RaeAnne Thayne - Blackberry Summer

L OUSY, STUPID HOROSCOPE .

Claire Bradford stood with one hand on the doorway and the other clutching her coffee go-cup as she stared at the chaotic mess inside her store.

According to the starsat least according to the horoscope in the Hope Gazette shed scanned while standing in line at her friend Mauras coffee shop for her morning buzz after dropping the kids off at schoolshe was supposed to prepare herself for something fun and exciting headed her way today. She had been thinking more along the lines of a few dozen new customers at her bead store or maybe a big commission on one of her more intricate custom pieces.

Discovering that String Fever had been burglarized during the night didnt exactly fit her personal definition of either fun or exciting.

Beads covered the beige berber in a glittery, jumbled disaster as apparently someone had yanked out an entire vast display of tiny clear drawers and dumped their contents all over the floor. Her cash register drawer was open and the small amount of cash she kept on hand to make change was missing. Her office door had been left ajar, too, something she never did, and even from here, she could see a big, dusty, empty spot on her desk where her computer should be.

She could handle the material loss and her computer was automatically backed up off-site several times a day. The mess, on the other hand, would be a nightmare to clean up. Claire gave a tiny whimper and closed her eyes, dreading the hours and days of work ahead of her, re-sorting all those scattered beads into their hundreds of proper compartments. String Fever was hanging by a thread anyway in the uncertain economy. How could she afford the time and energy involved in setting things to rights again?

Chester whined beside her, his basset hound features even more morose than usual. He was uncanny at picking up her emotions. She scratched behind his acres-long ears. I know, buddy. Sucks, doesnt it?

She dug in her coat pockets to find where shed stowed her cell phone so that she could dial 9-1-1. She had only punched in one number before the phone vibrated in her hand and suddenly the nuclear meltdown alert ringtone she had programmed for her mother sounded its death knell through the empty store.

Yeah, not much fun or excitement there, either. Rotten horoscope.

Chester whined again. He hated that ringtone as much as she did. Claire swallowed her groan and despite thirty-six years of better instincts, she hit the talk button to accept the call. Ruth Tatum had trained her daughter well. Mom, I cant talk right now. Sorry. The store has been robbed. Ill call you back as soon as I can, okay?

Robbed? Youve got to be kidding!

Really, Mom? You think Id joke about something like this?

How would I know? Ruth went on the defensive, as she did so well. Youve always had a weird sense of humor.

Yeah. That was her. Making up stories about her store being robbed just to go for the cheap laugh. Im not joking. The store really has been robbed.

Thats terrible! What did they take?

I dont know yet. I just walked in the door and barely had a chance to even react before you called. I need to go so I can call the police, Mom.

Well, call me as soon as you can and tell me whats going on. Do you need me to come down there?

Sure, like she needed to stick a couple dozen earring hooks in her eyeballs. Not right now. Thanks for the offer, though. Ill call you later.

She hung up and quickly dialed the police.

Hopes Crossing Emergency Dispatch. What is the nature of your emergency?

She recognized the dispatcher as a neighbor and one of her frequent customers, Donna Mazell, though her voice seemed pitched a little higher than normal.

Hey, Donna. This is Claire at String Fever. I need to report a crime. I just came in to open my store and discovered an apparent burglary.

Oh, lordy be. Not another one!

Another one?

Youre the fourth store in town to report a break-in today. Weve got ourselves a genuine crime spree! The guys are going crazy trying to stay on top of everything.