Gingerbread Man

by Maggie Shayne

  "He had a cell phone. I saw it at the cafe?'

  Holly tried to remain calm. "I don't have his number."

  "Marty will have it. He rented the man the cabin, after all." Wiping her hands on a dishtowel, Doris walked with a bounce in her step the rest of the way to the telephone on the wall, and dialed her brother-in-law's number.

  ***

  MARTIN CANTRELL SEEMED more upset about the alleged intruder than Vince was, when he showed up at the cabin. Vince hadn't met the man face-to-face yet. The arrangements had all been made by phone, and the key had been waiting under a flowerpot when Vince had arrived.

  Marty, as he insisted Vince call him, was a friendly fellow with a ready smile, a paunch of a belly, and a reddish horseshoe of hair surrounding a shiny patch of scalp. He wore plaid flannel and carried a toolbox. You had to like a guy who wore plaid flannel and carried a toolbox. Right now he was crouching near the door, examining the lock the way a surgeon examines a tumor, and shaking his head. "You're right you know. These locks are jokes. Any twelve-year-old with a Swiss army knife could get in, if he wanted to. It just never occurred to me we might need serious locks out here. I can't even remember when there's been a break-in."

  "Right," Vince said, "Nothing bad ever happens in Dilmun."

  Marty smiled broadly. "It's practically the town motto." Then he sighed. "Guess we've let ourselves get a little complacent out here."

  "Maybe. But we aren't even sure there was anyone in here. There's no sign of an intruder, and Holly didn't actually see him."

  Marty nodded, looked troubled for a moment, opened his mouth to say something, then seemed to think better of it.

  Vince took note of all of it. "What?" he asked.

  Marty brushed off his hands, got to his feet. "Holly ... no. Nevermind, it's not important. Look, I can get a decent deadbolt on this door for you tomorrow. Hardware store is already closed tonight, or I'd take care of it right now."

  "Not a problem," Vince told him. "You want a beer, Marty?"

  "Love one. Thanks."

  Vince walked to the kitchenette, grabbed a beer out of the fridge for each of them, talking as he did. "I appreciate you coming over so fast. Chief Mallory must have called you in a hurry." He was in no hurry to get rid of the guy, now that it seemed he knew something about Holly Newman that he was keeping to himself.

  "Nah, the chief knew he didn't have to bother. Doris called me just a little while ago."

  "Oh." Vince handed Marty his beer while his brain processed the information.

  "Doris is my wife Jenny's sister," Martin explained.

  Vince nodded. "Holly mentioned that her uncle owned the cabins."

  The man looked at him and grinned. "I'm feeding the small town stereotype, huh? That everyone's related."

  Before Vince could answer, his cell phone bleated. "Make yourself at home, Marty, while I get this." Marty sat down as Vince pulled the phone out of his pocket, answering as he always did, with a terse "O'Mally."

  There was a hesitation on the other end, and his skin started to prickle. Was it the same guy who'd broken in here earlier—if there had been a guy at all? Then a soft breath whispered from the phone and he could almost feel it on his ear. He was just beginning to wonder if this was going to turn into an obscene phone call when she spoke at last.

  "Hi. It's Holly Newman."

  He glanced toward Marty, saw the guy grinning even wider than before, and carried the phone into the kitchen. "Did you remember something more about the guy you thought you saw, Red?"

  "No. I... look, my mother wanted me to invite you to the community bonfire, so I'm inviting you."

  He lifted his brows. "You don't sound happy about it"

  "I'm not. It's tomorrow night, down by the lake. You'll see the crowd gathering from your porch around sundown."

  "And when I do, I should... ?"

  "Meet us down there," she said.

  He thought for a moment. It would be a good chance to poke around some more, he figured. Meet more of the locals. Dig a little deeper into the mind of the strange little redhead. "Fine," he said. "It's a date."

  "No," she replied. "It's not."

  The click told him she'd hung up the phone. He looked at his phone, scowling, and wondering just why Holly Newman disliked him so much. There was something motivating it, and it was connected to his case, he felt it right to his bones.

  "So, you're going to the bonfire with Holly then?" Marty asked as Vince walked back from the kitchen. He was sitting on the sofa just to the left of the front door, one arm stretched across its back, sipping his beer.

  Vince frowned. "You psychic, or do you just have a bionic ear?"

  Marty grinned. "Doris asked me for your cell phone number. Told me Holly was gonna call and invite you."

  Vince said, "Now you're feeding another one of those small-town stereotypes. The one where everyone knows everyone else's business."

  Marty's grin faded. "Yeah, I guess so. It's just that, uh ... well, you know she is my niece."

  "Yeah. I know. Do you mind that she asked me?"

  "No. No, it isn't that. I just... look, Holly's ... fragile."

  Vince nodded. "I kind of picked up on that."

  "You could tell, huh? I didn't think it showed so much anymore."

  "It doesn't," he said quickly. "Not in her, anyway. But everyone else around here acts likes she's made of glass." It wasn't entirely true. He did see it in her, during that episode outside his cabin. But there was something rubbing him the wrong way about the protective attitudes of those around her. He wasn't sure why, but it bugged him.

  "Look, you only just met her. If we seem a little protective of her, we have reason," Marty said. Maybe a touch on the defensive side now.

  "I picked up on that, too," Vince said. "Would I be out of line to ask what the reason is?"

  Marty looked him in the eyes for a moment, then tipped back his beer, draining it, set the can on the coffee table, and got to his feet. "I'll come by in the morning to put that new lock in."

  Vince was aware he'd stepped over the line. "I might not be here in the morning. I have some errands to run. But don't let that stop you."

  "Didn't plan to," Marty said. "It's my cabin." Then he picked up his tool box and headed out. "Anyway, I'll see you tomorrow night at the bonfire."

  Vince nodded. Then he realized he'd just answered the man's initial question as to whether or not he'd accepted Holly's invitation.

  "Not bad, Marty," Vince said. "You'd have made a decent cop."

  "I make a better uncle," he replied. "You watch your step with Holly. I don't want to see her hurt." He gave a nod of good-bye, and walked down the steps to the path.

  "Don't you worry, Uncle Marty," Vince muttered as he watched the man vanish around the curve. "I like my women tough as nails with a hide like old leather. I don't do fragile."

  ***

  VINCE HAD SOME serious shopping to do on Saturday. Marty had arrived early, ready to install the new lock, just as Vince was heading out to run his errands, which gave Vince a chance to ask him about the vacant phone jack in the bedroom wall. He learned that a call to the local telephone company and payment in advance could turn it on, giving him two lines to work with. He folded up his laptop, pocketed his cell phone, and headed out.

  He drove all the way back to the city. It took longer than he'd hoped it would, to pick up supplies at home, and find most of what he needed at the retail outlets. He then met Jerry for a quick lunch and an even quicker conversation.

  Jerry nodded toward Vince's Jeep beyond their booth window. Boxes stacked in the back showed through the tinted glass. "Been shopping?"

  "Yeah. Gave the old plastic a workout this morning."

  "So, what's the connection you're onto, buddy?"

  Vince shook his head.

  "Can't tell you that. Not yet, anyway. Did you get what I asked you for?"

  "Yeah. And it's damned interesting, Vince." He slid a fat manila envelope across the table, and Vince p
icked it up. But before he could ask what was inside, a uniformed cop walked through the door.

  Vince took the envelope and slid out of the booth. He was supposed to be on vacation. If anyone saw him in town, much less meeting with his partner and exchanging large envelopes, questions would surely come up. And Jerry could get into as much trouble as Vince.

  Jerry started to get up, too, but Vince held up a hand. He'd just slip out alone while the cop's back was to him.

  Jerry understood, and gave a nod. "Be careful, buddy. And call if you need me."

  "I will."

  Vince walked out of the diner with the envelope under his arm, got into his Jeep, and headed back to Dilmun. He glanced at his watch and knew he was going to be late.

  ***

  HOLLY PACED AS more and more of the locals gathered, and she tried to keep her gaze from drifting toward Vince O'Mally's cabin. She wasn't having much success. His Jeep had been gone most of the day. Maybe he'd decided that whatever he'd come looking for wasn't here. Maybe he'd gone back to Syracuse for good.

  "It's early yet, hon." Her mother's hand curled over Holly's shoulder with a reassuring squeeze. "He'll be here."

  "Who?" Holly pasted an unconcerned expression on her face. She couldn't very well tell her mother she half hoped the man was gone for good. Or that the other half only wanted to see him tonight, to try to find out what he was really after.

  Doris just shook her head and moved away, toward the heap of deadwood that had been piled up for the bonfire. Around the pile, in a concentric circle, people milled. Picnic tables littered the area, and the early arrivals claimed them. Others spread blankets on the ground, or unfolded lawn chairs. Off to the left, on the round pavilion, a local band set up their instruments. Farther from the woodpile, some of the locals were erecting dome tents, planning to make a full night of it.

  Already the sun was drooping low beyond the hills out past the lake. It had been a nicer day today than yesterday. Chilly and breezy, but dry. The sky was dusky now, violet and pink as the sun sank lower, and the wind stirred the water with its breath.

  And still not one sign of life from O'Mally's cabin.

  "You looking for someone?"

  His voice came from right behind her, and she jumped. Then she bit her lip and closed her eyes, still not facing him. Damn, he'd caught her staring off toward his place. He would probably reach the same conclusions that her mother had.

  "I... was just wondering if your burglar had come back." There, that was better. She turned, trying for a smug expression.

  He said, "He might have for all I know. I haven't been home all day."

  "I know." She frowned, and felt a stirring discomfort because he stood so close.

  "Did you see anything suspicious?" he asked.

  Holly shrugged. "It's not like I've been watching."

  "No?"

  She shook her head.

  "Then how did you know I hadn't been home yet?"

  "Lucky guess." She saw his Jeep now, in the vacant area they used as a parking lot for lakefront gatherings. He'd parked there and come straight here, rather than going back to the cabin first. Almost as if he were in a hurry. He wore jeans and a brown leather jacket, unzipped so that his blue button-down shirt showed underneath. It wasn't tucked in tightly, so it bagged. She wondered if he ate enough. A cop his age should have a paunch. He had a haggard look to him—eyes slightly heavy lidded, and shadowed. He didn't have laugh lines around his eyes. He needed them.

  His eyes met hers, and she knew he was aware of her perusal.

  "Oh, Detective O'Mally, there you are!" Doris called, hurrying from the table she'd commandeered to where the two of them stood, gazes locked. "Holly was getting impatient, wondering where you were."

  That was enough to make Holly break eye contact. She jerked her gaze toward her mother and felt her face heat. "I was not."

  Vince could have smirked at her, but he didn't. He shifted his feet, maybe a little uncomfortable. "Sorry I'm late, Ms. Newman."

  "Doris, please. And there's no need to apologize."

  "Doris," he said. "And there is. I had some errands to run, and it took longer than I expected."

  "Have you had any luck tracking down your library book bandit?" She asked the question, Holly thought, as if he were chasing down an armed bank robber, and it was the most interesting case in the history of criminal justice.

  "None at all." He worked up a smile for her. Holly thought his smiles always looked as if they took effort to produce. "Fortunately, it doesn't matter, since I'm on vacation."

  "So you keep insisting," Holly muttered.

  He glanced at her sharply, about to say something rude, she was sure, but then his eyes widened on something beyond her, distracting him. "You're shitting me. Is that who it looks like?"

  Holly turned to follow his gaze, and spotted the town's reclusive celebrity settling into his lawn chair, as his niece draped a blanket over his shoulders. He'd barely got himself seated before several children made a beeline for him. He was surrounded in a matter of seconds. "You didn't know Reginald D'Voe lived out here?" Holly asked.

  He shot her a glance. "I knew he had a place here, years ago, but I read that he moved to the west coast."

  "You never would have struck me as a fawning fan, Vince," she said, fighting a smile.

  His brows creased. "I don't fawn." Still, it was the first time she'd seen him lose that preoccupied scowl of his. "I grew up on horror flicks, though, and I think he starred in most of them. I was planning to drive by his house while I was out here, just to see what it looked like."

  "It looks like something out of Scooby Doo, just about like you'd expect, I suppose. It's that creepy-looking one on the hill." Holly pointed across the lake, to where the house loomed, its windows dark, its shape like a phantom against the night sky.

  "Of course it is," he said, shaking his head as if he should have guessed.

  Doris chimed in, "Reggie's something of a recluse, you know."

  "Yes, I know, I read that somewhere, too."

  "You're right that he moved away. Oh, it must have been fifteen years ago, give or take. But he never sold the place. He and his niece only moved back here the year before last." Then she nudged her daughter. "Hon, take Vince over and introduce him to Reggie."

  Holly sighed. "Okay, just don't go asking for an autograph or fussing. He doesn't like it. Frankly, I'm surprised he even showed up for this."

  "So am I. The celebrity scandal sheets make him sound borderline agoraphobic."

  "They exaggerate," she said, looking at him in surprise. "You really are a fan, aren't you?"

  "Not a fanatical one. But, yeah, if I see his name on the cover I'll usually buy the magazine and read the article. And I have several of his films on DVD. Not the full collection or anything, but..." He shrugged.

  She thought he seemed almost embarrassed to admit to having followed the old actor's career, and it did seem a little out of character. But somehow, it made him seem a little more human. A little less intimidating. She walked across the sand with O'Mally at her side. A little too close, maybe. She wouldn't have minded, if he had been anyone else. But she seemed to feel his closeness more than she felt anyone else's.

  "He's really not the hermit the press makes him out to be," she said, just to get conversation going again. She didn't like silence as a rule. Less so with him nearby. "He's reinstating his annual Halloween party for the kids this year, you know."

  As she spoke, little Bethany Stevens climbed up onto Reggie's lap.

  Vince stopped walking suddenly, and when Holly looked at him, his expression was hard and cold as he stared at Reggie. "He likes kids, does he?"

  Startled, Holly studied him. What was that in his voice, just then? It hadn't sounded like a casual question. "It's not the kind of thing they'd play up in the press," she said at last. "Not in keeping with his dark, menacing image, I suppose. But yes, Reggie loves kids. They say he always has."

  SIX

  “ACCOR
DING TO LOCAL gossip, he's always loved kids," Holly went on. "Aunt Jen says before he moved away back in the eighties, he had a Halloween party every year for the little ones. It was the biggest event of the year in this town. And Reggie always had lots of special effects and spooky surprises. They still talk about those parties around here."

  "And who's the woman?" He nodded toward where Reggie sat, with the young woman standing at his back.

  "That's his niece, Amanda. She came to live with him when she was little. Mom says her parents were killed in some kind of accident. Poor thing."

  Vince seemed deep in thought. She wasn't even sure he was still listening. "So, do you want to meet him, or what?" she finally asked.

  "Yeah," he said. "I do."

  Odd, how his attitude seemed to have changed all of the sudden. He'd been almost relaxed—or as close to it as she figured he was capable of being—and now he seemed tense and tight again. Even more tense and tight than usual.

  Go figure. Normally, she and her mom would be enjoying snacks with Uncle Marty and Aunt Jen by this point in the festivities. But not this year. Nothing was normal this year, nor had been since O'Mally had come into town.

  They continued to where Reginald D'Voe sat. They had to pick their way among the small bodies all around him. Most of the kids were sitting. Bethany was saying, “Tell us the one about the werewolf, Reggie. Like you did when you came to story day at school!"

  "No, no," another child piped in. "The vampires. Tell us one of the vampire stories."

  Reggie held up a hand as he saw Holly and Vince approaching. "Be patient, my friends, be patient. We have grown-ups to contend with first." But he said it with a smile, as he nodded hello to Holly.

  Bethany jumped off his lap to run up to Holly and grab her hand. "Holly's here!" she said, grinning ear to ear. Then in a conspiratorial whisper to Reginald, "She's gonna help me make my costume for your party, Reggie! It's gonna be the best one in town."

  "I can't wait to see it," Reggie said in a stage whisper.

  Amanda D'Voe sent Holly a smile, as well. But she didn't hold her gaze long. She never held anyone's gaze long. Her eyes were usually cast slightly downward. Amanda was slim and pretty, with hair a light shade of brown that was almost blonde, but not quite. Sweet and painfully shy, she was as much a recluse as her uncle.