by Krista Davis
A moment of panic crossed Blake’s face. “I don’t think so. Which agency did she get you from?”
“Agency?” asked Austin. “I’m sorry, I don’t follow.”
“He thinks I paid you to be here.” Tiffany’s eyes narrowed, and she glared at her brother.
Linda paled. “Blake! Don’t be rude to Tiffie’s guest.” She leaned toward her husband and asked, “Is that possible?”
Tim nodded but smiled pleasantly. “What do you do for a living, Austin?”
“I’m a CPA with Schwoerer, Coxon, and Conroy.”
Tim appeared surprised.
“I think I have heard of them. A CPA, and already a partner in that big company,” Linda gushed, obviously very pleased.
“The Conroy in the name is actually my dad, so don’t be too impressed.”
Blake shook his head. “Amazing. Have you been on stage? You’re a terrific actor.”
Austin appeared uncomfortable, but Tiffany placed a loving hand on his shoulder. “Pay no attention to Blakey. He’s just sore because now Mom will be after him to find someone.”
“That’s not true, Austin.” Linda smiled widely. “Our Blake is in medical school. There will be plenty of time for romance when he’s finished. Right, Blake?”
Tiffany regarded her brother with suspicious eyes.
Just then, Vivienne joined her family at the table and the introductions began again.
“Where’s Dale?” asked Linda.
“I’m sure I don’t know.” Vivi grimaced. “He’s probably out wasting money on some other ridiculous holiday event. I wish you wouldn’t encourage him to do that kind of thing.”
I finished the last bite of my eggs and felt totally guilty for wanting to eat the cranberry roll. But the white icing almost sparkled on top, and the red cranberries peeked out like jewels. It was like dessert at breakfast! I checked the time. Over an hour before Trixie would be sprung. I tried to eat slowly. Finally, I couldn’t stand it anymore. So what if I showed up early to pick up Trixie?
I stood up but hadn’t taken more than two steps when Norma Jeanne walked in. She looked directly at me and stopped mid-step. Her eyes widened. Her mouth opened. And then she let out a little scream.
Eleven
All eyes were on Norma Jeanne. For a long moment, I thought she might faint.
Austin stood up. “NJ? Is that you? I can’t believe it.”
Aha! Apparently she had not been looking at me. That was a relief.
He skirted the table and headed for her, his arms open wide. “What are you doing here?”
They hugged like old friends.
Tiffany hissed, “Noooo!” Her hands clenched into little balls.
“How long has it been?” asked Austin.
Norma Jeanne blinked at him as though she couldn’t believe her eyes. “Eight years?”
Linda, who didn’t appear to have noticed Tiffany’s horror, called, “Norma Jeanne, come and join us.”
Austin pulled up a chair for Norma Jeanne.
“How do you two know each other?” asked Linda, smiling and apparently still oblivious to her daughter’s distress.
“Austin and I dated when we were in college.” Norma Jeanne smiled sweetly at Austin.
But poor Tiffany looked like the life had drained right out of her.
I was walking away when I heard Tiffany declare in a very loud voice, “We’re all having Christmas here this year to celebrate Norma Jeanne’s engagement. Isn’t that wonderful?”
I glanced back just in time to see Tiffany smile again rather smugly.
Maybe she had realized that Norma Jeanne wasn’t a threat to her relationship with Austin after all. I cut through the private kitchen and walked up to my apartment for a warm jacket. I felt like a child anticipating her Christmas gift. I could barely wait to pick up my little Trixie.
I rushed down the grand staircase, hoping I wouldn’t be waylaid by anyone. Trying not to make eye contact, I walked by guests quickly and stopped in the office to retrieve a golf cart key. I waved to Oma and Zelda and stepped outside. It was a beautiful day with clear blue skies and a lovely brisk nip in the air. I hopped into a golf cart and took off for the veterinary hospital.
On the way, I passed a group of visitors piling out of a Wagtail taxi. In addition to the green, which was a walking zone, Wagtail had limited access by automobile. Nonresidents parked outside town and were brought in via golf carts, known locally as Wagtail taxis.
When I walked through the doors of the veterinary hospital, I felt far better than I had the night before. One of the vet techs carried Trixie out to me. Her tail wagged nonstop, and she bestowed doggy kisses on the vet tech’s chin.
When Trixie saw me, she wrestled like a wild tiger to be released. On the floor, she pranced around me in excited circles. I knelt on the floor and was soon covered in kisses. But suddenly something distracted her, and she ran past me.
I turned around in time to see Holmes sweep her up in his arms.
“What are you doing here?” I blurted.
“I had to make sure my favorite girl was okay.”
I shot him a doubtful look. How could he have known to be here? Unless Oma had called his grandmother . . .
My thoughts were interrupted by the vet tech.
“Trixie was so much fun last night,” she said. “Because of the holidays we don’t have a lot of animals in ICU right now, so she got a lot of attention and seemed to love every minute of it.”
I paid the bill while Trixie continued to dance around. When I opened the door, she shot outside, ran straight to our golf cart, and hopped onto the seat.
Holmes and I followed her.
“Need a ride?” I asked Holmes.
“Thanks, but I have Grandma Rose’s golf cart.”
He pointed at it. Boxes were piled on the back seat. “I’m supposed to deliver those to the inn.”
“A surprise for Norma Jeanne?” My smile faded as I realized he might be in for a big surprise when he found out her old boyfriend had shown up. I wondered if I should mention it to warn him. Part of me thought I should mind my own business. Would I want to know if I were in his shoes? Yes. I would. I would want to be prepared.
I sucked in a deep breath. “Have you talked to Norma Jeanne this morning?”
“Nope. Grandma Rose barely gave me time to shower before sending me over here to help you.”
I clearly didn’t need any help. And she wouldn’t have known that I was here at all unless a certain German Oma had called her. They were up to something.
Holmes frowned at me. “Do you have time for a mug of hot chocolate?”
“Don’t tell me it’s in the golf cart under those boxes.”
He checked his watch. “Help me unload these at the inn, and then we’ll sneak away for a hot chocolate. Just the two of us. I haven’t eaten breakfast yet.”
“Okay. I’d like that.” If he happened to run into Norma Jeanne’s old boyfriend at the inn, well, I couldn’t really help that. Maybe I could break it to him over hot chocolate.
I hopped into my golf cart and gave Trixie a big hug. “We missed you last night,” I whispered.
Her dark eyes were bright and her tail wagged. She yelped, which I interpreted as, “Let’s go, already!”
I followed Holmes back. When Trixie ran through the doors to the reception lobby, a cheer went up. Zelda, Mr. Huckle, Oma, and Rose fussed over her and fed her little treats.
“No more eating Oma’s stollen!” scolded Oma.
“It is delicious, though.” Rose looked over at me. “I just had a slice.”
Zelda, who had a side business as an animal communicator, said, “Trixie is very happy to be home and she says in the future, she will try to steal only things that have already been baked.”
“Could you please tell her it’s not nic
e to steal food?” I asked. I wasn’t sure Zelda could talk to animals as she claimed, but it couldn’t hurt to have her try to explain that to Trixie.
“She’s resistant to that idea and says she’ll consider it only if you give her more treats.”
That sounded like Trixie. Maybe Zelda really could read her mind.
“So where do you want these boxes, Grandma?” asked Holmes.
“Those are my Christmas village houses. I was telling Linda that I didn’t have time to put them up this year, and she’s itching to do it here.”
“I set up some tables for her in the lobby,” I said.
“I saw them. An excellent spot,” said Mr. Huckle, nodding his approval.
We loaded the boxes of houses, lights, bushes, trees, bridges, and fences onto carts and rolled them toward the lobby. The entire way there I hoped we wouldn’t run into Austin. Maybe I should have warned Holmes about his unexpected arrival after all.
But my intentions were forgotten when Rupert marched through the front door, his face as ruddy as the inside of a blood orange.
He strode up to me and boomed, “Your crazy Aunt Birdie killed my Grinch!”
Twelve
“Killed it?” I repeated, making sure I had understood correctly.
“That’s right. She done stabbed it to death. I never knew a woman so doggoned mean. She won’t stop at anything to git her own way.”
I swallowed hard. “Did you see her do it?”
Just beyond Rupert, I couldn’t help noticing that Norma Jeanne seemed a little uncomfortable as Austin was introduced to Holmes.
So much for hot chocolate with Holmes. I waved good-bye to Holmes and forced myself to focus on Rupert.
“. . . I didn’t have to see her. I knew who done it.”
“I’ll have a talk with Aunt Birdie right away.”
“Just so you know, I called Officer Dave already. She might be in the slammer by now.”
I certainly hoped not! Aunt Birdie was a pill, but she didn’t deserve to be in jail. I promised Rupert I would take care of it, poor language at best, since I didn’t know what I could do about it. Leaving in haste, I stopped by Oma’s office to let her know what was going on.
“Do you think Trixie should stay here with me and rest?” asked Oma.
Trixie seemed fine and happy, but after her treatment, maybe that was a good idea. I left her lounging comfortably on the sofa in the office and walked toward Rupert’s house.
On my way, I phoned Dave, who was already at Rupert’s inspecting the damage. No one had been arrested yet. I picked up my speed.
A small crowd had gathered at Rupert’s house once again. Ironic, I thought. They had come when the Grinch annoyed them and now again for its death.
Rupert had returned and appeared to be relishing the attention. Were the previously angry neighbors sympathizing with him?
I made my way through them to Dave, who was inspecting slashes in the material. The poor Grinch had collapsed into an enormous heap. “How did you find the holes?” I asked. “This thing is huge.”
He glanced up at me. “They were apparent when Rupert tried to blow it up again.” He shook his head. “It took a really sharp instrument and some force to get through this material.”
“Whew! Then I guess Aunt Birdie is off the hook?”
“Nope. Not saying that at all. Just making an observation.”
“She wasn’t the only one who was upset by the Grinch, you know.”
A man whom I recognized from the bookstore said, “Those people didn’t have any Christmas spirit. I thought it was the best decoration I’d ever seen. In fact, I’m going to try to fix him.”
No! Oh no. The only good thing about someone slashing the Grinch was that the controversy would be over.
Dave shook his head. “Can’t fix it yet. It’s a crime scene.”
“Nobody’s dead,” said the man. “I brought special wide tape made for repairing plastic like this. Lemme fix the Grinch.”
A chant went up in the crowd. “Fix the Grinch. Fix the Grinch!”
There was no question that Dave was annoyed. “Now look what you started. I don’t want you touching the Grinch until I get this matter resolved. Do you understand me? There may not be a body, but it’s still destruction of private property.”
I watched Dave carefully. Did he really think he was going to find the person who slit the Grinch? There wasn’t a grown man in Wagtail who didn’t have a fishing or hunting knife. Even the ones who didn’t hunt or fish owned them. And there were plenty of talented cooks in town who surely had some scary-looking kitchen knives.
Rupert edged up to us. “What if I don’t press charges?”
“It’s still a crime to damage property.”
“What if I done it myself?”
“And reported it as a crime?” Dave stared at him in disbelief. “That would be a different kind of crime.”
“Drat you, Dave Quinlan!” Rupert shouted. “I wanna put the Grinch back up. I’m not waiting two years until you realize you ain’t gonna pin it on Aunt Birdie. She may be a cantankerous old harpy but she ain’t dumb. Besides, look at all these people who liked it. Now what do I gotta do to make that happen without breakin’ the law?”
Dave seemed pained by his question. “Don’t you think the person who did this will do it again?”
“Maybe Aunt Birdie don’t want to go to jail, and she’ll reconsider now that she got off scot-free once.”
Fat chance.
“It’s up to you, Rupert,” said Dave. “If you want to put the Grinch back up and forget all about this, then in the spirit of the holidays, I’ll just pretend it never happened.”
He wouldn’t, of course. I knew Dave better than that. But I was relieved for Aunt Birdie and wasn’t about to object, even if it meant more complaints about the Grinch. They would be a small price to pay to keep Aunt Birdie out of the slammer.
“But,” said Dave hastily, “only if you agree to the terms you arranged with the mayor. Lights off at midnight and music at a tolerable level. And no more playing “Aunt Birdie Got Run Over by a Reindeer.”
Rupert grinned. “Shucks! That’s my favorite Christmas song.”
Dave couldn’t hold back a smile.
We walked toward the street.
“You headed to Aunt Birdie’s?” he asked.
“How did you ever guess?”
“Mind if I come along?” He kept pace with me.
“As long as you don’t arrest her.”
“I hope to heaven I never have to do that. You don’t mind if I put a scare in her, do you?”
“Not a bit.”
It wasn’t far to Aunt Birdie’s house, just around the block, really. No wonder the Grinch had upset her so much.
We strolled up to her house. Swags of pine with large lights hung from the roof of her porch. The steps leading to the porch were flanked by matching pots of greenery, with tall yet delicate red spirals reaching up from the middle. Round red ornaments had been artfully arranged to look like they were growing out of the pots. Boxwood wreaths hung on her windows, attached by red ribbons. In the corner of the porch, a live tree sparkled with tiny lights. I had to admit that she had one of the prettiest porches in Wagtail this holiday.
I knocked on the door.
Aunt Birdie readily swung it open. She wore a long black skirt with a bulky cream sweater. It was very basic, but it draped perfectly on her thin figure and set off her dark hair with the white streak in it. “Holly! What a surprise. No gift in your hand? And a cop by your side. Do you need bail money? I would be delighted to see you, but you never come around unless there’s trouble.”
“Good morning, Aunt Birdie.” I skipped past her slights and tried to butter her up. “You are coming for brunch on Christmas Day?”
“I loathe spending the holidays wit
h inn guests, but I suppose that’s my only choice.”
“Ms. Dupuy,” said Dave politely, “someone cut holes in Rupert Grimpley’s Grinch. Would you know anything about that?”
“Me? I hope you jest, young Dave. Have you run out of scoundrels and miscreants to accuse of such things?” Aunt Birdie did a good job of appearing to be shocked. She spoke with confidence.
“You realize that it’s a crime to destroy someone else’s property, no matter how much it annoys you.” Although Dave phrased it as a question, he spoke as though it was fact.
“Are you implying that I had a hand in it?” Aunt Birdie scowled at me. “Is this why you came here? To berate me?”
“You live so close,” I said. “We thought you might have seen or heard something.” There, that would make her feel important.
Her expression softened. “Well, that’s different. I wholeheartedly thank whoever did it. Rupert should never have been allowed to set up that monstrosity in the first place. And if you—” she pointed at Dave with a gnarled forefinger “—had any guts, you’d have made him take it down for good the very first night.”
Dave opened his mouth, but Aunt Birdie wasn’t through. “And I’ve got half a mind to skip Christmas at the inn because your grandmother is in cahoots with Rupert. I know she’s letting him carry on just to annoy me. Some Christmas gift!”
She slammed the door.
Dave massaged his forehead with one hand.
The two of us turned and walked away.
“Good job of scaring her,” I said.
“Did you notice how she avoided denying any involvement?”
“Yeah.” I sighed. “I sure did. She’s lucky you’re not pursuing it.”
“Maybe I should keep an eye on it tonight.”
I winced. “Please don’t arrest Aunt Birdie.”
“You know I can’t promise that. She doesn’t have any right to run around town tearing down things she doesn’t like.”
I shot him my best pleading look.
“I ran into Holmes last night,” Dave said.
“You met Norma Jeanne?”
Dave shook his head. “He was by himself taking a walk around town.”
