Naughty or Nice

by Barbra Annino

  The house was quiet except for Watson who acted like I had been gone for years rather than hours. I let him out in the back while I finished cleaning the kitchen. “Any thought or ideas on this, Fagan?”

  “I think we are approaching it in the wrong way. The Santa suit isn’t going to lead anywhere. There are too many variables. You didn’t know the person, so I am going to guess he probably isn’t connected to you either.”

  “Then why did he show up at my house?”

  “I think it was warning. We need to look at you. Do you get fan mail? Do you have enemies? Has anyone made any threats against you?”

  “Besides Eric?”

  Fagan frowned. “What’s his deal?”

  “He hates me.”

  “Why?”

  “How should I know? I think I’m charming.” I let Watson back inside.

  Fagan stood up and stretched. “What time does Gabriel get home?”

  I glanced at the clock. “Probably in about forty-five minutes. Why?”

  “I need to run home and pack a suitcase if I am going to be staying here.”

  “Oh. Go ahead. You don’t need to hang out. I’m fine.”

  The sound of glass shattering came from the front of the house. Watson took off barking with Fagan and me following close behind. Two of the large windows in my living room were shattered and cold air rushed inside.

  “What on earth?” I stopped to stare at my destroyed room. Watson stayed with me, though he looked like he would rather follow Fagan out the front door to chase the intruder. “Grant,” I hissed, hearing Fagan’s steps on the porch.

  “Wasn’t me this time,” Grant’s voice came from beside me. He pointed at the floor where two bricks had landed in the center of the room.

  “You have got to be kidding me. Now they are throwing bricks at my house. I fucking hate this town.”

  Fagan’s head popped up in the window, making me yelp. “What did you say?”

  “Nothing. I was talking to old ghosts.” I hugged myself tight trying to stay warm.

  “Do we have another intruder?” Grant asked.

  “I don’t know. Have you seen anyone?” I asked him under my breath.

  “I haven’t been paying attention,” Grant said. He looked at the windows and frowned. “Those were original.”

  “No wonder the house was always so cold.”

  “Your generation has no respect.”

  The front door opened and Fagan came back inside, brushing snow off his shoulders and stomping his feet on the mat.

  “I think you better call the police.”

  “What? Why? This is petty vandalism.”

  “Normally I would agree. However, in light of the dead body, I think it is probably related.”

  I raised an eyebrow. “If it’s related then, those might have a message on them.” I pointed at the bricks on the floor. “I think I need to have a little peek before any cops arrive.”

  Fagan stopped me from going in the room. “I’m a police officer. I cannot let you disturb a crime scene—”

  “Oh that’s a bunch of crap. Since when do you care about bending rules?”

  “If you would let me finish. I cannot let you disturb a crime scene without these.” He held up a pair of latex gloves to me. He took hold of Watson’s collar so he couldn’t follow me into the room.

  I put them on and tiptoed around the glass scattered across the room the best I could. When I got to the brick, I flipped it over. It said “Or nice” on the other side. Weird. Watson whined and tried to pull away from Fagan. I went to the next brick and it read “Naughty.” I glanced back at him. “They say ‘Naughty or nice.’”

  This was personal. It was most definitely personal, but I had no clue who or why anyone would want to target me.

  Chapter 3

  After the police left, Gabriel and Fagan boarded up the windows while I cleaned up the glass and then Fagan went home. I shut off the living room light and went into my office and flopped down on the couch. Watson joined me, lying across my legs.

  “You doing okay?” Gabriel asked from the doorway.

  “Peachy. Just like old times.” I heard the creak of my desk chair as he lowered himself into it. “How are you? Ready to move back to your house?”

  “I’m not going anywhere.” His soft deep voice covered me like a blanket.

  I stayed on the couch with my eyes closed listening to the sound of my own heart beat and the tapping of Gabriel’s foot against the wood floors. This had to be driving him crazy not being a part of the investigation and having to just wait to hear from Eric.

  “Did you find anything interesting today?” he finally asked.

  “I thought you wanted to stay out of the investigation.”

  “I’m not getting involved. Just curious.”

  I rolled over on my side, displacing Watson, so I could see him. “I don’t have any leads. After I left the station, Fagan and I spoke with costume shops, thrift stores, and the Santa union. Fagan thinks the dead guy is a dead end—excuse the terrible pun.”

  Gabriel steepled his fingers as he leaned back in the chair. “Probably,” he said softly. “What did Eric want?”

  I sighed and rolled back over. It would piss Gabriel off if I told him, or worse, it wouldn’t.

  “Are you seriously not going to tell me?”

  “It doesn’t matter. He doesn’t like me. I don’t like him. Let’s just leave it at that.”

  “What did he say?” he insisted.

  “That dating me is hurting your career.”

  Gabriel raised an eyebrow. “He said what?”

  “I don’t think he believes I am suspect or anything. He was more using this to express his displeasure with your choice in girlfriends.”

  “You aren’t joking?”

  “Why would I joke about that?” He pulled out his cell phone. “Gabriel, don’t.”

  “Stay out of it, Ella.”

  “This is why I didn’t want to tell you. Eric is entitled to his opinion. It’s fine. I don’t care whether or not he likes me. I just want him to find who is doing this and for us to have a good Christmas together. Don’t start a fight.”

  His finger hovered over the send button. “Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t call him now.”

  “How about because he needs to focus on investigating what’s happening and not on proving that I am more trouble than I’m worth.”

  “That’s not good enough.” He hit send.

  I shook my head and got up. I wasn’t going to listen to this. I went upstairs and got ready for bed. I climbed in, pulling the covers up around my shoulders. Watson got in his spot at the foot of the bed. A half of an hour later, Gabriel quietly came into the room. I watched the light under the bathroom door as he got ready for bed. I really didn’t want to cause him problems. Maybe I shouldn’t have stayed in Montgomery. Maybe I should have sold the house and went back to Chicago. When he opened the door, I closed my eyes, pretending like I was asleep. The bed adjusted under his weight. He wrapped an arm around my waist and pulled me closer to him.

  “You know that everything he said was bullshit, right? If you left, I would leave with you. I don’t give a shit about my career. If I did, I would have never moved to Montgomery. I love you, El.”

  I smiled a little to myself. “I love you, too,” I said. “I don’t want you to die.”

  His chest shook against my back as he laughed. “Well, I guess that’s a good thing.”

  I rolled over. “I’m serious. If you want to leave, I will. If you think there is any chance that whoever is doing this might kill you, let’s get the hell out of here. We’ll leave the damn house.”

  “We are going to catch whoever is doing this.” He kissed me softly. “Then we’re going to have a great Christmas.”

  ***

  The shrill ringing of the phone tore me from a deep sleep. I blindly flopped my hand around on the nightstand until my fingers curled around the cordless phone.

  “Hello?”<
br />
  There was a click then singing started. “You better watch out. You better not cry.”

  “Who is this?” I asked even though the singing sounded like a recording. Gabriel took the phone from my hand.

  He pressed it to his ear for a moment then hung up, setting the phone on his side of the bed. I glanced at the clock: 3:22 a.m. Ugh.

  I lay still for a half an hour, but I couldn’t go back to sleep. My brain was going in overdrive. I knew it wasn’t possible that someone was in the house, but I wanted, needed, to check. I waited until Gabriel was snoring again then I slid out of bed and slipped from the room. I almost made it to the stairs when I heard Watson whack at the door and whine. Damn it. He was going to wake Gabriel up. I went back and cracked the door for him. He trotted out into the hallway and followed me downstairs. Flipping on the back porch light, I let him out and watched him take his good, sweet time to do his business. When he was back inside, Watson and I looked through every room of the house, including the basement, needing to ease my mind.

  “No one is in there,” Grant said as I opened the panic room.

  “I just need to check.” I flipped on the light. Nothing. I let out a relieved breath.

  Grant stood in the doorway behind me. “I don’t want you to leave.”

  I frowned at him. “Were you eavesdropping again? Damn it, Grant. Privacy. Look it up.”

  “I give you privacy.”

  “You give me a headache.” I started back upstairs. Closer to the top I heard Gabriel calling out my name. “I’m down here,” I yelled back.

  He thundered down the stairs, stopping in the hallway when he saw me. “What are you doing?” he asked.

  “Couldn’t sleep. I was checking the house. Why?”

  He shook his head. “I got another phone call.”

  “Was it Rudolph? I hate that one too.”

  “It isn’t funny, Ella.”

  “Come on. That was a little funny.”

  The phone rang again. We both looked at it on the long, narrow table along the wall. He answered it, rubbing his hand over his forehead as he hung up again.

  “What was it this time?” I asked.

  “Same song,” he said. “Who knew “Santa Claus is Coming to Town” was so fucking creepy.”

  Chapter 4

  By the next morning, I was a zombie fueled only by caffeine. The day was quiet, I spent most of the day napping and Fagan worked on tracing the phone calls that came into our house the night before and setting up a trace for future calls. When I woke up, the sun was setting and there was a strange thumping on the front porch. I climbed off the couch, stiff and sore. I glanced around, but I didn’t see Fagan or Watson. I opened the front door. Fagan was on a ladder mounting a camera on the porch facing the door.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Motion sensing camera. About time you had a picture of this guy.”

  “And what would keep him from just breaking the camera?”

  Fagan shrugged. “It instantly e-mails the picture to you, so even if he breaks it, hopefully you will have a picture. Besides, to break it, he would have to know about it. How would he know?”

  “I guess. Where’s my dog?”

  “Backyard.”

  I went to the kitchen and opened the door where Watson was waiting patiently by the door. “Who’s a good boy?” I scratched behind his ear, his tail thumped on the wall. I got Watson dinner and opened the refrigerator.

  “What’s for dinner?” Fagan asked.

  I snorted. “What about me makes you think I cook?”

  He laughed. “I had high hopes.”

  I could cook. I just didn’t do it very often. Gabriel was good about at least keeping groceries in the house, but that didn’t often inspire me to do much besides graze occasionally. I pulled a roast out and fished out my iron skillet. After browning it, I added in potatoes and carrots and some seasoning and broth before putting it in the oven.

  “I knew you had it in you.”

  “Something smells good,” Gabriel said as he walked in. “I take it from the lack of a police presence nothing has happened today?”

  “I napped. Fagan set some traps.”

  “Where you able to trace the calls?” Gabriel asked him.

  Fagan shook his head.

  “At least it’s been quiet.”

  And it was for the rest of the night, lulling us into a false sense of security. Around three a.m., the alarm started blaring, jarring me out of bed. Gabriel had his gun and was out the door before I even stood up. I went downstairs; Gabriel and Fagan were giving each other silent signals before Fagan went out the back door. Gabriel went out the front, leaving Watson begging to go with him. From the stairs I could see something was attached to the back of the door, but I couldn’t quite make out what it was. I went down the rest of the way. Four pictures were nailed to the door. Three were of Gabriel. I looked closer. In them he was wearing the clothing he had on today. My mouth went dry; the threat was explicit enough. I looked at the last picture. It was me sleeping on the couch this afternoon. Not the most flattering picture, but made ever worse by the giant red slash drawn across my throat. On top it said, “He sees you when you’re sleeping.”

  I had the desire to tear them down, but I knew I couldn’t. Instead I snapped a picture with my cell phone then called the police yet again. At this rate they were going to be on speed dial.

  Fagan and Gabriel came back in, frowning. “There was nothing. Again,” Fagan said.

  I shook my head and pointed to the door then went into my office. ”I already called the police,” I yelled out to them.

  I really wanted a drink, but I knew I couldn’t have one. Stress was a trigger for me to drink excessively. If I went to meetings, this would be the time I should go to one. But I didn’t, so I was forced to white knuckle it. Saying I was an alcoholic wasn’t accurate, though many had made that claim. I didn’t need or depend on alcohol. I just preferred to drink than to deal with the real world in my darkest hours. It was how I coped, or as Gabriel liked to point out, how I shut down. Either way, vodka was singing a siren’s call.

  Gabriel stuck his head through the doorway. “Check your e-mail.”

  Right. The camera. I had forgotten all about that. A new sense of hope filled me. I logged onto my computer and pulled up my e-mail account. I clicked on the e-mail, Gabriel and Fagan looking over my shoulder. I clicked on the first image. It was a man in all black with his back to the camera and a hammer in his hand. At least we had proof it was a real person this time. That was something. Gabriel reached over me and clicked on the next picture. The man had turned but it was in the opposite direction of the camera, still not his face. We only had one picture left. He clicked on the last. It was empty except for my porch.

  “Shit,” Fagan mumbled.

  “It was a good idea,” Gabriel said.

  “Have you considered this isn’t about her?” Fagan asked. Both Gabriel and I looked at him. “You were the focus of those pictures, not Ella. She was only in the last one. It seems to me the perp is showing you what you have to lose.”

  “I hadn’t considered it, but,” he nodded, “that is definitely a possibility.”

  “How would they know he lived here?” Gabriel hadn’t been living with me all that long and he still had his old house even.

  “That’s a good question. I haven’t been by the house in a few days. Maybe he didn’t know I wasn’t living there.” He looked at the pictures. “At least not right away.”

  Chapter 5

  Something about all of this was bugging me. It felt like there was something I was missing. We passed our theory that Gabriel was the target, not me, on to Eric. Whether or not he really heard what we were saying, who knows. The tension between the three of us was enough to even keep Fagan from poking at it.

  The next morning we went to Gabriel’s house across town bright and early. From the outside everything looked as it ever did, including the lonely little “For Sale” sign that wasn
’t drawing anyone’s attention. He unlocked the door and we went inside. I looked around like I had never seen the place before. Gabriel’s house was small and comfortable. During some of my darker moments it had been a safe haven for me. Now it was violated. Nothing jumped out at me to prove that anyone else had been in the house, but it was a feeling. A feeling I knew all too well. The house had changed.

  “I don’t see anything, do you?” he said.

  I shook my head. “Something feels wrong.”

  “Wrong with what?”

  “The house. This case? Take your pick.”

  “Oh Lord. Are going to start on the houses again?” Gabriel was patient with me about a lot of things, but my theory about houses embodying the emotions of those who live in it was not one he could subscribe to. He thought houses were merely four walls and a roof. They didn’t have vibes or their own feeling. I experienced them differently. I could walk into a happy home and know it was a happy home. Likewise, I could walk into a sad or lonely house and feel the difference. It wasn’t something that was easily explained to those who didn’t experience it the same way.

  “The house feels violated. It also feels like its waiting.”

  “You know you are projecting, right? The house doesn’t feel anything. You feel it and rather than owning your emotion, you give it to inanimate objects. “

  “Regardless. Someone has been in here. You need to take a closer look.”

  After twenty minutes, we still hadn’t found the proof Gabriel required. He dropped me off back at home before heading to work.

  “Who would target you?” I asked him. It was hard to imagine anyone who knew him would want to harm him in any way.

  “My list is long, El. Longer than yours. I arrest people for a living.”

  “We need to go through your cases. Do you have a list of all the ones you worked on? Here and in Chicago.”

  He nodded. “I’ll bring it home with me tonight.” I got out of the car. “Be careful today. Stay close to Fagan and watch each other’s back.”