“Pop doesn’t know yet you’re covering the hospital bills. I didn’t tell him, just like you asked in your note. You don’t have to do that, you know. But I guess this is one of those ‘it’s not the money you have, but what you do with it’ things.”
“You saved my life.” Lily’s voice choked up and Percy turned to look at her. “If it hadn’t been for you, I would be in jail for a crime I didn’t commit.”
“Sent up the river without a paddle, huh?” Percy said, with a grin. “Somebody else would have rescued you.
“Maybe. No, I don’t think so. Nobody else believed I was innocent, not even my father. Nobody knew me, inside. Just you and your family. That’s all I had. Not that I blame Dad or anybody else, considering how I’ve behaved in the past.”
She looked down at her hands. Aside from a dark green leather clutch bag, she carried a small package and played nervously with the cord wrapped around the brown paper.
“As Oliver says, Lily, we all make mistakes. It’s too bad about your grandfather, but the man is no better than a Nazi Storm Trouper. From what I can tell, he’s had this sort of mentality all his life. Remember that. It’ll help you get through. Also remember you’re better off without him.”
Lily didn’t reply for a moment then nodded her head slowly. “I know. It’s tougher on Dad, but he say this explains a lot about the past.”
“Bill turned out to be all right. And he found his backbone, too. Your father never once flinched at spilling everything to the cops when the time came. I hope you give him a chance to make this up to you. He does love you, you know.”
“I will.” She gave a faint smile and took a deep breath. “Remember that day in the kitchen? When I told you I hated my life? You told me to change it. So I am. Besides the baby, I’ve decided to open a cooking school. Dad says he wants to be a part of it.”
“A cooking school? But you already know how to cook. I’m carrying around an extra five pounds of fat to prove it.”
“This is much bigger. There’s a new building at Columbus Circle. I bought it. I’m hiring famous French chefs, all refuges, and bringing them over to America to give people classes in gourmet cooking. It’s a fairly new concept, called haute cuisine. Not what I do, which is plain, old American cooking.”
“But delicious,” Percy put in.
“Thank, you.” Lily chuckled. “I think you’ve been my best customer. After the school opens, I hope to take a few of these classes myself. You wouldn’t believe what’s coming out of France now, even with the war on, and so many talented chefs have been displaced.”
“And you’re going to place them. Clever girl.”
The elevator arrived and the doors opened with a dinging sound. The two women stepped forward into the empty car and the doors closed.
“Another elevator without an operator.” Percy stood with her hands on her hips. “I can’t get used to these things. I hope we get to where we want to go.” Percy pressed the main floor button.
“This is for you, Percy.” Lily thrust the package in her hand once the car started moving. “Merry Christmas.”
“You didn’t have to do this,” Percy protested, unwrapping the brown paper. The glittering chainmail of the small evening bag felt soft and smooth in her hands, not at all like she expected metal to feel. She stared at the intricately carved green dragon, with the sparkling ruby eyes. “Holy Toledo! It’s gorgeous! I didn’t realize Evidence released it.”
“They gave it back to me this morning. I had it cleaned before I wrapped it.”
“This is for me? You can’t give me this.”
“Yes, I can; we’re extended family. Besides, the bag seems more you than me. I’ve seen you in that Japanese bathrobe your mother made. And don’t you wear a lot of green?”
“I have my Sunday Go To Meeting green suit. I wear that about twice a year. Except for that robe, I don’t wear colors as a rule, just black and white.”
“You should. Try wearing green, pink or bright blue instead; something colorful. Nearly everything would look grand with your hair. You’d sizzle, as a cook might say.”
The elevator car landed on the ground floor with a slight thud and the doors opened. The women emerged, moving quickly aside to let six new elevator riders in.
“I’ve got to go,” Lily said, putting her hand lightly on Percy’s. “A meeting with Immigration on bringing some of the chefs here. The ones that are Jewish and Polish are taking precedence, but they all need my help. Thank you again for helping me. I’ll come by and visit Pop tomorrow morning. Promise.” She turned hurriedly to leave, glancing at her wrist watch, before she took long, purposeful strides to the exit doors.
“You’re so grown up,” Percy marveled, calling after her. “When did that happen?”
Lily’s hand flew to her abdomen, as she wheeled around, pausing for a moment. “Someone has to be the grownup and I’m the one having the baby.”
She spun around again, coat fluttering in a full circle, and ran out the door.
Percy stood for a moment, staring after the girl’s departing figure. Then she looked down at the bag in her hand, far more elegant and luxurious than anything she’d ever owned.
“Where’d you get that purse, Perce?”
Even if she hadn’t recognized the voice, the ‘double purse’ remark would have told her. She turned in the direction of his voice and smiled. He was wearing the same beat up hat, but a new trench coat over a dark blue suit.
“Hey, Hutchers. Lily gave it to me for Christmas. What are you doing here?”
“I called your apartment. Sera told me you were here.” He removed his hat and rolled it back and forth in his hands. “Wanted to talk to you in person.” He paused.
“So talk.”
“You’re one smart cookie, Perce.” Hutchers stared at her with open admiration. “How’d you figure it out? Just like you said, the prints inside the purse were the old man’s and Hanson’s. Proof positive. That’s why we released the bag. We didn’t know whose they were until this morning, but sure enough, old man Waller and his accomplice. You nailed it.”
“You saying thank you?” She took a step back and stared at the man, a broad grin covering her face.
“I suppose I am.”
“Just doing my job.” She moved toward the door, still smiling. “You release Harry’s son yet?”
“Yeah, although, he’s got to have a couple of tests to make sure he’s not too mental to be out there. You know, public welfare.”
“From what Harry tells me, he and his wife are going to put Ernie in some place called Cypress Haven down in Florida. That might solve the problem.”
“Thanks. I’ll let the state psychiatrist know.”
“Two thank yous in one meeting. This must be a record. Well, I got to fly, Hutchers. Get back to the office, do some shopping, deposit a check at the bank, stuff like that. See you around.” She pushed open the exit door but was stopped by his voice.
“Perce, wait up.”
She continued passing through the double doors, pausing on the other side. He followed. Percy waited near a signpost right outside Emergency reading, ‘No stopping, No kidding’.
“Okay, what’s on your mind?”
“You own a dress?”
“What do you mean, do I ‘own a dress’?” She didn’t bother to conceal the huffiness in her voice. “Sure, I got a dress. What do you take me for, a hillbilly? What’s the matter with you?”
She stared at him as her mind flitted back to the formal senior prom dress at the back of the closet, the one she tried on from time to time, covered with a white sheet to keep it from getting dusty.
Come to think of it, it’s green. Emerald green, they call it. Jeesh, that thing cost a fortune, over ten bucks, and I only wore it once. I bet if I take all the bows off, I could wear it again.
“No, I don’t mean a regular dress,” he said, interrupting her thoughts. “I mean a fancy dress. You know long, something for a fancy evening.”
“W
hat are you talking about? What do I need a long dress for?”
Hutchers crumpled his hat between his massive hands. “I was wondering if you…you see, there’s this thing…”
“Thing?”
“A dance. There’s the New Year’s Eve Ball. It’s a policeman’s benefit for widows and orphans kind of thing.”
“A widows and orphans kind of thing.”
“Naw, you don’t want to go,” he muttered, turning away.
“Who says I don’t want to go?” Percy put a hand on her hip, a belligerence coming into her voice. “If you’re going to ask me to go, ask me to go, for crying out loud.”
“Okay, I’m asking,” he said facing her again and matching her belligerent tone.
“Okay, I’m going,” she retorted.
Hutchers mouth dropped open. “You are?”
“Well, do you want me to go or not?”
“Sure I do.”
“Okay.”
“Okay.”
He slapped the crumpled hat on his head repeating the word, but in a gentler tone. “Okay. I’ll pick you up New Year’s Eve, seven-thirty sharp. And wear high heels. I like my women tall.” He gave her a wide grin, added a wink, and turned away, striding into the parking lot.
She watched him depart for a moment then cupped her hands to her mouth and yelled, “You could work on your courting skills.”
He laughed, twisted his body around, and walked backward, while shouting, “And you know what you could work on?” He paused for a moment. “Not one damned thing. I like you just the way you are!”
He pivoted back and crossed the parking lot to his car. Percy, mouth opened, gaped after him until his car pulled out and disappeared. Then Persephone Cole began to giggle, something she hadn’t done since high school.
Well, Merry Christmas to me. Maybe I’m not such a fat old broad, after all. And if I am, I still got it.
The End
About the Author
In her varied career, Heather has written short stories, novels, comedy acts, television treatments, ad copy, commercials, and had two one-act plays well-received in Manhattan. Once she even ghostwrote a book on how to run an employment agency. She was unemployed at the time. Heather’s first paying writing job was penning a love story for Moments of Love, a group of romantic short stories published by Bantam Books. But it was her stint at New York City’s No Soap Radio - where she wrote comedic ad copy – that helped develop her long-time love affair with comedy. She is the acclaimed author of the humorous and award winning Alvarez Family Murder Mystery series, based in Silicon Valley, California, three thousand miles and sixty-plus years removed from the Persephone Cole series. Heather lives in the foothills of San Jose, California, with her husband of thirty-one years and two intelligent, obedient cats….well, maybe not so obedient.
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Persephone Cole and the Christmas Killings Conundrum Page 19
