"But who is 'he'?" Andy said. "Who would actually pay people to do stupid things like spray paint the vet clinic?"
"What if they were the ones who put the stolen tools in the kennel?" I folded my arms. "We all know it wasn't Phin."
Andy sighed and scrubbed at his face with his hands. "You're probably right. I wish Susan would get back. Look. I'm going to take these two to the station to process them. Tell Phin I'll talk to him tomorrow."
I nodded, and Andy started toward his car, stopped, and turned to look at me over his shoulder. "And quit playing Batgirl! Or Sherlock Holmes. Or whatever this was. They could have hurt you."
I wanted to argue with him, but he had a point. "Okay," I sighed. "I know. I have to quit letting Lorraine and Eleanor pull me into this stuff."
Jack muttered something beneath his breath, but I decided I really didn't want to know what he'd said.
Andy just nodded, climbed back into his car, and drove off.
Jack put his hands on my shoulders and kissed me. Then he pulled me into a tight hug. "You are going to give me gray hair, do you know that? I'll be the only tiger my age with gray hair, and all the other tigers will make fun of me."
I hugged him back, feeling bad about the gray hair for a second or two, and then I pulled back and stared up at him.
"Jack? What if one thing they 'messed up' is that they killed the wrong Santa Claus?"
37
Tess
We gave Phin Andy's message and then went back to my place and debated our theory.
"Craven's whole reason for being here is to pave the way for Dead End to allow the UltraShopMart store, right? No matter how, by fair means or foul, since he gets a million bucks for it." I paced up and down in my family room. "So, what if they decided Rooster was convincing too many people to vote against them? What if they sent someone to kill him for it?"
Jack, sprawled out on the couch with Lou in his lap, shook his head. "Kill somebody for that? Seems extreme. A lot extreme, in fact. A murder investigation is not making things go smoothly for the UltraShopMart team."
I stopped, thought about it. Nodded. "Yeah, but what if that's one of the things they messed up? They were maybe supposed to beat him up or something. Put him in the hospital until after the thing was a done deal? But first, they messed up by targeting the wrong Santa, and then they went too far and killed him."
Jack suddenly sat up straight. Lou meowed in protest until he started petting her again. "That could work, actually. And if those two at the clinic work for UltraShopMart, that plays in, too, and goes even farther. If they planned it so that one of them brought up the tax money for more police, not Craven, then nobody would have even a hint of a reason to suspect that not only is UltraShopMart behind Darryl's murder, but they're also behind the crime wave."
I stared at him. "I hadn't gotten that far. I keep thinking of the murder and the crime spree as the work of two different groups, but that was always a tough coincidence to swallow. If, in fact, Craven and his merry band of thugs are actually behindallof it … wow. Wow!"
"Remember what he said? To Chuckles after the town hall?" Jack concentrated for a moment and then recited:
"I gave each of you discretion to choose how to protect the site. You all chose your own paths, stupid though some of them may have been. What I want to know is how could you get one thing—one thing—so wrong?"
"What if the discretion—the own paths—was about what they'd do to make Dead Enders believe we had so much crime we needed their money to bulk up our police force? Somebody breaks into houses—"
He interrupted me. "That would explain why they'd be stupid enough to break into my house and Carlos's house. They didn't know any better."
I nodded, getting more and more excited. We were really on to something. "Someone else steals tools and smashes boats, and etcetera and etcetera."
Jack set Lou next to him on the couch and jumped up. "We need food. I can tell you skipped dinner. You always get really pale when you don't eat, and your freckles stand out."
I didn't know what to do with that. What to do with a man who loved me enough to notice what I looked like when I needed to eat and then wanted to feed me. A rush of love nearly bowled me over, and I crossed the room and hugged him as tight as I could.
"Happy birthday," I mumbled into his shirt, trying to blink back tears. "I really love you."
"I love you, too, my precious pookie," he said, grinning, but I could see another wave of emotion sparkling like amber lights in his green eyes.
"No. Never pookie," I said firmly. "Sandwiches, then sleep. Tomorrow's going to be a big day."
We ate sandwiches, and Jack texted the twins to ask them to research Merks. I texted Andy to ask about the thugs from the clinic, and he responded almost right away:
They've invoked their right to counsel, so I can't talk to them until their lawyer gets here tomorrow, but they definitely work for USM I'll let you know. See you at the Holiday Lights Festival?
