Pike heard the call.
He was driving near Main Street with the young officer in the passenger seat.
He turned sharply toward the business district.
"Finally," he muttered.
The young officer checked the dispatch screen.
"Store employee wants us to verify the report."
Pike nodded.
"Yeah, yeah."
The younger officer read the description.
"Possible male suspect. Dark jacket. No confirmed theft."
Pike sighed.
"Kid, I know how to read."
They arrived three minutes later.
The hardware store stood beside an old brick building with a striped awning. A narrow sidewalk separated the storefronts from parallel parking spaces, and several vehicles stood along the curb.
The afternoon sun was bright.
A light breeze moved overhead utility wires.
And ordinary customers passed between the pharmacy, hardware store, and small coffee shop nearby.
Pike climbed out.
The young officer followed.
They entered the hardware store.
The owner, a fifty-eight-year-old man with graying hair and a faded blue work shirt, approached immediately.
"Afternoon, Sergeant."
Pike looked around.
"Where's the thief?"
The owner frowned.
"We don't know that anything was stolen."
Pike stared.
"You called the police."
"A customer called. We just wanted to check the shelves."
The sergeant rolled his eyes.
"Then why am I here?"
The owner hesitated.
The younger officer stepped forward.
"Could we review what was reported and check whether any merchandise is missing?"
The owner nodded gratefully.
"Of course."
He led them toward the back.
For several minutes, they examined the area.
Nothing appeared missing.
The security video showed a young man entering the store, looking at several products, and walking out through the ordinary entrance.
No one observed him conceal merchandise.
The owner explained that the caller might have mistaken an item the young man already carried for store property.
The younger officer nodded.
"Then we can document that no theft was confirmed."
Pike looked irritated.
"Somebody wasted our time."
The owner sighed.
"I'm sorry about that."
The sergeant moved toward the door.
Then stopped.
He looked outside.
An elderly Black woman was standing near the sidewalk, holding a brown paper bag and looking down at a receipt.
It was the widow.
She had just purchased the picture hook.
Pike watched her.
Then something in his face changed.
He turned toward the owner.
"Did you check everybody leaving with bags?"
The man frowned.
"What?"
Pike pointed toward the widow.
"Her."
The owner followed his gaze.
Then shook his head.
"Oh, that's the widow from Oak Street. She paid for a picture hook."