5. A Couple of Tools

CHAPTER 5

A Couple of Tools

I t made perfect sense that Chip had been the one to burglarize the toy shop. The guy handled maintenance and repairs for the properties he and his brother owned. He could have easily installed the spy device. He also had keys to both the toy store and the coffee shop, and could access the spaces without having to break in through a window or door.

Fury welled up in me. Thanks to him, two coffee shop employees had lost their jobs and I’d come under suspicion by the local police. My hands fisted of their own accord. “Let’s see what he has to say for himself.”

Nick pulled his cell phone from the pocket of his jeans. “I’ve got his number in my contacts.” He placed a call to Chip, and held the phone to his ear for several seconds. He frowned and turned the phone away from his lips to speak to me. “It’s going to voicemail.” He was quiet for a few more seconds while he listened to the outgoing message. Once it was over, he left a message of his own. “Hi, Chip. Nick Klaus here from Timeless Toys. We’ve got a bit of a situation. Call me back A.S.A.P.” He returned the phone to his pocket.

I felt antsy. I wanted answers and I wanted them now .

Nick clearly felt the same way. He drummed his fingers on the checkout counter. “He could be avoiding me. Let’s go see if he’s at the real estate office.”

Nick posted a note on the front door that read: Back soon! Once he’d locked up, we marched down the sidewalk to the headquarters for Dickson Brothers Properties. The reserved parking spot for Dale Dickson’s Mercedes sat empty. He must be out collecting rent. Chip’s van was nowhere in sight, either, but he could have parked in the back alleyway.

Nick held the door for me and I stepped into a lavishly appointed foyer decorated with a dozen potted poinsettias. Off to the side sat plastic tubs filled with colorful string lights and three stacks of faux-holly wreaths that stood nearly as tall as me. A sixtyish woman with a sleek blond bob sat at the reception desk. She wore a long-sleeved black sheath dress with high-heeled black boots and a red scarf, the epitome of chic. A nameplate on her desk identified her as Dawna Dickson, Office Manager. In light of her last name, I figured she must be married to Dale or Chip. Judging from her attire and office position, my money was on Dale.

A nameplate on the door behind her read CEO DALE DICKSON. The door was ajar. Through the crack I could see an enormous oak desk. An oversized flat-screen computer monitor sat atop the desk, and a cushy high-backed rolling desk chair sat behind it.

The woman looked up from her computer. “Hi, folks. Something I can do for you?”

Nick took the lead. “We need to speak to Chip right away.”

Her brows formed a concerned V. “Are you having a maintenance emergency?”

“Not exactly,” Nick said. “It’s not about a water leak or anything like that. But it’s very important.”

She gazed at Nick for a moment, as if waiting for clarification, but when he offered none she didn’t push. I was glad. Although all signs pointed to Chip, the last thing Nick or I would want to do was unjustly accuse someone.

“Let me see if I can get him for you.” Dawna lifted the receiver of her desk phone and dialed Chip’s number. She listened for a few seconds, then put her hand over the mouthpiece to say, “It’s going to voicemail.”

Nick muttered a light curse under his breath.

The woman left a voicemail for Chip. “Hi, Chip. It’s Dawna. The tenants from Timeless Toys need to speak with you. It’s urgent. Please get in touch with us right away. Thanks.” With that, she hung up the phone and returned her attention to us. “He’s good about returning calls. I’m sure we’ll hear back from him soon.”

We thanked her and returned to the toy shop. As we reopened the store, I recalled Chip’s reaction when he’d come by to hang the Christmas lights and I’d mentioned that a socket was out of order. “He seemed genuinely surprised,” I said.

“How could he have been?” Nick replied. “One of the first things you did when you started working at the toy store was send an email to the real estate company to let them know about the outlet. He must have been faking.”

I fingered an angel hanging from the Christmas tree we’d put up in the store, and continued to play devil’s advocate. “He offered to fix the broken outlet. He said he had the necessary parts in his van and could do it right away.”

Nick released a long huff of air. “I don’t know what to make of that. Could be he offered to make the repair and brought the parts with him in the hope that he could replace the outlet and remove the evidence that he’d been spying on us.”

“Good point.” It seemed suspicious that he’d installed the holiday lights in front of our store the very day we’d discovered the shop had been burglarized overnight.

Nick immediately placed a call to Officer Gibbs and gave him an update.

In minutes Gibbs was back at the store, staring into the socket. “You could be on to something here.” He looked up. “By the way, I spoke with the officers who worked the night shift. They saw your car here at the toy shop, of course. They said a couple of the diner staff stayed late cleaning up the kitchen and mopping the floors, but that’s routine. They were gone by ten-thirty or so, before y’all left. That’s it as far as it goes for vehicles parked downtown last night. They didn’t notice anyone on foot. Of course, someone could have driven through quickly, gotten in and out fast while they were patrolling elsewhere.”

“What now?” I asked.

Gibbs said, “I’ll go to the coffee shop and art gallery and take a look at their outlets, see if they have cameras in them, too. I’ll notify the other officers to be on the lookout for Chip’s van. If he’s somewhere around town working on a property, one of us will spot him eventually.”

If … I wondered if Chip had seen Nick and me through the hidden camera. He might have realized we were on to him and his spy device. He could have left town, either permanently or at least until he could come up with a viable explanation.

Gibbs used his radio to put out an alert to the department, then departed the store, heading off to the coffee shop.

Three hours later, Dale Dickson came into the shop to collect the rent. After Nick handed the replacement rent envelope over the counter, he said, “We’ve being trying to get in touch with Chip, but he’s not returning our calls. Any idea where your brother might be?”

Dale’s expression turned grave. “I haven’t heard from Chip since this morning. I’ve been trying to reach him myself about finishing the Christmas decorations on the south part of Main Street. It’s very odd. He seems to have disappeared. Maybe he’s had trouble with his van somewhere and has a dead phone battery.”

Or maybe he’s running away with Nick’s money …

Dale promised to have Chip get in touch as soon as he surfaced, and left the shop.

With firm answers—and Chip—seeming to elude us, we decided the best thing we could do for the time being was get back to the business of building and selling toys.

Despite the distractions, Nick and I put in a hard day’s work. Before we knew it, dinnertime had arrived.

My stomach growled. “How about I run down to the diner and get us some supper to go? Today’s special is the vegetable plate with cornbread.” The diner’s cornbread was irresistible, sweet with a crunchy crust and melt-in-your-mouth center.

“That sounds delicious,” Nick said. “My treat.” He reached into his pocket, pulled out his wallet, and handed me a credit card.

My heart warmed at the thought that he so thoroughly trusted me. I took the card and gave him a smile in return. “I’ll be back in a flash.”

Little did I know how true my words would be.