Free Reluctant Detective by Finley Martin

Ma’am?”
    His penlight sent a sharp, narrow beam at Anne. Her head turned round, she flinched, and covered her eyes. The cop shifted the light toward the ground and walked over to her.
    â€œYou okay?”
    Anne nodded.
    â€œDid they take anything?” His light spilled across the broken car window.
    Anne stood up and smoothed her clothes. The camera strap tugged at her shoulder. She felt a glint of rage creep into the back of her mind. Then it disappeared.
    â€œNo,” she said. Her voice sounded calm and deliberate. “I had my camera with me. They must have seen the empty case and…” Her sentence slipped away.
    â€œDon’t worry, lady. Insurance should cover yer window. They can replace that in an hour. You want to fill out a report?”
    â€œWho does things like this? Did anyone see what happened?”
    â€œKids probably. Young punks. Some guy popped outta the school for a smoke and heard glass breaking.” The cop paused for a moment. Then he continued. “Musta been your car. The other cars were jimmied. Anyway, he hollered… they took off… out the back access road… past the stadium.”
    â€œWill you catch them?”
    â€œNot likely. The fella couldn’t ID the car or see who was inside. So unless we catch ’em with stolen goods…” The cop shrugged. Then he continued his flashlight investigation down the line of cars.
    Anne rolled down the broken window. The glass that remained in the track grated and scraped as it dropped into the hollow pocket of the side panel. She picked up the shards of glass on her seat and dropped them on the floor. Then she took the blanket and brushed off the finer pieces. She shook the blanket out, folded it over the seat, and got behind the wheel.
    Anne drove away, not along the route she had come in, but along the back access road and past the stadium, the same route the thieves had taken. She had no realistic hope of finding them. They were long gone, but, after she intersected upper North River Road, she crossed over the Ellen’s Creek Bridge on a whim and turned down toward Lewis Point. She had no reason to go there other than her feeling that aimless driving gave her the illusion of purpose. And this quiet, affluent neighbourhood with broad avenues and little traffic would give her an undisrupted opportunity to think. That offered at least a shred of hope and maybe, just maybe, she thought, she could hammer out an idea or two that might lead her out of this mess.
    After half an hour of driving around in circles, Anne reckoned that her thinking followed the same pattern. What do I really know , she thought. Practically nothing. The cop thought that the thieves probably were kids. Who they were was anyone’s guess. Maybe Ben could get a list of suspects from the juvenile division. Likely a long list, though. Then again, the cop said that the doors were jimmied. That takes a bit of skill. Maybe that would narrow the list. Most likely they’re familiar with Central High and the night school schedule. Could be a current student. Could be one that had quit, too. Either made sense. But getting a list from Ben, even if that were possible, would take some time and, by then, the money would be impossible to trace. Too many ifs and maybes.
    Anne pulled the car over, took out her cell phone, and tapped in her home number.
    â€œHi, Jacqui. Whatcha doin’?”
    â€œTV. What’s up?”
    â€œHomework done?”
    â€œMom,” she said with astonishment, “tomorrow’s the last day of school! Well, half-day anyway,” she corrected herself.
    â€œSorry, honey. Guess I’m not thinking too clearly. What goes on tomorrow?”
    â€œWe get report cards. Maybe some special treats in home room. Then there’s usually some activity in the auditorium. Movie or sports competition. Fun stuff.”
    â€œSounds wonderful. Wanted to let you know that I’ll be late