Throw in the Trowel by Kate Collins Page B

got a backlog of cases piled a foot high on their desks.”
    â€œAnd I’ll be at the bottom of the pile even with this new development?” Marco asked.
    â€œMaybe they’ll give you some priority,” Reilly said, “but it won’t be until they catch the robbers. That could be tomorrow or Christmas. I’m just saying, if it were me, I’d do what I could to speed the process along.”
    I wanted to hug Reilly, but instead I gave Marco a looks-like-we-have-no-choice-now shrug.
    â€œI’ll write this up and make sure the coroner gets a copy,” Reilly said. “That’ll save him a trip.”
    And Marco the embarrassment.
    â€œThanks, man,” Marco said, clapping him on the back.
    That time I did give Reilly a hug.
    â€œSo we’re starting the investigation tomorrow morning?” I asked Marco as we drove home. Seedy was in my lap gazing out of the passenger-side window, panting happily. I stroked her fur, waiting for Marco’s reply, but got only a heavy sigh as an answer.
    â€œIs that a no?”
    â€œIf it wasn’t for that damned big hole in the basement floor it would be a
no way
, but I can’t leave it open, exposing all that old contaminated soil when I serve food one floor above. The health department would shut me down in a heartbeat. So it’s a reluctant yes. But just so you know, I have a lot of misgivings about you being involved, Abby. I’d rather handle the investigation on my own.”
    â€œWell, I don’t have any misgivings. We’re a team now, Marco, and there’s no
I
in team. Just so
you
know.”
    Thursday
    â€¢Â Â Â â€¢Â Â Â â€¢
    Before Lottie or Grace could comment on my tired eyes or somnolence the next morning, I greeted them with, “Morning. New mattress is coming Saturday. I need coffee.”
    They smiled at me like proud parents.
    I put Seedy on the floor and followed them into the parlor, where Grace poured me a cup of her special brew and offered me a cranberry scone. Although I’d had a piece of toast, in my exhausted state my willpower was weak, so I accepted. Then the three of us sat down at one of the white tables, while Seedy gazed up at me so dejectedly that I offered her a piece of scone.
    â€œI wouldn’t spoil her, love,” Grace said. “She’ll get used to it and will make a nuisance of herself at mealtimes.”
    â€œOh, boy, I know that from the dogs my boys have had,” Lottie said. “You don’t want to start it, Abby.”
    â€œSorry, Seedy,” I said. “That’s all you’re getting.”
    The dog tilted her head, as though trying to understand my words. She looked so cute, I had to glance away before I indulged her again. I blamed it on a lack of sleep and drained my coffee cup.
    â€œAny word from the detectives yet?” Grace asked.
    â€œNo, and you won’t believe what happened. Someone got into the bar’s basement yesterday evening and stole the bones, along with a key piece of evidence.”
    That prompted a barrage of questions, so I filled them in on the details as I poured us all more coffee. “Even Reilly feels that we should investigate,” I said. “Marco and I talked about it later and he’s finally seeing the wisdom in it, although he’s insisting we not let it get around town.”
    â€œMy lips are sealed,” Lottie said, making a zipping motion across her mouth.
    â€œMarco’s right about staying mum,” Grace said. “It takes a lot of moxie to pull a heist under the very noses of one’s employees. That speaks volumes about the person who’s willing to chance it. It makes one wonder what else might be chanced to ensure that the killer’s identity not come to light.”
    That was basically what Marco had said, only not as eloquently.
    â€œSo where do you begin?” Lottie asked.
    â€œWith Henry Greer and the key chain,” I said.