Catching the Cat Burglar (8 page)

Damn that Joanna. Damn her and her seductive, insanely alluring body and mind.

Chapter 8

I wake up feeling glum. My shot at glory last night turned into a thirty-minute lecture from the chief, who all but changed his mind about giving me a chance to make the force. It took my most strenuous apologies to calm him down, and when he finally walked away I felt like a sixth grader leaving the principal's office.

Still, I wasn't deterred. Growing up, I always had this stubborn streak. Whenever somebody told me I couldn't do something, I'd fight twice as hard to prove them wrong. My parents raised me to believe I could achieve whatever goals I desired, and I still believe that to this day. I'm a smart, passionate, strong woman, and nobody is going to tell me what I can or cannot do. If the chief thinks I'm going to give up on catching this shifter thief after one rough night, he's very, very mistaken.

So I get up, shower, make myself a pot of strong coffee, and head into Honeycomb Falls. I want to check in on Anita and make sure she's doing all right, as well as catch up with the news at the Gypsy Cafe, and maybe buy a grilled cheese sandwich at Mindy's General Store which I'll eat by the waterfall.

However, driving into town I see a commotion going on outside the police station. People are standing around in sparse crowds, and a large tow truck is backed up to a mess of tangled metal. I park and get out, curious and worried, hoping no one was hurt. Stepping up to the crowd, I see Mindy standing with some of her deli workers, arms crossed.

"What happened?" I step up next to her.

"The fire escape fell down last night." Mindy's mouth is pinched with disapproval . "Though how that's possible I don't know. Jacob pointed out that the brick up there in the wall looks all torn out."

I follow her pointed finger and see puckered holes where the fire escape was bolted into the wall. It really does look like it was torn out. Moving through the crowd, I walk up to Bardwell, who is scowling at the tow truck driver.

"I don't care where you take it, just take it off Bridge Street."

The pudgy little truck driver scratches his thinning white hair. "How 'bout down by the quarry?"

"That's fine," growls Bardwell.

"Or I could drag it up over to the -"

"The quarry's fine. Get a move on, Hank." Bardwell turns away, ending the conversation, and sees me. I can tell he's not thrilled.

"Morning, Bardwell. What happened here?"

"What happened?" He puts his hands on his hips and stares at the wreckage. "Something tore the fire escape clean off the wall, is what happened. No witnesses, though. Excuse me." He steps away.

I sigh. I'm clearly not that popular right now, after last night's antics. I look around and catch sight of Groofy out of the corner of my eye. He's standing around the corner of the station in the mouth of the alley. He sees me and wags his tail, happy to be noticed.

I make my way over. "Hey, Groofy. What do you make of all this?"

For the first time, I hear him whine. "Bad. Smells very bad. Smells of werewolf."

"Oh?" I feel a wash of ice water run through my veins. "Here? In the middle of town?"

Groofy nods, and actually takes a step back into the alley. "Look for bite marks on the metal. You'll see."

"Hang on." I step over to the wreckage and inspect the twisted metal. And sure enough, there are several areas that are just plain mangled. Like something used the metal bars as a chew toy. "Hey, Bardwell. Come over here."

He won't like being summoned like that, but I'm not going to keep apologizing. If I want them to take me seriously, I have to act like I'm one of them. Bardwell sighs, flips shut his notebook and steps over. "What is it, Kilmarten?"

"Here," I say, pointing. "And there, and there. Those look like bite marks to you?"

"Bite marks?" He frowns, then fingers the tortured metal. "What, you thinking a great white shark flew through town last night?"

I nod. "Yes. A flying great white shark. That's my first hypothesis. The second is the killer werewolf. In his dire wolf form, he could have done this. He was large enough."

"Huh," says Bardwell, scratching the back of his neck. "You could be right."

"Get some shifters down here to take the scent. Maybe Blake over at Rachel's in Honeycomb Hall. They'll be able to confirm it."

"That's... a good idea." Bardwell is clearly reluctant to admit it. He taps his pencil against his pad, and then walks off.

I grin, and then see Chase at the edge of the crowd, holding a cup of coffee. He catches my eye and raises a hand, and I walk over to him. "Heya."

"Morning." He's dressed in a white polo shirt and grey slacks, freshly showered and looking as delicious as one of Anita's bear claws. I have a moment where I imagine having awakened with him, showered together, debated where to get coffee, and walked through town hand in hand like a normal couple. "Quite the night last night."

I smile. "Don't get too cocky. I'll admit the wine was delicious, but the company was only so-so."

He snorts and points at the fallen fire escape. "I was referring to that."

"Oh!" I turn as if I'm seeing the wreckage for the first time. "Right!" I fight the blush. It's far too early in the morning to be starting in on that already. "So you're saying you didn't enjoy dinner?"

Chase smiles at me over the top of his coffee as he lifts it for a sip. "Oh, no. I'm not saying that at all."

His smile sends goose bumps all over my skin. It's an intimate smile, complicit, as if last night we did far more than just talk and dine.

"Bark," says a voice by my knee. Groofy is staring insistently at me.

"Not now," I say, forcing a smile as I push him away with my leg. "Busy."

"Arf. Bark bark woof!" He sounds very determined.

"Your dog?" Chase gazes down at him bemusedly.

"No. Though he seems to think he is. Hold on, let me get him, um, some water. I'll be right back."

"Sure," says Chase, smiling.

I follow Groofy back to the alley, where he hops around like a bunny rabbit for a little bit, and then finally settles down and sits. "It's him!"

"Who is? What?"

"The werejaguar! It's him! The guy you were talking to!"

"Chase?" I look back at where he stands, one hand in a pocket, sipping demurely from his coffee. "No."

"Yes!" Groofy rolls onto his back, wiggling and kicking his legs. "Steak!"

My mind isn't working. I'm downshifting so hard I can almost hear the gears grinding. "Wait. You're saying that Chase, the guy I was talking to just now, is the thief we're hunting?"

"Steak! So much steak! A mountain of meat! And me standing at the top, steak as far as the eye can see!"

I feel a moment of vertigo. I blink rapidly and press my palm to my forehead. Chase is the werejaguar? No. But then again... yes. That could be the mystery I see in his eyes. That layer of reserve he refused to break through last night. That secret I've sensed from the beginning. Chase is the cat burglar.

Groofy is still celebrating. "Filet mignon! T-Bone! Skirt -"

"Groofy. Stop."

He flips onto his feet adroitly and stares up at me. "What? We've done it."

"Does he look arrested to you? Hmm? To me, it looks like he's enjoying a coffee, completely free to go where he wants."

Groofy frowns and stares at Chase. "Well. Go arrest him."

"On what grounds? That my little dog claims his scent marks him as the thief?"

"Well, yeah," says Groofy, as if I'm revealing myself to be a particularly slow person.

"It doesn't work that way," I say. "That wouldn't stand in a court of law."

"Well," says Groofy with sophisticated disdain, "that means your courts of law are stupid."

"That may be true. But regardless. I need proof."

"Well, break into his house. You'll see the stolen things in there."

I sigh. "I have to gain access to them lawfully. Breaking in and seizing them illegally would make them inadmissible in a court of law."

Groofy frowns up at me. "Hold on. Maybe we're having a communication problem here. After all, I
am
only a very little dog of limited intelligence. What are your courts of law
for
? Protecting thieves?"

I snort. "I'll give you the history of our legal system another time." I bite my thumbnail. "For now I need to figure out what to do."

"Well, I'd keep giving you advice, but apparently everything that makes sense is offensive to your courts."

"Yeah, yeah." I stare at Chase. He catches my eye across the crowd and lifts his coffee in a mock salute, smiling his devilish smile. "Yeah, smile you handsome bastard. I'll get you yet." But inside, I'm feeling a storm of emotion. Shock. Confusion. And... anger. It's so easy to imagine Chase climbing across rooftops, his athletic body handling the jumps and drops with ease. So easy to imagine him in black, opening windows silently, entering smoothly, taking what he wants.

Breaking the rules. Lying to people. Pretending to be someone he's not. Lying to me.

He isn't a librarian. He's a thief. And no matter how attractive, courteous, mysterious, alluring, and devastatingly hot he might be, I'm not a librarian either. I'm a cop. And it's my job to arrest him.

But I need proof. I need evidence. I can't go to Bardwell and the chief with this. Groofy's testimony would only make them laugh. What can I do? I could try to get Chase to invite me back to his place, and then find an opportunity to find evidence there... but no. He's too smart to leave stolen goods lying around. And snooping would invalidate my finds.

I frown. I want to stride up to him and slap him. I realize that I'm furious. Why? I feel betrayed. I was falling for Chase the librarian. Now what do I feel? Who is he? Was he laughing at me all this time?

Then it hits me. Last night. In Anita's bakery. That was Chase. It was him taking hold of my shoulder, growling in my ear, telling me that he wanted to kiss me and lick me and make me scream. I blush furiously. My heart skips a beat, and my legs go weak. Which only makes me more furious. Does he think he can toy with me? Oh no. I'll show him.

"What are you going to do?" Groofy is watching my face carefully. "That's a scary smile."

"Oh, I have an idea." And I do. It comes to me in a flash. "Wait here."

I stride over to Chase, feeling dangerous and powerful and vengeful.

"Hey," he says. "I know we just had dinner, and I should play it cool and wait a couple of days, but do you want to grab a bite to eat? I was heading down to Anita's to grab breakfast."

"Oh, really?" My smile grows wider. "Anita's? Have you been there before?"

He raises an eyebrow, taken aback by my animated tone. "Not yet. But I've heard good things."

"I'm sure you have." I want to shake him. "And while I'd love to join you, I can't. I'm sorry. I have a prior commitment."

"At this hour?" He almost goes to check his watch. "What are you up to?"

"Guard duty." I shrug as if to say,
Them's the breaks
.

"Guard duty, hmm?" He sips his coffee again, watching me speculatively. "What's so important they need to pull their cutest officer off the streets?"

"That's sweet." Compliments only fuel my fire. "There's a valuable diamond that we have to protect till it's picked up tomorrow. The Countess Diamond. It's as big as my fist!"

"The Countess Diamond?" Chase frowns. "Are you serious?"

I nod enthusiastically. "Oh, yes. It's normally kept at the mayor's house, but with this cat burglar on the prowl, he doesn't think he can keep it safe. So he's asked us to watch over it till he can have a security team take it to Boston for safekeeping."

"Really..." I can actually see him thinking this over. Go on. Take the bait. "That's probably a wise move. Is this thief really that dangerous?"

Fishing for compliments? I smile sweetly. "Oh, no. From what we can tell, he's a real amateur. We were all laughing about his clumsy robberies so far. He's a real clown! We told the mayor not to worry about it, that this thief couldn't steal a rattle from a baby, but he's insisting." I shrug. "What can you do? Mayors."

Chase's brow lowers and his expression darkens, but then he visibly takes control of himself and laughs, though the sound is forced. "Ha. A real amateur, eh? That's good to know. So you think you'd be impressed if he stole this diamond?"

I put my hand on his arm. "Oh, yes. If he could steal this diamond, I would be blown away. But he can't." I drop my hand. "So I guess I'll just have to keep thinking of him as an amateur."

I have to hand it to Chase. After that initial moment of displeasure, he's playing it cool, like a pro. Which, of course, he is. He simply nods and drinks a little more coffee. "Well, I'm sorry you won't be able to join me. I'll see you tomorrow at the library, then?"

"Sure. If we don't run into each other before then." I give him another bright smile, confusing him further, and turn and stride away.

I head into the station, and find the chief. He's in his office, filling out a report. I knock on his open door.

The chief looks up, and then dismisses me out of hand. "Not now, Kilmarten."

"Yes, now," I say, stepping inside, and something about my tone causes him to look up. "I know how we can catch the thief."

"Do you now." He leans back, his shirt stretching tight over his belly, and laces his hands behind his head. "This should be good. What are you going to do? Ask for a machine gun so you can hunt him down like Rambo?"

"No, Chief." I cross my arms and stare down at him. "We plant a lure in the mayor's house. A fake diamond or the like. The thief is new to town. He won't know the diamond is a fake. Then we let it be known that the diamond is being shipped out tomorrow for security reasons, and wait for him to fall into the trap."

The chief opens his mouth to dismiss the idea out of hand, and then pauses. "How would you let the thief know?"

"He's probably the vain type. Look at what he's been stealing. Not money. He's not interested in cash. Instead, he's taking hard to acquire items of high personal value. He'll be out there on the street, listening to conversations, trying to hear people talk about him and blow up his ego." I pause, shaking my head. "He's probably a real egomaniac. The bastard."