Holiday Hooligans: Cozy Mystery (The Teasen & Pleasen Hair Salon Cozy Mystery Series Book 3)

by Constance Barker

  “The girl is clearly depressed. She’s been down in the dumps for days. She even oversleeps, which isn’t like her. Then you call her up, drag her out of bed and she comes in here looking like a million bucks.”

  I grinned. “You sound jealous.”

  “Darn right I’m jealous. If I pulled a stunt like that, sleeping in and then rushing in to work I’d look like something the cat dragged in, with my face all puffy and ugly.”

  “Me too. What are we going to do about this affront to our egos?”

  “Clearly we need to spy on her. We can find out her secret and then distill whatever she does into a potion. We’ll only sell it to people we like. It’s a perfect way to achieve world domination.”

  “You Phlints already sell Bayou Shine.”

  “And this would be a natural addition to the product line.”

  We were joking but the basic point was true enough. Betina looked good and always did. It seemed to me that the stunning redhead was able to get herself together no matter what the situation. Of course that was partly because her looks were more important to her than they were for some of us. We all cared about how we looked, but Betina defined herself by her look. “I’d guess it’s a matter of training and practice,” I said. “Looking good is part of who she is.”

  Nellie nodded. “Can’t sell that, I suppose. Dang. It’s like those insufferable television actresses and their stunning figures. You read close enough and you find out that their secret, they way they got those bodies was through diet and hard work. What good is that? Whatever happened to miracle lotions and pills?” She went back to exfoliating Lucille’s hands.

  At lunch time, Pete headed out to the Bacon Up to meet Leander. Betina, playing catch up with her clients skipped lunch. Nellie and I microwaved some weight and health conscious (according to the television ads and the label) lasagne and ate it in the back room. It was fast, smelled great and tasted awful. I had to admire the years of research that had gone into creating an unpalatable lasagne.

  We made it through a rather dull afternoon and then Finnegan and I set off to fetch Sarah from school.

  When we arrived Sarah was waiting with her friend Ginny and Ginny’s mother. “I’m Paula,” she said, introducing herself. “Seems like our girls started working on a project together today. Something they are making for the class party.”

  “It kind of grew and we need to work on them some more,” Sarah said. “Ginny asked if I could go to her house for the night.”

  “Do you have the materials to make them?”

  Sarah nodded. “Mrs. Lacey provided what we needed and said that since Ginny’s idea was so ambitious, if we want we can take the materials home with us and bring the finished product in tomorrow. It won’t be quite done, but the rest we can do at school if we work hard tonight.”

  I looked at Paula. “This is quite an imposition on you,” I said. “And rather sudden. We aren’t really prepared for this.”

  “It’s no problem. Ginny has a nightgown that Sarah can use, and we have an unopened toothbrush,” she laughed. “What else does a kid need for a sleepover?”

  I was torn. I didn’t know the family, just that Paula was a single mother who worked part time as the secretary for Ellen Hart’s Realty company. That wasn’t a job that was going to pay much, and as I was learning, a grade schooler jacked the cost of living up considerably. On the other hand, Paula seemed to want Sarah to sleep over and Sarah was eager.

  “I’d hate to think you were getting put on the spot by a couple of conniving young ladies.”

  She chuckled. “I don’t mind,” she said. “I didn’t have any plans for the evening. Clearly Sarah’s a great kid. I was planning to make a big spaghetti dinner, so there will be plenty of food.”

  “Please, Miz Jefferies,” Sarah said. “Ginny has some great ideas. I want to see… well, she has an idea for making something. She’s started it on her own, working on it at home. But it’s way too complex for her to finish alone. If we have one night to work on the main part, then we can do the rest of it in time for the presentation at the party and it will be so good!”

  It was a logical and a reasonable, if exuberant request. I was bothered that Sarah going home with Ginny and eating dinner might be stretching an already tight budget, but I didn’t want to insult the woman either.

  “Well, if you are sure it’s okay with you, Paula, if you aren’t being coerced by the grade school mafia, I suppose it’s fine with me.” I grinned at Sarah. “I suppose I can find some way to entertain myself, sitting all alone in that big house.”

  “Tease,” she said.

  “I walk Ginny to school on my way to work every morning, so I’ll bring Sarah straight to school after breakfast.”

  “Okay,” I said.

  I resisted the urge to tell Sarah to be good. I knew she would be. And she seemed delighted with this adventure. A few moments later I was standing in front of the school watching Sarah and Ginny skip off toward Ginny’s house with Paula following. Finnegan moaned.

  “I know what you mean,” I told him. He looked at me with a look that was begging for me to send him after her. “She’s got other friends besides us, Finn.” The dog fidgeted nervously. “No, we are going home alone.” I turned and started home. Finn walked uncharacteristically slowly behind me. “You can help me pick a movie to stream,” I told him. “And I’ll make popcorn. You know I always drop popcorn on the floor, and just this once, seeing as it’s just you and me, I’ll even waive the thirty second rule.”

  Finn barked and trotted off ahead of me.

  Never, ever, try and convince me that animals don’t understand English, or whatever other language a human speaks.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Tuesday, December 13th: Eleven days before Christmas

  With Sarah gone for the night I had an eerily quiet evening at home. Finnegan wasn’t the least interested in being good company. He gave me a look that suggested that he knew I was responsible for Sarah not being there and that I wouldn’t be forgiven. That accomplished, he went into her room and lay down next to her bed.

  He didn’t pay any attention to me the rest of the night and I didn’t even see him again until I opened the door for him to go out before I went to bed. When he came back in again he went straight back to her room where he stayed until I put out his breakfast.

  I made a lunch for Sarah, then Finn and I dropped it off at school for her. Paula would get Sarah to school, but Mrs. Lacey didn’t provide lunches, so I wanted to make sure she had one. Finn found going to school without Sarah and leaving without her again, rather puzzling. Hey, it seemed odd to me too.

  By the time we started toward the salon, Finn was beginning to deal with the poor hand that fate had dealt him and put it behind him. He began taking an interest in the trees and bushes and whatever incredible smells dogs find in and around them. When we stopped to get donuts for the salon (it was my turn) I bought him a couple of donut holes. They are terrible for a dog, so of course he adores them. I consoled myself with knowing that bribery was a big part of many cultures.

  Despite the offering I wasn’t totally forgiven and when we arrived at the salon, he curled up on his rug. Finally I knew he was ready to accept the reality and move on with the important routines of his doggy life.

  The others straggled in as they tend to do, gabbing about this and that. Leander came in with Pete. “Leander is going to apply for a part time job at the Tavern,” Pete said.

  “Bartending?” I asked.

  “Doing whatever they will hire me to do,” he said.

  Nellie came in wearing a Santa hat and looking very elfish.

  Other people, customers and spectators showed up as well. We took a breath and welcomed one and all. The day had begun.

  The combination of the irresistible deliciousness of the story of a Christmas tree theft with the way any bad news spreads like a brush-fire in Knockemstiff meant that this Tuesday morning, the day after we reported the crime, we found ourselves crowded
to bursting. When juicy gossip is afoot, especially when there is ample space for wild speculation, the waiting area at Teasen and Pleasen can become a place of standing room only. That morning we filled up with a mix of customers, people who wanted to see the scene of yet another crime (as if they didn’t know exactly what Teasen and Pleasen looked like by now), and those who were there to be seen and to talk about our recent crime spree.

  Even though it gets rather crowded, mostly everyone is good natured. The ones who are just there for the gossip leave the seats for customers waiting their turn for a hair styling or manicure or whatever. Sometimes they will try and take any open slot so they can be front and center. We rather enjoy it, as it makes the day fly by. So it works.

  “Turns out your salon was just one of a string of vicious robberies across this town,” Digby Hayes announced as he came in. “They are still going on too. The big Santa in front of Botowski’s hardware store disappeared last night. Hildegarde is furious.” Digby didn’t normally just wander into the salon. Clearly he knew people would be asking questions about the robberies and it was a chance for him to play his part and be the center of attention. He headed straight for the donuts I’d set out.

  “And the tree at City Hall is gone this morning, along with the presents that the employees had put under the tree for the employee Christmas party were taken too,” Selina added. “Just gone.”

  Digby nodded. “We had a busy weekend, or at least the thief did. Made for a cranky Monday though. Chief Tanner has spent more time getting an earful from the mayor than investigating crimes.”

  Amid the oohs and awes of the chorus at this news, Dafny (Widah) Jenkins put in her tidbit: “Not to mention that someone grabbed the aluminum tree and rotating colored lights that used to be standing in the alcove by the front door of Mr. Keshain’s store. I went by there this morning and Abaven Keshain told me about it himself. Seems he stayed home sick yesterday, on Monday, and when he came in today it was gone. The last time he saw it was Saturday, so we don’t know when that one actually disappeared.”

  “He didn’t report that to us,” Digby said.

  Widah Jenkins shook her head. “Abaven didn’t see the point in getting stuck making statements to you, Officer Hayes. The tree wasn’t insured. Besides, if our police force can’t protect the city hall tree, he figures his doesn’t stand a chance.”

  “We just don’t know what’s going on yet,” Digby said. “As we collect more information we’ll form a theory.”

  One thing we did know was that with this crowd the coffee in the pot disappeared rapidly. Caffeine and donuts, and a fresh batch of Sarah’s sugar cookies fueled a never-ending stream of stories that people had to tell involving the theft of something Christmas related. Fortunately, we had lots of that weak Mexican coffee and sometime mid morning Angela Ladecky came in for her hair appointment carrying a big plate of blueberry muffins she’d made in the shape of Christmas trees. “They are kind of crumbly,” she said apologetically. “Santa’s arms and legs fall off when you take them out of the paper.” Sure enough, they fell apart almost as soon as you picked them up, but they tasted great. As we devoured them, Dolores took her aside to catch her up on everything she’d missed.

  “I’d say that looking at the crimes overall we can agree there is a trend here,” Pete said. “At least a pattern.”

  That caught Digby’s attention. “A pattern?”

  Pete looked embarrassed. “Well, in the sense that these all seem to be thefts to eliminate Christmas. There isn’t any indication that our serial thief is a professional. A pro wouldn’t have ignored money and other valuables and taken trees.”

  “True,” Digby said, looking solemn. “That’s very true. So unless it’s kids from out of town, it must be a local.”

  I was only following the conversation at a distance. I had other things on my mind—a lot to think about. It was my fault that my brain was starting to overload. I get sentimental at Christmas time and that got me borrowing trouble from the future, as my daddy always put it. But I couldn’t do much about what might happen. I couldn't keep from thinking about the robberies either, but they were something I might be able to resolve. The thefts and the mysterious way things were showing up at the homes of the poor were connected but I doubted it was the obvious one and I wanted to understand it.

  “Oh Pete, since we know it’s someone trying to ruin Christmas for us all…” Dolores Pettigrew said. “I think that tells us who is doing it.”

  Digby seemed to have missed something. “It does?”

  “Oh Officer Hayes, of course it does. We all know who the person is in this town who hates Christmas that much.”

  “Oh, Dolores,” Pete said, “you can’t think Art is a thief. He’s just a tightwad who hates to see money spent on anything frivolous — on anything really. He might be a Scrooge but not a Grinch.”

  Dolores stared at Pete for a minute and Pete’s serious expression broke into a smile. “Oh Pete, you are teasing me.” She tried to scold him, but you could tell by her tone of voice that she enjoyed every second of it. It was attention from a young and attractive man, after all. “You know darn well I mean that Janet Tikkermann. She’s always trying to get decorations labelled a public nuisance. She’s a real…”

  “Grinch?” I suggested, unabashedly stealing Sarah’s idea.

  Dolores beamed. “Oh, Savannah, you always do know just what I mean. Yes, that old biddy is a Grinch for sure. She is just like the one in the book who wanted to ruin everyone’s Christmas.”

  “And you think Miz Tikkermann would steal other people’s decorations?” Digby asked her.

  “Oh, Officer Hayes,” she said. “Nowadays she just might do that. Janet Tikkermann has disliked the holidays as long as I’ve known her, which is far longer than I want to admit. I have no idea why she feels that way, but the last few years it’s gotten worse and worse—she is really soured on it. She went from ignoring it, not participating to complaining, to trying to make people feel guilty about celebrating Christmas.”

  Angela sat down next to her muffins. “I think she might. She says they offend her.”

  “That’s right, Angela,” Dolores said. “Everyone has heard her complaints about Christmas. She makes no secret of her anger. She’s really become just as Savannah called her—a Grinch.”

  I bit my tongue from pointing out that the Grinch thing was Sarah’s notion.

  Digby picked up a blueberry muffin and let it crumble. He picked up the biggest piece and held it up to the light before taking a bite. “As a law-enforcement professional I have to point out that being unpleasant, even being a Grinch isn’t illegal—not yet.”

  “But everyone knows that woman will do almost anything to get rid of the displays and decorations. She must be the one stealing things too. Who else would do it?”

  Digby sighed. “Miz Pettigrew, I know she makes a big fuss about everyone’s decorations offending her. And I do think that if she got herself all worked up, got good and mad, she might pull them down. That would be vandalism and I’d take it seriously. But I don’t have any proof she’s stealing anything, or breaking in places.”

  Nellie refilled her coffee. “Here’s a thought to ponder. If Miz Tikkermann did go around the bend far enough to break in and steal the things just so she wouldn’t have to see them, what is she doing with them? I mean, she lives in a small place. She doesn’t own a truck, so wouldn’t we see her dragging the things around town, or find them somewhere? For that matter, no matter who is stealing the stuff, where has it gone? It’s not like there’s a black market in Christmas trees.”

  As we all pondered, as Nellie asked, Digby lifted a finger. We all looked at him. Suddenly he seemed to realize he didn’t have a thought to share and put his finger down again.

  Dolores wasn’t convinced. “I’m sure I don't know, Nellie Phlint. I haven't a clue where she is putting all those things, but my heart tells me she is the one stealing things. She even looked mighty smug when she heard all of Savann
ah’s decorations were gone, like she wasn’t surprised.”

  “We can't take testimony from your heart, Miz Pettigrew,” a somewhat plumped up Digby Hayes said smugly. “To press charges against an otherwise good citizen, even if she is unlikeable and anti Christmas we need more solid evidence than a smug look.”

  “The lobby at city hall looks rather barren this year with the tree gone,” Betina said.

  Digby nodded seriously. “Good thing that everyone was told not to spend more than five dollars on their gifts. There's no budget for a replacement tree, but the Mayor said the party will go on anyway,” Digby said. “Whoever is doing this isn't going to ruin our Christmas. If it is someone playing Grinch, whether it is Miz Tikkermann or someone else, we aren’t going to let them stop Christmas from coming to Knockemstiff—no matter what happened in the book.”

  As the conversation continued to examine the ins and outs of Grinches, the foreign idea of hating Christmas cheer and possibly responding with thefts, the phone rang. Nellie grabbed it. “Pete. It’s for you.”

  He took the phone and covered his ear to shut out some of the din.

  “What? Are you kidding me? Is he okay other than that?”

  When he hung up I had to ask. “What’s going on? I don’t mean to be nosy but you sounded excited.”

  “Excited and sad. It seems I’ve been promoted to the lead in this year’s play, which is great, but it’s because Jerry Walters had an accident.”

  “What happened? Is he hurt badly?”

  “It seems he had a bad fall and broke his leg. The phone call was from the director of the play. Jerry’s girlfriend called to tell him that someone found him lying at the bottom of the stairs. They took him to the hospital in Paudy. The docs want to keep him for a couple of days to make sure he doesn’t have a concussion. They think he’ll be okay but it was a nasty break and he’ll be in a cast for some time.”

  “Land’s sakes alive,” Widah Jenkins said.

  “Where did the accident happen?” Digby asked.