scattered on the floor. Wally had supplied her with a pair of rubber gloves but cautioned her not to move anything from where it lay.
Finally, Rise straightened and said, “At least seven books are missing.”
“Are those missing the ones that are worth the most?” Skye asked.
“Not all of them.” Rise tapped the laptop’s screen. “But this one, a nineteen twenty-two first edition of
Wally had been inspecting the place on the wall where the cabinet had been fastened, but when he heard Rise’s claim, he said, “Okay. Everyone out. I’m requesting the county crime scene techs.”
Skye, Wally, and Rise trooped outside. While Wally made his call, the women sat at an outdoor table. Skye thought how lucky they were that the weather was still mild. Early-September temperatures in Illinois could range from eighty degrees during the day to freezing at night.
A few minutes later, Wally joined them. “It’ll take the techs forty-five minutes to an hour to get here.” He turned to Skye. “Sugar, if you want to take off, that’s fine.”
Skye nodded and started to rise, but before she got to her feet, Rise grabbed her hand. “I’d appreciate it if you stayed.” Her cheeks reddened. “But I understand if you can’t.”
“Of course I’ll stay if you want me to.” Skye looked at her watch; it was only a little past twelve thirty. “No problem.”
“Thank you.” Rise slumped back in her chair. “I’m not usually this needy.”
They were sitting silently when Skye’s stomach growled. “Hey, I just had an idea.” She realized the only thing she’d had to eat all day was a cup of gas station coffee. Now she sort of wished she’d taken Simon up on his offer of breakfast. “How about I go get takeout from McDonald’s? I’m starving, and I bet the chief is, too. How about you, Rise? Could you do with some lunch?”
“Well.” Rise hesitated. “I did skip breakfast, hoping Orlando would show up.”
“What would you like?”
“I try to eat vegetarian, but I think considering the past twenty-four hours, today I’ll call a Big Mac a vegetable.” Rise smiled for the first time. “What the hell, get me fries and a chocolate shake while you’re at it.”
“Wally?” Skye looked at him.
“Sounds good.” He took out his wallet and handed her a twenty. “Chow’s on me.”
When Skye arrived back from her food run, Wally had cordoned off the block. She rolled down her car window and said to Anthony, who was watching the south entrance, “What’s up?” It was unusual to barricade a whole section of street for anything less than a hostage situation or a shoot-out.
“When I got back from the station, the chief told me to set up the barricades. He wants to keep out any onlookers.” Anthony was a nice-looking young man with sandy brown hair. He worked part-time for the PD and part-time for his father, who owned an appliance repair business. “The bookstore is scheduled to open any minute.”
“What are you supposed to tell people who show up?” Skye was trying to figure out what story would cause the least amount of harm to Tales and Treats’ reputation.
“Chief Boyd never mentioned that.” Anthony puckered his brow. “Any idea what I should say?”
“Hmm.” Skye tapped her chin. “Will everyone have heard it on their scanners?”
“No.” Anthony gave her a shy smile. “We kept it off the radios.”
“Excellent!” Skye wrinkled her nose. “Then you can just say a possible gas leak is being investigated.”
“And the real truth is?” a sharp voice asked.
Skye turned and stared into Orlando Erwin’s bloodshot eyes. “Mr. Erwin, am I glad to see you.” Skye had been half afraid he was lying dead somewhere.
“And why is that?” Orlando sat astride his motorcycle, pulled up next to the Bel Air’s rear passenger door.
“Because—”
“Shit!” He cut her off. “I was supposed to look at some old books for you, wasn’t I? Sorry. I was chemically inconvenienced.”
“Yes, but that’s not what’s important now.” Skye said to Anthony, “This is the missing store owner we’ve been looking for. Let him in.”
The young officer moved one of the sawhorses so she and Orlando could get past the cordon. They pulled in behind Rise’s Prius. Skye got out of her Chevy, balancing the cardboard drink carrier and three white McDonald’s bags. Squinting, she could see Zelda Martinez, the newest Scumble River police officer, guarding the other end of the street.
Curious as to where Orlando had been, Skye hurried to catch up with him as he strode over to where his wife and Wally were sitting.
She arrived in time to hear him say, “Sweetheart, I’m so sorry.”
Rise remained seated. Ignoring him, she thanked Skye, who had handed her a paper cup and a sack of food.
Skye looked at Wally, who shook his head. He wanted to hear what the couple might say in the heat of the moment.
“I slipped.” Orlando took a deep, harsh breath. “The pressure got to me.”
Rise unwrapped a straw and stuck it into the opening on the milk shake’s plastic lid.
“With our grand opening ruined, it suddenly hit me that we didn’t have the cushion of your salary or a fat savings account anymore. I couldn’t take it.” Orlando’s tongue darted out, and he ran it over his chapped lips. “I thought after fifteen years I could take just one drink, but I woke up this morning in the drunk tank at the county jail, with no memory of how I got there.”
Skye whispered in Wally’s ear, “Why didn’t County report that Orlando was in their jail when you told them to be on the lookout for him?”
“They don’t formally process the drunks,” Wally said in a low voice. “They just let them sleep it off and then release them once they’re sober.”
“Oh.” Skye turned her attention back to the store owners.
Orlando was still trying to explain. “They let me out about an hour ago.” He shoved a hand through his brown hair. “I tried to call you, but your cell is off, and you weren’t answering at the motor court or at the store, so I came straight here.”
“Shut up!” Rise’s face was set in hard, tight lines. “Just shut up! We’ll talk about this later. Kayla’s dead, and we’ve been robbed.”
“Oh, my God!” Orlando sank to his knees. “Poor thing. She was such a sweet girl.”
“Yes, she was.” Rise blinked back tears. “She really was.”
For a long moment no one spoke; then Orlando broke the silence. “That’s it, then.” He uttered a string of vivid and anatomically detailed invectives. “We’re ruined. We’ll lose everything. Who’ll want to come to a store where someone has died?”
Skye caught her breath. Was Orlando right? Would people hold the death of a local girl against Rise and Orlando, as Chase had? Would they boycott the shop out of fear or revulsion or just plain spite? Was this the end of Tales and Treats before its story even got started?
CHAPTER 9
Look Homeward, Angel
When Skye arrived home, her lights were on and vehicles of every description filled her driveway.
From the cars parked in front of her house, Skye knew exactly who was inside. The white Oldsmobile belonged to her mother, the blue pickup to her dad, Uncle Charlie drove the Cadillac, her brother owned the Jeep,
