“Your mother and father are coming to town.”
Now I saw concern. “When?”
“Sunday. They are coming for your birthday.”
“Okay.” And then she was quiet. “Is that all?”
I sighed. “That’s all I know. She said she doesn’t really know what’s going on.”
Then she gave me her far-too-grownup look. “Typical.”
* * *
Sarah is one of those kids who is going to grow up being told she thinks too much. She’ll hear it over and over again. It’s a mark of her seriousness, and while it’s upsetting to some people, the idea of thinking too much is just stupid. You don’t have to be seven to know that the failure is in not thinking. Thinking too much, over thinking issues, can hurt and confuse you at times, but it’s far better than the alternative—not thinking things through.
Obviously thinking over the news, she moved between Woodley and I, and her tiny hands grabbed ours. I felt the press of her fingers as we walked home. She looked up at me. “Did you intend for us to go out for dinner tonight?”
“We were thinking about it. I imagine Pete and the others from the play will be celebrating and we thought we might eat dinner out and join in.”
“I’d really prefer not to,” she said. “You and Mr. Woodley can go without me.”
“And what about your dinner?”
“I can just have a sandwich and if it’s okay, I could stay with Mrs. Chabert this evening.”
Her words hurt. She wanted to be alone and I wanted nothing more than to comfort her. But I did understand. “You want to think about things.”
Those blue eyes blinked. “You know, I’d been wondering what you were worrying about.”
“What, me worry?”
She shook her head. “It’s not…” then she stopped. “Do you have an idea what my mother intends?”
“None at all. The only ideas are my own. I’ve not been worrying so much as having my mind consider all the possibilities, the good and bad.”
“That’s what I’m doing,” she said. “Just like that.” And she squeezed my hand harder.
“I respect you needing some think time, but I honestly don’t really feel much like eating out either. Let’s all have dinner at home.”
She gave me that wiser than her seven years look. “Okay, but then you two should go out.”
“Deal.”
So, when we got to the house, I called Mrs. Chabert, then cooked up a spaghetti. We all ate and then Woodley and I walked Sarah to Mrs. Chabert’s house, a couple of doors down from mine.
“There’s my challenger,” she said when we were on her doorstep.
“Your challenger?” Woodley asked.
“Miz Chabert and I play Scrabble,” Sarah said. “She isn’t half bad.”
The woman laughed. “Sarah’s the only decent competition this side of Paudy,” Mrs. Chabert said.
Sarah grinned. “We share an interest in words.”
“I thought seven-year olds played with dolls and enjoyed card games like Go Fish,” Woodley said as we walked to the tavern.
“Regular seven-year olds probably do. I don’t know any of them. Nellie’s boys enjoyed shooting squirrels at that age.”
“You certainly attract exceptional people, as if they are drawn to you.”
I caught a flicker of something in his eyes, a quiver in his smile. “I guess I do at that,” I said. “Odd and exceptional people of all ages.” It did seem to be true.
Woodley looked away. “Let’s go see what’s happening in the exciting downtown of metropolitan Knockemstiff,” he said.
I let my concerns about Sarah slid to the back of my mind, hooked my arm in his and walked alongside him pretending I hadn’t noticed how smoothly he changed the subject.
Walking beside James Woodley, once again I found myself feeling disturbingly warm on a relatively cool night.
“It’s Christmas Eve tomorrow,” I said.
“And?”
“We still don’t know who Santa Hood is. What happens to the bet if we don’t find out.”
“We’ll find out.”
“You seem confident.”
“I’m not without resources.”
He most certainly was not.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
At the Tavern
By the time we got to the tavern the party was in progress. We sat with Nellie and Rudy. I treated myself to a beer, a Belgian white that Woodley (correctly) thought I’d enjoy.
Rudy wandered off to talk to a friend who had just bought a new tractor. “It’s a John Deere,” he said excitedly.
“You best enjoy his,” Nellie said. “You aren’t getting one.”
As Rudy wandered off, I turned to Pete. “Now that the play is done, what are you doing for the holidays? Going to see your family?”
He shook his head. “Nope. Thank goodness! This year is going to be amazingly different from years of sitting around the table with a family that wants to pretend they don’t know I’m gay.” He gave Leander a smile. “This year my man Leander has booked some gigs in Baton Rouge during the holidays—he’s playing a Christmas party there and then a New Year’s Eve bash in New Orleans.”
Leander smiled happily. “I want you all to know that I have those gigs thanks to James Woodley, my self appointed de facto agent.” He nodded in the guilty party’s direction and I chuckled at how embarrassed it made Woodley.
Pete put his hand on Leander’s. “So, since we are going to be there, Leander and I decided to spend the time when he isn’t working having fun and getting to know the city.”
“That sounds fantastic,” I said.
“I’m glad you think so,” Woodley said. Then he looked at Leander. “I have every intention of getting Miz Savannah Jefferies to go to that New Year’s party with me. I wangled two tickets to the event.”
“Great!” Leander said.
Once again, James Woodley had managed to surprise me. I looked at him. “Oh, you do, do you?”
He put his finger to his lips. “I do, but it’s a surprise, so don’t tell.”
Pete was beaming. “Then we will see you there?”
“I can’t promise that,” I told him. “There are some things that need to be settled over the holiday and I don’t know…. I’d really love to, but everything is a bit topsy turvy right now. I won’t be able to say what I am going to do until after Christmas.”
Pete looked concerned. “Is everything okay? Can I help somehow?”
“You are sweet, Pete, but these are things that aren’t in my control. I just can’t know how my life will be until… well, all I can say is that I intend to enjoy celebrating on Christmas Eve. The next day will be a little crazy. A lot crazy. Sunday is Christmas day and Sarah’s birthday.”
“That’s a lot, but…”
“And Sarah’s parents are going to be there.”
The startled looks told me that my friends understood the situation. Even Woodley knew enough to get the gist. His face said nothing though.
Pete sighed. “I knew Bea called the other day. Finally. What did she say?”
“Not enough. Not much at all. Just that they were making some big decisions, some changes and they wanted to be there for her birthday party. I told her that I’d expect them at noon.”
“Do you have any idea…?” Betina started, but Pete put a hand on her arm and stopped her. “Sorry. How would you know?”
“I don’t think even Bea and Lester know what they intend to do, or didn’t when they called anyway. She said things are up in the air. She wasn’t clear on what she was talking about. I won’t know anything until they tell me what’s going on.”
Realizing that my eyes were teary, I turned my face to one side and wiped them with my hand. The table was deathly quiet. “Anyway her seven-year celebration will be in the afternoon. Some of the kids from her school will be there, and Woodley and I, of course.” I nodded at Nellie. “And we are expecting to be invaded by the Phlint army, despite which I can
promise plenty of room and food. Any of you who will be in town are invited to her party. I’ll put out a buffet so people can come and go.”
Betina raised her hand. “I’ll be there.” Then she grinned. “Sanders said he was going too, that he wanted to bring Sarah a present. So we might come together.”
The news made me happy. I wasn’t sure what sort of relationship those two had, but whatever it was, there was some sparkle coming into Betina’s eyes. Sanders was a good man and seemed to care about the lovely Betina. He might get her killed with some of his adventurous ideas, but he wouldn’t hurt her deliberately. He might even just be flattered to have her as a friend.
I reminded myself that other people’s relationships were none of my business even if they seemed irresistibly juicy.
“That sounds great. I know Sarah will be tickled to have you both there.”
She would too.
Woodley walked me home and when we were on the doorstep he kissed me. It was an intense and lovely kiss. I think that if I hadn’t been so caught up in my wondering about what Bea and Lester would do I would’ve invited him in. We would’ve had the house to ourselves.
Instead I looked up at him, into his gentle eyes. “It’s a confusing time,” I said.
He smiled. “I’m a patient man.”
After he left I was torn by the second guessing, doubting, wondering, and near panic you’d expect. And I remembered that I’d never even gotten around to asking what he’d been talking to Paula about.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Saturday, December 24th: The Day Before Christmas
Naturally we weren't opening the salon on Saturday. Most of downtown was closed with only a handful of stores open. But Finn and Sarah and I went to the salon to clean up. Shutting early on Friday for the play meant closing in a rush; we would be closed until the first week of the New Year and I wanted to make sure that we hadn’t left any food out or any messes that we’d regret when we came back. In Louisiana we don't worry about a lot of things, but we do worry about bugs. One you get them entrenched, especially roaches, it’s nearly impossible to get rid of them, and no one wants to see bugs crawling around when they are getting fixed up to look nice. You need to keep food put away.
It was a good thing we went in. We’d left quite a mess. As Sarah helped me toss out dead donuts and clean the coffee urn, Finn took his morning nap. A short time later, Nellie showed up looking happy.
“What a great and revealing smile that is on your face, Nellie Phlint. What are you doing in this morning?”
“I’ve every right to be ecstatic, Savannah. When Rudy and I got home from the play, not only was the house still standing and my furniture largely intact, everyone was asleep except for the baby sitter. Rudy took Barbara and Ginny home. When he got back we had two fingers of Bayou Shine and went to bed, although we didn’t sleep for some time.”
“So all around a great night.”
“Then I realized I’d left my purse here when I went to the play. It’s nice and safe, but rather useless. I wanted to get to the store for a couple of things… they close soon, so here I am.”
“Well under the circumstances, saying happy holidays seems unnecessary.”
“Righto. What time are you expecting us tomorrow?”
“Come anytime after noon.”
She picked up her purse and headed for the door. Since we were done, Sarah, Finn and I left with Nellie and noticed the gray afternoon sky.
“Oh, Savannah, it looks like it wants to snow,” Dolores Pettigrew said. She’d been walking by and stopped to tell me her thought. The idea made her voice bubble with excitement. “I wonder if we could finally have a white Christmas.”
Nellie chuckled. “Dolores, you are an eternal optimist.”
“That’s a good thing, isn’t it?”
“You are happily ignoring the fact that even during a cold winter night in Louisiana the temperature seldom gets below forty degrees above zero and right now it is around fifty. I think the Christmas movie reruns are addling your brain.”
“Well, Nellie, I was thinking about the effects of climate change,” she said. “I mean if the global climate changes, then some places the weather has to get more interesting, right? If it’s changing then we could have drier summers and snow at Christmas.”
“Why not?” I said. “It all seems to be pretty random and Christmas is supposed to be a special time.” I wasn’t the cynic Nellie was, and Dolores was so happy thinking it might snow.
Just then as if on cue, a group of carolers assembled and started singing. “I think we are about to become victims of random caroling,” Nellie said. “Brace yourselves. They are known to strike with no warning, and to show no mercy.”
They weren’t very good, but they were enthusiastic. “A star for effort?” I asked.
The group wrapped the song up as Billy Jasper came walking down the street with some wrapped packages under his arms. “Merry Christmas everyone,” he said cheerfully.
Before I could answer, the air was split by the unnaturally shrill shriek of a police siren as Digby Hayes rolled up. The lights on the car came on, flashing that obnoxious blue and red. We all stopped and stared at Digby sitting in his patrol car at the curb. Finally he got out, hitched up the leather holster belt and headed toward us looking serious.
“We thought caroling was legal,” a young man said, looking pale. “Honest, we all did.”
“It used to be,” Nellie said. “Times change. You have to keep up.”
“You should be fine,” I told him as Digby walked past Dolores Pettigrew who was holding her hands over her ears, and straight up to Billy. He grabbed Billy’s arm and pulled his handcuffs from his belt. “Billy Jasper, I’m arresting you for multiple thefts and whatever crime it is to be Santa Hood.” Digby spoke loudly so we’d all know that Officer Digby Hayes was making an arrest.
“But I’m not a thief or Santa Hood.”
“Digby, shut that fool thing off,” Nellie yelled pointing at the police car that was still screaming its shrill cry and flashing its lights.
Digby ignored her and pointed to the packages Billy was carrying. “Those were stolen from Ellen Hart’s office not twenty minutes ago.” He held up a picture. “Same wrapping paper, same size packages.”
Billy was looking frightened. “I found them!” He nodded behind him. “They were in the alley. The spot I always find the things.”
“Darn you Digby Hayes,” Nellie said. She hit him with her purse. “There is no excuse to be insurmountably, stupidly rude.” As he stared at her, stunned, she stomped over to the police car, opened the door, reached in and switched off the lights and siren.
Digby held Billy’s arm and looked about nervously as if he thought we were all turning on him. “What are you doing? That is an official vehicle.”
“And I’m an official taxpayer, so it’s mine more than yours.”
“This is official business.”
“Well I’m doing you a favor.”
“A favor? What sort of favor?”
“I’m keeping you from being arrested.”
“Me? I’m the cop here.”
“Who is surrounded by private citizens who are upset with you for unnecessarily disturbing the peace. There is no earthly reason to have that noisy thing running. It’s parked, for Pete’s sake.”
Digby tried to sound indignant. “This is official police business.”
“Officer Hayes, if you will insist on arresting Billy Jasper, it should be conducted with a certain amount of civility,” Dolores Pettigrew said. She pointed at the growing crowd. The carolers hadn’t left and other people were drawn to the smell of excitement. Something was happening and they wanted in on it. “You are supposed to be enforcing law and order, not creating a hullabaloo. There is no earthly need for such a ruckus in front of the salon unless you are trying to draw attention to yourself like you did when you were little.” Dolores was only a few years older than Digby, but she’d probably acted like his elder since she
was ten.
Digby paled. Defending his actions in front of a crowd, with Dolores Pettigrew attacking him, wasn’t what he’d had in mind when he’d started this. I imagined he envisioned grabbing Billy, announcing his verdict and being hailed as a hero. Unfortunately, his plan was in tatters. What he needed now was a confession—a confirmation of the validity of his arrest. He turned back to Billy. “I know you’ve been giving lots of things to poor people in this town, Billy.”
Billy looked all indignant. “That’s a crime? Generosity is illegal now?”
“It is if the stuff isn't yours. I know you can’t afford to buy the things you are giving away. Billy, and I know that some of the stuff you are giving away was stolen. Now in my book that makes you the Santa Hood—the one robbing from the not so well off to give to the really badly off. Even if it’s noble, it’s illegal.”
“No! I didn’t steal anything.” Bill’s voice almost squeaked. “I found every last thing—every decoration, tree and present. They were lying in dumpsters behind stores, and a lot of it was in an alley. Lots of perfectly good things were just being thrown away. I just made sure they weren’t wasted.”
“Are you saying you didn’t know about the Christmas thefts?”
“I…” Poor Billy looked guilty as heck. Of course he knew about the thefts and he’d just turned that off in order to have the resources to do what he was doing. “I heard about it.”
“I know you did. You reported the first one yourself,” Digby said. “But that was just to cover your tracks, wasn’t it? You thought that if you reported the break-in no one would suspect you.”
“No. I didn’t break into the salon and I didn’t steal anything.”
Everything I knew about the crimes seemed to be flashing through my head as the stunned carolers took the last of the cookies from the plate I was holding. It was almost dreamlike. Scenes of Billy at the salon during the break-in mixed with Sarah handing me the bulb found in the alley. I saw Art arguing about prices and worrying about money and Janet Tikkermann on high horse scolding the carolers.
Holiday Hooligans: Cozy Mystery (The Teasen & Pleasen Hair Salon Cozy Mystery Series Book 3) Page 14
