Rose and Helena Save Christmas: a novella

by Jana DeLeon

  She lifted her chin. “I know exactly who I’m dealin’ with. A bully. But the funny things about bullies is they’re really just scared little boys tryin’ to prove to the world that they’re big and bad.”

  “I am big and bad. I don’t need to prove it.”

  Rose believed it. His eyes had an evil gleam, and he looked as if he wouldn’t bat an eyelash to wrap a hand around her throat and strangle her on the spot. Nevertheless, she pushed on, hoping Taylor or Helena would be her backup if she needed it.

  “Oh, I believe you’re big and bad. Bad enough to kill someone for diamonds.”

  He froze, his face turning pale. “What did you say?”

  “Gina’s missin’ one bag of diamonds. I know where it is.”

  He grabbed her arm and dragged her to a column. “Your friend has them. I knew it.”

  “No. Neely Kate doesn’t have them, but I know who does.”

  He licked his lower lip, excitement covering his face. “Why are you telling me this?”

  “Because I’m not stupid enough to think I can get away with this and come out unscathed. I think you want the diamonds enough to make a deal.”

  “I’m listening.”

  Rose stepped out of her heels and bent at the knees, picking them up with her free hand. “Sorry, my shoes are killin’ me.”

  “That’s not the only thing that will kill you if you don’t start talking.”

  She swallowed. “I want a cut and the promise that you’ll stop tryin’ to railroad Madame Serafine’s murder on Neely Kate or me.”

  “I won’t give you a cut, but I’ll let you and your friend off.”

  “Okay.”

  He laughed. “You’re not going to try to get the PI off too?”

  “You have to pin it on someone, right?” Rose asked, hoping the phone was recording everything. “Especially since you did it. You can’t arrest yourself, can you?”

  His eyes narrowed.

  “Why’d you kill her? She obviously didn’t know anything about it.”

  “To take the heat off me. One of the bags was lost, and I had to blame it on someone. The buyer thinks I’ve done my part to find it.” He shrugged with a smirk. “All part of the game.”

  “You’re the one who got Gina involved, right?”

  He stiffened. “Why would you care…?” He glanced down at her hand and realization spread across his face.

  Rose swung her shoes as hard as she could into his face. His hand reached up in time to block the heels from hitting his eye, but they jabbed his forehead enough to draw blood. He let out a yell, and his stunned response was enough to give her a half second head start. Rose turned and ran, noticing that Taylor was in pursuit, but Savoy’s intent was the phone and Rose couldn’t be sure that Taylor could reach her in time to keep Savoy from grabbing it and smashing it on the marble floor.

  She had to lose the detective.

  But Rose had run herself into a corner. Literally. Savoy was advancing and she saw only one escape. The door next to her that led into the theater. She swung the door open as he reached her, slamming it into his face. He shouted obscenities that drew the attention of patrons in the back rows. Low murmurings of disapproval rose and they turned around to see what was causing the racket.

  Rose didn’t have time to worry as she bolted down the aisle. Taylor had reached Savoy—without the coat—and had grabbed his arm in an attempt to keep him from going after her. But he released a growl as he shook Taylor off and tore after Rose in a sprint.

  Rose ran faster, throwing her shoes behind her in an attempt to slow him down. People turned in their seats, staring at her in surprise and disapproval.

  An usher hurried down a side aisle toward her. “Miss!” he whisper-shouted. “You can’t run in here!”

  She ignored him and raced through the intersection of aisles, just missing him.

  Savoy wasn’t so lucky. The usher jumped in the middle of the aisle prepared to intercept him, but Savoy pushed him to the side. “Police business! Get out of the way.”

  Rose knew she was in real trouble—not just physical danger. If Savoy got hold of the phone, there was a good chance she’d get thrown in jail and never get out.

  Taylor ran after Savoy, shouting “I’m with him” to the usher. The audience was now murmuring loudly, some of them standing, not that Rose blamed them. She knew three people sprinting and yelling had to be a sight.

  The stage grew nearer, and Rose realized she was about to get cornered again. Ushers were pouring down every aisle toward her. The only escape she found was the stairs that led to the stage.

  Neely Kate hunched down in the aisle where Rose had been seated. “Helena says to go onstage!” she whispered loudly. “We’ve got you covered!”

  Rose wasn’t sure she should trust the ghost—especially since Taylor had texted that Helena failed her in the lobby—but the stairs were looking like her only choice. She glanced back behind her when she heard Savoy shouting again. Neely Kate was pitching her cans of Vienna sausages at the detective. He grabbed the side of his head and stopped, turning toward Neely Kate and hunching down as though he was about to go after her.

  “Savoy!” Rose stood on the steps and waved her phone, making sure her screen shone in the semidarkness.

  The detective’s face filled with rage and he tore after Rose, starting up the steps before she reached the top. His long legs spanned two steps at a time, and Rose stood onstage, taking a split second to figure out what to do next. The actors were performing the musical number “Dancing Through Life,” and Rose moved to the edge of the group. One of the male dancers grabbed Rose’s wrist and swung her toward him, his eyes huge with shock when he realized she wasn’t a dancer. Her back to his chest, he picked her up so she was several feet off the floor. He spun her around, then set her on her feet, then swung her out, then back.

  Savoy stood on the stage, near the top of the stairs, as he watched Rose for several seconds before storming toward her.

  Rose was mid-twirl when she saw a wheelchair on the opposite side of the stage tip forward. An actress had been sitting in it, but was now soaring through the air like a flying squirrel, her arms spread-eagle as she screamed. She landed on her stomach and slid, crashing into several dancers. They toppled over like bowling pins, taking Savoy down with him.

  The remaining dancers tried to continue dancing while the main actor stood in the middle of the stage. Confusion and panic covered his face, but he kept singing to the actress next to him. Her eyes were wild and she looked around as if waiting for someone to tell her what to do.

  Savoy climbed to his feet and growled as he headed toward Rose, but the wheelchair zoomed across the stage—entirely on its own. The chair slammed into the the detective’s legs and he fell backward into the seat.

  The song continued, and the dancers who had fallen were up on their feet, jumping back into the number while the wheelchair began to spin in place, faster and faster. It abruptly stopped and the chair flew to the center of the stage, then tipped forward and slammed Savoy into the statue dead-center of the action. He slid down as if in slow motion until he lay face-first on the wood floor.

  The orchestra finally stopped, the dancers slowing, then coming to a standstill, confused about what to do next. A man in a white shirt and gray dress pants bolted up the stairs, carrying a pair of handcuffs.

  Savoy had pushed up to a sitting position and shook his head as though trying to clear it. He saw Rose and his eyes narrowed with hate as he climbed to his feet. The performers scattered to the edges of the stage, watching to see what Savoy would do next.

  Rose stumbled several feet backward to get away as the new detective advanced toward the still-dazed man.

  “Savoy.” A wide grin spread across the detective’s face. “I’ve been waiting a long time to do this.” He grabbed one of Savoy’s wrists and slapped a cuff on it. “You’re under arrest for the murder of Serafine Saint Cerano.” He jerked the man around and cuffed his other hand behind his b
ack.

  A bucket hung in midair, floating toward the two officers, then tipped over Savoy’s head, covering him with green paint.

  The audience jumped to their feet, wild with applause. “Bravo!”

  When the officer finished reading Savoy his rights, he pushed him toward two uniformed policemen who waited at the top of the stairs. They each grabbed one of his arms and pushed him down the steps. The new detective watched him for several moments before turning his attention to Rose.

  Rose held her breath, terrified of how much trouble she might be in. He took several slow steps, then stopped in front of her.

  “Rose Gardner.”

  Rose cringed. “Yes…?”

  “Detective Broussard.” He held out his hand, and she gaped at it before taking hold. He gave her hand a shake. “On behalf of the New Orleans PD, thank you for helping us remove this boil on the butt of our city.”

  Rose looked down at their still-clasped hands, then back at his face. “A law enforcement officer thanking me for my help? There really is a first time for everything.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  Helena set two eggnogs—heavily laced with whiskey—down on the coffee table as Taylor placed the topper on the tree and turned on the lights. She stepped back and they both stood for a moment in silence, smiling at the colorful lights and sparkling tinsel.

  “A beautiful end to one of the weirdest weeks ever,” Helena said.

  “Agreed. And that says a lot coming from the two of us.”

  Helena laughed. “Yeah, given our unique abilities, neither of us can expect normal.”

  “Probably not on a regular basis, but every now and then, it’s nice.” Taylor sat on the couch and lifted the eggnog. “Like now. This is normal.”

  “You’re drinking with a ghost. Not normal.”

  Taylor smiled. “Maybe not to regular people.”

  Helena flopped into a chair and took a big gulp of her drink. “So how did your talk with Detective Broussard go this afternoon?”

  “About how I expected. Arden James is singing like a bird. Savoy threatened to trump up parole violation charges if he didn’t cooperate.”

  “Will he go back to prison?”

  “Probably, but Broussard thinks the judge might go easy on him for cooperating, and given that he was coerced.”

  “Did they pick up the purse snatcher?”

  “Yeah. Once I identified him, it didn’t take them any time to round him up. They brought him in with that clerk, Gina, although that’s not her real name. Savoy got her a fake ID to get the job at Madame Serafine’s shop.”

  “He must have paid them well.”

  “Not at all. Both were petty criminals that Savoy had busted a couple times before. He pulled the same stunt on them that he did on Arden—threatened to arrest them. Given their history, they would have done serious time this round.”

  Helena shook her head. “What a piece of crap.”

  “Definitely. Savoy thought he was smart enough to get away with it all. But his ego got the best of him.”

  “Thank God. Having him out of the New Orleans PD is the bonus given how he felt about you. Hopefully, you scored some points with Detective Broussard in case you need a little off-the-books help in the future.”

  “I think I might have. Are you ready for all the upcoming celebrating?”

  “I can’t wait,” Helena said, practically bouncing on the chair. “I’ll be at Hank’s on Christmas morning, watching my grandbaby’s first Christmas.”

  “And Christmas Eve?”

  “Maryse is picking me up to take me to Mudbug to see everyone.” Helena stared at the tree, a wistful look on her face. “I miss them. I know I’m better off here and they’re all better off with me here. But Mudbug will always be home.”

  Taylor nodded. “And they’ll always be your family.”

  “That’s a nice thought. Will you be at your parents’ for Christmas?”

  “Christmas Day. I can hardly wait. Another day of hearing my mom tell me about how I’m wasting my life and should take up a real career like accounting. I’d rather pull my nails out with pliers.”

  Helena gave her a sympathetic look. “You want to come with me to Mudbug on Christmas Eve? Maryse invited you, remember?”

  It was a tempting offer. The thought of spending a pleasant evening with nice, interesting people who didn’t mock her life and career choice sounded great, especially after the past few days. “I may just take you up on that.”

  “You don’t get to pick your family, but if you’re lucky, you can pick friends that become like family. Maybe that’s something you should look into. You spend too much time alone.”

  “What are you talking about? You’re here.”

  “Not exactly the kind of company I was thinking of.”

  Taylor opened her mouth to reply, but the doorbell interrupted her.

  “Are you expecting someone?” Helena asked.

  “No.” She got up and headed to the front door. When she opened it, she found herself staring directly at a huge bouquet of bright red poinsettias with glittering sprigs of tinsel and satin ribbon weaving in between.

  “Taylor Beaumont?” a voice behind the flowers asked.

  “Yes.”

  “Merry Christmas.”

  Taylor took the bouquet from the delivery guy and placed it on the kitchen table.

  “Wow!” Helena walked up to the table as she closed and locked the door. “That takes up half the table. Who’s it from?”

  “I have no idea.” She scanned the flowers and finally spotted a small red envelope poking out from among the leaves. She pulled the card out.

  Congratulations on getting your man. New Orleans is a better place because of you. Merry Christmas.

  Jimmy

  Helena leaned over and read the card. “Jimmy, huh?”

  Taylor felt a blush creep up her neck.

  “You’re blushing!” Helena cried.

  “It’s the whiskey.”

  Helena grinned. “Sure it is. Or maybe the new year could be a little less lonely than this one. If you’re willing to take a chance, that is. Take it from someone who regrets all the things she’ll never get to do—it’s worth it.”

  Taylor looked at the gorgeous bouquet, which had to have cost a fortune, then looked at the grinning Helena. Maybe it was time to take another chance. She’d taken one with Helena, and that had worked out. Sorta. Okay, it was still a work in progress, but then her entire life was.

  “Maybe I will,” Taylor said. “Merry Christmas, Helena.”

  “And to all a good night.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  On Christmas morning, Rose stood at the edge of her living room staring at the Christmas tree she and Mason had decorated less than a week ago, the day before she left for New Orleans. It was covered with decorations they’d found in the basement of her recently inherited farmhouse. A small pile of presents was scattered underneath.

  Mason stood behind her, his chest pressed to her back, his arms wrapped around her stomach. He pressed his cheek to the side of her head as they stared at the sparkling lights.

  Rose sighed with contentment. “This is my best Christmas ever.”

  Mason squeezed her tighter. “Me too.”

  “This is my vision,” Rose murmured, sinking into him. “The vision you asked me to have last week to make sure I was gonna be okay.”

  “I figured.” Mason’s breath blew her hair and it tickled her cheek. “Is it as good as you envisioned?’

  “Better. Because this is real.”

  The stayed there for several moments before he asked, “What time are Violet and the kids coming over?’

  “Around eleven. Vi wanted to give them a chance to play with their toys. Your mom is showing up around eleven, too.”

  He nuzzled her neck. “Then we have time for our own celebration.”

  She laughed and spun around to face him, still in his arms. “Just how many celebrations are you planning on, anyway? I
’m home safe and sound.”

  “Remind me to never send you off alone again. You scared me to death when I realized what happened in New Orleans. I was under the deluded impression that you’d be safe with Neely Kate.”

  “Hey! We worked everything out, thank you very much.”

  “Thank goodness Ronnie is such a low-key man and took everything in stride.” He paused. “Do you think Neely Kate really saw a ghost?”

  “At first, I would have said not a chance…but after some of the things I saw…” She let out a sigh. “The biggest question is if Madame Serafine really opened Neely Kate to seeing spirits or if seeing the ghost of Helena was a onetime experience. And if it was, Neely Kate is bound to be disappointed. I’m not sure how she’ll take that.”

  “She’ll be fine. Not much can get Neely Kate down.”

  Rose hoped so. She tried not to think about the predictions the psychic had made before she’d kicked them out. Was losing her supernatural gift the great sorrow Neely Kate was supposed to face?

  She offered Mason a soft smile. “In any case, we were perfectly safe while we were gone. You don’t have to worry so much.”

  “With you, safe is a relative term. I took it to mean staying away from criminal activity or law enforcement officers the entirety of your trip.”

  Guilt washed over her. She suspected she was about to have more associations with criminals than he imagined. But she refused to think about the four black dresses she’d bought in New Orleans. Trouble would seek her out soon enough. Or Skeeter Malcolm, to be more precise. “You know I don’t go lookin’ for trouble, Mason.”

  “And that’s what makes it even scarier. I’d almost wish you did. Then you could at least try to avoid it. Trouble seems to find you like a divining rod finds water.”

  “Enough talk about trouble, unless you have another kind in mind.” She pressed her lips to his and gave him a slow, sensuous kiss. “What were you saying about a celebration?”

  A mischievous grin lit up his face. “Why Rose Gardner, your mind is positively in the gutter.”