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“I was going to let you fume and zoom like the Tasmanian devil and then ask if you wanted to talk about it.”
“Oh.” She paused. “That’s probably better.”
“You want to come over and see the new place? The living room furniture hasn’t been delivered, so we’d have to sit on the floor, but we can talk.”
“That’d be okay. I’m dying to see it anyway.”
I grabbed the cake from the walk-in and let Jazz be my guide, so I didn’t trip. We got it into the back of the van and secured it, and then Jazz went around to the driver’s side. She got in and started the engine. Or tried to. It made a noise, like the engine was trying to turn over, but it wouldn’t crank. She tried again.
“What the hell?” she grumbled.
“Hey, stop,” Duke called out.
He walked over to the hood of the van and popped it open. He frowned. “Nothing’s burning, and she’s tryin’ to crank, so the battery isn’t dead.” He pulled the air filter out and when he saw it was clean, he put it back and closed the hood. He then moved to the rear of the van, on the side with the gas tank, and crouched down.
“Yup, someone stole your gas. Tank’s been drilled. Look at the ground around it. Bunch of gas wound up just leaking out by the looks of it.”
“Someone stole ourgas?” I demanded. “Who the hell would do that?”
“A person in desperate need of gas, I assume.” Duke rubbed the back of his neck. “We need to check your security feed.”
I pulled out my phone and blew out a breath of air. “This feels a lot like déjà vu.”
I scrolled through the feed and pressed pause when I saw a figure on the edge of the screen. I hit play and observed someone wearing a hoodie get under the van with a drill and a gas can. The time stamp was close to three in the morning. I showed Duke the footage, and we watched as they went under the van, drilled the tank, and filled the gas can and then ran off, leaving the rest of the gas to drain out all over the ground.
“Yep. That’s all she wrote.” He sighed.
Jazz let out a string of curses. “How are we supposed to get this cake to the restaurant for the Bennington’s engagement party tonight?”
“The same way we did it before we even had the van. You drive my car, and I’ll sit with the cake on my lap,” I said.
“I’ll drive your car,” Duke said.
“You don’t have to be with me every moment,” I reminded him.
“But you’re gonna have to come back to the bakery when you’re done and pack your shit. So, I gotta help.”
“Just say yes,” Jazz said. “So we can get the show on the road.”
“Fine,” I muttered. “But I’m not happy about this.”
“Yeah.” Duke grinned. “I got that.”
Jazz pulled out her phone. “I’m calling Brielle. She’ll send Virgil to get the van and haul it back to Horace’s garage and get it fixed.”
An hour later, the cake was in the walk-in refrigerator at a restaurant across town and Jazz and I were free. Duke drove us to the bakery, and by the time we got back, the van had been picked up by Virgil.
Jazz’s phone beeped with a text, and she sighed. “I have to get home. Rain check on the commiserating?”
I nodded. “You sure you’re okay?”
“I’ll be fine,” she said. She turned to Duke. “Thanks for driving.”
“Anytime, Jazz.”
Jazz hopped in her car and left.
“What are you up to now?” Duke asked.
