“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Dee Dee said. “What book?”
He gestured wildly with his pocket. “Yeah you do. The book you bought downtown.”
A truck rumbled by on the road, but trees blocked the driver’s view of us, hands in the air.
“I know you have that book written by the union soldier. And you’d better hand it over quick. I don’t have time for your shenanigans.”
“Oh, I think I know what book you’re talking about now. It’s in my purse.” Dee Dee walked back toward the Jeep.
“Don’t do anything funny. I’ve got you covered.” He followed Dee Dee as close as he could while she reached in and retrieved her purse. He grabbed it from her and rummaged through the contents. “Good grief, lady. What do you have in this suitcase?”
“Don’t ruin it. It’s one of my favorites, and it matches my shoes.” Only Dee Dee could worry about her bag while being held up.
He raised the book and declared, “I knew it.” He threw the purse at Dee Dee’s feet. “Do not follow us or you’ll be sorry.” More pocket brandishing, and he turned and ran. He hopped in and they sped away. I memorized the first three letters on the license plate before the truck sped past the arch.
“What in the world was that all about, Trixie. It’s just an old book. Why would they want it?”
“Do you think it has something to do with that diary, do you suppose they thought we had a copy?”
“Well, we’re going downtown right now and telling Detective Bowerman what happened. This hit too close to home. All of these events can’t be coincidental. They have to be connected to the murder investigation.” This is one time I couldn’t agree more with Dee Dee.
“Come on. I can take pictures later.” I was concerned Dee Dee would have a heart attack before we arrived. Not from fear, but from anger. She was so mad someone stole her book and her dignity in the process.
A young lady sat soldier straight behind the front desk of the police station. She wore a crisp uniform, her hair pulled back in a bun. “May I help you?”
“Yes,” Dee Dee said. “We’ve been robbed.”
“Really?” She reached for a tablet to take notes. “What did they steal?”
Straight-faced Dee Dee said, “a book.”
“Oh.” The officer didn’t appear to be as interested when she found out it was a book. I think I saw a smirk on her lips. “Have a seat.” She pointed to a row of dirty, orange seats lined against the wall.
“Yuck! I don’t want to sit in those,” Dee Dee whispered.
“Me neither, no telling what we might catch. They look like they’re covered in cooties.”
I turned back to the officer. “Would you please inform Detective Bowerman we’re waiting? This might concern a case he’s working on.”
She looked at us like, ‘yeah sure.’ “What are your names?”
“Just tell him Trixie Montgomery and Dee Dee Lamont need to see him as soon as possible.”
She picked up a phone, and punched a button. I wondered if she’d tell him, or pretend to and send us on our way. I couldn’t blame her. Who in their right mind would report a stolen book?
CHAPTER THIRTY
Hello, Ms. Montgomery. Ms. Lamont. What can I do for you, I’m very busy?” He wasn’t wearing a jacket today, but Bowerman’s shirt was as rumpled as usual. I didn’t spot his cigar. He looked kind of naked without it.
“We’ve been robbed,” Dee Dee exclaimed.
“So I’ve heard.” He hiked up his pants. “Come on in my office.” He sounded reluctant, but motioned us to follow him down a hallway into a dingy cove filled with the scent of male – stale cigar smoke and sweat. The interior decorator had gone for early utilitarian. A large desk pitted with numerous dings and scars sat center stage. No pictures adorned the wall. Two ragged chairs sat in front of the desk. On the desktop sat a picture of a middle-aged woman with two teen-aged children. I was taken aback, I’d never pictured the detective with a family.
“Your family, detective?” He actually smiled, revealing smoke stained teeth.
“Yes, ma’am.” He turned the conversation back to the reason for our visit. “What’s this about a book robbery?” He unwrapped a cigar and stuck the pacifier in his mouth.
“We went to the National Cemetery to take pictures for my article. Some strange man jumped out of a truck and ran up to us. He insisted we give him the book.”
“Could you describe this book?” The detective removed his cigar and twirled it between his fingers.
“I bought it at the Magnolia Books and Antiques Store downtown,” Dee Dee said. “A Union soldier, one of Andrews’ Raiders, wrote the book. I don’t understand why the robber wanted it.”
“For some reason he wanted this book bad enough to hold us at gunpoint.” Dee Dee scooted to the edge of her chair and put her elbows on the detective’s desk. “And would you believe he threw my favorite purse on the ground?”
His caterpillar eyebrows crawled up. “Did you get a good look at the assailant?”
“He wore a ski mask, detective,” I told him. “He sped away in his truck, but I memorized the first three letters from the tag – PAT . The truck was red and had one of those oversized diesel engines with the double tires on back. I think they’re called duelies.”
“Did he hurt either one of you? Threaten you?”
“He brandished a gun.” Dee Dee announced.
“What kind of gun?” Now we had his interest. He moved several stacks of paper from one side of his desk to the other. He scrounged around until a pen hovered over a notepad. “Tall? Thin? Did you recognize him?”
We told him everything we could recall, and he took copious notes. When we couldn’t remember any more details, he looked up. “You never said if it was a pistol, shotgun?”
I glanced at Dee Dee. “We didn’t exactly see the gun.”
Dee Dee held up her hand, finger pointed like a gun barrel. “Kept it in his pocket.”
Bowerman’s chair groaned as he leaned back. “Never saw a weapon.” He tossed his pen down. “I suppose you were smart to believe it was a gun. Ladies, with all due respect, I’m too busy to spend any time tracking down a book robber.” He stood up, stogie motioning to the door. “And I’m sure this has been stressful for you.” He hurriedly escorted us to the door. “I’ll call you if we learn anything. The results from the crime scene at Dora’s should be in shortly.”
We left him shaking his head, and I doubted he’d take any action at all. For all intents and purposes, our book thief did not have anything to do with Doc’s troubles.
“Come on, Dee Dee. I need to go home and prop up my leg. I’m exhausted and my knee is killing me.”
“It’s about time you decided to take care of yourself. I’ll get you to Dora’s as soon as I can.”
All I wanted was to go home and see Mama and Beau. I missed them so much. First, I had to finish this article and leave the investigation to the professionals. We were getting close and it scared me.
We stopped by the hospital and picked up Nana. When we arrived at our temporary home I propped up my leg and crashed.
“Wake up. Detective Bowerman’s on the phone. He wants to speak to you.”
I rubbed the sleep from my eyes, and squinted up at Dee Dee holding the receiver under my nose. I grabbed it from her. “Hello? This is Trixie.”
“I wanted to inform you we made an arrest in the robbery. Susan Gray master-minded the break in.”
“What? Why?” I sat up, my head spinning with the sudden movement, and the astonishing news. Why would she go to such lengths to steal a book?
“The Civil War book Dee Dee bought at her store is a one of a kind. Susan claimed it’s a first edition, signed by the author. It’s worth a lot of money. She never intended to sell the book in her store. An employee mistakenly placed it with the sales stock. When she found out her assistant sold it to Dee Dee she panicked. Fear of losing the book prompted the break in at Dora’s. We have her fingerprints, and Susan admitted she searched Dora’s house for the book.”