A Dollhouse to Die For(9)

            Fried, in fact.

            Seeing as I wasn’t so stupid to live that I’d try to confront an intruder head-on, I snuck around the back to get a better peek. An alley ran behind the shops, but it was dark now and I couldn’t see much of anything. The rain had eased up so I closed the umbrella.

            Had I imagined it? It wouldn’t be surprising if I was a tad jumpy after everything that had happened tonight.

            Suddenly the back door burst open and someone ran out, clad in a black knit cap, bomber jacket, and jeans. He was carrying my dollhouse in his black-gloved hands.

            “Hey, you!” I yelled, forgetting to be scared. That was my dollhouse, damn it. “What do you think you’re doing?”

            Jasper, still not broken of the habit of jumping up on people, launched himself toward the intruder, who swerved and slipped on the wet brick path and dropped the dollhouse with a sickening thud.

            Crap.

            With a muffled curse, he scrambled to his feet and sprinted off down the alleyway.

            Whether it was a good idea to follow the guy or not, I don’t know, because I didn’t have much choice in the matter. Jasper was in full, all-out, enthusiastic pursuit.

            I hung on for grim death to the leash, trying to keep my balance on the slippery stones as I sprinted down the alleyway after him. Fueled by anger and adrenaline, my feet barely touched the ground.

            There was a corrugated iron fence at the end of the alley. The guy was small and slim, not much bigger than me. When I caught up with the creep, I’d let Jasper have at him first and then whack him with the umbrella. I’d teach him to try to steal a little girl’s birthday present.

            With one glance back at us, he vaulted up and over the fence in one smooth move and was gone.

            Heaving for breath, I stumbled to a halt. As frustrated as me, Jasper hurled himself up against the fence a few times, making the old metal clang and shudder.

            I doubled over, praying that I wouldn’t cramp up. “Okay, boy, it’s over. Stop, Jasper. Stop.”

            Gasping, I dug my cell phone out of my pocket and called 911. Then I called Joe and asked him to meet me at the store.

            A few minutes later, after I’d tried, unsuccessfully, to convince Joe that I hadn’t intentionally put myself in danger, Detective Serrano pulled up in his black Dodge Challenger, a throwback to the muscle car of the seventies. He gave me a tight smile when he jumped out.

            “I gotta tell you, Daisy, much as I like seeing you, this is getting ridiculous.”

            “I know, I know. What can I say?”

            After the store’s front and back doors had been fingerprinted, as well as my poor dollhouse, we went inside. Chilled to the bone now, I gave Serrano the lowdown on what had transpired.

            “How’d he get in?” Serrano asked. “Again, no sign of forced entry. Did you lock the deadbolt on this front door when you closed up at the end of the day?”

            “Yes, of course. I always do.” But then I remembered the passionate kiss Joe and I had shared before we left, the raindrops, and our hurry to get to dinner. Had I only turned the bottom lock on the doorknob and pulled the door shut? I couldn’t remember. “Well, um, I’m not absolutely sure I did tonight.”

            “So there’s no alarm system here?”

            “No, there isn’t,” Joe interjected. It was a sore point between us. He’d wanted one for ages, and I never wanted to make the investment.

            “Was anything else taken?”