“You know I’m no good with pets, Boss. Or horses. Or demons.”
“You say that, but I haven’t seen any proof.”
He pulled his boots, one at a time, off the desk and gave me a narrow look. “You wouldn’t.”
I shrugged. “I’m going to foist her off on Jean, since she wriggled out of helping Bertie with…well, with everything. I think it’s time she pitches in with something more strenuous than beating her boyfriend at video games.”
“Good. Yes, that’s smart thinking, Chief. She’s at Hogan’s bakery.”
“How do you know?”
“She’s always there this time of day if she’s not on duty.”
I tipped the coffee cup in thanks, then took it into the bathroom and poured it down the sink. Hogan had better coffee anyway.
“…Bertie wants to talk to you,” Hatter said as I came back down the hall.
“Why? Who does she want to rope into volunteering this time?”
“Shoe. Which is a damn shame, because that man could not keep his fingers off a sweet if it was rolled in rat poison. But that’s not what I was talking about.”
“All right, what’s up with our one and only local Valkyrie?” I tugged the stapler out of the dragon pig’s mouth, wiped the ash off it, and returned it to my desk. “Bad dragon pig. You’re going to spoil your appetite for dinner. We have a nice park bench you can demolish.”
The dragon pig made squeaky, chew-toy sounds and scratched its little butt against the corner of my desk.
“Robbery,” Hatter said.
I straightened. “She stole something?” At his look, I amended, “Someone stole something from Bertie? Our Bertie?” Just the idea of it was staggering.
She might look like a little old lady, but I’d seen her “accidentally” stab the mailman with her apple knife when she thought he’d left her mailbox open in the rain.
“She came in and made an official report and everything.”
He dug around in the paper on the desk, leaned back, and offered a sheet to me.
I scanned it. “A feather. She’s reporting a missing feather.”
“Yup. Says it’s important to her. Capital F Feather important. Large, too, ‘bout yea big.” His hands marked off three feet or so.
“Pearl, opal, diamond dust, and gold,” I recited. “Was it locked up?”
“It was on a shelf in her office. Out in the open. You’ve seen it.”
I frowned. Had I?
I’d been to her office two days ago, when she’d informed me she was going to invite some new businesses from outside Ordinary to show their wares at the High Tea Tide. She’d, of course, alreadydoneall that, but she still filled me in like it was news just the same.
I pulled up an image of her office in my mind. Big wooden desk in the center of the room, shelves behind her, windows to the sides. Her chair wide at the head and cushioned. Two visitor chairs, plain dark wood.
Her nest was made to be comfortable for her, which meant it was set up so she could shove visitors out the door when she got tired of them.
Her desk had all the normal things one would expect of someone who kept the town busy with outreach and events—computer, pen holder, stapler, a little hourglass on a swivel.
Behind her were a scattering of certificates and awards in gold frames.
I thought about the shelves. Had I seen a big sparkly Feather?
My headache cranked down again. I stuck my thumb against my temple and pressed.
