Persephone Cole and the Christmas Killings Conundrum

by Heather Haven

  “I love to cook. This isn’t cooking, anyway, it’s reheating. Step aside, you’re burning it,” she added, giving Percy a slight nudge. Lily lowered the flame and reached for a large spoon.

  “You don’t have to tell me twice.” Percy moved away and turned to her father. “Pop, don’t you have a phone call to make?” She went to the back of the wheelchair and began to push it toward the door.

  Pop laughed and nodded. “Okay, okay.” With almost balletic grace, he swiveled the chair around and hit the swinging door with the back of it, causing the door to open wide. With perfect timing, he wheeled himself into the hallway before the door started to close.

  “And, Pop,” Percy called out, “Be sure to tell everybody about the new sleeping arrangements when they get home. I’ve got to run out for awhile.”

  “Will do, Persephone.” His voice reverberated from the hallway.

  Percy turned back to Lily, who was still stirring the pot. “So if I’m not needed here, I have to put on some dry clothes and go back to the jewelry store. There are a few things I want to check on.” Lily looked over her shoulder and smiled, more relaxed than Percy had seen her. “You really like doing that cooking stuff?”

  Lily’s smile turned shy but confident. “When I was a child, I wanted to be a pastry chef.”

  “No kidding?”

  “No kidding.” Lily returned her attention to the stove. “But father doesn’t think ladies should do that sort of thing. So now I’m a lily of the field.”

  “I shouldn’t have said that.”

  “Why not? It’s true.”

  “It doesn’t have to be.”

  Lily looked up from the stove, in pleasant astonishment. “Thank you for saying that.”

  “Well, don’t get used to me saying nice things. I don’t as a rule.”

  “I’ll remember that.”

  “See that you do.”

  “You also like to have the last word, don’t you?” Lily filled the bowl with the steaming cereal and carried it to the table.

  “I do.” Percy laughed, as she closed the door behind her.

  Chapter Seven

  Even with a half a tank of gas in Ophelia, Percy opted to take the subway back to the east side, traffic at this time of day being what it was. Waiting on the platform of the IND, where it was at least warmer, holiday shoppers were out in full force. Many were drawn into the city from Queens, Brooklyn, the Bronx, and New Jersey. Some, like Percy, were Manhattanites, opting for a fast and economical way to get around. With the U.S. entrance into the war, money and presents should have been slim for the gift giving season, but many grinning people carried large parcels, no doubt unexpected presents for under the tree. Persephone Cole and family would not be burdened with unexpected presents this year despite the current windfall.

  That’s to save Pop’s leg. If we can pull that off, present enough.

  A man, hardly more than a teenager, was selling Christmas corsages off a big tray hanging in front of him. Dozens of single red roses wrapped in red and green ribbons and decorated with small silver bells lay in rows. A wide canvas strap hung around his neck keeping the tray upright. Each corsage sold for ten-cents apiece, a lot of money for something that would wither and die the next day.

  Percy watched him as he walked up and down the platform of the subway station, singing out the glories of his wares, his smile never fading. She was relieved when an elderly lady, her round, pallid face standing out against her all-black clothing and hat, picked through his tray with black-gloved hands. The lady plucked two corsages out, one for herself and one for a little girl standing beside her in a bright blue coat, probably her granddaughter. With a light laugh, the lady bent over and pinned the corsage to the lapel of the girl’s coat, eliciting smiles from nearly everyone standing nearby. Just then the train came, and everyone clamored aboard, but Percy’s spirits had been lifted. Christmas had a way of doing that.

  She arrived at Waller and Son Jewelers just as a happy, youthful couple were exiting, giggles overtaking their attempt at grown-up solemnity.

  Love blooms, Percy thought, even in the dead of winter.

  The dead elf window had been done over, now containing a Lionel train set circling around several sapphire and diamond pendent and earring sets. Tinsel covered red balls hung from pine branches overhead and a nativity set sat in one corner. The window had a hurried, makeshift appearance about it.

  She pushed the door open and entered, a tinkling bell giving off an elegant warning. She looked around but saw no evidence of murder and mayhem occurring a few short hours before.

  Death happens but life goes on, Toots. Better to keep an updated will at all times.

  Behind the counter and paying no mind to the charming tinkling sound overhead, Mr. Waller whispered to a woman, whose age was somewhere between forty-five and fifty. The woman looked as if she couldn’t decide if she wanted to be a call girl or a librarian. From the neck down, a tight-fitting, low-cut, short dress emphasized her bosom and hips. Well-shaped nylon clad legs wore the latest high-heeled shoes. From the neck up, however, no jewelry or makeup adorned her. Mousy brown hair was pulled back in a bun atop her head so tight Percy couldn’t fathom how it didn’t hurt. Each hair was as taut as a fiddler’s bow string.

  Percy’s hand flew to her own hair resting at the nape of her neck in a thick, curly ponytail. Unchecked tendrils framed her face in long ringlets. She would never be able to get her hair under control the way this woman did, even if she used all the barreled grease from her cousin’s auto repair shop.

  With a wry smile, Percy took a moment to size up the man and woman’s familiarity and comfort with one another.

  Secrets. These two are buried in secrets. I think Waller knows this broad better than any of the diamonds under his loop.

  The jeweler finally saw Percy standing in the doorway and his face tensed up, checkered with worry and concern. “Miss Cole, do you have news for me?”

  Percy didn’t reply, but gestured with her head toward his back office. The woman cleared her throat and looked over the jeweler.

  Waller added as an afterthought, “Oh, Janice, this is Miss Cole. Miss Cole, this is my assistant, Janice Lorner.” The mouse nodded a curt greeting, then moved to the other end of the counter, bent over, and began to arrange diamond rings inside a case.

  “Why don’t we go to my office?” Mr. Waller crossed to the hall door and held it open for Percy, who stepped through and continued into the office. She noticed the philodendron was already doing better. Percy turned to face the jeweler close on her heels.

  “You daughter is safe,” she said, in a quiet voice.

  “Is she? Good. I’m relieved. Where is Lily?”

  “Let me worry about that.”

  “But I have a right --”

  “No, you don’t,” Percy interrupted. “That’s what you’re paying me for. And if the cops ask you where she is, you don’t know and it’s legit. Got it?”

  “All right, but I don’t like it.”

  Percy shrugged, but didn’t say anything. “Before I head over to Santa Land, you need to be more forthcoming with me.”

  “What are you talking about? I --”

  “Over the phone you told me you never saw the dead elf before, but when I got here, you said you found him and your daughter at your Long Island place playing hide the salami. Now which is it?” Her eyes narrowed on him, and she waited for him to speak.

  He hesitated then took a deep breath. “I only said I’d never seen him before in case the police were listening in. I don’t want them to know my daughter had been seeing him and I knew about it.”

  “You didn’t think that one through, mister. They’re going to find out he’s been out at your little mansion with your kid, you knew it, and because you didn’t tell them, they’re going to suspect you might have done him in. Sort of like I do.”

  Waller’s face flashed an expression of shock. “I didn’t think of that.”

  “Maybe you didn’t, but ma
ybe you did. So now I have to ask you the big question, and don’t lie to me. Like I told your daughter, I don’t like it.”

  He said nothing, but nodded in assent.

  “You kill Conrad Barnes?” She jumped in quickly before he could speak. “Listen, Waller, if you did I don’t care.” She stopped talking for a moment, scrutinized his face.

  This is a big lie, buster. I do care. But you wouldn’t be the first person with money and power to think he was above the law.

  Percy went on in a friendly, easy tone. “Even if you did, you’ve probably got enough dough to get off with a slap on the wrist and you can stop the hunt for Lily. So tell me how it goes. It’ll make life easier for all concerned.”

  “Me? Kill the man?” His face was spotted at first with astonishment then anger. “Why if I killed all the men…who…who…” He stopped speaking, clearly at a loss for words.

  “Schtupped your daughter?”

  Waller bit back any retort and merely said, “Had relations with my daughter--”

  So that’s where Lily got the word.

  “What you’re saying is, and let’s be clear about this, you didn’t kill the man? Remember, I won’t think less of you if you did. I won’t even turn you in to the cops. After all, you’re my client. But if you did do it, maybe I can help you.”

  He looked Percy dead in the eye. “No, I did not kill the man. I was afraid…” Waller turned away.

  “You were afraid Lily did. And she thinks you did.” Percy let out a hoot of laughter. “Okay. I get it. You’re both on the dumb side, but I get it.” She stood. “Mind if I have a few words with your assistant?”

  “Miss Lorner? But why--”

  “Because. That’s why.” Percy’s voice over road his on her way out of the office. In the front of the shop, the assistant polished a bracelet before handing it off to an ancient thin man, who cradled the bauble like it was his first grandchild. A uniformed chauffeur, probably the old duffer’s, leaned against the doorway, arms crossed, eyes half-closed.

  Percy crooked a finger and gestured for Miss Lorner to come over. The uptight mouse looked at the jeweler standing in the doorway, as if for permission. Mr. Waller walked to his assistant’s side.

  “I’ll take over, Miss Lorner.”

  With murmured apologies to the customer, Miss Lorner strode toward Percy, who noticed she was clad in heels similar to the ones she had seen on Lily’s feet.

  I’ll have to watch myself. I’ve already been clipped by a pair of those today. Once is enough, already.

  Miss Lorner planted herself in front of the Percy as rigid as a pillar. “Yes?” Her voice was deferential on the surface, but underneath colder than the East River in February.

  “I have a question for you, Miss Lorner.” Percy wore a smile to offset the command. The woman nodded assent but remained unyielding and silent.

  Okay, so nice is not the approach with this broad.

  Losing the smile, Percy said, “So about Lily Waller, you like her or not?”

  “I beg your pardon?” The question clearly threw the woman, but she kept her voice down.

  “Strikes me as a simple question. Waller’s kid, you can’t stand her or what?”

  “It’s not for me to--” the assistant began to say. She licked dry lips and glanced in the direction of her boss, who was still busy with a customer.

  “Don’t be looking over at him for an okay on every word you say to me, lady. Keep your eyes on me.” The assistant obeyed. “You want to help your man or not? Or did you already help him by plugging his daughter’s latest bad choice in men?”

  It took a moment for Janice Lorner to understand what Percy was saying, “Why, how dare you imply that I would ever--”

  “It’s infer,” Percy interrupted. “I’m not making a suggestion without being explicit. I’m being very explicit; I’m saying it outright. That makes it an inference.”

  Miss Lorner glared at her. Percy glared right back.

  “You’re a real smarty pants, you know that?” The woman finally uttered.

  Percy studied the shorter woman for a moment then broke into a genuine smile. “I was called that earlier today. I was pretty sure you and Waller were having relations, but now I know for sure. Thanks for the info.” Percy turned and headed for the door.

  “Wait a minute.” Miss Lorner came after Percy. She glanced over her shoulder at the jeweler deep in conversation with the customer who was arguing the finer point of something or other. The assistant forced a tight smile. “I will grant you, Lily and I have had our differences, but I never met her latest boyfriend, if you can call him that.”

  “You never met him here or at the Long Island house?”

  “I’ve never been out there. William and I…Mr. Waller and I have conducted our --”

  “Relations?”

  “Ourselves,” Miss Lorner said primly, “always here in the city.”

  “Umm. You never met this elf…ah… dead man?

  “No, but I’m sure he was fairly despicable. They usually were.”

  “Uh-huh. No doubt Lily thinks the same thing about her father’s choices.” Percy turned and headed for the exit, stopped again by the other woman’s voice.

  “Ask her about Danny,” Miss Lorner said in a louder voice than she’d meant. She gave a hasty look to her employer and the elderly man, but they were paying rapt attention to the bracelet sparkling between them on a piece of black velvet on the countertop. The mouse moved closer to Percy and repeated through clenched teeth. “Ask her about Danny.”

  Percy nodded, stepped onto the sidewalk and opened her umbrella.

  Why I bothered defending the kid to that woman, I’ll never know. Maybe I’m starting to feel sorry for Lily. Or maybe I don’t like the mouse’s hairdo. And who the hell is Danny?

  The rain had stopped for the moment. Umbrellas along the crowded sidewalks closed one by one, making it easier to traverse the cement pathway without getting your eye poked out.

  Percy closed her black umbrella, the one with the bent spoke but never otherwise would die, and rounded the corner of 59th street. She looked down the long, congested sidewalk between Fifth and Madison Avenues.

  Waller and his jewels resided in a modern but boring sand-colored structure straddling both Fifty-Ninth Street and Fifth Avenue. Set in about fifty feet on Fifty-Ninth, this dull building abutted an older red brick one. Two small side-by-side stores, a watch repair and cobbler, occupied a small section of the ground floor of the brick. Going out of business signs dominated their windows. Percy found that interesting. She looked up and studied the run down six-story building, housing the two about-to-become-ex shops. A doorway stood in the middle, with stairs obviously leading to the five stories above, probably apartments. The above floors showed to be empty with boarded or soaped up windows. Draped between two center windows was a large but weathered banner reading “Harrison Construction. Making a better future for tomorrow today.”

  Okay, so a rich, corporate SOB is tearing down a perfectly good apartment building to put up another one so they can make more big bucks. I wonder if Waller’s store is also taking a dive? I’ll have to ask him.

  To the right of these two dismal shops was a bigger store, brightly lit, windows pounding Christmas cheer at passersby. With a ‘hit the customer over the head’ approach, blinking lights directed your attention to large signs silently bellowing “ONLY 7 SHOPPING DAYS ‘TIL CHRISTMAS!”

  Directly in front of the store, a littered sidewalk held small Christmas trees looking more like the cut off tops of evergreens rather than having been their own trees. To add insult to injury, they were burdened by strands of multicolored lights, threaded haphazardly through delicate branches. Laden down with too much weight and moisture, limbs leaned into themselves and in various directions giving them a downtrodden, sad look. Drenched cardboard cutouts of different sized white stars, red Santas, and brown reindeer hung on clothesline ropes from between the trees, looking more bedraggled than cheery.

 
; Or is this just me? If only it would snow instead of all this rain. Between Pop’s leg and the damned rain, I’m feeling as low as the breasts on a sixty-year old flapper.

  She paused for a moment and straightened out one of the bent branches of a small tree, while her mind raced. Letting out a deep sigh, she began to chuckle.

  Face it, kiddo, what’s really bothering you is not being able to afford the red Radio Flyer wagon for Oliver. For a couple of hours with that 300 hundred bucks burning a hole in your pocket, you kept picturing the look on Oliver’s face when he unwrapped it on Christmas morning. He asks for so little and he’s such a good kid. But Pop’s health comes first. Tough choices are just a part of life. You’d better face that one, too, kiddo.

  She let out another sigh and headed for the store entrance. Percy tried to concentrate on the case. Sometimes it pays to stop thinking.

  When Percy entered the store, she felt smacked in the face by the gaudier side of Christmas. Large and small toys of every description for any aged child, whether stuffed, metal, tin, plastic, moving, or non-moving were heaped on the floor or crammed into row after row of shelving. Near the two entrances and exits of the store, frazzled looking clerks worked long lines at checkout counters.

  Percy blinked her eyes several times and looked up. All four walls of the expansive room were covered with Christmas gewgaws. Looped garlands of dried out juniper and pine were stuck between faded wreaths dolloped with limp ribbons and bows in colors of red green, blue, gold, and silver. Chunks of phony greenery and stubby, red holly filled in the remaining empty spots on the walls looking more haphazard than planned. Red and white plastic candy canes, some four feet in length, hung from the ceiling spinning in the air currents and competed for space with large bobbing, silver glittered snowflakes.

  Then there was the din. Clicking, clacking, whirling, screeching, sirens, bells, whistles, and voices of small children filled the air. If Percy had been wondering where the kids were with only a week until Christmas, she found them now. Odds were every kid not in school was here, forced to wait inside due to the inclement weather. Two long lines of small children stood - and not so patiently -- next to stunned-looking parents, each waiting for a chance to sit on Santa’s lap and put in a last-minute bid for presents.