Boosted Pt. 06

FOURTEEN

Monday morning Sean sat down behind his desk, taking a sip of his coffee as he did. Now that Paul was officially no longer part of the Brunswick PD, he was going to have to get serious about finding his replacement. He'd received plenty of résumés to choose his candidates from and he'd been glancing over them as they came in. They were all essentially the same, the only major difference being the name at top. All were men or women who had recently graduated or were graduating soon. Some had already passed their BLET while others were waiting to take the exam after their graduation in the spring.

He'd worry about that later. First, he wanted to check on Marmalade. Maggie had been a godsend Saturday, and then the break-in at Loch and Castle had occupied his thoughts Sunday, but he still wanted to find out how his cat was doing. He looked up the number for the vet and dialed.

"Brunswick Animal Hospital, how may I help you?" the friendly female voice asked.

"Sean McGhee. My cat, Marmalade, was kept over the weekend for treatment. I was calling to check on him."

"Just a minute, Mr. McGhee, let me check."

The line went silent for a moment before a recorded voice began telling him about the benefits of using oral anti-flea medication for his cat or dog. He listened to the anti-flea commercial, one for the high-quality pet food the clinic offered, and then one for making sure pets had their regular rabies vaccinations. He was in the middle of a public service message about making sure cats and dogs had plenty of fresh clean water when the woman came back on the line.

"Mr. McGhee, Doctor Brewster would like to call you back later, if that's okay? You can expect his call in the next hour or so."

"That's fine. Thank you," he said and slowly placed the handset back in the cradle. That didn't sound like good news. Wanting to take his mind off Marmalade, he pushed back from his desk and walked down the hall to the dispatcher's office. "Morning Terri. Is the word still being passed for the officers to keep an eye on BIGS?"

"Yes, sir."

"No reports?"

She typed on her computer a moment. "I don't see any notes, so I assume nobody has seen anything unusual."

He grunted. "Okay, thanks," he said before stepping out of the office. He was sure something was going on at BIGS at night, but there had been no activity Friday, Saturday, or Sunday night. He wondered if they'd gotten wind they were under suspicion and had shut down their side business. He huffed. Maybe it was as simple as crooks didn't like to work weekends either. He supposed it was also possible what he observed was totally legal and above board, but he didn't think so. He wasn't going to waste a lot of manpower on BIGS until he had something more concrete to go on than a hunch. He'd have his guys keep an eye on the place and see if what he witnessed was a one-off thing or if BIGS was running a regular operation at night.

He returned to his office. What he needed was a warrant ready to go so the next time BIGS was doing something suspicious they could raid them and catch the hoods in the act. Getting the warrant was the problem. He didn't have enough evidence to ask for one, so he wasn't even going to waste the magistrate's time. That, and he didn't want to get laughed out of the magistrate's office. So far, every warrant he'd asked for he'd gotten, and they'd paid off handsomely. If he was going to crawl out on a limb based on his reputation, he wanted it to be for something more important than theft. There might be a time when he needed that benefit of doubt, and he didn't want to waste it in case he was wrong about BIGS.

He pulled a stack of résumés from the corner of his desk. He had two folders containing résumés, those of the candidates he wanted to interview first, and everyone else. He hated doing interviews, and he especially hated doing them now after doing so many, so close together, during his hiring spree, but he couldn't put it off any longer. He quickly glanced through the twenty-odd résumés again, making sure he didn't change his mind on any of them, and then gathered the first group of six together. He tapped them on his desk to straighten them into a neat stack and then carried them to the dispatcher's office.

"Terri, will you please schedule these people for interviews this week? One in the morning, one in the afternoon, but not first thing in the morning, around lunch, or late in the afternoon, okay?"

"I know the drill," she said with a small smile, holding her hand out for the papers.

He nodded. She probably did. He relied on Kim and Terri for most of his administrative type work since they worked opposite each other and both were as reliable as the rising sun. "Thanks."

He returned to his office. His next call was to Ray, the owner and operator of Nailed It Renovations, the contractor that did the work updating the pub. He'd kept his number after the job was finished in case he needed to have additional work done... like now.

"This is Ray."

"Ray, Sean McGhee. I--"

"Hey, Sean. How's your pub doing?"

"Fine. Listen, I need you to replace a door for me as soon as you can."

"Replace a door? What happened?"

"Someone broke in through the back door and destroyed the jamb in the process. I have the door being held closed with a padlock at the moment. How soon do you think you can take care of this for me?"

"You want it replaced with the same type of door?"

"It doesn't have to look exactly the same, but yeah, I'd like to keep the character of the old door, if that's possible."

"It was solid oak, wasn't it, with raised panels?"

"Yeah, I think its oak."

There was a pause and Sean could imagine Ray scratching his head. "Can you send me a picture of the door? I'll try to find one that looks like it. Not many people carry solid wood doors anymore because they're so expensive."

Sean's heart sank. "How much are we talking about?"

"I don't know. I'll have to check, but you're probably looking at between seven-fifty and a thousand, installed."

"Ouch."

"Yeah. We could put in a steel door that would look the same, be stronger, cost a lot less, and require far less maintenance. It'd be easier to get too."

Sean began shaking his head before Ray finished speaking. "No. I think I want to stay true to the historic nature of the building. I'm sure I've got a picture of the door somewhere. I'll find it and send it to you. It doesn't have to be an exact match, since it didn't match the front door anyway, but if you can find one similar that'd be good. Also, while you're there, I might have you look at a couple inside doors. They got a little banged up too. It's nothing major, but I'd like you to take a look and see what you think."

"Sure, I can do that. Let me do some research on the replacement door and get back to you. I'll call you later today or tomorrow. We might have to order one to get a match. If we do, that'll probably add a couple of weeks to the schedule to allow for delivery."

"Okay, let me know what you find. Thanks, Ray."

After he hung up, Sean dug through the hundreds of photos he'd taken as the pub was renovated. He found two good ones of the rear door, a before and after shot from when Ray stripped off the old paint and stained the door. He also found before and after shots of the front door as well, in case Ray might want those. He quickly copied all four photos into an email and sent them off. He didn't want to wait two or three weeks to get the door repaired, but he'd gone to great lengths to preserve the building's character and he didn't want to ruin that now by slapping in a modern door just because it was more convenient. He rocked back in his chair with a long exhale through puffed cheeks. He had a five-thousand-dollar deductible, so even if the door was a grand installed, it still wouldn't meet his deductible, and the damage to the interior doors wasn't that noticeable if the repairs were going to be expensive.

Now that he'd gotten all his personal business taken care of, he was going to have to start earning his pay. He was going through his emails when his cell rang. He picked it up and accepted the call. "Sean."

"Mr. McGhee, Timothy Brewster, Brunswick Animal Hospital. How are you this morning?"

"Okay. How's Marmalade?"

"That's something I want to talk to you about. He's not responding well to the medication."

"What's that mean?" Sean pursed his lips in annoyance at his choice of words. "What I'm asking is, what's the next step?" he clarified.

"That means I'd like to try a different combination of drugs, but I wanted to prepare you for the worst."

"He's dying?"

"I wouldn't go that far, yet, but he's not doing well. I'd like to try changing up the drugs to see if he responds better, but, and I hate saying this, you need to start thinking about what's best for Marmalade."

"Putting him down?"

"If he doesn't respond to the new drugs, that would be my suggestion. He's deteriorating rapidly and though we could probably keep him alive for another month or two, you need to consider his quality of life."

Sean was silent for a long moment. "I understand. Is that, putting him down I mean, something we should do now?" he asked softly.

"Let's give him a couple of days to see if the new drugs work before we make that decision. I just wanted to let you know what was happening and to prepare you."

"Thank you, doctor."

"I'm sorry, Sean. These decisions are never easy."

"No."

"If you have any questions, feel free to call the office. I'll call you tomorrow afternoon and let you know how Marmalade is doing."

"Thank you," Sean said, his voice barely above a whisper.

He hung up slowly, staring at the phone as if he couldn't believe what he'd been told. He felt like he'd been punched in the chest. Just a couple of months ago Marmalade seemed fine, and now he was only a month, if not days, from dying. He rose from his desk and went to refill his mug, if only to have something to do. Today was going to be a really shitty day.

-oOo-

Sean hadn't been very productive during the morning but staying busy had helped keep his mind off Marmalade. Even though it was Monday, he'd done his walkabout so he could get out of the office for a little while and clear his head. As he walked slowly along the sidewalk, he'd had time to think, and he'd decided he wouldn't try to keep Marmalade alive at the expense of his quality of life. If the drugs helped, great, but if they didn't, he decided he'd do one last kind thing for the cat, even though the thought of putting Marmalade down made him want to cry. He'd returned to work and tried to focus on the tasks at hand. He was reviewing and signing off on invoices when his cell rang. His heart nearly stopped until he saw it was Laura calling and not the vet. He relaxed as he accepted the call.

"Hey Laura. What can I do for you?"

"Sean, the safe is gone!"

"Gone? What do you mean, gone?"

"Gone, as in not here! I came in today, intending to take the deposit to the bank, and the lock on the back door had been ripped off and the safe is missing!"

"I'll be right there," he said, hanging up as he rose, slapping the lid shut on his laptop as he did. The invoices were going to have to wait. "I've got to take a call," he said to Terri as he walked through the lobby without slowing.

He threw himself behind the wheel of his car, dropping his laptop in the passenger seat before starting the vehicle and backing out of his parking spot. He slammed the car to a stop before yanking the gear selector into drive and matting the throttle, the tires of his Dodge complaining at his rough treatment. He didn't turn on his siren, but he did light up his emergency strobes as he quickly worked his way through traffic on his way to Tilley. He banged to a stop in the parking lot, grabbed his laptop, and hurried to the door.

As Laura said, the hasp had been ripped from the jamb. "Laura?" he called as he entered.

"In the office!"

He entered the office, Laura standing in the middle of the room staring at the spot where the safe once set. The desk had been pushed aside, and there were deep gouges and broken boards in the wooden floor and on the wall, and he could see where the safe had been ripped loose from the floor. Whoever took the safe hadn't been gentle. She looked at him, her eyes wide.

"You okay?" he asked.

"No, I'm not okay! Why would anyone do this? You're trying to help Tilley, and they steal from you? There was over fifteen thousand dollars in there, not to mention my computer, the register drawers, the checkbook, everything!"

"It'll be okay. I'm insured. Why didn't the alarm go off?"

"I couldn't arm it because the door wouldn't close properly." She glanced around the office. "Bastards," she muttered. "You try to do something to help somebody, and this is the thanks you get."

"This was no simple smash and grab. This took some work. Let's look at the video and see if we can see anything."

He placed his computer on the desk and after opening the lid, downloaded the video from the cameras. Since he didn't know when the break-in occurred, he focused on the camera that was watching the back of the building and the rear door. He fast forwarded until he saw movement. He stopped the video and backed it up. As he and Laura watched, a hooded man approached the door with a long bar. The figure was wearing the same dark hoodie and using the same bar, so it was likely the same man who'd broken in before.

The man jammed the bar into the door and with a quick upward jerk, ripped the hasp free. He shoved the door open before he turned and ran.

"What's he doing?" Laura asked.

"Don't know. Maybe waiting to see if the cops show up?"

After a couple of minutes, Sean fast forwarded the video though ten minutes of nothing happening, resuming normal speed when the man returned, this time with buddies. They watched as a pickup backed up to the rear door. Four men, all wearing hoodies and gloves, jumped from the back, dragging an appliance dolly, the bar, and strangely, a large section of what appeared to be cardboard out with them, before the truck disappeared.

The crooks wasted no time and went straight to the office, bar-man forcing the door using the same technique he'd used before while another man wedged the shattered rear door shut with a door stop. Sean switched cameras and watched as the men entered the office and shoved the desk aside while another man wedged the carboard into the window.

Sean nodded in approval. They didn't turn on any lights, but the cardboard kept anyone from seeing them moving around in the office. That was probably why nobody saw them as they worked to steal the safe.

The four men first tried to slide the safe out from the wall. Failing that, they tried tipping the safe back, but that didn't work either. Next, they attacked the safe from the side, but again, they weren't able to get their cart under the vault despite their best attempts to tip the safe up so the dolly could slide underneath.

He smiled. There were four large anchors in the bottom of the safe, screwed into the floor joists, to prevent them from doing exactly what they were trying to do. The men paused, clearly trying to figure out how to attack the problem next. After about forty-five seconds of discussion and hand waving, one of the men picked up the bar and attacked the safe directly. The man couldn't find a good spot on the safe to wedge the bar into, and it kept slipping out when he applied pressure.

Sean and Laura snickered after the third slip when the man beat on the safe with the bar in frustration. There was more discussion, and one of the men gestured at the safe with a loose wristed motion, his pinky and pointer fingers extended while his middle two fingers were curled in.

"Did you see that?" Sean asked, pausing the video and backing it up.

"See what?"

"See how that guy waved his hand around," he said, pointing to the screen as the man gesticulated. He paused the video. He'd seen someone make that loose wrist pointing motion before, but where?

"Yeah, so?"

"I've seen that gesture, somewhere."

"Really? Where?"

"I... don't... know," he said slowly, "but I know I've seen it."

He started the video again. The men pushed and strained against the safe, finally finding some success when two of the men stood on top of the vault and slid the bar behind the safe to pry against the wall. Sean glanced to where the safe had set. That explained the gouges and broken wooden slats in the wall. The men heaved repeatedly on the bar, and he could see the safe rocking slightly away from the wall, until suddenly the vault yielded with a small lurch. One of the anchors at the back had broken free.

The safe didn't make it easy for them, but with a little room to wiggle the vault, the men were finally able to get the bar under the safe. With three men on the bar, the fourth using the dolly for additional leverage, the men slowly broke the safe free from the floor. Several more times one of the men, probably the leader, made the pointer and pinky gesture as they worked. When the last anchor broke free, the men, using the bar for leverage, managed to slowly work the safe away from the wall. They first tried to pick the safe up with the dolly on the side, but that proved to be too much weight hanging off the front of the dolly, and they couldn't lift it. More sliding of the safe allowed them to get the dolly behind it, and this time, with all four men straining, they managed to get the safe tipped back, only to overbalance and drop it. Sean glanced at the wall again. The handle of the dolly sliding down the wall explained the other huge gouge.

That started a shoving match between two of the men before they settled their differences and tried again. It would have been humorous watching the four men struggle with the safe if it were on YouTube, but not so much so since it was his property they were stealing. The four men, two on each handle, lifted the dolly, and then with stumbling and clumsy movements, they muscled the safe to the door.

They jerked to a stop, the vault slamming down, when they hit the door frame. The safe was too wide to fit through the door in its current orientation. Shoving and straining, they got the dolly out from under it and turned it ninety degrees, and after failing to pick the safe up again, used the bar to inch it through the door. That explained all the gouges and scrapes on the door frame and the floor around the door. When the safe was out of the office, Sean switched back to the hall camera and they watched as the safe slowly appeared through the office door before the men again used the dolly to roll the vault to the rear door. They were gaining experience, and it took only a moment to get the safe on the dolly and cover the length of the hall. They watched as gesture-man, the same man that used the bar, pulled out his phone and texted someone.

While the hoods waited, someone pulled the cardboard out of the window and picked up the wedge holding the door shut. Less than two minutes after the text, the truck appeared again. The driver backed the truck right up to the rear door, and the now five men, turned the safe and tipped it into the back of the truck. Lifting the safe to slide it into the bed of the truck almost defeated them, but with a final massive effort, they managed to get the safe lifted enough to slide it into the truck. Sean didn't know if the piece of cardboard between the safe and the truck bed was to make the vault easier to slide or to protect the truck's paint, but if it was to protect the truck, he didn't know why they bothered. He could almost hear the truck groan as the vehicle squatted with its load.

The vault was hanging precariously from the rear of the truck. Three of the men jumped into the bed and sat on the front of the safe, to prevent it from tipping out, as the driver and gesture-man climbed into the cab. The driver slowly pulled away, the truck wallowing with the weight, before the driver gently backed into a power pole to push the vault farther into the truck. He ended the video as the truck turned onto the road and disappeared from view. It had taken the crooks almost an hour from the moment the pickup first arrived until it left again loaded with the safe. If only one of the cruisers had passed in that ten-minute window when they were trying to get the safe into the truck.