Free Skating Under the Wire: A Mystery (Rebecca Robbins Mysteries) by Joelle Charbonneau

wall, and poking out of folders stacked up around the floor. The only thing not coated in paper was the computer that Sean was at the moment calling a string of very colorful names.
    “Troubles?” I asked.
    Sean jumped, sending a folder perched near his elbow careening to the floor. “Crap.”
    He leaned down and gathered the papers that had slid out of the folder and shoved them back inside. Without looking up, he asked, “Do you need something? I’m kind of busy here.”
    I leaned against the door frame and smiled. “Did you decide to take up origami? If so, I might remember how to make a dog. Jack Gatto showed me how in Algebra.”
    “Jack Gatto was a dog.”
    Since the person in question got two girls pregnant at the end of his senior year, I couldn’t argue the point. “So what are you doing in here? Shouldn’t you be saving the world from jaywalking?”
    “I could write you a ticket now, if you’d like.” Sighing, Sean ran a hand through his hair and looked around the room. “Roxy reorganized the sheriff’s case files. I’m trying to put them back into some logical order while she’s out sick. I don’t know what she was thinking when she set up the new system. It doesn’t make any sense.”
    Something told me logical order wasn’t on the top of Roxy’s priority list when creating the filing system. Roxy had a serious crush on Deputy Sean, one he either didn’t notice or chose to turn a blind eye to. Ensuring that Sean had to enlist her help whenever he needed to find a file would give Roxy ample opportunity to flex her flirting muscles. Too bad Roxy had called in sick or she could be milking the helping-look-for-a-file routine right now.
    Since my mother taught me manners, I felt compelled to ask, “Is there anything I can do to help?” Tracking down a paper shredder or creating a bonfire seemed like good options.
    Thank goodness Sean turned down my request, which allowed me to circle back to my purpose in coming here. “Annette said she gave you a list of the clients who were in her salon the day before her house was broken into. Could I get a copy?”
    Sean raised an eyebrow and gave a pointed look to the explosion of paper on his desk. “You want me to find a file for you?”
    I smiled and held out the Danishes.
    Sighing, Sean took the box and said, “Tell you what, if you can find the file on Annette’s robbery, you can read it. It used to be filed under R for Robbery.”
    Made sense.
    As Sean dove into the Danishes, I took off the flannel coat, pulled open the first filing drawer, and began to search. After a few minutes, Roxy’s filing system became clear. Public nuisance reports were filed under C for Cow Tipping. Automobile accidents were in the F drawer for Fender Bender, and all drunk-and-disorderly records were listed under P for Pete’s Pub.
    Mildly disturbed that I was following Roxy’s train of thought, I dove into the T drawer. Eureka! There were the case folders for the Thanksgiving Day robberies. I found the file devoted to Annette’s break-ins, flipped to the list in question, and felt my pulse spike.
    There in the middle of the list was a name I not only recognized but knew had been connected to other thefts over a dozen years ago. Thefts Sean and the sheriff’s department knew nothing about.
    I had my first suspect.

 
    Six
     
    I copied the list into my handy-dandy notebook, refiled the folder, and slammed the drawer closed with a satisfying thud. It was time to hit the road.
    Grabbing my borrowed coat, I turned toward the door and found my path blocked by a baffled, Danish-holding Sean. “You found what you were looking for? How did you manage that?”
    “Maybe it was my keen investigative skills,” I quipped.
    “More likely it was dumb luck.”
    I wanted to be offended, but Sean wasn’t far off the mark.
    “If I didn’t know better,” he said, brushing Danish crumbs off his shirt, “I’d have thought you and Roxy plotted this whole files debacle just to