“Thanks, Sergeant. He’s here.” Logan clicked off and turned to Owen. “What’s going on, Owen?”
Owen didn’t come inside, but instead hovered by the door. “Remember that problem I had with someone tampering with the lock on the back door to my shop?” He was clearly a little anxious and looked over his shoulder a few times.
“Last week. Yes, I do. Sergeant Benson just radioed me that something happened this morning?”
“Well, ah, it turns out I didn’t need that motion sensor.”
“Why don’t you come on in, have some coffee,” Fergus told him. “Looks like you could use something stiffer, but it’s early yet, so we can start with a cup of joe.”
Owen looked over his shoulder again. “No, no. That’s okay.”
Logan frowned. “What’s going on, Owen? What’s happened?”
“Well, I just had this . . . inkling . . . I guess you could call it, that whoever tried to break in would come back.” Owen looked out the door, toward the parking lot, then back at Logan. “So, I’ve sort of been staking out my own business. At night. And last night—well, this morning, actually—it happened.”
Fergus hooted at that. “You should have given me a shout. I’d have brought the coffee.”
“Owen, you shouldn’t have taken matters into your own hands,” Logan said, shooting Fergus a quelling look. “If you were that concerned, you should have called me or whoever was on desk.”
“That’s just it. I didn’t really know for sure, so there was nothing to call about. Something has to happen, to call the police, right?”
“Well, something obviously has happened.”
“That’s why I’m here.”
Logan shifted and looked out the door behind Owen, but didn’t see anything beyond his SUV and Owen’s pickup truck parked next to it. “Why do you keep looking over your shoulder? Did you get in some kind of fight? Is someone coming after you?”
Completely unfazed by Logan’s previous glare, Fergus snatched up the bat he kept behind the bar and ducked under the walk-through. “Where are they, laddie? Nobody comes into my town and—”
Logan palmed the end of the bat and snatched it from Fergus’s hand. “Stop it. Both of you. Owen, for God’s sake, come in here and close the door. I want to know what happened. Start from the beginning. Whatever it is, I’m sure we can work it all out.”
“That’s just it. I’m not sure what kind of time I have. You see, I sort of caught the intruder.”
“Good on ya there, lad!” Fergus shook his fist. “That’s the way.”
Logan felt an instant headache pinch at the space between his brows. He couldn’t have imagined his day getting worse than how it had started. “You caught him,” Logan repeated. “Meaning you still have him somewhere? Or—did he get out? Is that who you think is after you?” Having no idea what the threat was, Logan moved forward, pulled Owen inside the room, and took up a watchful stance by the door to the pub.
“I don’t know. I mean, yes, I still have him. I mean, her. It’s not a him. It’s—but I don’t trust her. She could have gotten out. I mean, she broke into my store, so—”
“She?” Logan said, abandoning the door to turn back to Owen, incredulous.
“This is getting better by the minute,” Fergus cackled.
Logan didn’t bother trying to glare Gus into submission. His attention was completely on Owen. He crossed the room and took Owen by the arm. “Come on.”
“Where are we going?” Owen asked as Logan flat-palmed the pub door open with perhaps a bit more force than was necessary.
“To wherever it is you have your intruder stashed.” Logan shook his head, not believing he was even saying those words. He turned back to Fergus, who was halfway across the room, and pointed at him. “Sit. Stay. I’ll call you later.”
“No fun a’ tall,” Fergus called out as the door swung shut behind them. “At least tell me who it is ye’ve captured!”
“We’ll take my vehicle,” Logan directed Owen. “Get in.”
Once they were belted in and pulling out of the lot, Logan said, “What on earth were you thinking? Anything like this happens, you don’t take matters into your own hands. You call me. Or whoever is on duty.”
“I meant to. But it all happened so fast. I mean, when I parked behind the Dumpster last night, I didn’t know if anything was going to happen, so there was nothing to call about. If someone did come, then my plan was to call the station.” Owen’s expression turned sheepish. “Then it got kinda late and I sort of fell asleep. When I woke up it was getting light out and—well, it was probably the noise that woke me. She was jimmying the lock to my back door. I was trying to find my phone—it had fallen on the floor of my car while I was sleeping—and she got in. I didn’t know it was her. It was still early so it was shadowy under the loading dock overhang on the back of the shop. I just knew it was somebody. The light inside the back door comes on automatically, so I saw who it was as soon as she opened the door. And then I wasn’t so much afraid as I was pissed off.“
“Who?” Logan asked. “Who was it?”
“Oh! Right. Eleanor Darby.”
“Eleanor Dar—?” Logan broke off, snapping his mouth shut, mostly to keep from voicing the very long string of expletives sitting right on the edge of his tongue. What the hell? “You should have called. Right then.”
“I know. I mean, I do now But I couldn’t find my phone. It was still too dark, and it wasn’t like I was worried about her overpowering me.”
“She held city hall hostage a little over a week ago.”
“I know, I know. That was part of it, too. I’ve known Eleanor my whole life. She was a customer of Hartley’s when my dad ran the place, you know? I don’t know what’s going on with her, but this isn’t like her. Or didn’t used to be. She’s never been the friendly sort, but this? It doesn’t seem right. So . . . I’m worried about her.”
Privately, Logan agreed with him. “You could have driven to the police station in two minutes.”
“I didn’t know what she was doing in there, so I couldn’t just drive off and leave her. And like I said, I was mad, but worried about her. I figured this violated her parole—or whatever—from the other day.”
“She’s out on bail, not parole, but yes, this would nullify her bond.”
“See? So I figured I’d just go in and talk to her, find out what’s really going on. Maybe help her out in some way without getting her into more trouble.”
“Well, that’s nice of you, Owen, but don’t ever do that again, okay? Clearly she’s not using good sense if she’s breaking into your store. If you wanted to help her, you should have called us. Or come and gotten us.” Logan turned down Harbor Street toward Owen’s store. “What happened? What did you do?”
“Well, I sort of locked her in my supply closet.” Owen looked more miserable by the minute. “She’s not too happy about it, either, I can tell you that.”
“No. I imagine she’s not.” Right about then, the idea of traipsing around the globe sprucing up lighthouses with Alex was sounding incredibly appealing. “Tell me what happened after she broke into the store.”
“I went inside after her, just to talk to her, but I ended up startling her pretty badly, I guess. Her hearing’s not what it used to be. She tried to attack me.”
“Bodily? Or did she have a weapon?”
“I don’t know if she had anything else, but I just got in a shipment for the feed store last night and it was still sitting inside the loading dock door, where we were. So she grabbed a ten-pound bag of this new kitty litter. People are going crazy over it. I can’t keep it on the shelves. It has these blue beads in it that—”
“Yes, so I’ve heard. What did she do with it?”
“She took a pretty good swing. For an older person, she’s got a strong arm. She swung that thing—surprisingly hard, like I said—and, well, I acted on instinct. Now, I would never hit a woman, you know that.”
Logan privately thought that maybe
where Eleanor Darby was concerned, that basic etiquette rule should be rescinded. Or at least modified.
“I grabbed the closest thing to me to block the swing, which was another bag of kitty litter, and well, they kind of exploded on impact and the beads went everywhere. She reeled back a little and her feet hit the beads and she kind of slipped and slid right into the storage room. Normally, I keep it closed and locked, but I guess I left the door open when I was unloading last night. Anyway, once she was inside, she got her balance back and she was mad as a wet cat, I guess you could say. She came at me and I just reacted and reached in, yanked the door shut, and locked it. There is no way to unlock it from the inside. I did turn the light on for her,” he hurried to add. “The switch is outside the door. Then I used the store phone and called you. Only Barb—uh, Sergeant Benson—said you were with Fergus, so it was just as easy to come to you at the Puffin as it was to go to the station.”
Logan pulled into the lot behind Owen’s shop. “Owen—”
“I know, I know. You don’t have to say it. She’s not hurt or anything. And I am sorry for the trouble. But—she did break into my store, Logan.”
“I know.” He also knew that Owen Hartley was about as mild-mannered a guy as there was. And softhearted. Though the whole stakeout thing seemed a tad out of character, it didn’t surprise Logan in the least that Owen had wanted to help Mrs. Darby. He knew Owen wouldn’t hurt a fly if he could help it.
“So . . . am I in trouble?”
“You’re lucky she didn’t bean you with that kitty litter and knock you out.”
“I know, right? She’s got deadly aim for someone who wears bifocals.”
“Tell me about it,” Logan muttered as they both got out of the car. “I want you to stay out here until Sergeant Baker gets here. Tell Dan everything you told me so he can take that down as your official statement. I’ll go in and deal with Mrs. Darby.”
“Tell her I’m sorry, okay? You know she’s going to want to press charges.”
“She broke into your store, Owen. You have some charges of your own to file, if you want to. Let’s save any more words between the two of you until we sort out what she was doing in there.”
“Okay.” Owen shook his head and looked pretty miserable. “You know, staking out places and going in after the bad guy . . . it all looks a lot more exciting on television.”
“Most things do,” Logan said, then started across the lot to the loading dock steps. He’d just jumped up on the dock when his radio went off again. “Yes, Sergeant?”
“You’re not going to believe this.”
“Oh, try me.”
“Just got a report of another break-in.”
“What? Where?”
“At Hartley’s Hardware.”
“What?”
“I know. What the heck is going on over there? Jean Reisters, who runs the little jewelry shop across the street—”
“I know who Jean is.”
“Right. Well, she just called in and said she saw a woman throwing a rock through Owen’s front door. Then she reached inside, unlocked it, and went in! What’s this town coming to? Do you think this is some kind of gang thing?”
“Unless Eleanor Darby has started one—which, honestly, I wouldn’t put past her at this point—I doubt it.”
“Eleanor Darby? Oh dear Lord, is she somehow involved in this?”
“I’m at Hartley’s now. Send Dan over here, will you? Tell him Owen is in the back lot by my truck. Get him to take his statement. I’ll report back in as soon as I get inside and find out—”
Just then the back door burst open, and for the first time in his career, Logan palmed his gun. He immediately holstered it again as Eleanor Darby came staggering out . . . followed by Alex.
“Logan, thank God,” Alex said, looking more than a little rattled. “I was just going to call you.”
“You might have wanted to do that before I’d have to think about arresting you for breaking and entering.”
“There wasn’t any time for that. I thought someone was in real trouble.”
“What are you saying?” Eleanor demanded. “Someone was in real trouble!”
Logan stepped forward. “Now, now—”
“Don’t you ‘now-now’ me, you—”
Logan took Eleanor’s arm in a gentle but firm grip. “Mrs. Darby, why don’t we go have a seat and you can tell me your side of the story.”
“There’s no story to tell, just the truth! This whole town is against me.” To his shock and utter dismay, she went from blistering fury to a sudden convulsion of tears.
“Mrs. Darby—”
Alex stepped to Mrs. Darby’s other side and tucked her hand through the older woman’s arm. She looked at Logan. “I can take care of this, okay? Why don’t you call for some help? Or . . . something.”
Logan met Alex’s gaze over the stooped and sobbing Eleanor and thought of a million things he wanted to say to her. None of them appropriate for that moment. “Just help her out to my truck. Get her in the backseat. And join her. You have some explaining to do, too.”
“I know. I’m sorry. Not for saving her—just that she had to be saved in the first place. Even though that wasn’t my fault.” Alex held his gaze for a beat longer, then they both shifted to helping Eleanor down the loading dock steps and out to his SUV.
Sergeant Baker had arrived and had Owen over by his car. Still not sure what had provoked the initial break-in, Logan motioned to Alex with his head to keep Eleanor on the far side of his SUV and Owen out of her direct line of sight. Alex saw Owen, looked back at Logan, nodded, and they maneuvered Eleanor to the other side. The tinted windows helped to further block her view of her nemesis.
Once Eleanor and Alex were both in the backseat, he handed Alex the roll of paper towels he had in his truck in lieu of the tissues he didn’t have. Closing the doors, he headed back around to where Baker and Owen were standing.
He called for three additional officers, then directed Dan to take Owen to the station. Once the officers arrived, he told one of them to drive his SUV to the station and get both Alex and Eleanor’s statements, then directed the other two to help secure the front and back entrances to the store. A crowd was slowly gathering out front as word spread, and Fergus had already buzzed him twice. It promised to be a very long day.
All that taken care of, he investigated the scene inside the store, his thoughts staying focused on the younger of the two women who had broken into it that morning. Fergus was right about one thing. Alex had definitely made quite a splash in her short time in Blueberry. Today’s little adventure would likely earn her a bigger spot in the locals’ hearts. They loved adding stories to the Cove’s long list of colorful town lore.
Whether Alex would see that as planting roots, or if she’d even consider such a thing, he honestly had no idea. But after talking to Fergus, he knew he wasn’t prepared to let her go without finding out.
Chapter 15
“I told you. I’d gone by Owen’s about nine-fifteen, nine-thirty, but he hadn’t opened yet. I saw the antiques store up the hill and had been meaning to go in, so I went, talked with the owner, then came back to Owen’s. He was still closed, no note on the door. I’d turned to go back by Delia’s to see if he’d been in for breakfast or if she’d heard anything about why he might not be open when I heard a pounding noise coming from inside. Then someone yelling. I mean, the person was totally panicked. So, I guess I panicked. I had no idea what was going on in there—”
“So, you broke in and went inside alone to find out?” Logan paced behind his desk. “Do you realize how bad an idea that was . . . on numerous fronts?”
Alex shrugged. And wished like hell that watching Logan play bad cop wasn’t making her squirm in her seat. She could only hope he mistook it for fear of the law. “I couldn’t just stand there and I didn’t think waiting around for someone to come help was a good idea. Did you hear why Eleanor broke in? I mean, it was crazy, and the wrong solution of course,
way wrong, but I feel sorry for her. Is Owen pressing charges?”
Logan hadn’t talked to Owen yet, and given the man’s attitude earlier, he sincerely doubted it, but no one seemed to be taking the whole episode seriously. “She broke into his store while out on bail from her recent arrest.”
“An arrest that was a result of the same problem that led her to do this.”
“Alex, just because Blueberry Cove is a small town doesn’t make the law any less specific, or the consequences of breaking it any less severe.”
“I know.” She looked up at him from where she sat. “She’s just lonely, Logan. She feels completely alone in the world, and, well, maybe I understand that a little bit. More than a little. Not the crazy part of it, but the alone part. Add in her age and possibly—okay, probably—a bit of senility playing a factor, and really, can’t there be some other solution besides jail?”
Logan lifted his hands, then let them drop to his sides. “No one wants a peaceable solution more than I do, but—”
“Good. Why don’t we all sit down together and talk it through? I’m sure we can find a something that works for everyone.”
“Because that’s not how the law works.”
She folded her arms and slumped back in her seat. “Well, it should.”
He came and sat on the corner of his desk. “On one hand, I agree with you. But on the other—if we let someone barge into city hall—”
“Waving a water gun,” she reminded him.
“With the intent of creating havoc, gun or no gun. When this same person breaks into a store and we do nothing but say, ‘oh, well, she didn’t mean it, she was having a bad week’ and give her what amounts to a slap on the wrist, what’s to keep someone else in town—specifically someone young and still very impressionable—from thinking they could get away with something similar because they’re mad at mommy and daddy, or their schoolteacher? Except they don’t pick up a water gun. Do you understand? Actions have to have consequences.”
Alex didn’t want to admit it, but he had a point—a very good one. “Okay,” she said grudgingly. “I see your side. But does she have to be made into some kind of an example? It will humiliate her.”
Pelican Point (Bachelors of Blueberry Cove) Page 27