Cat's Claw (A Pecan Springs Mystery)

notebook.
    “Good move, Jack,” Sheila said. Burglar alarms were a big-dollar headache for the department. Ninety-eight percent of the alarm calls that the police had to answer were triggered by accident or operator error, but each one still had to be checked out by patrol officers.
    “Figured that code might come in handy,” Bartlett said with a grin, and flicked on the lights at the front of the store.
    The shop was longer than it was wide, with a glass display window across the front. Along both sides of the room were floor-to-ceiling shelves of computers, monitors, keyboards, printers, modems, carrying cases, and accessories—a large inventory, Sheila thought, representing a sizeable investment. A sales counter with a cash register was located about midway to the back of the shops. Above the counter was a sign:
    COMPUTER SALES AND REPAIR
HOME AND OFFICE NETWORKING
SPYWARE REMOVAL/VIRUS PROTECTION
AUTOMATED REMOTE BACKUPS
FULL SERVICE TUNE-UPS STARTING AT $99
    Behind the counter was a work area with several file cabinets and two desks, each with a computer and a couple of chairs. Along a partition wall near the back of the area was a workbench, a couple of tall stools, and racks and shelves of computers and parts.
    As they went through the darkened work area, Sheila said, “Tell me about Timms’ break-in.”
    “He came in the back way,” Bartlett said, and opened the door next to the workbench. It led into a storage area that was stacked with empty boxes and assorted computer equipment. In the concrete block wall at the back was another door. Bartlett turned on a light, disarmed the alarm, and pushed the door open. Outside was an empty, asphalted parking area, rain puddles glittering in the blue glare of a mercury vapor lamp at the far end of the strip mall, near the Washateria.
    “Timms didn’t set off the alarm back here?” Sheila asked, looking at the keypad beside the back door.
    “Beginner’s luck,” Bartlett said. “Apparently, the last guy out that night—the assistant manager, a kid named Palmer—failed to set the alarm. This door is pretty flimsy, and Timms came equipped with a crowbar. Probably took him all of three minutes to pop that lock. If the alarm had been on, our guys would’ve caught him in the building.” He grinned wryly. “If they got here quick enough, that is.”
    The door repair was an amateur job, Sheila saw. The lock plate had been replaced but not the splintered section of the jamb.
    Bartlett gestured around the storage room. “We don’t know how long he was in this area or how much searching he did back here. The video camera picked him up near the register, where there was enough light from the street to capture an image of him pushing a few things around, scattering papers, and so on, to make it look like vandals had broken into the place. When Kirk came in the next morning and saw what had happened, he reported it and began an inventory. Nothing turned up missing—not even Timms’ computer. It’s the shop’s practice to put the smaller units that come in for repair into one of the file cabinets, out of sight. This one was a notebook computer.”
    “Did Kirk recognize Timms from the surveillance camera?” Sheila asked, as they walked back into the work area.
    “It was the assistant manager who tagged Timms. That was the next afternoon, after he looked at the video. He told Matheson—he was the one who handled the initial investigation—and Mattie bumped it up to me.” He grinned slightly. “Seein’ as how it was George Timms on that tape, Mattie knew right away that he didn’t want any part of it.”
    Sheila chuckled, imagining how Detective Matheson must have feltwhen he understood that what he was investigating as a minor break-in by a couple of teenagers was the work of a major player in the Pecan Springs business community.
    “I let Captain Hardin know what was going down,” Bartlett went on. “We immediately seized Timms’ computer and the surveillance tape and moved to charge him. His lawyer came forward with the surrender offer and mentioned extortion—nothing specific, just the mention. Said we’d get the full story later.”
    “You didn’t look at the computer yourself, to see what might be on it?”
    Bartlett shook his head. “Didn’t seem important—not then, anyway. The only thing big about the deal was Timms. Anyway, I figured we’d have a look at the computer when it became clear what kind of blackmail charge Timms was