Christmas Bliss

by Mary Kay Andrews

  “That’s wonderful,” I said. “Did the kitchen sink get installed before you got started on the floors?”

  “Yes, ma’am, the sink is in, and your plumber got the water lines run to your laundry room too.”

  “Finally,” I said.

  He finished putting his equipment in the truck and climbed into the driver’s seat. “Uh, ma’am?”

  “Yes?” I tried not to fidget, but it had been a long drive back from Oak Point, and I really, really needed to get to the bathroom.

  “There was a black-and-white-spotted dog over there at the Breeze Inn when we got here this morning.”

  “Yes, it’s my friend’s dog. Jethro.”

  “And you know that little white dog of yours?”

  “Jeeves?”

  “I didn’t catch the little guy’s name,” he said apologetically. “The thing is, I heard a commotion coming from over there, and when I went to check, it looked like the little dog was kinda nipping and yapping at the big dog. I opened the door, you know, to try to settle them down a little, and when I did, that big dog took off running down the street.” He pointed north, down Butler Avenue, the island’s main drag.

  “Did you go after him?”

  He shrugged. “Well, by the time I got to my truck to go looking, he was long gone. And I’m already one man short on my crew, so I couldn’t really spare the time. Sorry.”

  I really, really needed to pee. “Jethro’s gone? He never came back? And nobody thought to try to call me to let me know?”

  “Guess not.” I glared at him.

  “Thanks. Guess it’s up to me now, huh?”

  He was too embarrassed to say anything else, so he started the truck and drove away. As for me, I sped into the house for a quick potty stop—and an even quicker dirty look at Jeeves, who didn’t seem at all bothered by it, and then got in my car to go hunt down Weezie’s dog.

  I don’t know why I was surprised that Jethro had taken a powder. He’s sweet but a notorious escape artist, who’d run away from Weezie’s town house on more than one occasion—once even managing to knock up her neighbor’s purebred pooch, Ruthie, while on the lam.

  The bad news was that Jethro had been gone at least three hours by the time I went looking for him. The good news was that Tybee is only about three and a half miles long, and I still had a couple hours of daylight left in which to track down his shaggy butt.

  Before I set out, I made a quick call to the Tybee Police. I recognized the day shift dispatcher’s syrupy drawl as soon as she answered. Angela Anderson had worked as a housekeeper at the Breeze Inn for a year after splitting up from an abusive boyfriend and moving to the island. I’d hated to lose her, but since she was a single mom with two school-age daughters, I totally understood her need to have full-time work and city benefits.

  “Tybee Island Po-leece.”

  “Angela? It’s BeBe Loudermilk.”

  “Oh my Lord, BeBe. Is it the baby? I’ve got a car just down the block from you. I’ll get Leo there right now. Did your water break? Can you tell if you’re dilated?”

  “Calm down, Angie! I’m not dilated and I’m not in labor. I’ve got a runaway dog, is all.”

  “Jeeves ran away?”

  “Not Jeeves, Jethro. He’s my friend’s dog and I’m watching him while she’s out of town, but Jeeves picked a fight with him, so Jethro took off a couple hours ago. I was calling to see if anybody around the island spotted him. He’s just a mutt, medium-sized, black with white spots and kinda goofy. He’s wearing a tag with Weezie’s name and phone number, and he’s microchipped too, but I’m hoping to round him up before my friend finds out he’s missing.”

  “Black and white and goofy. Answers to Jethro,” she said. “I’ll get on the horn to the Animal Control guys and tell them if they pick up the dog not to take him to the county pound.”

  “Thanks, Angela,” I said. “How are the girls?”

  “Tara made honor roll, and Scarlett won the school spelling bee,” she said proudly. “They don’t have a lick of their sorry daddy’s DNA.”

  “Good for them,” I said. “You’ll let me know if anybody spots him?”

  “Sure thing.”

  I cruised up and down the streets around the Breeze Inn with my windows down, hollering Jethro’s name. I drove down Tybrisa and The Strand, which accounts for the island’s abbreviated business district, and I drove behind every restaurant and even our grocery store, the Tybee Market, thinking maybe a chowhound like Jethro might be hanging around the Dumpster or back door, hoping for a handout. I saw approximately thirty feral cats and stopped half a dozen neighbors out walking their own dogs, to ask if they’d seen Jethro, but I came up with absolutely nothing.

  With a heavy heart (and a full bladder) I drove back to the Breeze, hoping maybe Jethro had changed his mind and come back.

  Lillian, our part-time desk clerk, was packing up to leave when I walked into the office. She shook her head no before I could ask.

  “Not here,” she said. “I think that one,” she said, tossing her head in the direction of Jeeves, who was sitting in a chair pulled up to the window, with his nose pressed up against the glass, “is suffering from a guilty conscience. He hasn’t moved from that spot since you left.”

  I scooped Jeeves up and scratched his ears. “You can’t be picking on the big dogs,” I told him. “They get their feelings hurt and run away. He’s only here till the end of the week. So once he comes back, play nice. Okay?”

  Jeeves licked my hand and wagged his tail, and I truly believed he was repenting his sins.

  “We’ve got a full house,” Lillian said. “The Dowlings are in from Indiana, and I put them in unit two. They’re going to Hilton Head for dinner, and that nice older couple from Boston checked into unit six. They’re headed into Savannah to visit with their cousins, and said they wouldn’t be back until late.”

  “Good,” I said, relieved. We usually have a happy hour get-together in the office-lounge weekdays from five to seven. I set out wine and a fruit and cheese platter and let the guests help themselves, but tonight I was happy that our regulars wouldn’t be in residence and therefore wouldn’t expect me to join them.

  Because, frankly, I was exhausted. At five, Harry texted me that he’d be home late. Only his second day at the new job, and already he was all in, but that was Harry. I was tempted to take a nap, but instead I caught up on the inn’s bookkeeping, paid some bills, and then began rooting around in the fridge for something to cook for dinner.

  Mindful of Harry’s no-fish request, I found a package of boneless, skinless chicken thighs, which I chopped up and sautéed in a Dutch oven, along with diced onion and red bell pepper. I drained the meat and veggies, then dumped them back in the pot, along with a big container of chicken broth, a can of drained and rinsed cannellini beans, a can of Ro-Tel tomatoes, and a packet of white chili seasoning mix. I put the pot on simmer, threw together a quick green salad, and went back outside to look around for any sign of Jethro.

  Jeeves trotted at my heels as I circled the block, whistling and softly calling Jethro’s name. After twenty minutes, it was getting cold and my lower back was starting to throb. Reluctantly, I walked back home.

  Harry was just pulling into the parking lot when Jeeves and I walked up. He kissed me hello and grabbed up Jeeves for a head scratch.

  “Long day?” I asked as we walked into the office and through to our living quarters.

  He shrugged. “It was all right. I’m still learning the ropes, and there’s a pretty steep learning curve. What about you? How are things going over at the house?”

  “Better.” I filled him in on the day’s progress.

  “You look a little tired yourself,” he observed after we’d finished dinner. “Are you feeling okay?”

  “I’m fine,” I insisted. “Just a few spasms in my lower back.”

  “Should you be out walking if your back hurts?” he asked.

  I hesitated, then told him about Jethro’s disappearing
act.

  “How did he get out?” Harry asked.

  I paused. I didn’t want to lie to Harry about where I’d been earlier in the day, but there was no way I was going to tell him about my mission at Oak Point.

  “I’d run into town to do some errands, and the floor guy heard Jeeves over here yipping and snapping at Jethro. He opened the door to break it up, and Jethro took off running.”

  Harry frowned. “And there’s no still no sign of him?”

  I sighed. “Not yet. I don’t know what I’m going to tell Weezie if he doesn’t turn up. She adores that dog. She’ll never forgive me if he’s truly lost.”

  Harry got up from the table and started loading the dishes into the sink. “Look, why don’t you go run a hot bath and climb into bed? I’ll take another stab at finding him.”

  “No!” I protested, trying but failing to suppress a yawn. “You’ve just worked a twelve-hour day. This is my problem. Jethro is my responsibility.”

  “Your problems are my problems,” Harry said. He came around to my chair and helped pull me to my feet. “Now go on. I’ll call you when I find him. And when I get back, you’d better be tucked in bed, young lady. I’ll bring you up your supper.”

  * * *

  Harry was right about one thing, I was absolutely exhausted. As pregnant as I was, it was nearly impossible to find a comfortable position to sleep in, and when I did finally manage to doze off, it seemed like I had to get up to go to the bathroom every hour.

  So I did as I was ordered. I took a warm shower and climbed into bed. Jeeves hopped up on the bed and settled himself at my feet. Harry had been gone nearly an hour, and there was still no word. Jethro, it seemed, might be gone for good.

  With dread in my heart, I reached for my phone on the nightstand. But Weezie beat me to the punch.

  “Hey!” I said. “How’s the Big Apple?”

  “It’s great,” she said. “And how’s my little mama?”

  “Big as a house and growing,” I replied.

  “And how’s Jethro? I hope he’s not being too much of a bother. Sometimes when I’m gone, he’ll hardly eat. Is he eating okay for you?”

  “He eats everything in sight. Listen, Weezie…”

  “Please tell me he hasn’t tinkled in the house. You know, he gets overexcited and sometimes he forgets…”

  “No accidents in the house,” I assured her. “But speaking of Jethro…”

  “And he’s getting along with Jeeves? I swear, Jethro is such an only child—he just doesn’t like to share his toys.”

  “Jethro’s been a model citizen. I wish I could say the same for Jeeves,” I said. Jeeves, hearing his name, stood up on the end of the bed, wagging his tail, but I gave him the stink-eye and he dropped down and buried his head in his paws.

  “That’s a relief,” Weezie said. “But really, I was calling to check in on the whole d-i-v-o-r-c-e situation. Any news?”

  “Not any good news, I’m afraid. James checked at the courthouse, and it seems like Inez Roebottom was correct. So Richard is still, literally, my old ball and chain.”

  “Oh no. I was afraid of that.”

  “It gets worse,” I said, leaning to look out the window to make sure Harry hadn’t gotten back yet. “If I don’t get this divorce finalized before the baby comes, in the eyes of the law, Richard would be assumed to be the baby’s legal father.”

  “Whaaaat? You haven’t seen him in years. How can that be?”

  “It just is,” I said glumly. “The only way out of this mess is to file for divorce all over again. But first I’ve got to track Richard down. The only thing I know for sure is that he was released from prison two years ago.”

  “Well, how do we go about finding him?” she demanded.

  “I tracked down Richard’s sister. She’s living with his great-aunt at Oak Point, an old family farm out on the Little Ogeechee River.”

  “Cindy? That’s the oldest of the sisters? She didn’t like you much, did she? Refused to be a bridesmaid in your wedding?”

  I had to laugh. “She refused to attend our wedding, that’s how much she loathed me.”

  “Did she tell you anything?”

  “She basically told me to scram,” I said. “But Richard’s aunt Opal is living with her now, and she always liked me. She got all misty-eyed when she saw I was pregnant, talked about what a precious baby her Richie was. I think she would have talked to me if Cindy hadn’t literally shoved her out of the way and slammed the door in my face.”

  “That’s kind of extreme,” Weezie said.

  “That’s what I was thinking,” I said. “It’s almost like she was hiding something. Aunt Opal wanted me to come in and visit, but that’s when Cindy really got agitated.”

  “What could they be hiding in the house?” Weezie asked. “You think they’ve got Richard locked up in a closet? Oooh. Or maybe the old lady was actually Richard—dressed up as Aunt Opal. You know, like Anthony Hopkins at the Bates Motel in Psycho.”

  “This isn’t a Hitchcock movie, Weezie. But I do think there’s something fishy going on there.”

  “What’s your next step?”

  “I’m not sure,” I admitted. “I think if I could just get Aunt Opal away from Cindy for a few minutes, she’d spill her guts about her little Richie. Or if I could just get a look inside that house … maybe I’d find something that would lead me to Richard…”

  “If only I were there,” Weezie said. “We could break out our black catsuits again. Remember when we went sneaking around that warehouse back in the day…”

  “Even if I could find my catsuit, I doubt it would fit my big toe,” I said. “Anyway, you’re up there and I’m down here. How’s it going up there, by the way? Was Daniel glad to see you?”

  “He was surprised,” Weezie said. “Things got off to kind of a rocky start. The airline lost my luggage. A gypsy cabdriver dumped me off in a bad part of town, and Daniel had to come rescue me. And the apartment he’s staying in is the size of a broom closet—seriously. But yesterday I figured out how to take the subway, and I walked all over Central Park, and I watched the skaters at the Wollman Rink. And then I went over to the zoo. They have the most adorable polar bears. And I saw the seals and the penguin house. And then I walked over to the Plaza Hotel, which is right there near the park…”

  “I’ve stayed at the Plaza,” I reminded her. “Did you go inside and have tea in the Palm Court? And get your picture taken in front of the portrait of Eloise?”

  “No,” Weezie said, sounding a little sad. “They were having some kind of fancy society soiree, and there were hundreds of lady lunch types all dressed to the nines in designer duds and jewels and furs—and there I was in my ratty jeans and Daniel’s bomber jacket. I just peeked in the door long enough to see the lobby. Which was gorgeous.”

  “You mean the airline still hasn’t delivered your suitcase?”

  “It came late last night,” Weezie said. “Thank God. Daniel’s working tonight, of course, but we’ve got tickets to a Wednesday matinee, and I can’t wait.”

  “What are you going to see?” I asked. “Don’t tell me Daniel is actually going to sit through a musical with you…”

  “I didn’t even ask,” Weezie said. “And I don’t care. I just want to see a Broadway show.”

  She was rattling off a list of potential shows, but I’d been looking out the window while we chatted, on the lookout for Harry’s truck. Now a car with blue flashing lights was pulling into the Breeze parking lot.

  I got out of bed and stared out the window. Our visitor was a Tybee police car. And there, silhouetted in the front seat, was a familiar-looking wayward black-and-white dog.

  “Jethro!” The words were out of my mouth before I realized what I was saying.

  “What? What’s he done now?” Weezie asked.

  “Not a thing,” I said with a grateful sigh. “He’s just a very good dog, that’s all.”

  Chapter 18

  BeBe

  James Foley was
not a happy camper. We were in his car, in a convenience store parking lot opposite the long unpaved drive that led to Oak Point. I was wearing a big floppy hat and using Harry’s binoculars to watch for Cindy Hodges’s van; he was fidgeting and using his smart phone to look up sentencing guidelines for breaking and entering.

  “Do you see this?” he demanded, brandishing his phone. “We could get eighteen months to five years! And that’s assuming we get a friendly judge.”

  “Relax. We’re not really going to break in. I was just here yesterday. That house is so old and rickety, we can probably just pull back a board and crawl inside.”

  “I should never have let you and Weezie talk me into this. I’m an officer of the court! I could get disbarred as well as imprisoned.”

  “You didn’t have to come,” I pointed out.

  “Weezie would never let me hear the end of it if I’d let you do this alone. What if something happened? What if somebody caught you breaking in, or God forbid, you went into labor?”

  “For Pete’s sake! Why does everybody keep expecting me to go into labor? The baby is weeks away. And nobody is going to catch us.”

  “John will never speak to me again if we get caught. What if somebody in the DA’s office finds out you roped me into this caper of yours? It could ruin his career. And I hate lying to him. He thinks I’m playing bridge tonight. What about you? Where did you tell Harry you were going?”

  I sighed. I’d hated lying to my partner as much as James hated lying to his. “Harry thinks I went to do some last-minute Christmas shopping.”

  James shook his head and tsk-tsked some more. Just then, the mini-van pulled onto the road opposite us. I raised the binoculars and liked what I saw.

  “See there? That’s Cindy driving, and that’s Richard’s aunt Opal sitting in the front seat right beside her. Aunt Opal is hard-shell Baptist, and they’re going to Wednesday-night prayer service. They won’t be back for at least an hour or more.”