return. She’d deal with Mr. Furry Witness for the Prosecution later.
“It wasn’t a crowbar, though,” Robert clarified. “The dude, he was on a skateboard and tried to, like, skate down the handrail. He fell off, and the skateboard hit him in the head in midair. And then when he landed, it was, you know, on top of him. I can show you on YouTube if you want to see it.”
“Thanks, I’ll pass,” Darla said. “But until we know what really happened to Curt, the new rule is that no one works alone in the evenings, and the doors all stay locked and the alarm stays set before and after business hours, no exceptions.”
“I concur with your plan,” James said. “Better to be overly cautious than overly confident in this sort of situation. Between the Russian gangs and the scrap thieves, we could be dealing with some very dangerous customers, indeed. Perhaps we should review the schedule to make certain that our shifts will overlap accordingly?”
“Yeah, and I can look at the security videos in the mornings for you if, you know, you want me to,” Robert added. “See if anyone is prowling around outside.”
Darla nodded as she pulled up the weekly schedule on the computer. “Good idea, Robert. That can be your job every morning from now on. I’ll show you how to play back the recordings. James, see what you think if I switch around your hours a bit on these days.”
She made some quick adjustments to the schedule and got James’s blessing, then printed off a few copies. “Robert,” she said, “can you stay on the clock a little longer? I need to run down to Jake’s place for a bit. I’ll show you the security system routine as soon as I get back.”
“Okay. Hey, are you gonna look at the window display I made?”
He sounded so eager that she smiled. She’d forgotten that she had given him free rein to do something with the two political autobiographies that had been gathering dust for a week. So distracted had she been by thoughts of Curt that she’d walked right past the window without even looking at it. She glanced over at James, who merely nodded. She wasn’t sure if the gesture indicated a positive review of the teen’s artistic abilities or not. But if his skills were good enough for Bill’s Books and Stuff . . .
“You should look at it from the outside,” he added. “I’ll go with you, if you want.”
“Sure,” she agreed, “but leave Hamlet in the store. He’s not allowed out of the building.”
The feline in question gave her a peeved look as Robert obediently dislodged him onto the register counter. “Sorry, bro,” he explained as Hamlet stalked to the counter’s far edge and sat with his back deliberately to them, “but Ms. Pettistone is, like, the boss.”
Darla could almost hear the she’s-not-the-boss-of-me vibes emanating from the disgruntled cat. But whether or not Hamlet liked it, she was on a campaign to keep him safely indoors, particularly in light of recent incidents.
With Robert trailing her, she left James to deal with Hamlet’s mood and headed outside. Unlike Hilda’s shop, which was at ground level, the windows of Darla’s bookstore were almost head high—one reason she’d been lax in doing much more than putting out the occasional “Big Sale” sign behind the glass. Almost any halfway competent display would thus be an improvement. She only hoped that Robert’s efforts were not so amateurish that she’d have to find some excuse to redo his work that wouldn’t hurt his feelings.
“So, uh, what do you think?” he asked as she dismounted the final step and turned for a look at what he’d done.
Darla stared in surprise. The end result was as professional as any window display that Hilda had ever created. She recognized the two table runners—one blue, one red—that had been tucked on a shelf in the storeroom ever since she’d taken over the shop. Robert had arranged the fabric on the broad inner sill so that the two pieces met in the middle of the display, each half of the display space lined now in its own color. The two authors were of different political persuasions, and she saw that he had put their respective books on the appropriate color for their particular affiliation. Even better, both covers featured three-quarter photos of their authors, so the two politicians appeared to be facing each other in point-counterpoint style. In between the figuratively dueling politicos, Robert had