"What's funny?" James asked in the dark light of the car.
"I was remembering," she told him.
"Good memories I hope."
"It had to do with a ten year old boy who had no whiskers at all, but he dressed up in a red suit to please a little girl who believed in the wonders of Christmas."
James stomach knotted. He remembered doing that. In fact, after the Gregory's moved next door to his parents, in one way or another, their families had always spent Christmas together. He had spent Christmases with Elizabeth. If he sifted through his memories, he could uncover all kinds of pleasant times they had spent together, including the one winter in the Blue Ridge Mountains. They'd gone there on a whim, a quick ski trip a couple of days before the holiday. Then the snows came, stranding them. Christmas had dawned as the embers in the fire died and he and Elizabeth found their own method of spontaneous combustion.
Hitting the brake James swung the car onto the shoulder and threw the gearshift into park. Snapping the seat belts that anchored them to the bucket seats, he hauled Elizabeth over the center console and into his arms. His mouth found hers and seared it with an electrifying kiss. What had made her remember that? He'd nearly forgotten about that Christmas. Elizabeth's arms tightened around his neck as passion flared between them. The interior of the car felt like a blast furnace. Yet his mouth devoured hers with a need so necessary he thought he'd die without her.
Breathing rapidly he slid his mouth aside and kept her close to him. She smelled like a sweet flower. James tried to gather her closer, despite the barrier between them. What was he going to do when Christmas ended? Suppose Elizabeth decided she didn't want to see him after the holidays were over. She'd only made the deal with him for eleven days. On the twelfth day, she had no further reason to continue seeing him. Her memories would be in place. Her smile would be genuine. And Claire would still be dead. To Elizabeth, he would still be responsible. No matter what, he couldn't change that fact.
"James," Elizabeth called him out of his reverie. "We can't stay here on the highway." Then she turned her mouth back to his and all was lost. James brushed her smooth skin, cradling her to him. He kissed her as if this were the last time they'd ever be together, sliding his tongue into her open mouth and drinking abundantly from the well. He held her reverently, giving and taking, communicating with his senses, trying to let Elizabeth know she was the only person in the world for him. He wasn't aware how long they stayed together in the confines of the small space, just that he enjoyed holding her and he didn't how he'd survived when his eleven days ended.
Tyson Corner, Virginia's only distinction was that it was a sprawling developmental community created out of the wilderness of Northern Virginia about thirty miles outside of the nation's capital. It also contained one of the largest malls in the Eastern United States. The parking lot that ringed the two-story facility had appeared adequate when the mall opened twenty years ago. Then Christmas shoppers descended and finding an open space was like waiting for someone to die to get an apartment in New York.
James traveled up and down the rows of late model cars searching, following people who appeared to be leaving the crowded chaos created by three shopping days before Christmas.
"There's somebody leaving." Elizabeth pointed to a car. James turned in time to see the exhaust fly from the tailpipe of a silver-grey Toyota. Snapping his blinker and hitting the break in one fluid movement, he waited for the driver to vacate the space. Then he backed in and got out into the cold air. Each store appeared to out decorate the other in the number of Christmas items on the outside of the mall. The total picture turned the buildings into a green and red light show.
James slipped his arm around Elizabeth's waist and they walked toward the entrance door.
"Where should we go first?" Elizabeth asked as they edged through the throngs of people inside the door.
"Who's on the top of your list?"
"No one," she said. "I'm done."
"Done?" James stopped walking and turned around to face her.
"Mary is the only person I need to shop for. I ordered gifts for my clients," she smiled, but James saw it didn't reach her eyes. "Who's on the top of your list?"
He hesitated before deciding to let the remark go. "My mother and Mark," he said. "Let's find something for Mark first."
They proceeded through the crowds, slipping into and out of men's stores. Elizabeth lifted and replaced ties, shirts, pajamas, books, gold chains and bracelets. She appeared to get into the spirit, talking about the kind of person Mark was and what he was more apt to like and use. James was sure she put this kind of thought into her clients needs and that was why she was as successful as she was. Finally, they decided on a caricature print of a doctor with a huge needle in his hand and a frightened patient in the bed. Elizabeth borrowed a felt-tipped pen from the cashier, drew a name tag on the doctor's pocket and printed Mark's name there. James selected an art deco frame of black and white and they agreed to pick it up before leaving.
The rest of his list was settled in the same manner, with Elizabeth going into the attributes of the person before deciding on the perfect gift. The only remaining name was his mothers'. He and Elizabeth had traversed the mall twice without finding anything for her.
"So when did the tradition of giving Christmas presents arise?" she asked as they were jostled about.
"Why would I know that?" he asked. They had made their way to the center of the four-winged building. A display of Santa in a sleigh with his eight reindeer on a bed of white cotton that imitated snow had been set up in the center. The line of children was miraculously absent. It might be due to the late hour.
"Each time we do anything you tell me the history behind it. So far I've learned that winter festivals were designed to entice a fertile spring and developed into a celebration of the birth of Christ, that Christmas trees were brought to the United States by Hessian soldiers keeping their winter traditions, families hung mistletoe and kissed each other under it on Christmas morning, and that greeting cards were a way of saying hello to friends you hadn't seen in the past year. I thought gift giving was next."
"I don't know the history behind gift giving."
"Good," she smiled, taking his arm in intimate-lover fashion. "Something I can tell you. It started with the three kings, Balthasar, Melchior, and Gaspar, who came from the Arabia, Persia and India. They traveled over the desert to present gold, frankincense and myrrh to the Christ child. After that people made gifts and presented them to their family and friends at Christmas time. It wasn't until the industrial revolution that hand-made gifts gave way to factory produced goods."
They stopped, dodging a mother with a stroller. The child slept at an oddly bored angle. Overstuffed bags hung from the twin handles. Every other available space held packages and bags. The woman pushed it hard like a manual lawn mower on an uphill plane. James pulled Elizabeth close and they walked on. "Even if they aren't hand-made, a lot of thought goes into getting the right gift for the right person," Elizabeth continued.
James looked around. Even the harried expressions on some of the faces were tempered by a mask of goodwill.
"That's the part that makes the shopping fun." Elizabeth's light voice reached him.
James hoped she was having fun, that their trip was enjoyable and she wasn't thinking of being alone, with no family at this time of year. She'd only had to shop for one present. He hoped she included his family as hers since the spirit of Christmas was in the giving. Tonight he could see it. Elizabeth sparkled when she was caught in the spirit.
As they walked Elizabeth suddenly stopped in front a jewelry store. "You mother," she said. "She'd love that."
In the window sat a gold spider pin. The body was made of a huge diamond stone.
"A spider!" James frowned.
"Not that." She pointed to a statue in the corner. "That." It was of a jazz singer from the 20's. She wore a slick dress of blue that adhered to the curves of her body. Her ceramic skin
was a creamed-coffee color. Her head was thrown back and her tight waves and curls cascaded to her shoulders. The details were soft not harsh or straight like other statues he'd seen. this one spoke to him as he knew it would speak to his mother. James felt she'd just finished a song. The statue was wonderful. His mother would love it. Again, Elizabeth had shown her ability to find exactly the right gift.
Elizabeth studied James as he talked to the clerk. A tall, thin woman of about fifty with soft blonde hair and beautiful hands that set off the store rings she wore. While James paid for the statue, which the clerk called Blues Singer, Elizabeth browsed, looking into the many glass cases. Rows of watches, birth stone rings and gold chains glittered under the display lights. Crystal bowls and clocks set in a glass case shone brightly against one wall. She stopped now and then to take a closer look then went on. Something caught her eye and she gasped.
The case held wedding bands and engagement rings. The ring she looked at had a set of geometric circles, seemingly designed by a drunk artist. The three levels were similar but unique in design and without end. They were crusted with small baguette-cut diamonds. The crowning stone must be at least six carats, she thought. It stood like a statue on a pedal of gold. Around it the circles were steps leading to an altar. It took her breath away.
"It is beautiful," the clerk who'd been helping James spoke to here. Elizabeth's absorption had been so complete she hadn't realized James's transaction had been complete and he was standing behind her. Suddenly she felt embarrassed, caught doing something she shouldn't. She muttered something to the clerk and turned to him.
"Ready?" she asked.
He nodded and they left. On the way out Elizabeth couldn't help glancing back at the display case. She couldn't see the ring, but its beauty was embedded in her brain.
Chapter 7
The small bell over the door tinkled. The day had been slow and she'd been daydreaming about James. He filled her thoughts all the time these days. She came out of her reverie. Her body froze when she saw the man looking around the small shop. He wasn't wearing a uniform but with or without it Elizabeth recognized him. Officer Edward Robinson was the policeman who'd come to tell her James was in the hospital and Claire was dead. He was probably a detective by now, she thought. He was dressed in a jacket with the familiar Indian insignia of the Washington Redskins football team. In his hand, he held a baseball cap with the Jordan written on it.
She stood up straight, forcing a blank expression to her face. "Good morning," she said. "Is there anything I can help you with?"
He looked her directly in the face, but she saw no sign of recognition. "My wife sent me here," he paused. "We decided to have a little New Year's Eve Party and she wanted a special invitation." He looked a little embarrassed. "She said the President comes here."
Elizabeth heard that from a lot by people who'd never been to the shop before. "He doesn't come here."
"But he does get his invitations from you?" he probed.
"Some of them," she hedged. Often she got FBI agents in the shop trying to quietly investigate her. He didn't look like one of them.
He smiled as if he'd just made the arrest of the century. "Of course, we can't pay what he does, but we would like them to be special."
"Is this your first party?" she asked already knowing the answer. Newlyweds always wanted to have a party and they never planned it far enough in advance. It wasn't a problem for her. Usually they didn't want more than thirty invitations and the lettering they chose was simple, but even if she had to create a crest for each invitation the order could be completed in a couple of hours.
"We were married last June and Margaret, that's my wife, thought it would be fun to have some friends in to celebrate. We'll need about forty."
Elizabeth began her standard speech, pulling out catalogs of samples and inviting him to browse through them until he found something he liked. He took about twenty minutes to decide. As she wrote the order she noticed him studying her. He pick up one of her cards which sat on the counter and glanced from the scripted paper to her.
"You know, every since I came in I've been trying to place you."
Elizabeth looked up. His eyes were penetrating now as if he'd shed the clothes of the awkward husband and donned the uniform of an officer of the law. He glanced at the card again.
"You're Claire Gregory's sister, aren't you?"
She completed the order form and tore it from the pad. "Yes," she said, handing it to him. "I'm surprised you remember me. You only saw me once." Elizabeth knew her comment told him she recognized him too. The near lifting, almost a twitch, of one eyebrow signaled her she was right.
"I'm good with faces." He took the paper she offered.
Elizabeth heard the pride in his voice.
"Even if I wasn't, I'd remember Claire Gregory."
Elizabeth's chin started to lift. She forced it to stay level. "Why is that, Officer?"
"If that little scheme of hers had worked I know one prominent stock broker who'd be doing time."
Elizabeth gripped the counter as all the breath in her body threatened to leave it. What scheme? "You have it wrong. Claire is the one who'd be in jail."
"Not the way I see it, ma'am." He twirled the black cap in his hands. "I'm sorry," he turned to leave. At the door, he turned back. "Any chance I can pick those up tomorrow? I know it's a rush."
"They'll be ready after twelve," she said absently.
What did he mean James would be in jail? What scheme was he talking about? James had been the one. He was using insider information. Claire found out about it and threatened to take the information to the police. James had been called before the SEC to defend charges. Then he and Claire had been involved in the accident and the case against James had fallen apart.
Was he guilty? She was so sure when she first heard it, it couldn't be true. She trusted James. He would never do anything dishonest. Why would he need to? He was a partner in his firm, the youngest man to ever join the elite firm. James was intelligent and good at what he did. His clients had no cause for complaint over his handling of their accounts. How did he handle them, she wondered. Did he use information he had, insider information, illegal information, as Claire had accused? When she thought about it James had risen unusually fast. His partnership and his bank account moved with meteoric speed. Then the accident had killed Claire, while James hadn't even been admitted to the hospital. He was treated in Emergency and released. She'd been so angry. Vile words she'd flung at him. She called him a thief and a murderer. Later on she'd been sorry. She didn't mean most of what she said. He hadn't confirmed or denied anything. Why? What did that officer mean?
She had to know.
***
The accident had occurred past Embassy Row in the four thousand block of Massachusetts Avenue. It was four o'clock. Elizabeth's desk clock pinged out the hour. The police station's reporting office that handled the paper work would close before she could get there. She wasn't even sure they would have a copy of a three year old accident, but she had to try. Grabbing a directory, she located the number and placed a call. Her suspicions were true. The report had been archived. They could get her a copy in five working days, maybe more depending on the amount of people taking vacation at this time and there was a charge for the report. Elizabeth checked the calendar. Today was Thursday. If she counted today, she couldn't get it until after Christmas. She wanted it now. Keeping her annoyance out of her voice, she asked the clerk to please request it.
At four forty-five, she finished Officer Robinson's invitations and stacked them in a box fitted for their size. When the five o'clock chime sounded she locked the office door and got into her car. Claire had left some papers, files Elizabeth had put in storage. She'd noticed them a few days ago when she pulled the Christmas decorations out. There were two boxes simply labeled Claire's Files. They arrive the day she buried Claire. Elizabeth hadn't even looked at them. The doorman informed her of their arrival when she returned home after a soul
-draining day. She asked him to have them put in storage and this is where they'd sat for three years. She'd never opened them. She'd told herself she'd open them later, but had never found the time. Tonight she couldn't put it off any longer. Whatever demons were inside the boxes it was time to face them.
By seven o'clock Elizabeth's apartment looked at if an explosion in a paper factory had occurred in her living room. She sat barefoot, still in her business suit, among the manila folders, computer paper and individual sheets of paper. Her mind told her this couldn't be true, but there it was in black and white. The charges against James for using insider information were false. This didn't make her feel any better. His crime was worse.
He had embezzled $650,000 and tried to frame Claire.
***
Where was she? James wondered. She should have been here an hour ago. He lifted his beer from the bar and checked his watch. Something happened. His heartbeat accelerated. Nothing happened. He contradicted himself. She's fine. Using a cellular phone, he dialed the number for Invitation to Love. On the second ring, the recording clicked in. He hung up. He'd already left two messages there. He dialed her apartment. Again, a machine answered. Draining the glass, he paid the bill and left. Something was definitely wrong.
His foot laid almost to the floor as the powerful car shot up Connecticut Avenue. He had swung by the shop. Everything was locked and secure and her car was missing from its standard parking place. Where could she be? What could have delayed her and why the hell didn't she call? Was she sick? Had she been in an accident? His imagination listed excuse after excuse for her standing him up. All the while he fought the thought that something could have happened to her. Not now, he told himself. They were getting close. He knew she was physically attracted to him. Lately he was sure she was beginning to fall in love with him. Nothing could happen to her now.
One Christmas Night (Capitol Chronicles Book 6) Page 7
