by Gayle Roper
"I need to speak with Tammy," he said. "She may have seen something or someone. Would you ask her to come in?"
"Sure. Let me get her." Nan started for the door, then stopped. "Wait a minute. You're not on duty. You don't have to do this now."
He grinned, appreciating her concern. "It's not a problem."
Nan nodded and left the office. While he waited, Rog took the chair behind Nan's desk, the position of authority.
Tammy opened the door and peeked in. "Nan said you wanted to see me. Am I in trouble?"
Interesting question. "Not that I know of. Come on in and have a seat."
Tammy sank into the old chair and clasped her hands in her lap.
"You know about all the things that have been appearing in the store." Rog stated the obvious.
Tammy nodded. She looked at the candlesticks resting on the desk and at the other things sitting on the shelf. "I keep wondering why someone would just leave nice stuff like that. It doesn't make sense. I mean, you could sell them, you know?"
"Would you sell them?"
"If they were mine? Sure. Isn't that what most people would do?"
"Probably. Where would you sell them?"
She looked thoughtful. "eBay? Craigslist maybe. And there are pawn shops, right? That's where the bad guys sell stuff in the cop shows, though I don't know where any are."
"So selling makes sense to you?"
"It does. Everyone likes extra money." She glanced toward the shelf again. "It's nuts to just leave stuff."
"Have you seen anyone leaving these items?"
She shook her head. "I wish I had. I'm really curious."
"Did you leave the items?"
"What? Me?" She looked both appalled and offended at the suggestion. "You think it's me?"
"You're here every day, and it would be easy for you to do it."
"Yeah, but where would I get the stuff? That's the first step, right? You have to get the stuff before you leave it."
"Absolutely."
"So I think someone stole all those things." She waved at the shelf of leavery items. "But if you went to the trouble of stealing them, wouldn't you want money for them? Unless someone just likes the thrill of stealing or besting the cops or something." She laughed. "I guess there are people like that."
He nodded. "Where are you staying in town, Tammy?"
"I have a room in a big house over on Central. I have a roommate who goes to college with me. We're from the same town. She works here part-time."
"Ingrid."
"Right. You want to talk to her?"
"Eventually. Do either of you have access to lovely things like those left?" He gave her a flinty stare to see if she'd squirm. She didn't.
"Not me. I came to town with two suitcases and a backpack. Ingrid too. I know 'cause we came together."
"How about where you're staying? Are there items like that lying around?"
"It's a summer rooming house, you know? Ingrid and I live on the third floor in a room. All we see of the place is the front porch and the staircase on the way up. But they rent out all the rooms, so I expect that, like ours, all they have in them is beds and bureaus."
"So you're saying I can cross you off the suspect list?"
She grinned at him. "Yes, you can. And Ingrid too."
"Okay. Have to check, you know."
"Eliminate all the potentials."
"That's right. By the way, that's a nice bracelet you're wearing." He indicated the gold and diamond tennis bracelet he was certain she hadn't been wearing earlier.
She held out her hand automatically, her expression that of a kid caught driving dad's car without permission. It took her a moment, but she managed to grin. "Isn't it lovely? It was inside a Wedgwood vase I found just after Nan and you left for dinner." She took it off and handed it to him. "I'm so glad you mentioned it. I put it on so it wouldn't get lost, but I forgot about it." She deepened her grin. "Or maybe I was just wishing it was mine."
He took the bracelet without comment.
"I think this is the first jewelry left," she said. "At least, it's the first I know about."
He leaned back in his chair and smiled at her. She could be telling the truth. Either way, she could be useful to him. "What I really want you to do is be on the lookout for anything or anyone who strikes you as strange or suspicious."
"You want me to be like a secret agent?"
He wouldn't have put it exactly that way, but the idea seemed to please her. "Interested in the job?"
She beamed at him. "I'm in."
He stood and reached over the desk to shake her hand. "Thank you. I'll be checking in frequently, but if you see anything, let Nan know immediately, okay? And would you please tell Ingrid I'd like to see her?"
She left and he sat. She was an interesting kid. Lots of people got nervous when talking with the police, even when they were completely innocent. She seemed unfazed by his authority. He certainly didn't think she was involved in the leavery for the reason she'd stated. She'd sell the things if she took them. He looked at the bracelet lying on the desk top. On the other hand...
The door opened and Ingrid peered in. "You wanted to see me?"
"Come in and have a seat." He indicated the chair across from him.
She perched on the edge, clearly nervous. He went with an easy question to start.
"How did you end up in Seaside for the summer, Ingrid?"
"When Tammy suggested a summer by the ocean, I thought how neat that would be. So I came with her."
"And things are going well?"
She smiled. "I love it here. Did you know I'd never seen the ocean before? Now all I want to do is watch it. I don't like to get in it very far. I mean, you can't see what's there. What if something's lurking, waiting to get you?"
She looked so worried he had to comment. "In all my time here, nothing worse than a crab has gotten anyone."
She tucked her hair behind her ear, unconvinced. "There's always a first."
He nodded. "Have you seen anyone leaving things in the store?"
She shook her head. "And I've been looking. Do you think it's more than one person?"
Interesting thought. "Why do you ask that?"
She colored, embarrassed. "Well, if one person came in carrying all that stuff, wouldn't he have to have a big bag or something to carry it all in? And wouldn't you have to wrap the stuff up so it didn't break?"
His estimation of Ingrid rose. After he finished asking her questions, she left, and he sat a moment. A conscientious worrywart. That was Ingrid. Tammy, on the other hand, was a confident princess. He felt pretty certain that Tammy had been leader of the mean girls back in their high school in Kentucky, while Ingrid had lurked in the shadows, hoping not to be noticed. They were an unlikely pair to go adventuring together.
He walked into Present Perfect and found Nan patrolling the aisles, looking for leavery.
"Nothing more?" he asked.
"Tammy told you about the Wedgwood vase?"
"And the bracelet."
"What bracelet?"
"A tennis bracelet she found in the vase. It's lying on your desk."
She nodded. "Tammy's not involved in the leavery, right? Or Ingrid?"
"I'll check on them, but they're living together in one room for the summer. Sturdy furniture and clean sheets once a week. Hardly a place for a treasure trove."
Nan shook a snow globe with a lighthouse in it and watched the swirl of white. "You know what? I've decided someone thinks they're being nice. Grace-gifts like Aunt Bunny suggested. Maybe I should do what she says and just sell the stuff."
He held up a hand. "Wait until we get a full explanation of what's going on. We don't want to do anything until we know. I'll be over tomorrow morning to check on things."
She smiled up at him. "I'll be waiting."
He was whistling to himself as he left. It felt good to know someone was waiting, even if it was for Rog the Cop rather than Rog the Guy.
He made his way back
to the Buc. He slipped through the throng to the red door and knocked several times. No response.
"You looking for Mrs. Truscott?" came a voice behind him.
Rog turned and saw a man of about fifty, hair feathered with gray at the temples and a face deeply tanned. He wore a T-shirt with Buc by the Bay and a Jolly Roger on it. "I am."
"She's sitting in her favorite place, the bench across from the Buc. I just left her."
Rog nodded. "Thanks." He pushed his way through the crowd once again, feeling like a salmon swimming upstream against a rushing current.
Sure enough, Bunny Truscott sat facing the Buc with her back to the ocean, clearly enjoying people-watching. She looked up as Rog approached and smiled. "I wondered if you'd come calling."
"May I?" Rog indicated the space beside her.
"Please do. Looking up at you towering over me would give me a sore neck in no time."
Rog dropped down beside her, and they watched people in silence for a few minutes. When the damsel in distress had been rescued once again by the brave hero swinging in on the rope, he turned to Mrs. Truscott.
Before he could speak, she asked, "Are you going to arrest me? I've got a good lawyer, you know. He'll spring me in no time."
He couldn't tell if she was joking. "No arrests on the horizon. No crime's been committed."
"Make sure you remember that. How'd you know where to find me?"
"Some guy with graying hair and a Buc T-shirt told me where you were."
"Mike. I'll have to fire him."
Rog laughed. "He saw me knocking at your door and directed me here."
She nodded. "Nice man. He's doing a wonderful job running the place."
"As good as your husband?"
Mrs. Truscott gave a sad smile. "No one's as good as Joe."
"Being here without him's got to be difficult."
"You have no idea. Still, there's nowhere else I want to be."
They fell silent as the cannons roared and the pirate made his prisoner walk the plank. Mooch would have loved being the pirate for the summer if he'd known of the job. It would be the perfect outlet for his dramatic tendencies, though he'd probably rewrite the script every time he came on stage.
When relative quiet fell, Rog looked at Mrs. Truscott. "I haven't been in Seaside for long, but I know the name Truscott and what it means. I checked. You are that Truscott."
Mrs. Truscott nodded. "Nan doesn't know who I am."
"No, she doesn't. She also doesn't know you're the leaver."
"You didn't tell her?"
"I needed to talk to you first, to be certain I was right. I also needed to check on the girls who work for Nan and make sure they weren't involved." He gave her his stern cop face. "And now I need to put a halt to something that's bothering Nan enough to call the police."
Mrs. Truscott squirmed. "It started by accident, you know. The first thing I left was the antique doll Char gave me when Alana was born. I planned to just hand it to Nan as I told her its story, but she wasn't there. I set it on the back counter leaning against the register. I left for one of my many meetings with the lawyers about estate planning. When I came back to explain, she was so excited about the doll. 'Look, Aunt Bunny! It's a mystery!' She expected someone to come in and claim it."
"And of course no one did. In fact, more things began appearing."
Mrs. Truscott took a deep breath. "I'm downsizing, getting ready to move. It's the worst job in the world." She gave a soundless huff of air as she stared into space. "I take that back. Mourning the deaths of those you love is the worst job. Then comes making decisions by yourself and learning to live alone. Then comes downsizing, just another indication of the losses that come with aging."
She turned to him. "How old are you?"
Rog blinked at the abrupt change of topic. "I'm thirty."
"You young people are in the collecting stage. You get an apartment and fill it with stuff. Then a condo or a small house. Then a bigger house. Stuff and kids and cars. Acquisitions. Then one day you're old, and it's time to get rid of most of the stuff you've been collecting for years. The house you bought for your family becomes way too big. Ours was too big when it was just Joe and me, but at least he made noise. Now there's only space and silence."
She looked smaller and sadder than the feisty woman Rog had encountered earlier, and he ached for her. "You said the doll was a gift from Char. Are the other things you've left gifts from her too?"
"They are. I thought Nan would enjoy another connection with her aunt."
"She can't enjoy that connection if she doesn't know where the things are coming from and why."
She threw him a sardonic look. "You know, sometimes I hate logic."
Rog laughed as a spark of that feisty lady reappeared. "You have to stop, you know."
"Yeah, I know. I honestly didn't realize how upset she was until I saw you at the store this afternoon." An impish light appeared in her eyes. "It's been fun, sneaking stuff in myself and asking some of the kids at the Buc to be my emissaries."
"But no more, Mrs. Truscott. No more. Promise?" He intensified his cop glare.
"You're pushy. You know that?"
"I can be. I don't like seeing Nan upset."
Mrs. Truscott sat up straight and, smiling, patted his arm. "You like her."
Rog took a deep breath and stuck to his mission. "And you have to tell her it was you."
"Yeah, yeah, I know." She sounded incredibly grumpy.
"I want your word."
"I'll tell her. I promise."
"If you don't, I will."
She glared. "I said I'd tell her, and I always keep my word."
Her voice might be sharp with pique, but he was satisfied he'd gotten his point across. He stood and took a step away to break the tension that had built between them. He smiled. "I'll be checking to see you keep your word."
She narrowed her eyes at him. "You should be thanking me, you know. Without me, you wouldn't have met Nan, and you wouldn't have an excuse to keep seeing her."
He didn't let her see he agreed. "I'll see you at Present Perfect tomorrow."
As he walked away, he thought he heard her mutter, "Mr. Bossy Pants."
He grinned. Feisty was back.
Chapter Ten
Nan watched Rog Eastman's back as he walked away from Present Perfect.
"Nice looking guy," Tammy said, a dreamy look on her face.
"Too old for you," Nan said. And just right for me. She blinked, surprised and alarmed. No way. All she had to do was remember Ty.
"I'm nineteen," Tammy said defensively.
"And he must be in his late twenties, early thirties."
"So?"
Nan smiled. She wasn't getting into a discussion about the difference those ten years made, especially not with someone who worked for her.
"You just want him for yourself," Tammy said, eyes narrowed.
"Absolutely," Nan agreed. "I'm salivating here, dying for a man in my life."
Tammy heard the sarcasm, but her confused stare told Nan she didn't understand it. She couldn't imagine not going after someone like Rog. Of course, Tammy didn't know Nan's history either. She had no idea why Nan was leery of men, even those who seemed wonderful.
"Where is she?"
Nan spun to find Alana at her elbow. Oh, joy. The perfect ending to a long day.
Nan forced a smile. "You mean your mom?"
"Of course I mean my mother. Who else?"
Nan shrugged. "Well, I don't know. I saw her about"—she checked her watch—"about an hour and a half ago when she had Rog and me for dinner."
Alana looked aghast. "She had you at that apartment?"
Nan nodded. "We had a very nice time and a great meal."
Alana snorted. "Well, then she obviously didn't cook it."
Nan looked at Alana and thought of Shakespeare: How sharper than a serpent's tooth it is to have a thankless child!
"Oh, don't give me that look," Alana all but snarled. "She's not
reliable. Surely you can see that."
Not reliable? Nan swallowed her anger at the slander. "I think your mom is delightful."
Alana's eyes snapped back. "That's because you don't have to deal with her."
"Why do you have to 'deal' with her? She's perfectly capable of taking care of herself."
"Please. You've seen that apartment."
"So it's not the best." If Alana didn't like where her mother lived, why didn't she help her get a better place? If the woman's clothes were any indication, she wasn't short of money.
"She needs to be in a place where she will be taken care of."
A chill swept Nan. "Does she want to go to such a place?"
"The child has become the parent." Alana looked as if she expected a presidential medal for nobility of purpose.
"Sometimes that is necessary," Nan agreed. "When there's illness or incompetency. But your mother is fine."
"She wanders around in shorts and tank tops like she's a teenager!"
"I don't think poor taste in clothes has anything to do with competency."
Alana looked her up and down. "I don't wonder you think so."
Nan frowned. She liked the outfit she was wearing, but her dislike of Alana soared. "I don't think Aunt Bunny wants to move. She's not ready for a change. You need to give her time."
Alana rolled her eyes.
Nan pressed her point. "Don't they say you shouldn't make any major changes for at least a year after a death? When and if she decides to go to a retirement community, she will choose wisely, I'm sure." If she could afford such a place.
"Little you know. Since my father died, she's been totally irresponsible with her money."
"Well, it is her money."
"She needs guidance, a firm hand."
Nan felt sure her mouth had just dropped open. "You want to take control of your mother's money?"
Alana had the grace to squirm. "I am saving her from herself."
Oh, please! "Did you ever stop to think that she's just grieving? She lost Joe and Aunt Char, her husband and her best friend, within months of each other. I think she's doing very well."
"Just how long have you known her?"
"Long enough." But Nan knew Alana had her there.