They trudged into the house only to once again find Lil sitting in the parlor. When she spotted them, her furrowed forehead and tight mouth relaxed. “I’ve been worried about you.”
“Lil,” Maggie said, exhaustion filling the word, “we’re too tired for you to give us a hard time. If you could save that until morning over a cup of coffee, I sure would appreciate it.”
“I said I was worried, not mad.” For the first time since Lil had arrived home from prison, she looked relaxed rather than uptight. “Besides, I have some information I think might help you.”
“You made it terribly clear last night how you felt about all this,” Maggie said. “I don’t have the energy for another of your lec—”
Sera grabbed Maggie’s hand. “Let’s hear her out.”
Lil reached into her robe pocket and pulled out a notepad-sized piece of paper. Held it out to Maggie. “Think this might help you track down whoever’s been forging Colton’s sculptures? You dropped it last night.”
Maggie’s mouth fell open and she reached out to take the page from Lil. “You stole the box’s packing slip. Why in the world?”
Lil pressed her lips together and took a deep breath, obviously wary of how to respond. “Ever since I returned home to Summer Haven, I’ve felt I don’t belong anymore. Not only that, but it’s strangely difficult to function on the outside after months in a place where I wasn’t free to go where I wanted. But I walk back into what I believe is my home to discover you’ve built an entirely new life, a new family without me. And I had no part in it.”
“I never meant to make you feel—”
“I’m not blaming you.” Lil took a shaky breath, almost breaking Sera’s heart with the pitiful sound. “I came in with an attitude, and believed for some crazy reason the world should’ve remained suspended while I was away. That’s not only naïve, but it’s downright self-centered. And you were right, I wanted everything to be about me. How childish I’ve been.”
When Lil buried her face in her hands, Maggie broke away from Sera to embrace her. “You just wanted to be home.”
Lil’s face was slightly tear-streaked but determined. “The three of you have done so much for me. Not only for me but other people who’ve been wronged. How horrible I’ve been to demand you stop helping others.”
“I hate to interrupt this touching scene,” Abby Ruth said, pulling the packing sheet from Maggie’s grasp. “But this package is due to leave the Shipper Shack this morning. If we’re going to catch this guy, we need to get going.”
“What about Teague?” Maggie asked.
“Far as I know, he’s still on a plane from Palm Beach to Atlanta. By the time he gets back to Summer Shoals, that crate could be long gone.” Abby Ruth pulled out her phone. Sera looked over Abby Ruth’s shoulder as her fingers tapped the screen.
ABBY RUTH: t- on our way 2 Shipper Shack. goods r being shipped out this a.m.
TEAGUE: sit tight. on my way frm aport.
Abby Ruth shoved her phone back into her pocket.
“Oh. Oh, no.” Sera swiped her finger across her phone screen. “I put the tracking number from the shipping slip Lil gave us into the shipping company’s website. The package isn’t long gone, but it has already left the Shipper Shack. And that handwriting on the form? It’s the same as on the forged art. I’d know those Mickey Mouse ear L’s anywhere.”
“Girls, we’ve got to move.”
“I want to come too.” Lil stuck out her chin. “It’ll only take me a minute to change.”
Both Sera and Abby Ruth turned to Maggie. This was her call.
“Lil, this could be dangerous,” Maggie said. “We don’t know who this guy is or how he might react.”
“Yet you’re willing to put yourself at risk for a friend. Well, I’m willing to put myself at risk for my friends. Besides—” she elbowed Maggie, “—you can bet your sweet patootie that of anyone in this foursome, I have the most experience with criminals.”
Chapter 24
When he drove back into Summer Shoals, Teague spotted Lil’s blue Tucker Torpedo at the corner of Main and Merchant Streets across from the Shipper Shack. Dammit, I told them to keep me in the loop.
He pulled the sheriff’s car right behind the Tucker. When he tapped on the car’s driver’s side window, Lil flinched, dropping a huge pair of binoculars in the lap of her bright yellow outfit. Her head spun around so fast she resembled a half-crazed Linda Blair in The Exorcist, and looked more than a little guilty.
Lil cranked and cranked to lower the window. “Hi there, Teague. Beautiful day to be in town, isn’t it?”
Beautiful, my ass. The weather doesn’t have a thing to do with why you’re casing the Shipper Shack. “What are you doing here? Because it sure isn’t sightseeing or shopping.”
“Well, you see, I was keeping an eye on things until you got here. Watching to see who was coming and going. Abby Ruth said to not get involved at all. To sit tight just like you said. That’s what I’m doing. Promise.”
“Where are Abby Ruth, Sera and Maggie? They aren’t inside the Shipper Shack, are they?” He tried not to yell, but his words came out as if he’d bitten them off in tiny chunks.
“Of course not.”
Relief eased his tight lungs. He still wasn’t a hundred percent sure what they were dealing with here, and he’d be damned if any of these old gals would get hurt on his watch. Maybe for once they’d half listened to him. “Then where are they?”
Lil waved a casual hand. “Oh, you know, running some sort of errand.”
Lord, this woman needed to take lying lessons from Abby Ruth if she ever planned to be halfway decent at subterfuge. “Like a trip to the Piggly Wiggly or the post office?”
“They didn’t say exactly.”
“And they left you here alone to watch the place?”
She drew herself up, but still she was only a hair taller than the top of the steering wheel. “I am quite capable, you know.” She lowered her voice and leaned out the window. “I learned things while I was inside.”
Yeah, he’d just bet she had. But she wouldn’t put any of it in practice today. Last thing he needed was for this mess to somehow land her in trouble again.
“Well, thanks for keeping an eye on things,” he said, putting on his confident law enforcement officer smile. “But you can move along now. I’ve got this.”
Lil nodded and started the Tucker’s engine. With her tiny hands at eleven and one on the steering wheel, she barely peered over the top of it. She edged away from the curb and motored down Main Street.
Teague walked across Main to the Shipper Shack. When he strolled inside, the owner wasn’t there, but Tassy Harrison was sitting behind the counter. “Hey there,” he said. “You filling in here again? Thought you’d be busy with all the goings-on down at the gallery.”
“Oh, I am, but in a small town, you have to help your neighbors out. I really don’t mind. Besides it gives me time to catch up on some good reading.” She lifted a book, flashing him the red-and-white cover of the latest Pick Your Passion novel.
And cover for your husband, no doubt. He’d been a little suspicious of the Porsche-driving farmer when he and his wife moved to town, but they’d seemed interested enough in the community and were beginning to fit in. Maybe his first gut reaction about Sherman had been right all along.
“Know when the owner will be back?”
Tassy gave him a flirty smile. “Not sure. He’s gone to get supplies today, but I can help you with anything you need.”
“I wanted to follow up on a shipment.” If his suspicions were true and this whole forgery thing landed directly in her husband’s lap, he doubted Tassy would be forthcoming with the information. But her clamming up would be just as telling.
She set aside her novel and tilted a computer screen toward her. “I can help you with that. Do you have the shipping number?”
“I do.”
“Excellent.”
Teague passed her the sticky note with t
he Palm Beach shipment’s details, then his phone beeped. “Excuse me a moment.” He turned his back on Tassy and took the call.
“Hey, boss,” his one remaining deputy said. “The information from Palm Beach just came in. Fingerprint came back as a Veronica Karlov. White female. 35. I can send the details to your phone.”
“Do that.”
Teague lifted his head and nodded politely at Tassy. Then when his phone sounded with the buh-doop of an incoming text, he bent over the screen again. He thumbed open his deputy’s message and enlarged the picture of one Veronica Karlov.
Well, I’ll be damned.
Maggie was still a little worried about leaving Lil all by her lonesome at the Shipper Shack. Then again, riding with the gas-pedal-loving Abby Ruth was probably way more dangerous than sitting across the street from a building. There was something to be said for staying on stationary ground.
But as she and her partners in crime fighting sped down Georgia Highway 26, Maggie wouldn’t trade this exhilaration for anything in the world.
“Are you sure we’re headed in the right direction?” Abby Ruth asked Sera.
Sera checked her phone. “The next distribution center is fifty miles ahead. It’s a straight shot. Wouldn’t make sense for the driver to take any other route.”
Not ten minutes later, they topped a rise and Maggie spotted the recognizable brown-colored van. “There!”
“Got you in my sights,” Abby Ruth said between her teeth, and the already flying dually bucked like a frisky horse.
Sera grabbed Maggie’s headrest while Maggie clung to the chicken stick above the window. Didn’t take them long to pull abreast of the van. Unfortunately, they were the ones barreling down the wrong side of the two-lane road.
Her heart going ninety-to-nothing, Maggie jabbed the down button for the window, and the van driver glanced over at her, his eyes wide and eyebrows like carat marks above them. She waved frantically and hollered, “Pull over.”
All the silly man did was hunker over the steering wheel as if he were some kind of rally racer. Sometimes men’s egos did get in the way of their good sense.
She tried again. “We need to talk to you.”
“I’m calling the cops,” he yelled back.
“Idiot,” Abby Ruth grunted from her side of the truck. “Wonder if he’s ever heard of Hey y’all, watch this.”
“If he hasn’t,” Sera said, “bet he’s about to.”
Abby Ruth jerked the wheel to the right, sending Maggie into an intimate relationship with the door handle. Might be a good time for a quick prayer.
Please God, let us get out of this alive. I’d really like one more date with Bruce before I see you on a permanent basis.
The delivery driver goggled at them, as if he couldn’t believe a truck full of over-fifty women would be so bold as to make a move on him.
Maggie shouted again, “Pull over. If you don’t, she’ll just keep at it until you’re upside down in a ditch.”
He gave her a narrow-eyed stare, but the van began to slow. He veered onto the grassy shoulder, but rather than pull in behind him, Abby Ruth parked at an angle that would make it impossible for the driver to get back on the road without plowing through her truck.
Maggie would place her bet on the dually any day of the week.
Behind her, Sera was bouncing in her seat. “I can’t wait to see if this sculpture is the year of the rooster.”
The driver stood in the truck’s open doorway with his arms spread as though he could protect his cargo with his body alone. “You’re not taking my truck.”
Abby Ruth climbed out, and Maggie opened her own door to make the long jump to the ground as did Sera. Abby Ruth’s long-legged stride brought her around the hood in a snap. She gestured back at her dually. “You think I want your claptrap van when I drive that?”
“Stay back. I’m armed,” the driver said.
“Oh, please,” Abby Ruth sighed and reached into her boot holster to pull out her handgun. “I’ll bet you all the peaches in Georgia that mine’s bigger than yours. And it’s not like we’re pirates. We don’t want your truck.”
Why, oh, why couldn’t Maggie ever convince her that carrying a gun wasn’t a fashion statement or in everyone’s best interest?
“Who are you and what do you want?” he asked.
With a flick of her hand, Abby Ruth reached into the back pocket of her jeans and produced a leather wallet. She flipped it open to reveal what looked like an authentic deputy’s badge.
“Where did you—” Maggie started.
“Abby Ruth Cady. Chief Deputy of the Bartell County Sheriff’s Department. I’m authorized to confiscate a crate from your cargo under suspicion of art fraud. Maybe mail fraud too.”
Maggie closed her eyes to gather her bearings. Over the course of this case, they’d broken about as many laws as they’d tried to uphold. Teague would either kiss them or kill them.
“Fraud,” he said. “I don’t know anything about—”
“Just get out of our way.” Abby Ruth grabbed the driver by the uniform and persuaded him to step down from the truck and stand in the grass. “We’ll get what we need and then you can go on your way.”
By this time, the driver’s face was the color of pea soup.
Abby Ruth called from inside the van, “Found it!”
Maggie and Sera made their way to the cargo hold to find Abby Ruth standing over the very crate Maggie had tried to pry open at the gallery last night.
“Hey, driver boy,” Abby Ruth bellowed. “Open up the back and help us with this thing. After all, we’re just three frail old ladies.”
Teague loved it when the pieces of a case finally fit together like a kid’s puzzle. Perfect. No gaps. And he’d just been handed the one completing this whole thing.
He turned back to Tassy. She must’ve seen some small warning in his face, because her lips parted kinda like a sexy Victoria’s Secret model posing on the runway. But in a blink, her eyes flashed wild, like a deer that had spotted a hunter carrying a thirty-aught-six.
She whirled around and bolted.
As she kicked it into high gear and made for the back door, all he saw were the soles of her shoes and her hair flying like a banshee.
Teague shoved his phone into his pocket, took two strides, then vaulted over the shipping service counter without disturbing a single sheet of paper. He landed on the other side and caught the back door before it slammed shut.
Outside, Tassy was still in plain sight, running toward the end of the alley.
Teague radioed in his status and picked up speed. This wasn’t his first rodeo. He’d catch her, but when would word get out to criminals that it didn’t do a helluva lot of good to run? Rarely worked out for them. Mainly pissed off the pursuing officer.
Teague closed in on Tassy, and she glanced over her shoulder. She started picking up speed again, but a swoosh of yellow come sailing from behind the dumpster and hit Tassy broadside. Tassy went down in a tangle of blond hair, arms and legs and remained on the ground. Lord, he hadn’t seen a tackle like that since he was a kid and Texas A&M’s Wrecking Crew football defense was still at the top of their game.
Tassy thrashed around under a tiny body dressed in yellow. Lil used Tassy’s shoulders as leverage and climbed to her feet. She dusted her hands together as if she’d singlehandedly taken down an organized crime boss. Which in a way she had.
Teague stepped forward and pulled Tassy off the ground. “Well, I thought your husband was the one behind all this, but your little sprint has confirmed what the evidence already proves, Ms. Karlov.”
Without fanfare, he spun her around and handcuffed her. “You have the right to remain silent.”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah.”
He finished reciting her Miranda rights, then turned to Lil.
She was bouncing on her toes and clapping. “I took her down, didn’t I?”
“Yup, but you’re not off the hook, Miss Lillian. I told you to go home.”
“Did you hurt yourself?”
She winked at him. “I’m tougher than I look.”
Those old ladies would be the death of him. Then again, he shouldn’t be surprised by Lil’s daredevil actions. This was the same woman who’d been on top of her house last summer wielding a chainsaw.
“Is she the one that—” Lil stopped mid-sentence when Teague’s glare shot daggers in her direction.
Someone like this Karlov would love to know exactly what Teague knew before he questioned her. Not happening.
“I’ll explain it all later. You go directly back to Summer Haven. Do not pass Go or anything else. Clear?”
“Yes.” Lillian turned and headed for her car.
Relieved she hadn’t given him an argument, he turned his attention back to the real issue at hand. His deputy pulled up, and Teague led Tassy over to the car and put her in the backseat. Once the door was securely closed, he called in the status to Dispatch.
Once his deputy pulled away, Teague headed around the building and back to his own cruiser.
He tapped one button on his phone, and Jenny answered on the second ring. “Please tell me you have good news for me.”
“Only if you do the same.”
“Teague…”
“Fine. I just arrested the person behind the Ellerbee forgeries.”
“Thank goodness. I was afraid I would lose my client, and that sure would’ve put a snag into my move to Summer Shoals. But who? What?”
“I’ll give you all the details later. I need to get to the station now.”
Before he could say goodbye, Jenny’s whiskey-smooth voice lowered. “Thank you for always being there for me.”
“Never doubt it. Or the way I feel about you.”
“Does that mean we’re even?”
In High Cotton Page 21