RASCALLY RACCOON RIOT (PAPERBACK)

Chapter 1
Angela Atkinson leaned against the horn on the steering wheel of her black SUV.

Beep!

The leaves on the nearby oak rustled overhead, and she cringed as a flock of turtle doves took off into the crisp, winter air, shattering the serenity of the otherwise peaceful neighborhood.

Ruff McPaw, her trusty border collie, best friend, and dog in crime, whined from his spot in the passenger seat and buried his face in his paws. He tilted his head and glared at her.

Seriously? Do you have to force this old bucket of bolts to make that horrendous sound?

He barked softly, and a low growl emitted from his throat. He had keen senses in the first place, being a dog and all, but since he officially became Angela’s right-hand dog and a private investigator, he liked to think they’d gotten even stronger. His expert nose and eagle ears had been essential in cracking more than a few of Angela’s toughest cases, but there were times, like now, when they could be seriously annoying.

Another minute went by, and Angela let out a long breath as she honked again, craning her neck toward the front door of her best friend Michelle Blackfoot’s house. The curtains covering the windows didn’t ruffle, and neither Ruff nor Angela could see any movement from inside the house.

That’s odd. Ruff barked softly as he scanned the yard. Michelle was the editor-in-chief of the Hummings Hollow Gazette and was rarely late. Punctuality was always important, but Ruff thought it would be even more so today, of all days.

Angela leaned on the horn again, wincing as Ruff whimpered louder this time, trying to whack her hand away. She knew he hated the sound, but if they didn’t hurry, they were going to miss the beginning of the auction.

“I know, boy, I’m sorry,” Angela reached over to scratch behind Ruff’s ears. “I know it’s loud for those doggy ears of yours.”

Ruff huffed, his hot breath fogging the passenger side window. You have no idea. It’s like torture. Now my head is ringing!

A few seconds later, though, her persistence paid off and the front door of the house swung open. Michelle rushed out, weighed down by an overstuffed purse and a towering pile of books and papers that looked ready to topple from her arms at any moment. Angela swung open the passenger door to let Ruff hop into the back seat.

“What on earth are you wearing?” Angela stifled a laugh as Michelle crammed herself into the front, trailing scarves, and the musty smell of mothballs along with her. Her long black hair was pulled back into a neat bun, and a large pink hat that looked like it had come straight out of Victorian England obscured her dark brown complexion.

Michelle rolled her eyes. “I’ve been a journalist long enough to know that if I’m gonna go undercover, I have to look the part.”

Angela shook her head but allowed Michelle to buckle up as Ruff hopped into the backseat. He growled at the makeshift service dog vest draped across the seat and Angela clicked her tongue. “If you want to get into that auction, mister, you’re going to have to suffer through wearing that vest for a few hours.” He hated the vest and Angela wasn’t proud of it, but it was the only way to get him into otherwise restricted areas. Besides, if she left him at the farm without a good reason, he would sulk for who knew how long.

He huffed, but settled down to lie horizontally across the back seat. The things I do for a case.

“Sorry, I’m so late,” Michelle said as she shifted in her seat. “I just got so caught up researching the forgery ring. Did you know Sterling has a business partner who—”

“Tell me on the way,” Angela interrupted as she stifled a grin. She shifted the car into drive and peeled down the street. “We’ve got to move if we’re gonna make it to the auction on time.”

Rumors had been swirling for years that many of the high-ticket items at Sterling’s exclusive antique auctions were forgeries, but the man changed aliases every time the police came around. By the time they tracked one down, the man’s history had been all but wiped out. He had done it so many times that more than a few police departments were beginning to doubt if the man and his ring of swindlers existed at all. But a few weeks ago, just after Thanksgiving, Michelle had gotten an anonymous tip about an exclusive antique show making a stop in Hummings Hollow.

Of course, she immediately told Angela, and when Chief Helbar caught on, it was all hands on deck for a sting operation. As they turned the corner, Andrew legged and glanced down at the Manila file her father had given her before she left that morning. This had been a cold case since he was on the force with Chief Helbar, and he was determined to see it solved, maybe more than Angela herself.

But if this was the case even Charlie Atkinson couldn’t solve it well, Angela hoped the chief was better prepared. Her father was one of the best cops she knew and though he had been the first one between the two of them to turn in, his dedication to solving crime never quite went away. Her fingers itched to go over the details of the file one more time, but as the light ahead turned green, they had no choice but to move forward.

As they pulled up to the hotel entrance, Angela glanced over and spotted the eager sparkle in her best friend’s eyes. She’d been plenty of help on previous cases, but this was her first official sting operation. If her outfit and incredibly overzealous planning weren’t a dead giveaway of her excitement, Angela didn’t know what was.

Thankfully, Michelle left most of her painstaking research in the car, only taking what she could fit into her purse (which was, surprisingly, a lot).

“Come on, you know the drill.” Angela stepped onto the pavement and clipped the vest in place as Ruff grumbled.

Officer Kimberly Dell, a young African American beat cop who was rumored to be the top officer in the running for Chief if Helbar retired, marched up to them as they approached the entrance of the building, Angela kept tight hold of Ruff’s leash as he strained at the overwhelming barrage of scents assaulting his nostrils. Streams of people of all ages, including businessmen, bargain hunters, and everything in between, pushed past them in droves, fighting to be the first one through the doors. Ruff’s senses were in overdrive as he fought to discern all the distinct smells and sights, but he grinned at the sight of his favorite officer. Kim was fully decked out in hotel security garb, so she was almost indiscernible from any other employee.

Ruff pounced on all fours, resting his paws on Kim’s shoulders and covering her face in sloppy kisses as Angela tugged on the leash. “Whoa! Down boy,”
Officer Dell laughed as she patted him, before discreetly pressing onto both of his shoulders until he relaxed and landed on all fours.

“He’s certainly excited,” Officer Dell chuckled.

Michelle clutched her purse a little tighter and tried to hide her smile. “He’s not the only one,” she hissed.

Kimberly grinned and led them inside, waving them over to a quieter corner under the guise of checking their bags before saying anything else. She slipped Michelle’s giant purse off her arm and pretended to check their bags while sliding two earpieces into each of their palms. “These are wired to the chief and Townsend in the surveillance van,” she whispered as she glanced between them. “Hook them up and do a quick mic check before you head inside. That way, they’ll be able to hear you if anything goes wrong. Do you both remember the plan?”

Angela and Michelle exchanged significant glances and then nodded. Angela would keep tabs on Sterling, while Michelle mingled with the other auction patrons and try to chat them up to uncover any accomplices. Both would keep an eye out for fake antiquities up for auction.

Officer Dell pressed her lips together and squeezed Angela’s shoulder. “Remember, I’ll be right out here.”
Angela smiled, but nodded resolutely. “Don’t worry, we got this.”

After one last check that all the technology was up and running, Kim led them back into the fray, allowing them to be whisked away with the crowd.

Just then, Chief Helbar’s voice crackled through her earpiece. “Atkinson? Blackhoof? What’s your twenty? The auction is set to start any minute. Do you have eyes on Sterling Hastings yet?”

Angela pressed a hand over her earpiece. “Not yet. We’re on our way, Chief.”

The chief huffed on the other end of the line. “Well, what are you waiting for? We don’t have all day.”
Angela nodded, then clasped Ruff’s leash a little tighter and beckoned Michelle forward as they melted back into the crowd. They trailed a few feet behind a man in a fifties-style suit and took the elevator up to the ballroom floor. Eerie chamber music echoed from behind the solid oak double doors.

Holy dog biscuits. So many smells. Ruff quivered against Angela’s leg as he lifted his nose into the air. Wood polish, mothballs, champagne, fur, and... too many other things to name. His nails caught on the carpet as they inched closer to the door.

“Chief, I think we found it.” She reached for the door handle and Michelle’s palm turned clammy in hers as she twisted the metal and pushed it open.

“Relax,” she said softly. “Just... channel your inner actress and try to have fun.”

Michelle swallowed and let out a hoarse laugh. “Right... fun,” she muttered, and Angela couldn’t help the small smirk that slid onto her lips. It took a lot to get her friend flustered, but she supposed she couldn’t blame her for being nervous.

Once her eyes adjusted to the dim lighting, Angela swallowed back a gasp. The room had been fully transformed into a showroom like something straight out of a home decor magazine. Displays housed antique furnishings, artwork, jewelry, watches, and countless other trinkets, all illuminated by the glow of mini-spotlights. Waiters in white gloves circulated the room, carrying trays of champagne and hors d’oeuvres and the crowd was so thick Angela could barely make out anything but the other patron’s silhouettes.

At the center of it all, visible only because he had taken up resistance on the wooded platform a foot off the ground, stood Sterling Hastings. He wore a sharp tuxedo, and his salt-and-pepper hair was perfectly combed. Sterling was older than Angela expected, but still handsome. He greeted every guest with a firm handshake and a wide smile, but Angela didn’t miss the snake-like glint in his pale gray eyes.

“Hello, beautiful people!” The crowd broke out in a muted wave of applause and his grin grew impossibly wide as he gestured to one of the passing waiters with a flourish. “It’s such an honor to have you all here today. Feel free to enjoy the hors d’oeuvres while perusing our catalog. The live auction for our premier pieces will begin shortly.”

Everyone dispersed, and Angela squeezed Michelle’s hand. “OK,” she whispered. “This is it. Put on your expert reporter hat and do your thing.”

Michelle pressed her lips together in a thin smile, let out a shuddering breath, and rolled her shoulders back. “Right. I got this.”

“Of course you do,” Angela said, nudging her shoulder. “Just think of it like another day at the office.”

As her friend set off with her reporter’s notepad in hand, Angela made her way through the maze of displays. One intricate blue and white vase depicting pastoral scenes caught her eye. As she leaned down to inspect it, a gruff voice rang out.

“You’d have better luck finding authenticity in a flea market trash heap,” scoffed Victor Callahan, owner of the Hummings Hollow Antiques.

Angela raised an eyebrow. “Well, aren’t you full of holiday cheer?”

“I call ‘em like I see ‘em. And I’ll tell you one thing: most of what Hastings has trotted out this year is about as real as a politician’s campaign promises. The only thing I’m even remotely interested in is that epergne over there.” He pointed, and Angela swiveled around to follow his gaze to a beautiful centerpiece on the table near the auctioneer’s podium. It was a beautiful glass sculpture interwoven with patterns in every shade of the rainbow, and when it caught the light just right, mesmerizing patterns danced along the wall.

“Wow,” Angela murmured.

Victor nodded. “A regular of mine has been searching for this piece for years. Even went diving into the black market for it.” He shifted on the balls of his feet and glanced around nervously. “Believe me, Miss Atkinson. I don’t like this any more than you do. But it’s a family heirloom, and you know how much I care about keeping my reputation with my customers.”

Angela’s jaw dropped slightly. She always knew Victor Callahan was a very dedicated man, but to see him go to such lengths for his business... was more than a little surprising.

“Is it real?” She raised an eyebrow and tried to push closer to inspect it, but was blocked by an influx of shoppers crowding around the auction table. Victor followed close behind, a small smirk curling up his lips as he scoffed.

“That, Ms. Atkinson, truly is the million-dollar question.”

“Now Victor, no need to disparage these treasures prematurely! I only acquire items of the highest caliber for my curated events.”

Angela stiffened under the sudden pressure of a hand on her shoulder, and she whirled around, only to come face to face with Sterling Hastings himself. A low growl emitted from Ruff’s chest, but Angela rested a comforting hand on the top of his head and shot him a pointed look.

Easy, boy, she thought. We don’t want to make him suspicious.

“Whatever you need to tell yourself, Sterling,” Victor muttered as he glanced at his watch. He
sighed, then looked around again, scrutinizing every inch of every trinket within seeing distance with the same critical eyes, sliding past the stalls as if it was no different from perusing the town flea market.
Odd, especially considering his apparent disdain for the man in front of them.

“Is this auction going to start soon, or are you just trying to keep us here until your motley crew of lemurs bleeds themselves dry on your junk?”

Sterling’s smile became tighter, and something dark glinted in his gaze. “I assure you, Callahan, the auction is due to start any minute. Feel free to peruse any of our tables while you wait.”