Dyer Consequences by Maggie Sefton Read Free Book Online Page A

Everyone’s afraid, so no one will identify the culprits.”
    “How will you catch them?” It was impossible to keep the anxiety from her voice.
    “Dan and the guys are working on it. Don’t worry, Kelly. Someone will slip up and say something. And Dan will find them.” Burt’s careworn face drew into what she recognized as a fatherly smile. A former cop’s fatherly smile.
    Kelly managed a sardonic smile in return. “Everyone tells me not to worry. Curt says don’t worry about all the extra expenses. You tell me not to worry about a bunch of gang wannabes who like to break into places around town and who may have targeted me now. I gotta tell you, Burt. Everyone’s asking a helluva lot.”

Five
    Kelly zipped her running jacket to her chin as she left the cottage and walked over to the square post by the corner of her front yard. It was her favorite place to stretch before setting off on a morning run—when it wasn’t covered with snow.
    Thanks to the warmer temperatures over the last two days, most of the snow had melted into slushy piles. Since the early morning February sun was fairly weak, those slush piles were ice-covered now and would be until noon.
    She stretched one long leg behind her as she leaned against the post. A flash of movement across the driveway caught her attention, and Kelly saw Pete race down the café’s back steps and through the outside patio behind the shop.
    “What’s up, Pete?” she yelled as she stretched her other leg. “I thought I was the only one who went running this early.”
    Pete came to a stop as he rounded the corner of the patio and spotted Kelly. He quickly changed direction and headed her way.
    Kelly wondered why Pete was outside on a busy Saturday morning, until she glanced toward the parking lot. No cars were in sight except Pete’s old beige Volvo and Eduardo’s new green pickup. That’s strange. Saturday is their busiest day of the week.
    “Hey, where are your customers, Pete? I’ve never seen this parking lot empty on a Saturday morning.”
    Pete panted as he came to a stop, his normally smiling face filled with concern. “I . . . I told Eduardo . . . to wave them off. The café and the shop were hit last night by vandals. ” He drew in a breath as he brushed a stray lock of blond hair off his forehead.
    Kelly’s heart sank. The vandals had come back, and this time they’d found bigger targets. “Ohhhh, no! Pete, I’m so sorry.” She reached out and gave his arm a squeeze. He’d run outside without his coat and was standing in his shirt-sleeves, shivering. “Let’s go back inside. Have you called the police yet?” She beckoned Pete toward the café.
    "Y-yeah, I called them first thing. And Mimi. Sh-she’s on her way,” he said through chattering teeth. “R-Rosa should be here, too. She works Saturdays in the shop.”
    Kelly raced through the patio, her feet barely touching the flagstones, and up the back steps, Pete trailing behind. Afraid of what she’d see, Kelly shoved open the glass door and stepped inside. She sucked in her breath.
    Broken glass and bottles were scattered all over the wooden floor, beer and wine pooling into puddles. Piles of what looked like flour or sugar were dumped everywhere. Napkins, silverware, dishes, candles, and jelly jars were jumbled all together beneath overturned tables and chairs.
    “Oh, no . . . ,” Kelly whispered. “This is awful.”
    “Wait’ll you see the kitchen. It’s worse,” Pete said sadly, walking through the destruction. “They left the refrigerator doors open and pulled everything to the floor. Spaghetti sauce is all over. All the food is ruined.”
    Kelly followed him to the kitchen and flinched when she saw the damage. Pete wasn’t kidding. Spaghetti sauce smeared the counters, dripped down the grill, and splashed onto the walls. The smell of oregano and basil hung in the air. Wilting vegetables were scattered across the floor. Cheese balls lay where they’d rolled into corners,