by Cat Clayton
“For a run. Want to go?” I whispered.
No, I am still achy.
“Okay, I’ll be back soon.” I made a mental note to make him a vet appointment today.
I am listening, Chiquita.
Oops, sorry. Having your dog hear your thoughts and communicate telepathically made life somewhat difficult.
Remember, it is a gift, Chiquita.
Unless I’m trying to keep a secret, I thought as I closed the door behind me.
The shop didn’t open for another two hours, so I had plenty of time to take a quick practice run and return in time to shower before clients arrived. I took a preventative puff and stashed my inhaler in the pocket of my running jacket. I started down the sidewalk at a quick walking pace, the chilly air biting at my cheeks.
Stella, the owner of Gypsy Seams, pushed a rack of vibrant-colored clothing through the front door.
I waved. “Good morning, Ms. Stella!”
Her long burgundy dress whipped around her legs in the wind. She smiled, her piercing, green cat eyes shimmered with flecks of gold. She wore her raven black hair in a loose braid, tiny wisps framing her face, and she had a Glinda the Good Witch magical vibe about her.
“And a good morning to ya, Steely,” she called out. I couldn’t quite place her accent. Irish maybe?
The first time I encountered her, not long after she’d moved to town, I accidentally walked off wearing one of her clearance hats when I slipped it on trying to hide from Seth Welton, a crooked FBI agent gone bank robber and murderer. It hadn’t left a good impression on her, but since then, I made it a point to be very polite to her, and when I discovered she shared my love for pie, I often dropped by with a slice of heaven from Baker’s Bliss for her.
She flagged me to a stop. “You’ll never guess what I bought myself last week,” she said.
“A lifetime supply of pie?” I asked.
She laughed. Her voice sounded like a musical instrument. “Come in and see.”
“Okay, but just for a minute. I’m training for the Reindeer Stampede this morning before clients arrive.” I followed her inside, the scent of sweet incense tickling my nose. A beautiful crystal chandelier hung from the ceiling in the center of the shop. There were circular racks of boho chic clothing, a wooden coat rack with gorgeous scarves draped from the hooks, spinning stands of exquisite jewelry, and the old-world décor added the perfect touch.
I heard it before I saw it. A tiny whining.
She went around the cash register counter and scooped up the cutest puppy I’d ever laid eyes on. Well, to be honest, all puppies are the cutest ever.
“Meet your newest client,” she said, grinning. “His name is Prince.”
“Oh my! What a sweet little thing!” I stared into the fluffy tri-colored face with one blue eye and the other brown. “Is he a mixed breed?” I reached over and ran my fingers through his thick, billowy coat.
“He’s a Bernese mountain dog. The breed comes from the Swiss Alps. He will be a big boy.”
I shook his paw. “By the size of these, I can tell!”
She rubbed his head, and Prince twisted his fluffy mane and licked her chin. “I wanted you to meet him, and I’ll make an appointment soon for a wash. But I want him to get used to you and your assistant before that. Can we stop in today for a visit?”
“Sounds great. We’ll see you later, Prince. I’ve got to get going,” I said, backing up a few steps. “So happy for you!”
“Thank you, dear. See you soon,” she said.
I shivered as I pushed open the door. “Burr... it’s cold out here.” I shoved my hands into my pockets and set out at a brisk walk, soon picking up the pace to a slow jog. I ran by the hardware store and Buckleville Foods and then down Pop’s street. I’d almost made it to Pop’s house when a cramp stabbed me in the side. Slowing down, I remembered to take deep breaths. Keep moving. You can do this, I coached myself.
As I approached the house, I noticed something tied to the Jeep’s antennae, twisting in the breeze. Plastic yellow somethings clanked against the metal antennae. I moved closer. Three baby rattles. I shivered, glancing up and down the street, seeing only a few neighbors out and about. No strangers. No one lurked around. Pinned underneath the passenger side windshield wiper, like a warning signal, sat a small white envelope with Stoney’s name written in messy handwriting.
Standing next to the Jeep, eyeing the rattles tied with a white ribbon, I pulled my cell phone out of my pocket to check the time. 7:38 AM. Pop should be up having coffee. I dialed the house phone.
“Good morning, Steels. What’re you doing up this early?” Pop answered.
“Can you come out to the front?”
He took a few seconds to answer. “The front? Of my house? Steely, what are you talking about?”
“Pop, just come outside, please. And be discreet.”
I heard him disconnect the call. A moment later, the front door creaked open, and he stepped outside. As he rounded the corner of the garage, his eyes went from me to the baby rattles and back to me.
“Good Lord, is this ever gonna quit?”
“I didn’t touch anything. I wanted to wait for you to read the card.”
Without a word, Pop unpinned the envelope. He withdrew a card with an image of a baby on it. He opened and read it, his mouth gaping. His eyes narrowed to two tiny slits behind his glasses.
“What does it say?”
He handed me the card, whipped his cell phone out of his pocket, and dialed.
The front of the card said, Congratulations on Your Upcoming Little One.
“Jackson, it’s me, Randall. I need you at the house. Yes, now. Thanks,” Pop said and immediately dialed another number. “Becker, it’s Randall. Can you send another unit to my house, and I’d appreciate it if you’d come too.”
I slowly opened the card.
I ignored the factory print on the inside, and my eyes found the typed message on a taped piece of paper. The hair on the back of my neck prickled as I read: On the 3rd day of Christmas, my true love gave to me, three baby rattles, two tiny mittens, and a teddy bear in an oak tree. Love, your Secret Santa
Even though the literal meanings of the words were benign, threatening danger screamed from the presentation of the message.
I peered into Pop’s worried eyes, his jaw grinding back and forth. “I’m gonna hunt him down.”
I didn’t have time to reply before Jackson rolled up in his Camaro, and a moment later, Chief Becker and Officer Brandon Tripp arrived.
“I guess it’s time to put up cameras.” Pop cleared his throat and addressed the officers. “I want this stopped.”
Tripp and Jackson read the card, and Jackson passed it to Chief Becker.
Sliding my arm through Pop’s, I attempted to calm his nerves. “Maybe they can bring Lloyd in and ask him.”
Pop nodded. “Sounds like a good idea. Let’s get this crap down before my daughter sees it. I don’t want it to upset her any more than she already is.”
“Too late,” Jackson said, jutting his chin toward the front walkway.
Stoney and Gertie stood there, watching us, Stoney wearing a perplexed expression.
“Mother, take Stoney back inside, please.”
Stoney took a step forward. Her eyes were wide and fearful. “Are those baby rattles?”
Gertie reached out for her. “Come back inside, dumplin’. We’ll fix tea.”
Stoney pulled away from Gertie’s grip and walked over to where we gathered.
“Stoney, I don’t want you to worry about this. Chief Becker and his team will deal with it.”
Stoney’s head swiveled toward the chief holding the card. She marched up to him and held out her hand.
“I think the card belongs to me,” she said and gently took it from him. She turned to Pop. “I know you’re concerned for me. I know you love me. But stop treating me like I’m made of glass.” She opened the card and read.
Pop let out a heavy sigh and shook his head.<
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I shifted my weight from one foot to the other, waiting for Stoney’s response.
It seemed to take forever for her to finish reading, her hands trembling.
She glanced up at Pop, me, then at Chief Becker. “Okay, I’ll admit, I am afraid for me and my baby. I believe whoever is leaving these Secret Santa gifts means us harm. With that being said, Pop...” She turned to him. “I know you don’t like Lloyd, but he wouldn’t scare me like this. We’re friends.” She faced the chief. “Please catch whoever is doing this.”
She and Gertie went back inside.
“Randall, cameras are a good idea on your end. On our end, I’ll have a unit parked out in front of your house every evening from sunset to sunup until we catch the person. Will that suffice?” Chief Becker asked.
“Yes.” Pop crossed stiff arms over his chest, his left eye twitching.
Chief Becker and Tripp left with a promise to get cracking on the case, and Jackson and I followed Pop into the house.
I wasn’t sure about Pop’s defensive move, and his tone led me to believe what the chief proposed satisfied absolutely nothing for my father. The eye twitch seemed an insignificant, tiny detail, but I knew better. Rage brewed underneath his skin and the blood boiled in his veins.
It was only a matter of time before he snapped.
Chapter 4
Gertie served everyone coffee except Stoney and me. I poured us a glass of orange juice instead.
Gertie set Jackson’s cup in front of him and plopped down in a chair at the table. A poignant silence filled the air. I felt as if everyone in the room had a lot to say, but no one could bring themselves to spit it out. Patches padded into the room and over to Stoney. The sweet pup rested her head on my sister’s lap. She’d acquired Patches after Petunia’s unnecessary death. The late librarian didn’t have any family and the poor pup had nowhere else to go, so Stoney adopted her. The sweet dog had a positive effect on Stoney’s healing process.
Pop folded his hands on the table. “When’s your next shift, son?”
“This evening, sir,” Jackson said and took a sip of coffee.
Pop nodded. “Good. Good. I’ll be eager to hear if they’ve got anything yet. You’ll let me know, yes?”
“Sure thing,” Jackson replied.
Stoney stroked Patches’s head in silence, a haunted expression in her eyes. She didn’t need the stress. It couldn’t possibly be good for the baby or her.
“So, we working today or what?” Gertie asked.
“Yes, we are.” I glanced at the clock on the wall. 8:45 AM. Crud. In all the excitement, I’d forgotten about Daniel being at my apartment and lost track of time. I pulled out my cell phone and noticed it was on silent. Two missed calls and three texts from him. I dialed his number, and he answered on the first ring.
“Oh my goodness, where are you? Are you okay? I was so worried! I woke up, and you were gone. Cuff was still here. You didn’t even leave me a note!”
I allowed him to rant. “Sorry, I’m fine. I went for a run and stopped off at Pop’s house. How’s Cuff?”
I heard him take a deep breath through the phone. “He’s still limping.”
I frowned. “I’m making him an appointment today. It’s the reason I didn’t take him running with me. Not to mention, y’all were spooning when I left.”
“LOL. When are you headed back?”
I noticed everyone at the table listening to my end of the phone call.
“In a few minutes. Something’s come up here at the house, so I’m running behind. Do you mind opening the shop?”
“Done. And you will never believe who called us to bring their dog in,” Daniel said, his voice enthusiastic.
“Who?”
“Ms. Stella. It seems she got a puppy. She wanted to know if this afternoon was a good time so he could meet us. I told her yes!”
“Oh, Daniel, you’re gonna die when you see him!”
“You’ve already met him?”
“This morning. Trust me, you will love him. Okay. We’ll see you in a few minutes.”
“Kay, bye!”
I swiped my screen to disconnect the call. “That guy.”
Gertie hopped up from the table. “Let me grab my shoes and put on a patch. I’ll be ready in a jiffy.” She waddled out of the room.
“Patch?” I asked no one in particular.
“Yeah, I convinced her to switch from Big Red to the nicotine patch,” Pop said.
Six months ago, Gertie smoked like a chimney. We convinced her to switch to a vape device, which she called Big Red. I guessed nicotine gum wasn’t an option for my grandmother with dentures.
“Wow! Good job,” I told him.
“I’m trying, Steels,” he said, smiling.
I got up from the table and patted him on the shoulder. “Baby steps.” I turned to Jackson. “Can I walk you out? We need to get to the shop.”
He slugged back the rest of his cup. “Sure. Mr. Lamarr, I’ll get with you this evening.”
“Thanks, son. I appreciate it.”
Stoney glanced up. “Do you need me today?”
“Only if you’re feeling up to it, sis.”
“Mind if I skip? I’d like to take it easy. Maybe do nursery planning. I’m making a list of things I’ll need.”
I smiled. She looked so happy when she talked about the baby. “Sure! And let me know if I can help. We’ll also have to plan a baby shower soon.” I winked at her as I led Jackson out of the kitchen.
In the driveway, we stood next to Jackson’s car. He pulled me in for a warm hug and kissed my forehead. My heart fluttered inside my chest.
“How was your run?” he asked. His dark eyes sparkled.
I shrugged. “Slow. I went back and forth between walking and jogging.”
He smiled. “Good job.”
“Yeah, and I only had to use my inhaler once. Making progress, I guess.”
“Remember, it’s not about winning the race. It’s about doing your best. Whatever that is, it’ll be enough.”
I inhaled his warm, spicy scent. “That’s why I love you, ya know?”
“Because I’m challenging you to take part in the stampede?” He gave me a sideways smirk.
“No, because you support me and have faith in me, even when I don’t.”
“Yeah, I’m awesome like that.”
I play swatted at his chest. “You’re funny. And yes, you’re awesome.” I leaned my forehead against his chest. “Promise me you’ll do everything you can to make sure Stoney isn’t in any danger.”
“You know I will, Steely,” he said. I felt the vibration of his deep voice on my cheek.
“Thank you.”
I closed my eyes and hoped everything would be okay.
AFTER JACKSON LEFT, we loaded into the Jeep, and Pop drove Gertie and me to the shop. He made Stoney ride along, as he didn’t feel comfortable leaving her at the house alone. I sensed her resentment, but she humored him anyway.
As soon as I got inside and settled, I picked up the shop phone. I called Dr. Benson, the vet, and made an appointment for the following afternoon. Cuff whined from his bed on my desk.
Chiquita, I do not want to go to the vet. I am fine.
I squinted at him. “No, you’re not. I had to help you up the steps a few minutes ago so you could climb into your bed. Or have you already forgotten?”
He dropped his head onto the side of the bed. But I do not want a shot!
“Nobody says you will get a shot. Let’s see what Doc Benson has to say, and we’ll go from there. Okay?”
Okay, Chiquita.
I spent the last half of the morning placing orders, paying bills, and checking clients in and out. Since Stoney stayed home today, I did my work from the lobby’s front desk computer. It made things easier for me, so I didn’t have to jump up every time the door jingled.
I glanced up at the dog clock on the wall. 11:50 AM. The fun clock carried bad memories of Vivienne Peacock, my arch nemesis. A few months ago, the c
lock needed repair after Vivienne whacked it off the wall with her umbrella when she stormed in here, demanding I take her back as a client. After I didn’t join her highfalutin society—and accosted her niece who’d slept with my then boyfriend, Nick Campbell—she’d taken her business elsewhere, attempted to turn all my clients against me, and accused me of being involved with the Petunia Jinks’s murder. And, although my late Mama was a stickler for me showing grace in difficult times, I had no use for the snobby, mean-spirited woman.
She could go straight to H-E-double-hockey-sticks.
Daniel interrupted my ugly thoughts of Peacock when he brought out the last two bright-eyed, bushy-tailed pups for the morning. Maisy, a black standard poodle, and Lotus, a black lab/pit bull mix, each of them wore a red bandana bow.
“Perfect timing,” I said to Daniel. I directed my attention to Maisy’s owner. “Mr. Peters, Maisy’s finished.”
He glanced up from his phone. “Thanks, Ms. Steely.”
I sent a quick text to Sauren about picking up Lotus.
Gertie breezed into the lobby and collapsed in the chair next to Mr. Peters. The two had become good friends in the past six months. Patrice, Mr. Peters’s double-barrel shotgun, leaned against the wall between their chairs.
“What’s up, Peters?” she asked, leaned over and eyed the gun.
He repositioned his brown wool cap. “Not much, Gertie. Just catching up with some news on my phone.”
“Why do you carry that thing everywhere you go?” she asked.
Mr. Peters shrugged. “You never know when you’re gonna need to protect yourself. Why do you smoke?”
“I don’t anymore.”
He smirked. “Don’t be lying.”
She yanked up the sleeve of her sweater, showing off her upper arm. “Didn’t you hear? I’m on the patch now.”
“Huh, miracles happen,” Mr. Peters replied.
I chuckled at their back-and-forth banter. Mr. Peters bringing his shotgun in the shop used to unnerve me, but I’d grown accustomed to it, and he promised me he didn’t keep it loaded. The businesses in town and the locals didn’t even bat an eye anymore when he carried it around.
I pulled up Maisy’s account on the computer and saw she’d received a Daniel’s Delight with shea-butter pad treatments on her paws. The scent of lavender filled the room from her hot oil treatment.
