Yes, I wasn’t as reclusive as I once was, finding two dead bodies had a way of helping a person lose that affliction, but I had a deadline on my next mystery fast approaching. “Start your baking. I can handle this.”
Mom scurried to the pantry. Ever since she opened her own bakery, Heavenly Bakes, my kitchen had been taken over by a baking machine. I told her she had the equipment at her store to do everything that needed doing, but she said she needed to experiment at home. She couldn’t try new recipes out at the store. What if someone wanted it and it turned out horrible? Maybe if I baked it. I was the cook, she was the baker.
“I’ve made up gift bags,” Angela, my sister, who sold face creams and cosmetics, entered the kitchen.
“You really want to do that after what happened at your first party?” Who could forget one of the guests dying because someone had put a high concentration of poison ivy in the cream?
“How else will I build my client list?” Angela glared. “People need to know that my product is perfectly safe.”
I shrugged. I wouldn’t be using it any time soon, and feared we would all be receiving the product for Christmas. “Are the decorations finished?”
“Yes. The living and dining rooms look like a winter wonderland.”
Which was a secret code for gaudy and over the top. At least I didn’t have to spend the time doing it. Bacon done, I grabbed the can opener and opened what seemed like hundreds of cans.
Most of the neighbors would show up, get a look at the crazy romance novelist who solved crimes, scarf down the food and move on. As long as they moved on, they could eat as much as they wanted. Maybe I could plead a headache and stay home before the next house in the progression.
As each dish was made, my refrigerator filled to capacity. Despite my reluctance to mingle, I couldn’t squelch the flicker of excitement that sprouted in my stomach. I’d bought a new dress for the occasion and couldn’t wait for my handsome, detective, boyfriend, Matthew Steele to see me.
I finished the finger food with an hour to spare. I rushed past my sister and her two teenagers, who were putting the final touches on the decorations, and headed upstairs to my room. A long hot shower, scented body cream (not my sister’s), a dab of makeup, and I stood in front of a full length mirror.
The black dress with red trim fit my slender figure like a glove. My red hair, straightened and hanging down my back, completed my holiday look. I’d even gone the extra mile and slathered on a shiny red lipstick. Matt would swallow his tongue when he saw me.
I headed through rooms full of white and gold decorations, noted the nativity in its place, and went to answer the ringing doorbell. “Hello, handsome.”
Matt whistled. “Wow!”
I cocked my head. “Seriously? I’ve worn a dress before.”
“Not like that one.” He snaked his arm around my waist and pulled me close for a kiss.
“You’ve ruined my lipstick.” I brushed away the evidence from his mouth with my thumb.
“Good. Doesn’t hurt to let the neighbors know you’re taken.” He brushed past me and headed straight for the food table.
I shrugged and turned to hug my best friend, and his sister, Mary Ann. “He’s incorrigible.”
“Try living with him.” She glanced around the living room. “It looks great.”
“I thought Angela would overdo it for sure, but it is beautiful. Don’t forget to take a bag on your way out.”
She glanced at the pink gift bags with white polka dots. “Not on your life.” She laughed and left me holding the door for the next guests.
Thank the Lord for large Victorian houses. Soon, my rooms were filled with looky-loos and gluttons.
“I feel a headache coming on,” I told Mom, biting into a bite-sized red velvet cake. “It made me nauseous.”
“Not so much you can’t eat.” She narrowed her eyes. “If you don’t want to go, then don’t. I won’t force you. Oh!” She dashed toward toddler who reached a chubby hand toward one of mom’s cherished crystal ornaments.
She was one of the neighbors who argued about letting children attend the progressive parties. What did she think would happen?
The Snyders, a single mother with one too many children, stepped through the open front door. Clean and in their Sunday best, they glanced nervously around the room. I stepped forward to greet them. “Lucy, I’m glad you could make it.”
“Can’t turn down a free meal with this brood.” She turned to her four boys. “Behave and don’t touch anything.”
They nodded and scampered away, filling their pockets with cookies. Lucy sighed. “I can’t deny them some Christmas cheer. The holidays are lean for us this year.”
As they were every year since her husband went to prison five years ago, if my guess was right. Maybe we could get the local church to adopt the family for Christmas. A week was enough time to purchase and wrapped gifts. Matt would love to play Santa.
By the time the last guest left, my feet ached and I really did have a headache. Miraculously, all of Angela’s gift bags were gone. I wished the recipients good luck. I closed the door, kicked off my shoes, and plopped on the sofa. I’d promised to call Matt later, and hoped I didn’t fall asleep.
The twinkle of the tree lights filled the room with a sense of beauty and wonder. My gaze traveled down its branches and landed on the nativity, my favorite decoration. I bolted upright. Where was the baby Jesus?
2
After totally destroying the festive piles of gifts under the tree, and crawling around the living room floor for several minutes, I had to admit the figurine was gone.
I slipped my shoes back on and grabbed my red wood coat. Maybe I could find the culprit at the next house on the schedule. I teetered down the sidewalk in my heels and burst into the home of the Olsons. Their name still left me surprised.
Mrs. Olson, perpetually paranoid that another woman would want her shy, overweight, balding husband, left her the most unpopular person in the neighborhood. It wasn’t unheard of for her to run women to the other side of the street at the end of her shovel.
I searched the room for Mom. She stood in conversation with Mary Ann next to a buffet table. “Wow,” I said, staring at the roast ham and other dishes. “Mrs. Olson outdid herself.”
“I thought you had a headache.” Mom handed me a plate.
“Baby Jesus is missing.” I plopped a spoonful of mashed potatoes covered with melted cheddar cheese onto my plate.
“Excuse me?”
“From our nativity. He’s gone.”
Her eyes widened. “Angela!”
My sister, recognizing ‘that tone’ in our mother’s voice, left the people she conversed with and hurried to join us. “Please, don’t screech across the room. It’s embarrassing.”
“What did you do with Jesus?” Mom planted fists are her hips, leaving a smear of mashed potatoes on the black fabric.
“I left him at church.” She wasn’t a big church attender.
“Don’t be snarky. The baby Jesus from the nativity is missing.”
“He was there when I set it all under the tree.”
I glanced around the crowded room. One of my neighbors was a thief. Tears pricked my eyes. After all I’d done for them, too. I’d formed a Neighborhood Watch, which, other than myself and the couple who lived next door were the only members, and had helped put two murderers behind bars.
“We have to find it.” Mom set her plate on the table and marched straight to Matt.
He met my gaze over her head. I nodded, to say that what she was saying was true, while, at the same time, praying she was actually talking about the missing figurine and not how big my rear end would look this time next month after indulging in holiday treats.
Matt whispered something to Mom, then headed my way. “You’re missing something? Do you want to file a police report?”
Silly man. He should know me better after almost a year of dating. “I’m sure it’s something simple. I’ll handle it. It isn’t
as if I stumbled across another dead body.”
He paled. “You attract trouble, Stormi. It might be small now, but you have a way of blowing things up.”
I held up a finger. “I have never—”
“Excuse me!” Angela kicked off her stilettos and climbed on a kitchen chair, clapping her hands together like cymbals. “Your attention, please.”
“Stop looking.” Mrs. Olson smacked her husband’s shoulder.
“Can I listen? She’s going to say something.”
“You may not. I’ll tell you what you need to know.”
He clapped his hands over his ears and stared at the floor. Matt and I exchanged shocked looks, then focused on Angela, who did her best to pull her dress down far enough to hide what God intended to stay hidden. She managed. Barely.
Once everyone quieted and were looking her way, she patted her hair, and pasted on a smile. “It has come to my attention that someone who visited our home, our home,” she emphasized with a hand over her heart, “has made away with the baby Jesus. Now, I know that you all understand my predicament. I was the last person to touch the nativity, and now, my sister, Stormi Nelson,” she pointed a manicured finger at me, “is blaming me for the theft.”
Murmurs of shock rippled around the room. Several people glared in my direction. What had I done wrong?
“Now, if Jesus isn’t returned, my sister will feel the need to investigate, which always, results in her family almost being killed. I implore your Christmas spirit. Please, return the baby Jesus. Thank you.”
She held out her hand. Detective Ryan Koontz, Matt’s partner, helped her down. He flashed a startling white smile against his dark skin. I narrowed my eyes. Please don’t tell me he was dumb enough to fall for my sister.
“Well, that was interesting.” I popped a cherry tomato into my mouth. “I doubt it will work.”
“Of course it will.” Angela grabbed a stick of celery. “Whoever took the piece will be terrified not to return it. If they fail to do so, you’ll be sniffing at their heels. That’s all it will take to make someone return the figurine.”
“I’m going to find out who took it before it’s returned.” I marched away from her, ignoring Matt’s protests about my snooping.
I could find the culprit. I had experience. Finding a miniature Jesus had to be easier than finding a killer and far less dangerous.
3
I followed the group to the house next to mine, checking each person for suspicious bulges in their pockets. It was hard to see whether the women carried anything in their fancy holiday clutches, and every man had the distinct outline of a cell phone. I transferred my attentions to the younger people.
Cherokee, my niece, laughed with her brother, Dakota. He could be a suspect. Just the other day he had commented how boring life was without a mystery to solve. I wouldn’t put it past the scamp to hide Jesus just to get me to search. Then, there were the four hooligans that Lucy had to raise on her own. Not to mention at least three toddlers. Maybe I should have checked my toilets. Didn’t they like flushing things?
I waited until everyone had entered the home of Tony and Becky Salazar. My neighbors were ‘Little People’ with big hearts and the desire to please. I shook hands with Tony and bent down to give Becky a hug. “The two of you ready to do some neighborhood investigating?”
Tony grinned. “More than ready. We’ll make the rounds while everyone fills up on cake and cookies.” He lowered his voice. “We bought all the desserts from your mother’s shop, although I wish she would stop treating us as if we have a handicap.”
“I’ll talk to her.” Again. I followed the sound of moaning people happy with the sweets they were stuffing in their mouths.
The Salazars must have spent a fortune, and if Mom wasn’t in love with them before, she was bound to be now. Cupcakes, a three-tiered white cake, and a multitude of cookies covered the red-draped table. Not a single person didn’t hold a plate in their hand that wasn’t piled with goodies.
I tried to mingle, but everyone became suddenly involved in a deep conversation while I strolled by. One man actually preferred talking to a silk plant than answer my questions.
Pouting, I retired to a vacant corner. Maybe I could learn something by merely observing.
Matt flirted with Mom, much to the aggravation of her boyfriend, Robert. Matt had a way of making whatever woman he talked to feel like the most important person in the room. I wasn’t worried. I knew he was mine.
A nativity sat on the Salazar’s mantel. Clearly made in Mexico, since Mary, Joseph, and Jesus had distinctive Hispanic features, the painting and detail was exquisite.
“Not going to steal mine to replace yours, are you?” Tony handed me a glass of punch.
“I’m admiring the workmanship.”
“I carved that myself. Becky did the painting.”
“Seriously? You two are talented. I’d keep a close watch on it if I were you.”
“I intend to.” He patted my arm and continued to greet each guest by name and with a handshake. The world needed more people as friendly as Tony.
I eyed the Snyder boys who stood a bit too close to the presents under the tree, in my opinion. The oldest, Jaxon whispered something to the youngest, Kyle. They acted very suspicious to me. I started to approach them, when Angela stopped me.
“Everyone took one of my gift bags.” Her eyes shimmered with tears.
“That’s good, right?” And surprising, considering.
“No. They’ve left them next to the Olson’s trashcan. They only took the bags to be nice.”
“I’m sorry, Angela, really I am, but maybe you should consider another line of product to sell. Daisy’s murder is too fresh in everyone’s minds.” I could still feel the itchy rash of the poison ivy, and that had happened two months ago.
“I’m not going to sell Tupperware!” She stormed away.
Did anyone sell Tupperware anymore? Surely, there was another makeup line she could sell. Regardless, I didn’t have time to worry about makeup. I sidled closer to the Snyder boys.
Jaxon caught me creeping closer and herded his brothers outside. I shrugged. Not having a lot of experience with children, I really had no idea whether they were telling secrets, up to no good, or behaving normal. From the look in Lucy’s eyes as she watched them go outside, I was going with up to no good.
“What’s up?” I asked.
“I think I might know where your baby Jesus is.”
“Let’s go get it.”
She shook her head. “I want them to return it because it’s the right thing to do, not because I told them to.”
“You have a plan?”
“I might. I could also be wrong, which means my boys will be angry with me, but I’ll deal with that if it happens.” She pulled me back into the corner. “We’re going to set a trap. Do you think your boyfriend will help us?”
“I’m sure of it.” I caught Matt’s eye and waved him over. “We’re going to catch us a thief under the age of fifteen. You in?”
He shoved a chocolate-chip cookie into his mouth. “Sounds like fun. Then, I plan on dragging Stormi under the mistletoe. My lips are feeling a total lack of the Christmas spirit.”
My face heated as Lucy laughed. “I miss Mark so much it hurts, especially at the holidays.”
I put an arm on her shoulder, and winked. “Do you want Matt to kiss you, too?”
She laughed. “Tempting, but no, he’s all yours.”
Matt scowled. “Stop poking fun and tell me about your plan.”
4
Plan in place, Matt made the rounds, asking the guests to participate. Most were enthusiastic about the idea, and it was no surprise that Mrs. Olson balked.
“Why don’t you just make the boy admit to taking the figurine.” Mrs. Olson crossed her arms over her ample bosom, straining the fabric of her forest green tent, I mean dress.
“The boy’s mother wants to teach him a valuable lesson,” Matt said.
“A trip to
the woodshed would be lesson enough.” Mrs. Olson glared in the direction of the Snyder boys who still stuffed their faces and their pockets with Christmas goodies. “Make them turn out their pockets.”
“We’re hoping it won’t come to that.” I knew what kind of mother Lucy was. She had raised the boys right. If they took the figurine, they had a reason, however misguided it might be.
It was time to put the first part of the plan into action. I sidled up to the boys and pretended to study the dessert items. I sighed dramatically. “Look at all these wonderful cakes. I don’t ever feel like eating them.”
“Why not?” One of the middle boys, I couldn’t remember his name, glanced up at me with a powdered sugar smile. “You’re missing out.”
“I can’t eat when I’m depressed. I lost something very valuable to me today. A baby Jesus that had been in my family for a very long time.”
The four boys exchanged glances, confirming my suspicions that they knew something about the theft. If they weren’t the ones who had stolen the nativity, they knew who did.
I tried to drum up a fake tear, to no avail. So, I grabbed a napkin and dabbed at dry eyes, hoping they wouldn’t notice the lack of moisture.
The youngest boy’s chin quivered, and he glanced at his older brother.
Jaxon herded his brothers to the other side of the room, tossing over his shoulder that they didn’t know anything. The little liar.
I moved back to Matt’s side. “I played the sympathy card. I’m sure they took it, but they aren’t admitting a thing.”
“They will.” Matt stuck two fingers into his mouth and blew. “Folks, sorry for the interruption, but we now have a live investigation. No one is allowed to leave this house until the culprit is apprehended. Each person will be interrogated before being allowed to leave. Now, if the thief will come forward and return the stolen item, the party can continue, and no charges will be pressed.”
“That’s a bit excessive for a holiday decoration, don’t you think?” A man I didn’t know stuffed a brownie into his mouth.
“Go to the store and buy another one. Why ruin everyone’s fun,” a woman said. “Stormi makes enough money with her trashy novels to buy ten new nativity sets.”
Nosy Neighbor: All 7 complete Nosy Neighbor cozy mysteries PLUS: 2 short Christmas stories (A Nosy Neighbor mystery) Page 104
