Welcome to Blissville

by Walker, Aimee Nicole

  “I’d like your help capturing the Christmas Bandits,” I told the editor.

  “Oh, how exciting.” Myrna sat straighter in her chair. “What can I do?”

  “Some of the local businesses are pooling resources and offering a reward for the tip that leads to arresting the bandits.”

  “That’s a good idea,” Myrna said. “Money is a big motivator.”

  “Five thousand dollars is one hell of an incentive.”

  “Wow! Are you serious?”

  I nodded my head. “Ten businesses are chipping in five hundred bucks each.”

  “That’s amazing, Captain. Do you just want to place a large ad in the paper for the next few days?”

  “Yes, but I’d like to go a step further if you’re willing to listen to my idea,” I said.

  “Of course. What did you have in mind?”

  “Detective Goode compiled a lot of data from the reports and it pinpoints some consistencies between days and times these crimes occur.”

  “Crimes?” Myrna asked. “I get that people are annoyed, but is this really a crime? We’re talking about someone cutting Christmas lights and poking holes in inflatable snowmen that no one likes anyway, right? That’s just a silly misdemeanor, isn’t it?”

  “Looking at the cases individually, they might not look like much, but we’re talking grand theft and criminal mischief when you add up all of the stolen and damaged items.”

  “Grand theft?” she asked in shock. “That much has been stolen or damaged?”

  “Yes, ma’am,” I told her. “We’re talking fourth and fifth degree felonies. And if I can link them to the other thefts and burglaries…”

  “Holy hell. This is much bigger than I thought.” Myrna leaned forward. “How can I help you catch these assholes?”

  “First, we need to change the notion that it’s just a few cut Christmas lights and deflated snowmen that no one likes anyway.” At least the editor had the good grace to look embarrassed by her earlier remark. “We need to make this a human-interest story, give it a face that people know and recognize. Some of these people lost items that had been in their families for decades, Myrna.”

  Josh wasn’t the only one who had meaningful items taken. Another resident had an antique sled stolen right off her front porch. Her grandfather handcrafted it for her father when he was a small boy nearly seventy years ago. She put it out each year with fake Christmas presents on it to decorate her porch.

  “I’m sorry that I took such a cavalier attitude toward the crimes. I wasn’t aware that it had gotten so serious. I mean, I knew you hosted a town hall meeting about it, but apparently I didn’t get it even after that.”

  “Now you know, and now you can help.”

  I could’ve assigned anyone on the police department or even asked for civilian volunteers to hang the reward posters all over town, but I did it myself. Partly because I wanted the town to know how seriously we were taking the crimes, and partly as penance for not doing more sooner.

  “You’re going to need a designated tip line,” Milo told me when I stopped by Books and Brew. He gestured toward the group of teenagers who had gathered around the sign I hung in the window before I placed my order. They talked excitedly amongst themselves and looked to be forming a plan.

  Maegan joined us at the counter with my order. “Oh look, it’s Nancy Drew and The Hardy Boys!” She shook her head and said, “This could be the best five hundred dollars we ever spent.”

  “The local paper is printing the name of the local businesses who are offering reward money. I think you guys should be recognized.”

  “It’s our pleasure,” Milo replied then nodded at the two carryout trays in front of me. “These should help sweeten Josh’s day.”

  “I hope so.”

  “Do you want some help carrying those out?” Maegan asked.

  “Nah,” I said dismissively. “I’m used to juggling two babies, two diaper bags, and whatever we need for our excursions. What’s eight cups of coffee compared to all that?”

  Maegan laughed and said, “At least let me open the door for you.”

  “Yeah, I’m used to people showing me to the door too.”

  “I hope you have a great night, Gabe,” Maegan said, patting me on the shoulder as I passed through the door.

  Oh, I planned on it. “Same to you, Maegan.”

  I managed to get the eight cups of coffee to the salon without making a liar of myself. It wasn’t that the salon didn’t have a coffee maker, but nothing was better than a special treat in the afternoon, especially after the crappy way Josh’s day started. I couldn’t treat Josh and neglect the rest of our salon family.

  I handed soy vanilla lattes to Dee and Josi, white chocolate lattes to Marci and Dare, straight-up black coffee to Wren and Heather, a salted caramel to my man, and chamomile tea to Mere.

  The ladies hugged me, Dare patted my shoulder, Wren grunted appreciatively, and Josh gave me a quick peck on the lips. I wanted to drag him off to the mixing room for a proper kiss, but I didn’t want to mess up his mojo.

  “See you at home,” I tossed over my shoulder on my way out the door.

  I had planned to stop by the station long enough to read my messages and find out if we had any tips come in yet, but one look at the harried expressions on the officers in the station nixed the idea of leaving early.

  “Any calls come in?” I asked hesitantly.

  “Any calls?” Officer O’Malley asked. “Try two hundred.”

  “Two hundred? Those posters haven’t been up for more than an hour,” I said in shock. “Are they legitimate calls?”

  “Aliens are the culprits, Captain,” Officer Wen said. “They’re taking the items back to their planet to study us in preparation for conquering Earth.”

  “Traveling gypsies,” Murkowsky countered then flipped through her notebook. “Atheists, Scientologists…”

  “Jehovah’s Witnesses,” Officer Jones added.

  “No, it’s the Baptists,” Officer Kasey countered her partner.

  “There have been a few legitimate calls, Cap,” Adrian said. “I’m heading out to check on a few things.”

  “Take Wen with you,” I told him.

  The phone never stopped ringing the entire time my officers filled me in on the tips they’d received so far. Instead of going home, I took off my coat and sat at my old desk with a pad of paper and a pen. An effective leader held fast to a basic rule: never ask people to do things you’re unwilling to do yourself.

  I wrote down the names of each caller I spoke with and included their contact number in case their lead panned out. I didn’t really think that Jerry Springer or Oprah were behind the thefts and vandalism, but wrote the information down the same. I figured the calls would settle down over the next few days, but until then, it looked like I would need to authorize overtime.

  I sent Josh a text and told him that I’d be home late, expecting to work an extra hour or two. Instead, I pulled into the driveway after eleven o’clock. There were only a few lights left on so that I could find my way through the first floor and up the stairs without killing myself. Josh was sound asleep in our bed with Buddy acting as guard by his feet.

  “I’ll take it from here, boy,” I told him.

  Buddy jumped down and retreated to his dog bed near the fireplace while I quickly undressed and carelessly tossed my clothes on the floor. I might catch hell from Josh the next morning, but I was exhausted from the long day, pissy that I didn’t get home in time to put my kids to bed, and frustrated that I missed my naughty countdown surprise.

  All those cantankerous emotions faded the minute I slid beneath the sheets and snuggled up to my warm, naked husband. Josh turned in the circle of my arms and nuzzled his nose in the hollow of my collarbone.

  “Did you catch him?” Josh asked groggily.

  “Nope,” I said into the darkness. “Tomorrow is a new day.”

  “Missed you tonight.”

  “I missed you guys too. Did anyt
hing important happen?”

  “Dylan said his first curse word.”

  “Shit!”

  “Well, technically it was ‘fuh-nug,’ but I’m pretty sure we know what he was trying to say.” He laughed against my chest, and I held him tighter. “We’re not supposed to laugh, Gabe.”

  “I’m not the one laughing,” I pointed out.

  “You would be if you heard that precious little voice curse.” Josh snickered some more. “My favorite part is that he used it in the right context.” His light laughter turned into full-bellied laughs as he recalled the incident.

  “Are you going to share?” I asked irritably. I hated that I missed my son’s first curse word.

  “He dropped his cookie on the floor and Buddy ate it. I’m not sure if he said it because he was mad or he cursed the dog, but either way it was fucking hilarious. I had to sternly say, ‘Dylan James we don’t talk like that in this house, just the birds do.’ Then I had to leave the room so that he wouldn’t see or hear me laugh. Our dads came with me and we laughed until we cried.”

  “Damn, I wish I was here.”

  “I’m pretty sure you’ll have plenty of opportunities to correct salty language.”

  “Good.”

  “You know what else is good?” Josh asked.

  “I get two surprises tomorrow?” I asked hopefully.

  “Why wait? Do you trust me?”

  “Of course.”

  I felt him rooting around beneath our pillows then heard a soft buzzing sound when he pulled his hand free. Funny how alert a man could become when his husband pressed a small vibrating object against his taint.

  “Oh, holy night, Sunshine.”

  I woke up with a happy smile on my face and it remained there even after I stepped on Gabe’s belt buckle and tripped over one of his shoes. I couldn’t be angry with him because I knew he was exhausted when he got home and just wanted to get in bed with me. It helped that he sent me back into dreamland with curled toes and a sappy grin on my face like the one I saw in the mirror when I brushed my teeth.

  I didn’t lose my good humor until I got downstairs and saw that I had two droopy babies on my hands. Their misery was obvious in their eyes and it broke my heart. I pressed the back of my hands to Dylan’s forehead and he had a fever. Destiny was clammy and damp like her fever had just broken.

  “My poor angels,” I said, snatching them from their grandmothers and holding them against my chest. “Colds?” I asked the in-house experts.

  “That’s what we suspect,” Martina said. “They’re not teething.”

  “I gave them a dose of the infant Tylenol I found in the cabinet,” my mom said. “They both sound a little congested, so you might want to call the pediatrician’s office to see what they recommend for them to take.”

  “This isn’t our first rodeo with colds, is it, babies?” I looked at the moms and said, “I have just the thing. If it doesn’t work then we’ll call the doctor for a medicine recommendation, but I’d like to try a natural method first.” The grandmothers followed me up to the nursery where I kept the eucalyptus tummy rub I made for them the last time they were congested.

  “Is this like a homeopathic version of Vicks?” Martina asked when she smelled the contents of the jar.

  “Yep. They don’t recommend Vicks for children under the age of two, and I’m not crazy about giving my babies over-the-counter meds because they contain chemicals that make their hearts race.”

  “You never could take decongestants very well,” my mom said. “Do you use this on yourself?”

  “I don’t get sick, but I smeared it on Gabe the last time he had sinus congestion. He wanted to fight me on it, but he thanked me later after he could breathe again.” Boy, did he ever. “Mom, can you get the humidifier from the closet and add a few drops of the eucalyptus oil to the water? That’ll help too.”

  “Sure,” both moms said then laughed.

  Martina pulled the humidifier down while my mom retrieved the essential oil.

  “We can also put a tiny dab of Vaseline in their noses to ease the dryness in their nasal passages,” I told them.

  I stripped Destiny down to her diaper and smeared the concoction of coconut and eucalyptus oils on her tiny little chest. When I was done, Martina took her from me to dress her so I could see to Dylan.

  “Papa,” Destiny said when Gabe entered the room, but she didn’t sound her normal cheery self.

  “What’s going on?” Gabe asked, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. He sniffed the air. “Do my precious angels have a cold?”

  “Looks like it,” I answered. “We’re going to try a natural method first, and if that doesn’t work, then I’ll call the pediatrician’s office to see what they recommend.”

  “It worked great last time,” Gabe commented as he joined me. He dipped two fingers into the glass jar and spread it on Dylan’s chest. “Didn’t it, big guy?”

  “Papa,” Dylan whined pitifully.

  “His fever hasn’t broken yet, so we need to wrap him up and get him warm.”

  “I know the best place in the house for babies who don’t feel good,” Gabe suggested.

  “With their grandmas,” Martina said. “Both of you have work to do, so Bertie and I will take over. I can already hear the difference in their breathing.”

  Gabe and I looked at each other uncertainly. Neither of us wanted to go to work with the kids sick at home, but we both had busy days ahead of us. “Yeah, okay,” I said reluctantly, “but we want you to check in every half hour or so.”

  “Or hourly,” Gabe said after the moms pinned us with incredulous looks.

  “We nursed you back to good health plenty of times,” my mom said. “Now go get ready for work.”

  Neither of us were happy about it, but we knew they were right. We weren’t the only working parents who would rather stay home with their sick kids than trudge into work. It seemed like the new normal was feeling guilty all the time. At work, you thought about all the things waiting for you at home, but when you got home, you worried about the things you didn’t finish at work. It was a constant juggling act that Gabe and I managed well, but sick babies at home wasn’t the same as forgetting to put the clothes in the dryer. I would worry about them all damn day, and I knew Gabe would also.

  We peeked in on them in their nursery before we left. They were sound asleep in their grandmothers’ arms and didn’t even stir when we kissed them goodbye.

  “Dylan’s fever broke,” my mom said. “They’re going to be just fine.”

  Gabe pulled me to him for a lingering kiss before I could climb in my SUV. “I’ll get home at a decent time tonight,” he promised me. “I’m sure things will be calmer at the police station today.”

  “Let’s hope so.”

  It wasn’t often that someone arrived at the salon before me, but Wren beat me in that morning.

  “Everything okay?” he asked when I walked through the back door.

  “The twins have colds,” I replied as I tipped my head and studied him. There was something different about Wren, but what? He wore his typical long-sleeved gray t-shirt, black jeans, and black biker boots. He hadn’t shaved his beard or cut his long hair. Aha! I mentally snapped my fingers. His hair hung to his shoulders when it was usually tied back when he worked.

  Wren snorted and said, “Bet you’ll avoid the doctor’s office like the plague since Dr. Douche is working there.”

  “Oh man, I hadn’t thought about that. Let’s hope my homeopathic efforts work.”

  Wren grinned wryly. “I’ll cross my fingers for you.”

  “Good morning,” Dare said when he entered the salon. He was all toothy grins and happiness while Wren grew rigid and red-faced. Hmmmm, what had happened between these two?

  Wren turned his head to look at Dare and I got a glimpse of the reason why Wren had chosen to wear his hair down. I sent up a prayer that Dare was the one who left that little love bite low on Wren’s neck. I got my answer when Dare crossed over to him
and looked at his handiwork.

  “I can cover that with concealer if you prefer to wear your hair up,” Dare offered.

  “Nah.”

  I could tell that the guys could use a few minutes alone before the crazy set in, so I excused myself to make a cup of coffee and check out the morning paper. Our routine had gotten messed up that morning with sick kids and I didn’t get my early dose of coffee and gossip. My throat felt a little scratchy and I knew coffee was the fix I needed. I had just taken my first sip when I flipped open the paper that Wren had brought in with him.

  “Fuck!” I said when I saw the front-page headline.

  “What’s wrong,” Dare said, running into the room. I held up the paper for him to see. “Fuck!”

  Wren entered the room next. His eyes rounded in surprise when he saw it too.

  “Police Captain Promises to Catch the Christmas Bandits by Christmas Eve,” I read aloud. Amazing how Gabe had left that part out, but we hadn’t done a lot of talking the night before—well, not with words anyway.

  Beneath the heading was a picture of a fierce-looking Gabe taken during the town hall meeting. In comparison to the headline, the rest of the article was tame. Gabe just stated the dollar value of the items stolen or damaged and provided a background story for some of the victims, including myself and Mrs. Hazelbaker who was heartbroken over her stolen sled. Myrna had even added pictures of both our properties to go with the article to give it a personal touch. My heart hurt just looking at the wreaths.

  “Shit, look at the wording for the reward! It says a person can earn five thousand dollars if they help ‘capture’ the Christmas Bandits. Holy fuck!” I exclaimed. “We’re going to have a bunch of Dog the Bounty Hunters running around Blissville.”

  “Has Gabe seen this?” Dare asked.

  “He hadn’t before I left,” I replied. “We were too busy worrying about the babies.” I pulled out my cell phone and dialed Gabe.

  “What’s wrong with the babies?” Dare asked Wren.

  “They have colds,” Wren answered.