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As soon as breakfast was over the next morning, Vinnie and his small family took off to do some sightseeing. Carlita and Pete hopped into his pickup for the short drive to the outskirts of town. “Sterling owns a couple of dealerships in the area. The one we’re going to is the biggest of the bunch. I bought this truck from him, and if I remember correctly, his office was at this location.”

They pulled into the lot and found an empty parking spot in front of the sprawling glass and brass building. There were cars, trucks, vans and SUVs everywhere, for as far as the eye could see.

Carlita let out a low whistle. “This place is huge.”

“Like I said, his other lots are a little smaller.” Pete climbed out and went around to the other side to hold the door for his wife. “Hopefully, Sterling is here and has time to chat with us.”

Entering through the double doors, they stopped at the front desk. The receptionist directed them down a long, gleaming hallway to a row of offices. Behind the glass partitions, Carlita could see employees seated at their desks.

They made a sharp left and walked to the end, where they found another receptionist. A large black and gold sign affixed to the front of her modern semi-circular desk read, “Corporate Offices.”

Pete approached the counter. “Good morning. My name is Pete Taylor. This is my wife, Carlita. We’re wondering if Russell is around.”

“Do you have an appointment with Mr. Sterling?”

“We do not.”

“What is the reason for your visit?”

“It’s a personal matter.”

“He has a tight schedule and normally requires meeting appointments made in advance,” she primly replied. “What did you say your name was?”

“Pete Taylor. We’re local business owners. Mr. Sterling will recognize my name,” he said.

“I’ll check to see if he’s available.” The woman sprang from her chair and hurried off.

Carlita waited until she was gone. “Do you think he’ll be curious enough to find out what the personal matter is?”

“Maybe.” Pete rocked back on his heels. “I give it a fifty-fifty chance.”

“I hope he does. If not, it’s back to the drawing board,” Carlita sighed. “And on to Plan B.”

“Which is?”

“I have no idea.” She noticed the woman coming toward them. “Here she comes,” she whispered under her breath.

“Mr. Sterling has agreed to see you,” the receptionist said. “But he only has a few minutes, so you’ll need to make it quick.”

“We will.” Pete placed a light hand on Carlita’s back as they followed the woman down the long hall to the office at the end.

Although the other offices were small squares with clear glass windows enabling those passing by to see inside, the CEO’s windows sported privacy blinds, all of which were closed.

The woman gave the signal for them to enter. Carlita followed Pete inside the surprisingly spacious office. To the right was a seating area with oversized leather chairs and a matching sofa facing a floor-to-ceiling brick fireplace.

Windows on both sides of the fireplace offered views of a charming Savannah courtyard, filled with greenery and even a tiered, flowing fountain.

Sterling’s desk, a large U-shaped modern style with the same glass and brass Carlita had noticed when they arrived, was opposite the cozy sitting area.

The style struck her as warm and inviting on one side as opposed to all business on the other. Seated behind the desk was a thin man with salt and pepper colored hair, poofy on top and slicked back on both sides. His thick moustache was the same salt and pepper shade.

He slowly stood. A flicker of recognition crossed his face when he saw the couple. Sterling strolled around the desk and extended his hand. “Pete Taylor. When Ginny said someone was here to see me and gave me your name, it didn’t click.” He grasped Pete’s hand in a firm handshake. “How are you?”

“Doing good. Thank you for seeing us on such short notice.” Pete motioned to Carlita. “This is my wife, Carlita.”

“It’s my pleasure to meet you.” Sterling shook her hand and hesitated. “I believe I remember seeing you last night at Steve Winter’s fundraiser, although we didn’t officially meet. You own the authentic Italian restaurant in Walton Square.”

“Ravello’s Italian Eatery,” Carlita said. “My daughter and I were co-hosting the event. As you can imagine, it was a little chaotic. It’s nice to meet you as well.”

“So…the receptionist said you were here to discuss a personal matter,” he prompted.

“Our businesses were broken into after the fundraiser.” Carlita told him what had happened. “I ran into Claryce Magillicuddy earlier. She mentioned you also recently had a break-in.”

“I…uh. Yes.” Sterling shoved his hands in his pockets. “The office was broken into. I filed a police report and haven’t heard back.”

“Obviously, you have surveillance cameras. Were you able to get a glimpse of who the vandals were?” Pete asked.

“I turned everything I had over to the investigators.”

Carlita reached for her phone. “I have a recording of the two burglars who broke into my pawn shop, our corner store grocery, and my neighbor’s business. Perhaps if you could take a quick look at what we have, you can tell us if they match your individuals.”

Sterling’s expression grew grim. “I don’t want to see your video,” he snapped. “Unless you’re working with the investigators.”

The way the man said it, Carlita knew he wasn’t the least bit interested in figuring out if whoever broke into his car dealership were the same two who had burglarized the Walton Square businesses.

He pointedly tapped his watch. “At the risk of sounding rude, I have a conference call starting soon and need to get back to work.”

Pete thanked him for his time. He remained silent until they had exited the office and returned to the truck. “That was an awkward conversation.”

“Sterling wasn’t at all interested in finding out if there might be a link between his break-in and ours,” Carlita said. “As soon as he realized why we were there, he was in a big hurry to get us out.”

“Maybe the authorities are close to figuring out who it is and Sterling knows it,” Pete theorized.

“It’s possible. If you don’t mind, I would like to swing by the police department to see if we can get a copy of his police report.”

“Your wish is my command.”

Reaching the police station’s parking lot, Carlita hopped out and caught up with her husband on the sidewalk. Although it had been some time since her last visit, it hadn’t changed, projecting an overall gloominess.

The walls were a dull gray, almost the exact same color as the cement floors. Fluorescent lights ran the length of the ceiling. The lights did little to help brighten the drab interior.

The clerk behind the desk greeted them with the same level of enthusiasm the interior inspired. Carlita met the man’s unhappy expression with a forced smile. “Good morning.”

“Morning.”

“My name is Carlita Taylor. Someone broke into my business the night before last. Not only my business, but two others in the neighborhood. We believe they may be linked to a similar break-in at Sterling Automotive Group and were wondering if we could get a copy of the police report.”

“For your incident? Reports aren’t released to the public for up to ten days.”

“I understand. I would like a copy of the car dealership’s police report.”

“I’ll have to charge you.” The clerk rattled off what Carlita thought sounded like a reasonable fee.

“I’m okay with the fee.”

He grabbed a pen and notepad. “What was the name again?”

“Sterling Automotive Group. I believe it happened two or three weeks ago.”

“Wait here.” Heaving a heavy sigh, the man shoved his chair back and tromped off.

“He’s a cheerful fellow,” Pete remarked.

“Who apparently loves his job,” Carlita said sarcastically. “Life is too short to spend your days in a place that makes you miserable.”

“I couldn’t agree more.” He playfully nudged her arm. “Speaking of life being too short, how is it going with booking our cruise vacation?”

“I’m thinking about working on it.”

“Meaning you haven’t started searching,” Pete teased.

“Not yet. It’s on my to do list, just not my today list.”

“I guess I’ll have to step up to the plate and plan it myself.”

“Let’s get our trip to New Jersey out of the way and then we can pick a date.”

“It’s a deal.”

Their conversation ended when the clerk returned. He set a small stack of papers on the desk. “Your total is ten dollars and seventy cents.”

“Ten dollars,” Carlita gasped. “I thought you said it was only a couple of bucks.”

“A couple dollars per page, plus tax.”

“Highway robbery,” she complained under her breath, as she fumbled with her wallet. Carlita reluctantly gave him the exact amount and took the papers. “I hope this is worth it.”

“It would’ve been cheaper to go over there and get a copy from the other party.”

“We already tried. He wasn’t interested in talking.” She thanked the man and followed her husband out of the police station. During the ride home, she skimmed over the papers. The first page was basic information about the incident. The date, the time, the responding officer.

She flipped to the next page and slid her glasses on, reading the handwritten notes about the burglary. Halfway down, a single sentence hit Carlita’s radar. “Pete, I found something very interesting.”