The other address to file a report with the police after a mysterious basement attack belonged to a charity thrift store. A red-eyed clerk with wild hair stood behind a register ringing up purchases for customers. The line for his services stretched down the center of the store and past several racks of clothing.
Celeste scanned the store, trying to locate another clerk or a manager to help her. But the haggard employee behind the counter seemed to be the only employee in the store.
She walked up to the counter in hopes that he could direct her to a manager. The clerk ignored her, instead focusing on ringing up items and taking cash from his customer. Celeste waited for him to finish his transaction and give her a minute of attention. When he finished with his task, he took items from the next customer.
She tried coughing.
The employee glanced at her out of the corner of his eye, then continued to work.
Celeste huffed. She just needed a second of his time! “Excuse me . . .” She read the hand-lettered name on the tag pinned to his shirt. “Dude. Really? Dude? That’s your name?”
“It’s Doug!” Dude snapped at her. “The line starts back there!”
Celeste put her hands up in surrender. “I just have a quick question.”
“Back there!” He roared while pointing at the line.
“You should tell your boss that you need an extra pair of hands in here to help you out, Dude.” She rolled her eyes as she followed the line to the back of the store. “Just my luck. I haven’t even done magic lately.” She hated undeserved bad luck. She couldn’t bank it against future magic use. It was just something that happened. Perhaps it seemed more unfair because she hadn’t done anything to deserve it. How did mundane people live with the unfairness of it all?
As she waited for the long line to move, Celeste looked at the others waiting with her. Each of them had something to buy in their hands. A beefy man with a bottlebrush mustache standing behind her held a pair of pinstriped slacks and a gray sweater vest.
“Got any good deals?” She asked him to pass the time. He looked at her like she was crazy for talking to a total stranger.
“Guess not?” She tucked her hands into her pockets and looked at the woman in front of her. She was thin with long, blonde hair and was wearing a brown dress.
Perhaps sensing Celeste’s eyes on her, she turned to look back.
“You haven’t heard anything about a break-in here in the store, have you?” She asked. The lady turned away.
Celeste looked back at the man behind her again. “What about you? Did you hear anything about a break-in?” He looked away, holding his purchases like a shield in front of him. “No?”
She cupped her hands to her mouth. “Anyone here know anything about a break-in? Maybe down in the basement?” She called out.
The clerk scowled at her, rounded the counter and marched down the line. “Will you stop yelling?”
“I need to talk to someone about the break-in.” Celeste said.
He looked her threadbare clothing up and down. “Are you a cop?”
“Would you believe me if I said yes?” She raised her eyebrows and crossed her fingers behind her back.
“We filed a report and cleaned up the mess,” he said. “That’s all there is to say.”
“Was anything taken?” Celeste asked.
He threw his hands up carelessly. “Who knows? They trashed a bunch of leftover boxes from a clothing drive. We hadn’t gone through any of it yet, and we had to throw it all out. Now would you leave?”
“One more thing!” Celeste held up a hand. “How did they get in?”
“How should I know?” He frowned at her.
“You mind if I look around?”
He looked from her to the growing line and back. Then he rubbed his forehead. “Fine! Just don’t touch anything!”
“Thanks!” Celeste chirped. She bounded away before he could change his mind.
There was a set of stairs at the back of the store next to a bathroom and a water fountain. Celeste took one more look around the sales floor. She couldn’t see another employee in the whole store.
No wonder he’s so grumpy, she thought as she descended the stairs.
The basement storage was the sort of place that a dry-cleaner might be sent to once they died if they had been very, very naughty in life. A forest of industrial-sized canvas rolling hampers filled the room. Each one was piled with a haphazard assortment of clothing. Pathways wound through the hampers with no discernable organization.
With a grimace, she picked a route at random. After a few minutes of aimless wandering, she started moving carts out of the way in an attempt to reach the far wall. As she picked her way through the room, she looked for obvious signs of vandalism. But in all this mess, who could tell?
“If I were trying to get in here, how would I do it?” She mused out loud. She pulled a hamper away from the wall, revealing a hole where a single cinder block had been knocked outward.
With a hum of triumph, she knelt and put her hand into the void beyond the wall. A cool breeze tickled her palm.
Celeste looked around one more time, but she still couldn’t find signs of destruction in the jumbled mess, despite suspecting that this was the would-be burglar’s entry point.
She glanced at her watch. Lucky would start wondering what had happened to her if she took any longer to investigate. This seemed like a dead end, so she might as well head back.
With one more cautious look into the hole, she replaced the hamper and picked her way back to the stairs. The clerk was still working busily behind the counter. She waved to him to indicate that she was leaving, but he never even glanced up.he Textre said. “If they didn’t take the fur when it was right there, then I have no idea what they might have wanted.”
Celeste wondered as well.