Buzz Off - By Hannah Reed Page 0,56

that included the loved ones left behind. Some of the stories were told in groups, some during eulogies, and some in quiet corners where the main focus of the story couldn’t be overheard.

“I still think we should wait.”

“Okay.” Patti shrugged like it didn’t matter. “But I have inside information and I might think it over and decide to keep it to myself.”

She was making it hard on me.

“Who around here found out about them first?” I asked.

“Me, of course. I saw them together.”

Right then, DeeDee Becker, Lori Spandle’s little sister, walked past and entered The Wild Clover without a glance in our direction. DeeDee was into lots of pierced flesh, loud clashing colors, and carrying a purse the size of a suitcase. I was sure she’d been shoplifting from my store, but I hadn’t been able to prove it. Then I realized I hadn’t warned my sister to keep an eye on her.

“Sorry, Patti, I’ve got to get back inside,” I said, deciding on the spot to speak only kindness about surviving loved ones. At least for one day.

Twenty-one

I went back inside and shared my suspicions with Holly. Then I followed DeeDee around the store for a while without any red-handed results and was about to call it a day when I heard commotion at the front door. Holly had busted DeeDee with a bag of potato chips in her purse and four packs of gum in her jeans’ back pockets.

My sister had tackled DeeDee right on the sidewalk, pinned her to the pavement, and still had a hand free to use her cell phone to report the crime. Talk about multitasking.

“Since when did you learn wrestling holds?” I asked my sister.

“Let me up,” DeeDee wailed. “I didn’t do anything.”

After a little more scuffling, Holly produced the evidence.

I couldn’t believe my eyes. “Gum and chips? How damn dumb can you get, DeeDee? I know you have enough money to pay for that!”

“I’ll never do it again,” DeeDee said, crying full-out. “I’ve learned my lesson.”

Yeah, sure. Owning a store had taught me a few things I wished I didn’t have to deal with. Shoplifting was the biggie. I’d learned a little bit about shoplifters:• Most shoplifting crimes aren’t need-based.

• A lot of shoplifters get some kind of high out of it.

• It can be as addictive as drugs.

• Many of them keep doing it even after they are caught.

In my opinion, DeeDee was a classic case.

Holly still had her in some sort of professional power hold.

Sirens in the distance were coming our way. DeeDee looked at me like a trapped wild animal.

“Maybe we shouldn’t press charges,” I said to Holly. My sister, though, wasn’t about to catch and release this bottom-feeder. If it had been up to me, I would have let her go with a warning. “She feels bad enough,” I argued, “and she doesn’t need a criminal record. But I really do want to know where you learned those moves.”

“Self-defense class,” my sister said. “I modified just now, added a little offense.”

I asked Johnny Jay not to call any more attention to us than we’d already attracted by Holly’s sidewalk tackle, but he still left the lights flashing on his squad car while we all piled back into the store to find a private corner. All the while, DeeDee was denying any wrongdoing and begging to be released, but Johnny Jay kept a firm grip on her arm while he walked her to the back of the store.

I ended up working the cash register while Holly gave her report from the storage room. I tried to listen in, but it was hopeless. The squad lights had the locals all coming in for “forgotten” items, and I was stuck up front. It appeared that DeeDee had rounded up a little extra business for me while she worked on ruining her own life.

“The police chief locked himself out of his squad car with the lights going,” I replied to everyone’s inquiries, although they’d have the facts straight soon enough. Nothing was a secret around here for long. “He went looking for someone to bring a spare key. No big deal.”

After a while, the three of them came out of the back. DeeDee wasn’t wearing handcuffs, which was a good thing. Chatter in the store ceased. You could have heard a single corn silk hit the polished wood floor.

“It’s your call,” Johnny Jay said to me. “You own the store. She stole from you. What do you want to do?”

I didn’t know