured I’d stop by to see if you could answer some questions about the theft you had last weekend.”
She glanced at the marked SUV behind him. In the back, looking out through the window, was a large German Shepard.
“Who’s your friend?”
Jake shot a look over his shoulder. “That’s Harry.”
Comprehension dawned on PJ. “Oh! You’re the K9, aren’t you?”
Again, PJ had to suppress a nearly overwhelming urge to slap herself in the face. Empress Obvious strikes again, she thought. At this rate, she’d end up telling him that it was cloudy and a Wednesday. Way to waste the cute cop’s time.
He smiled. PJ kind of wished she had a crime to confess so he would have to touch her to put on handcuffs and lead her to his SUV.
“That’s me,” he said. “The one and only.”
At the festival, PJ had seen the K9 booth and the sign for demo times. She’d ignored it but now sorely regretted that decision. It would have meant many minutes of legitimately staring at Jake.
It was odd for a town Mayhap’s size to have a K9 unit, but Jake was an animal lover and recent transfer, and had pressed for the privilege. PJ remembered the fundraising that took place last year and had even contributed to the new SUV and equipment Harry and Jake sported. She knew that the pair was already paying their way by sniffing out meth dens and even catching a man who had tried to flee into a horse barn on the west side of town. Harry had knocked the man down before he could do any harm to the horse he’d tried to take hostage. Imagine some idiot threatening to shoot a horse—for that alone, Harry was a hero in PJ’s book.
PJ held her hands up to her ears and wagged them back and forth in what she hoped was a universal dog greeting. From the back of the truck, Harry barked once. She smiled.
“I think he likes you,” Jake said. “That’s darn unusual.”
“Really?”
“Well, he’s trained to be very suspicious. Normally, I can’t let him out of the truck around people unless we’re working.”
“Let him out if you want. I’ve got treats.”
At that moment, Mutt came wandering around the side of the trailer. He still had the chewed cord hanging from his collar. PJ took one look at him and knew he’d gorged himself on ravine water. His muzzle was twitching, and his eyes had a distinct greenish tinge.
“Oh, no,” she said.
As Mutt neared, Jake said, “That’s another reason to leave Harry in the car. He doesn’t do too well with other dogs. He’s definitely an alpha dog.”
That sounded like most of the cops PJ knew as well.
“Mutt, no!”
Mutt retched. With a split-second warning, he barfed on the stoop, near Jake’s feet. Dog vomit splashed on Jake’s shiny shoes.
“Dang it!” PJ yelled.
Jake shook his foot, trying to get the splotch off. PJ grabbed Mutt by the scruff of his neck and growled at him. Mutt whined.
“Oh, don’t be too hard on him,” Jake said. “I should be used to it.”
PJ dragged Mutt over to his doghouse.
“Get in there! Lie down.”
Mutt hung his head, went into his doghouse, then turned around and lay down so his pleading mug was stuck outside staring up at them.
“Time to go inside,” PJ said. “I’ll see if I can find something to clean your shoes.”
* * *
Outside, rain pelted the roof of PJ’s trailer. Inside, she knelt before Jake with a wet washcloth and tried to clean his shoes.
“Oh, no,” he said. “Don’t do that. Here, give me that. It’s not your fault.”
He took the washcloth from her and cleaned his shoes himself, then bused the washcloth over to the sink and rinsed it out thoroughly.
“Where’s your laundry basket?”
PJ winced. Her bedroom floor was basically the laundry basket.
“Just leave it there. I’ll get it later.”
Jake sat again, at the edge of the dining booth. He pulled out a notepad and pen. He clicked the pen into writing mode.
“Some questions, please, PJ?”
“Uh, sure. But let me make us coffee first. I don’t know about you, but I’m not really awake until I’ve had my first jolt of caffeine.”
Jake smiled up at her. There went her knees again—the buckling seemed to be getting worse the longer she was in his presence, not better.
“Coffee would be great. Black, please.”
PJ fired up the coffee maker and took her most expensive blend from the cupboard.
“Ask away. I’ll try to answer coherently.”
Jake chuckled. “Which night was the break-in again?”
“Saturday.”
“Festival night. Of course. The news story ran when?”
“Monday.”
“Oh yes, that’s right.” Jake watched PJ bustle around her small kitchen, preparing sugar and milk for her coffee. “Great story by the way. I laughed like crazy. The way you said people should draw their own conclusions. Hilarious. What conclusion could people possibly draw but a burglary in progress?”
He laughed. PJ smiled.
“Anyway,” he said, “what was taken? Anything of value?”
PJ blushed. He probably figured since she lived in a trailer, she had nothing of value to steal. But she did. She had her collection of cat figurines and her collection of fine, shiny pieces of jewelry that fiercely appealed to her feline side. The figurines and jewelry were hidden all over her trailer. She thanked her lucky stars that the boys found only a tiny fraction of her treasures.
“A cat figurine and a class ring,” PJ said. “But they dropped the figurine when Mutt chased them away, so just the class ring.”
Jake scribbled in his notebook. “Was the figurine all right?”
“No, it smashed on the gravel where they dropped it.”
“Oh. I’m sorry about that.”
“It was one of my favorites. You can still see the pieces out there. I haven’t had the heart to clean them up yet.”
Jake nodded as he wrote a little more. “Where were you?”
The curt question caught PJ off guard. She almost forgot the alibi she had cooked up.
“Uh, I was outside, looking for Mutt.”
“You were outside? When they were breaking in here?”
“Yes.”
“About what time was that?” Jake’s pen was poised above his notebook.
PJ swallowed. “I’m not really sure. I think it was after eleven but before midnight.”
Jake’s gaze dropped to his notebook as he wrote that down. “After eleven but before midnight. You can’t be more specific than that?”
PJ shook her head. “No, sorry.”
“And before that?”
PJ blinked several times at Jake. “What?”
“I mean, where were you before that? At the festival?”
“Oh, uh, no. I left the festival before sundown.”
“But you were there?”
“Yes, with Vicky and Clara.”
“I’m sorry. Vicky and Clara?”
“Vicky Donnerweise, surely you know her. She’s a deputy.”
“Oh, right. Of course. And Clara?”
“She’s just my friend. Clara Goodwind. She’s the assistant librarian.”
“I don’t think I’ve met her yet.”
“How long have you been here?”
“Ten months.”
“You must not go to the library much.” PJ blushed. She wasn’t supposed to be the one interrogating. The coffee gurgled and burped out of its filter. It was almost done.
Jake smiled at her. “Not yet, I admit.”
PJ poured two mugs of coffee. Jake took his black, but she took a ton of cream and sugar. She always liked just a little bit of coffee flavoring with her cream and sugar. PJ sat across from Jake in the booth, and for a moment they watched each other drink. Jake took a fair sized swallow of coffee. PJ sipped hers delicately.
“Not bad,” Jake said. “Smooth.”
“It’s Costa Rican,” PJ said.
Jake nodded. “So you came home from the festival around sunset. When was that?”
PJ had the exact times of sunset memorized, but she didn’t want to show it. “Around eight.”
Jake put his coffee down and wrote in his notebook. “All right. Just one more question. Where were you between then and the break-in?”
PJ blinked several times. “I was here.”
“I thought you said you went to look for Mutt?”
“Well, yes, but that wasn’t until about eleven.”
“So you were here in the trailer until then?”
“Yes.”
“Why did you leave the festival so early?”
PJ was silent for several moments. She sipped her coffee and stared all around the room, purposely not looking into Jake’s intent green eyes.
“Brooke?”
PJ started at Jake’s use of her real name. “Wow. No one calls me Brooke. It’s always PJ.”
Jake wrote that down. “All right. PJ?”
PJ bit her lip. Next came the part where she had to explain how she couldn’t ever be normal company after it started to get dark. And there went her chances of ever having a date with this cute cop, let alone getting married, having three kids, and living into ripe old age on the porch of a beautiful two-story house in north Mayhap. Not that I’m getting a little ahead of myself, PJ thought.
PJ cleared her throat. “I can’t be in the dark.”
“You can’t be in the dark? What does that mean?”
“It means I need to be here, inside in the light, when the sun sets.”
Jake stared at her for a moment. “You can’t be in the dark?”
“I’m surprised you haven’t talked to Vicky more about me.”
“Oh. Well, I just know you and she are friends.”
“I’m her odd-ball friend, that is.”
Jake smiled. “You seem normal to me.”
PJ wanted that to be a compliment. She smiled, saying nothing.
“Not that there’s anything wrong with being afraid of the dark,” he said.
“It’s more than being afraid; it’s a full-blown phobia. I have to stay here and sleep with my light blinders on.”
“Light blinders?”
“They’re like sleep masks people put on to sleep, but they make more light, not less. I always keep a pair around.”
“Show me?”
“Sure.”
PJ ducked into her bedroom and came back out with one of her self-made light blinders. Not that she ever actually used it at night, but she had to have a fully formed alibi for her nightly disappearances. It was a normal sleep mask like the type people bought for airplane trips, but she’d attached a string of battery-powered LED lights to the inside. She handed it to Jake. He turned it on and donned it.
“Wow. That’s bright.”
“It’s some kind of physiological thing.”
“You seeing someone about it?”
PJ blushed. “That’s really personal.”
“Oh, sorry.” Jake took a swallow of his coffee. He watched PJ. She squirmed under his gaze, sipping her coffee self-consciously.
“I just have a little bit of a problem, but I’m sure you can clear it up,” he said at last.
“A problem?” PJ said. Her voice seemed an octave higher than it should be.
“Well, yes. I mean, you can’t go out after dark, right?”
PJ stared at her coffee cup. “Yes.”
“Yet you went out to look for Mutt at eleven, right?”
“Oh.” PJ inhaled sharply. “I see what you mean. That sounds like a contradiction, doesn’t it?”
Jake smiled. “I’m sure there’s a simple explanation.” He waited.
PJ swallowed. “Well, I’ve been experimenting with going out at night. Just a little bit. I’ve made myself light goggles.”
“Light goggles?”
“Like the blinders, but they’re goggles. Want me to show you?”
“No need, I can imagine.” He wrote in his notebook. Upside down, PJ saw the phrase “light goggles” appear amid the flowery scribbling.
“Anyway, using them plus a flashlight, I can be outside for a little while before I get too freaked out.”
“Okay. So you went to look for Mutt with your light goggles at eleven.”
“I was worried about him. He goes into the ravine to drink, you know, and right now it is more of a raging river than a tiny creek like it usually is.”
“Okay.” Jake was focused on his notebook. He said nothing else.
PJ waited, watching him write.
At last, he finished and looked up at her. He picked up his coffee mug and swigged from it. “Okay, I think that’s everything.”
PJ sipped her coffee. “I was only gone for a few minutes.”
“Did you find him?”
“What?”
Jake ran his hand through his tawny hair. “Did you find Mutt?”
“Oh. Well, yes. When I came back to the trailer, I found him standing at the end of the driveway barking and barking. I guess he’d just chased the thieve
s off.”
“And you found the cat figurine they dropped.”
“Stepped right on the pieces. I recognized part of the head, my poor little cat.”
“That’s too bad, I’m sorry for your loss. When did you find out the class ring was missing?”
“I searched the trailer when I got back.”
“You didn’t call the police?”
A twinge of fear ran through PJ. This was really more of an oppositional questioning than she’d like. She remembered Robert’s cautioning that the authorities could easily view her as an accomplice rather than a victim. She studied Jake carefully. His expression was open, his green eyes seemed on the friendly side of neutral. But he was a detective. Perhaps he was very good at seeming friendly right up until the moment he captured his prey.
PJ cleared her throat. “I was stressed out from going outside. From being in the dark. Frankly, when I found the ring missing from my jewelry case, I was too disappointed to do anything but lie down and sleep.”
“Oh, your jewelry case. Can I see it?”
PJ bristled. Her bedroom was a veritable tornado of clothes and bedding. She didn’t want Jake to see how messy it was.
“I can bring it out here if you’d like.”
“Actually, I’d like to see the scene of the crime if you don’t mind.”
“I do mind.” The words were out before PJ could censor herself.
Jake lowered his chin and gazed upward at her; the effect was to intensify his already intent gaze. “You do mind?”
PJ stood up. “You know, I’m getting a headache from all this questioning. Could you please leave? We can talk another time.”
Jake stood. He looked at PJ for several moments, and she was suddenly afraid. She’d invited a cop into her house. What if he wouldn’t leave? He was much bigger than her, probably at least six feet tall and muscular. She took a deep breath to calm her pounding heart.
Jake seemed to realize the effect he was having on her. He flipped his notebook closed and put it away. “All right. No problem.” He turned sideways and brushed past PJ toward the door. “I’ll just see myself out.”
When he was outside, PJ watched him out the window, through the rain. He climbed into his SUV, talked on his radio for several minutes, then finally backed out of her driveway and drove away. It was only then she realized she’d been holding her breath. She let it out in a long stream. She was shaking. What did Jake think? What had been the result of his questioning? What if Robert was right and he was about to arrest PJ as an accomplice?