AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Oh, Davie, tell me he didnotdo this to me. Tell me! Thatrat!”
My brother shifted instantly into security professional mode. He told me, “Stay back while I take pictures.”
He snapped and snapped with his phone camera. I fought off tears.
That rat-bastard! If it was him …
I knew what Davie was going to do next. He called Jerry to inform him of the vandalism; Jerry said he was on his way to us.
Then Davie called 911, and finally, phoned his night crew. I heard him say, “Pull up and examine the security feed …” and I zoned out.
Not panicking. Not panicking.
When I moved into the shop last spring, Davie’s security team had put a couple of cameras in the front as well as two in the back on the alley side. It was a pretty old building and didn’t have any built-in security—no amenities really—when I leased it. I made sure the kitchen was immaculately clean. I painted the shop area and had new flooring put in. A simple painted sign out front. That was it.
“Davie, we have to look at the alley entrance, too.”
He nodded, but said instead, "We need to wait for the police now. They’ll see what's going on back there. Not you. Not me.”
Then something occurred to him. "What time is your first delivery?”
In the excitement and distress, I tried to remember. “Around 5:30. Just one delivery today.”
My big brother nodded.
My mind was racing. Would this close the shop today? I was guessing that it all depended on if and when I could get to the kitchen. If I could, would I even have the time to do the breakfast rush baking?
What with the recent police report Davie and I had filed not long ago at home, I wasn't surprised at the police officers’ response. They took my keys and went inside, telling us to wait out front. From the interior, we heard “Clear!” as they made their way through the shop and kitchen to the back alley.
The back door was ajar, they said. Jimmied. The commercial dumpster had been emptied right on top of the back doorstep.
They again took the name and last known address of that rat bastard stalker of mine.
I made a statement. So did Davie. Jerry was asked to comment as well with any of his observations about that last incident report.
Why was it so complicated to just stop seeing someone you thought of as a casual friend? Oh, yeah! It was because he was apsychopathicvillainis why.
Unfortunately, the police saved the worst news for last.
My walk-in refrigerator had been ransacked. Barrels of flour overturned. Eggs smashed. Liquid ingredients poured out onto the floor. Literally, they said, there was nothing left on shelves. All overturned, emptied.
The officers weren’t familiar with the equipment, and couldn’t say if it had been vandalized.
Ruined. Hundreds of dollars’ worth of ingredients. Maybe thousands of dollars in equipment. Unusable.
Deep breath. Control what I can. Control what I can.
I made a mental list of my calls. Insurance. Vendors. The landlord, as a courtesy. Alex and Amy. Davie had a clean-up crew on tap.
Equipment? How would I know what was done to any of it?
That made me think about Leighton Peterson. Would he help?
Crap. Can’t call him. Can’t. No. No. No.
Long story short? I would not be opening today, and perhaps not tomorrow either if the equipment was damaged and if I couldn’t replenish my inventory today.
Control what I can.
