The Vigilante Vignette Page 7

  Worse case scenario, they were being escorted to the bathroom.

  A sword was introduced by the auctioneer. Max turned halfway in his seat to spot Dozen’s paddle. The crowd eyeballed the ensuing paddle battle like a Wimbledon match.

  I took the opportunity to swing my paddle under my seat. Combat narrowed his eyes but jerked his chin. I wiggled past Christopher Dozen and to Combat’s side.

  “Show me,” I whispered. “Like the others.”

  Combat raised his brows.

  “What I want isn’t in the catalog.” I gave him my best customer service smile and a flirtatious wink. “Maybe it’s behind the curtain.”

  Combat rolled his eyes. “You have exactly one minute. After you exit, you’ll tell me the item number and bid. When the general auction closes, we will notify you if you’ve won.”

  He held back the drapery and I stepped inside a smaller curtained room. The paintings on easels caught my eye, but I forced myself to stay focused on the tables holding various antiques. Spying an area with costumed dress forms, I darted toward the nearby table holding jewelry and accessories.

  “Bingo.” The triangular pocket on strings was sadly disappointing. The red brocade had been stuffed and elaborately decorated with jewels, although faded and frayed. A museum piece for sure, but not as showy as I expected.

  From the other room, the auctioneer sped through rising numbers. Not much time left.

  I glanced around for cameras and spotted a painting in a recognizable puffy shirt. “Captain Morgan?”

  The auctioneer’s voice grew louder. Behind me, the curtain rustled.

  Feeling like a hummingbird battered my rib cage, I bent over the table as if examining the items. Reaching under my crinoline, I pulled out a heart-shaped, red and gold-trimmed eye patch. From Party Barn’s “sexy pirate wench” accessory kit. Fluffing my crinoline over the table, I reached beneath the crinoline and swapped the eye patch for the codpiece. Shoved the codpiece into my hidden skirt pocket, refluffed, and turned toward the curtain flap.

  Combat stood halfway inside, but his focus was on the auction. A commotion brewed. And it no longer sounded like the sword paddle battle.

  I strolled toward the curtain break but halted halfway.

  The auctioneer began barking exit orders. Combat took off. I zipped to the far curtained wall and peeked underneath. The empty warehouse. I backed out, snuck to the curtain break, and spied out. Customers were abandoning their chairs and rushing out the door. Combat had left his post to direct orders to more black combat-suited workers. The auctioneer had vanished. So had the Bear and Christopher Dozen.

  “Dammit.” I rushed back through the illegal displays, grabbed Captain Morgan, and shoved him beneath the curtain wall.

  Dropping to the floor, I began to slither beneath the curtain. The crinoline jammed against the heavy drapery and my army man crawl halted. I lay on half of my rucked poodle skirt, staring out at the empty warehouse. Captain Morgan on the ground before me. Josiah’s ridiculous codpiece in the pocket below me.

  On the other side of the curtain, the crinoline had gathered against the heavy drape, leaving my legs and panties exposed. I wriggled and kicked. Twisted to grab the bottom of the curtain and lift it up. Which is not easy to do when you’re lying on your stomach pointed the wrong way.

  A door banged open at the far end of the warehouse. Brown suited and black vested deputies poured through the door.

  “Criminy.” I began to wriggle backward, abandoning Captain Morgan.

  I got as far as my chest when I was told to stop.

  FIFTEEN

  DEPUTY LUKE HARPER directed the other deputies into the stolen merchandise room, then scooped up the framed Captain Morgan. “Didn’t take you for an art thief.”

  I folded my arms beneath me and looked up. “I hope you arrested your girlfriend because she’s one of the trio robbing these men and fencing their valuables through the auction.”

  “My gal’s robbing men? I don’t think you’ve got it right.” He peered down at me, wearing his impassive cop face and shaking his head. “I told you to leave Kat alone. Jealousy doesn’t suit you, sugar.”

  “And you’re not thinking with your brain, Deputy Harper.”

  His jaw worked. The cement floor grew cold as I waited. Or maybe it was the air between us.

  “I’ve got a job to do,” he said. “I’ll deal with you later.”

  I didn’t think I’d get any angrier. Or more hurt.

  But I did.

  * * *

  IN THE HOLDING area, I searched for the Bear, but he’d escaped the trap. Chris Dozen had not. And neither had Misty and Claire. Without masks or Daisy Duke’s I barely recognized the Honkers hostess and bartender. If it hadn’t been for Chris Dozen’s outrage upon seeing them, my eyes might have skipped over the two women wearing Prada suits and French twists. Another costume.

  Obviously not from Party Barn.

  Once Chris Dozen finished his tirade—that had more to do with their effrontery of showing at an elitist event than them stealing from his friends—I turned on the women.

  “I was hoping to turn you in myself,” I said. “But it looks like the law beat me to it.”

  They smirked. “And you’ll be sharing a cell with us. Except we won’t have a problem with bail.”

  My restraint should be noted. I’d have bruises where my fingers dug into my hips. But I’d also have the last laugh when they were carted to Forks County Jail in the paddy wagon while I walked to town. “Where’s Katty?”

  “Ask John Smith,” said Misty. “The way you talk, you know him pretty well. Too bad for you.”

  * * *

  FOR ALL THE trouble I’d gone through, Josiah should get his own damn codpiece back in his own damn ancestral home. But I remembered his broken leg and the broken-hearted goat in my backyard. My broken heart had also not mended, but righteous anger helped with that. At the auction raid, Luke had let me go, but I believed he did it to avoid my hissy fit before his fellow deputies, more than he “didn’t have time for my shenanigans” when he “needed to arrest real criminals.”

  But I had secured the codpiece and Josiah’s allegiance to assist me with the town council. After meeting with Josiah, I had fed Tater veterinarian-issued roofies and explained how I was sending him home for his own good.

  “You’re stronger and it’s time for you to confront your own homewrecker,” I said as Grandpa loaded the sleepy goat into his truck. “If you want to be with your gal, you need to show her how you feel.”

  Grandpa gave me a strange look and headed back to the farm.

  As dusk fell and the trick-or-treaters sprang from their homes, I headed to the center of Halo, where more than a century ago, the well-to-do had built their Victorians and Queen Annes. The Sweetons had the single Neoclassical Revival in Halo, which said something of their stature in our whistle stop town. Josiah had given me a house key, the safe’s combination, and specific instructions.

  On the surface, it seemed easy. I was to deliver the goods into the safe and skedaddle. Josiah had invited Mother to his house to pass out candy to the trick-or-treaters. The Bear had also been invited, at his own insistence. I’d kept my end of that bargain, thankful he’d also thought to wait out the sting and pick me up on the county highway.

  What Josiah didn’t reckon was Darth Vader standing on his porch. Tall, immovable, and oppressive, like the giant columns supporting the ornate portico he stood between.

  SIXTEEN

  I HUNG FOR a minute, at the corner of the neighbor’s fence. If not for the autumn leaf-scented breeze rattling his plastic cape, I might have missed him. This street of declining, century-old homes had a few porch lights on, but most kids knew the good stuff would be found in the newer subdivisions on the outskirts.

  The key Josiah had given me would fit the back door. I would need to sneak past Darth to follow the drive under the side’s porte-cochere and through the back gate. But before I could do any sneaking, Darth spied me. I cl
imbed the porch steps at his beckon, fighting off the urge to kick a jack-o-lantern.

  “John Smith?” I said. “You use that on all your secret girlfriends?”

  Darth gave me a loud Darth breath, then pulled his helmet off. Luke ran a hand through his flattened curls then placed it on his hip. “John Smith is the fence. He works at the auction in security. I think you met him.”

  “Combat?” I tried to reignite my fizzling righteous anger. “And I suppose you’re not seeing Katty Bomar?”

  Sucking on his lip, he shook his head.

  “Are you trying not to laugh at me? Because I’m already sorely ticked and that just might send me over the edge.”

  “I don’t think you want to have a fit on Mrs. Sweeton’s front porch. What will the neighbors think? Anyway, we might as well get to your breaking and entering before anyone does see us.” He replaced his helmet. “I noticed you dressed the part, too.”

  I glanced at my cat burglar outfit. Complete with tail and ears. And unlike Shawna, whiskers. “I’m not breaking and entering. I have a key, security code, and permission to be here.”

  “From Mrs. Sweeton, the owner of the house, or Josiah? Still a B and E, sugar.”

  “Don’t ‘sugar’ me.” I slipped the key from the backpack, telling myself not to feel pleased that Luke would break the law for me.

  We entered into a foyer smelling of pine polish and pressed flowers. Luke closed the door behind us and gestured to the front staircase. “I assume you know where to go.”

  He waited while I climbed the stairs. I found the safe, replaced the heirloom, and hightailed it back to safety. It gave me the jitters, even knowing I was reverse-robbing. I’d make a terrible burglar.

  On the bottom step, I halted to study the-man-who-had-not-strayed. Of course, if he’d been more communicative, I wouldn’t have suspected him. “How did you know I was returning the codpiece tonight?”

  “It wasn’t hard to figure the man you were helping was Josiah Sweeton. What interested me was the family heirloom. Tamara told me you came to the station and tried to get information on a robbery case. Pretty easy to put together what had happened. But then you started showing up at Honkers.”

  “I found Chris Dozen’s invitation at the country club. By coincidence did I learn of your cheating ways when following that lead.”

  He smirked, infuriating me more. “Kat Bomar is John Smith’s girlfriend, not mine. She was helping me with a multi-jurisdictional criminal investigation that’s been building for months. A traveling auction trolling internet sites, searching for buyers besides their regular clientele. Buyers who don’t ask for the item’s official provenance? Sound familiar?”

  “And did you know Kat’s been drugging and stealing from historic preservation board members with some of the other waitresses? And using her young cousin to do it?”

  “That’s where you’re wrong.”

  I planted my hands on my hips, dug in, and winced. “I have it from Melissa Bomar’s lips. She thinks the Catwomen were getting back at handsy customers. Melissa didn’t even know they were robbing and giving the loot to John Smith.”

  “That will help her in court. As long as she indicts Misty and Claire, who were going through John on their own. They know him through Kat, just like they know who’s got valuable antiques in their homes through Chris Dozen’s preservation board friends. They all drink at Honkers after the meeting on Chris’s dime. Loose lips sink ships and the men love nothing more than to brag about their family jewels.” He winked. “So to speak.”

  “Stop your winking. And stop flashing those dimples.”

  “But hon’, y’all did good. You figured it out and returned Josiah’s whatever to his momma’s house. What was it by the way? I didn’t find anything when I searched you.”

  I gave up fighting the grin curling my lips. Luke had been so fearful of my anger that night, he barely patted me. Not that it was easy to find a codpiece among all the crinoline.

  “You can understand why I was anxious to have those men report the robberies.” Luke stepped closer. “They didn’t trust me, but they trusted you. Kat was my informant on the auction. She got her information from John. But she didn’t tell me about the girls. I didn’t know anyone was mugging locals until you tipped me off.”

  “I never trusted her for a minute.”

  “Because you’re jealous.” He grinned.

  “Am not.” I studied the pine flooring to escape the silvery glow in his smiling eyes. “I can’t help it. Women constantly throw themselves at you.”

  “Baby, haven’t you notice how I step aside before they hit?” He brushed a finger down my arm. “Anyway, I have you to thank for giving me a bonus in this case. I was only after the auction site for fencing stolen goods.”

  Whatever he was doing, it was working. “You were stalking me at the parties. But you didn’t do anything when the bartender roofied me.”

  “I got you home, didn’t I? Never seen you so drunk. And here I thought you were slugging back the nasty love potion because you were sore with me. That was painful, getting kicked out of your house like that. I could barely concentrate on the raid, thinking about you.”

  “You deserved it if you were seeing some Honkers girl on the sly. If you had told me what you were up to...” I sniffed back a tear. “I guess we’re not so good at trusting each other.”

  “Don’t talk like that.” Luke held his arms open. “We’ve come a long way, sugar.”

  I stepped into him and let my head fall against his plastic breast plate.

  He wrapped his arms around me and deposited a kiss on the top of my head. “It ate at me, having to keep this a secret until the auction bust was over. And then to find you stuck under that curtain? If I wasn’t so angry, I would have laughed.”

  “You did laugh.”

  “Sugar, I would never cheat on you. No other woman compares to you.”

  “You better not.” I snuggled against him. “Speaking of codpieces, are you wearing one?”

  “Knowing how ticked you were? Why’d you think I picked this costume?”

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  A 2015 Georgia Author of the Year Best Mystery finalist, Larissa writes the Cherry Tucker Mystery and Maizie Albright Star Detective series. The first in the Cherry Tucker series, Portrait of a Dead Guy, is a 2012 Daphne du Maurier finalist, 2012 The Emily finalist, and 2011 Dixie Kane Memorial winner. The sixth mystery, A Composition in Murder, releases November 15th. The first Maizie Albright Mystery, 15 Minutes, releases Winter 2017. Her family and Cairn Terrier, Biscuit, now live in Nagoya, Japan, but they still call Georgia home. Visit her website, find her chatting on Facebook, Instagram, Twitter, and Goodreads, or join her Facebook street team, The Mystery Minions.

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  Larissa Reinhart also has the Maizie Albright Star Detective Mysteries, a new series that will start in 2017. When ex-teen star Maizie Albright returns to her Southern hometown of Black Pine, Georgia, she hoped to rid herself of Hollywood tabloid and reality show hell for a new career as a private investigator. Instead, Hollyweird follows her home. Maizie’s costar crushing, but now for her gumshoe boss. Her stage-monster mother still demands screen time. Her latest rival wants her kicked off the set, preferably back to a California prison.

  By entangling herself in a missing person's case, she must reprise her most famous role. The job will demand a performance of a lifetime. But this time, the stakes are real and may prove deadly.

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