Jingle Bones

by Carolyn Haines

“Coleman.” I placed the call and put the phone on speaker. “Did you find the Rush boys?” I asked.

  “Marjorie was extremely uncooperative, as you warned. Luckily Judge Porter signed a search warrant.”

  “What did you find?”

  “We searched their rooms and found nothing concrete regarding Theodora’s abduction, but the Rush SUV is missing and no one will tell us where it is. Marjorie refuses to say anything, so I’m taking her down to the courthouse and holding her on obstruction.”

  “Can you do that? If so, can I come take a photo?”

  “It’s debatable whether it’s legal or not, but I’ll keep her until after Christmas, because Judge Porter said if we interrupted him one more time he’d put us all in jail. And no, you cannot mess with her. Gotta go. DeWayne found something. I’ll get back with you.”

  After a few hours in a cell surrounded by Christmas drunks, Marjorie would break. I would be willing to pay good money to watch that YouTube video! I could make a killing.

  “What next?” Tinkie asked.

  “Let’s look for Theodora’s car. She was driving out here. If the boys ran her off the road, they’d have to leave the car behind.”

  “Excellent deduction, Sherlock.”

  We plotted the route that Theodora would have driven to Jackson Farm and worked backward. I had a cue-beam light in the car for horse emergencies, and Tinkie shined it on either side of the road as we rolled slowly toward the church. The black Jaguar would be easy to miss on a dark December night. Tinkie had to keep the window rolled down, which had both of our teeth chattering.

  We’d almost given up when we found the sedan. The passenger fender was badly dented and that tire was flat. Theodora had hit the ditch hard and rammed into a speed limit sign. If the boys had caused this accident, they had terrific timing.

  It didn’t take long examining the car to discover the right front tire had been blown to smithereens. “I think those little bastards put an explosive device on the tire and triggered it.” Tinkie was appalled and impressed. “They aren’t even teenagers and they have perfect criminal instincts.”

  “They could have killed her.” I was all for a good prank, but causing wrecks didn’t qualify.

  Tinkie opened the car door to find the keys still in the ignition and blood on the steering wheel.

  “Looks like Theodora smacked her head hard enough to cause a gash. She could be really hurt.” Tinkie dialed Coleman and reported the accident. “He’s on the way here,” she said.

  Blood frozen on the ground got my butt in gear. Red was a great color for Christmas, but not bloodred. “All of this over a Christmas pageant.”

  “Speaking of which, it starts in thirty minutes.”

  I stated the obvious. “Theodora will be really put out if she misses directing her pageant.”

  “She’s going to be more put out if she’s dead. I don’t think Heaven would be much of a fit for Theodora. Something tells me tormenting others is frowned upon.”

  Sweetie Pie’s dolorous howl made the hair on my neck stand up. I took the cue beam to the side of the road where she and Chablis were pointing at footsteps. Two pairs of tennis shoe prints and one set more feminine. They headed down the side of the road to tire indentions. “Those little monsters have taken her. At least she was upright on her feet,” Tinkie said, studying the prints.

  The car Theodora disappeared in had headed south. That was the direction Tinkie and I followed with Sweetie in the backseat sniffing the wind. I’d read stories of cadaver dogs who could sniff a body under a river or deep in a lake, but I’d never considered that Sweetie could sniff the wind and follow a vehicle.

  We let the top down to give Sweetie the best chance to help. When we came to an intersection I continued south. My hound barked sharply until I realized she preferred east. Despite the discomfort of the cold, we passed dozens of homes decorated with holiday lights. In the distance red, green, white, and multicolored light displays pulsed and twinkled.

  “I love the holiday decorations,” I said, my teeth clacking and my shoulders shaking.

  “I’d love to put the top up,” Tinkie said, her teeth chattering like maracas. “But, yes, it’s a magnificent night. I can’t wait to get back to Dahlia House for our late dinner. I’m almost tempted to skip the pageant at Final Harvest.”

  “Not on your life! We promised Theodora we’d be there to guard the proceedings.”

  “Will they go forward? I mean, since Theodora isn’t there to direct.”

  “I can’t imagine they wouldn’t. I mean it’s a pageant. How hard could it be to direct?” I slowed. Where had those bad boys taken Theodora?

  Tinkie had had enough. “I vote we call off this fool’s errand. I’m so cold I’m afraid Oscar may have to wait for a spring thaw before he gets his Christmas surprise.”

  “Give Sweetie a chance.” At the next intersection, Sweetie Pie indicated north. I had no idea where the boys were driving Theodora. It was fifteen minutes to pageant time at the church. When the next intersection turned us westward, I looked at Tinkie. “We’re headed back to Zinnia. We’ve driven in a damn circle.”

  “Do you think they’re taking her to the church?”

  “Then what was the point of abducting her?”

  “I dread to think,” Tinkie said. “Let’s go back to the church. We’ve had a lovely tour of the county. I don’t really give a toot if we find Theodora or not. We did what we were paid to do. We found the baby doll and the boys confessed. They are not in the pageant. If Theodora wasn’t smart enough to avoid being kidnapped by preteens, that’s on her, not us.”

  Tinkie was normally the soul of compassion and I was the snark. I chose not to point that out. If she whacked me, my nose was so cold it might crack and fall off.

  As we pulled into the parking lot of the church, the strangest sight was illuminated in the car lights. The church was aglow with the twinkling lights of Christmas, but in front of the church a woman bear-hugged the flagpole. Two imps cavorted around her.

  “This isn’t going to be good,” I warned Tinkie. Before I could halt, Sweetie leaped out of the car baying nonstop as she ran toward the flagpole. Chablis shot after my hound.

  “Theodora!” Tinkie cried, in hot pursuit of the dogs.

  Lord Darcy and Heathcliff, laughing like fiends, took off running. Sweetie Pie and Chablis weren’t about to let them get away. Pluto, on the other hand, sat down and stared at Theodora, transfixed by the noises she was making.

  “Mmnmmmmt!” Theodora gurgled.

  I hit her with the cue beam and gasped. Theodora was in a lip-lock with the flagpole. Her tongue was frozen to it. “That has got to hurt,” I said.

  “Huuunnnk Hoooooo!”

  “I don’t think that phrase is in the Bible,” Tinkie said calmly as she called Coleman. “Bring some hot water, please. Out front. We have Theodora and the dogs are after the Rush boys.”

  I took no pleasure in tossing the jug of hot water on the flagpole, Theodora, and her tongue. At least I tried to convince myself of that. When she was free, she turned on me.

  “Dith hou haf to thrown me?”

  “Did you have to get intimate with a flagpole?” I responded.

  “Theyh thead theyh hould thather me.” She was so indignant the freezing cold hadn’t hit her yet.

  “Thather?” Tinkie pretended concern.

  “She means taser,” I interpreted.

  “Oh, my.” Tinkie tapped her diamond Rolex. “Time for the pageant to start. You’d better hustle, Theodora. The animals are already here.”

  Theodora marched past us, muttering dire threats in her strange frozen-tongue.

  “Hurry!” Tinkie said as she grabbed my arm. “I wouldn’t miss this for the world! Coleman and the dogs will catch those boys. Our work is done. Let’s see the pageant.” We entered the warm church and slid into the back row beside Cece, Jaytee, Harold, Oscar, and Millie. “Theodora is found and back in charge,” Tinkie told them.

  The choir began t
o sing “Joy to the World” and I relaxed into the warmth. I did love Christmas carols. The makeshift curtain that had been put up at the front of the church was pulled back, revealing the manger scene. Joseph and Mary talked of their journey and the lack of room in the inn for them. Around them the donkeys and sheep munched contentedly on a bale of hay.

  “We’ll be fine right here in this stable,” Joseph told the weary Mary. “The donkeys and sheep will share their lodging with us.”

  I had to admit, the kids were cute. Joseph’s beard kept coming off and he kept putting it back.

  When the baby Jesus—a somewhat more attractive doll than the previous one—was born, Mary rolled him up in a towel like a sausage and put him in the manger. The children sang “Silent Night” with a bit of help from the choir.

  “They’re doing a great job,” Tinkie whispered to me. “I’m glad we came.”

  The doors of the church opened, ushering in a cold wind and the wise men, leading the llama.

  The appropriate ohhs and ahhs accompanied the llama, and I could see Theodora at the front of the church nodding her approval. The camel was a huge hit.

  Before the doors could close, though, a galloping pig with a boy atop hurtled down the isle of the church, knocking two wise men into the pews. Lord Darcy rode Petunia into the church hanging onto a leather strap around the pig’s shoulders. Heathcliff stood in the open doorway with a hotshot in his hand. He’d obviously poked the pig with the electric charge to get her into the church.

  His evil grin was cut short when Sweetie jumped on his back and flattened him.

  As Heathcliff thrashed on the floor, the breath knocked out of him, Petunia rammed the manger scene, sending Joseph, Mary, and the shepherds running for their lives. The poor angel hung suspended over the mayhem, swinging dangerously back and forth. Theodora clung to the rope used to secure the angel in the air. “Hellth! Hellth!” she screamed, her tongue not fully recovered from the licking session with the flagpole.

  “Fantastic,” Tinkie said, standing up as if she meant to do something. But there was nothing we could do. Everyone in the church stood frozen in place.

  The wise man leading the llama abandoned the rope, leaving Elmo to his own devices. With a cry between a horse whinnying and a car trying to start, Elmo charged forward to aid Petunia.

  “This is awesome,” Jaytee said, camera in hand as he filmed away. “This is way better than anything I ever saw in Chicago!”

  Petunia, clearly panicked, ran back and forth in front of the manger, smashing into hay bales and the support posts for the stable, which crashed down, frightening the two donkeys and the sheep. The little angel, screaming at the top of her voice, swung wildly. Reverend Prince took a flying leap at Lord Darcy atop the terrified pig but he missed and rolled into Theodora, knocking her down with an oufff.

  “Youth he-vil liddle basthard!” Theodora yelled at the gallivanting Lord Darcy. “Both of youth will burnth in hellth.” The rope securing the swinging angle slipped from her hands. She gave a cry of alarm.

  Cece bolted out of her seat and flew down the aisle, jumping one of the wise men and two elderly females who clutched lace handkerchiefs to their hearts and began speaking in tongues. Cece made it to the rope just as Theodora let go. The angel dropped a sickening five feet before Cece managed to stop her fall and lower her gently to the ground. The little girl tore out of the harness and went screaming to her mother.

  “Praise the Lord!” Reverend Prince called out.

  “Watch out!” I called, because Petunia was making another pass. Lord Darcy was kicking the pig in her sides. Petunia squealed in terror and rooted down a pew, knocking it over backward.

  That’s when panic hit the crowd. The choir ran for the back exit, red Christmas robes flapping. The congregation rushed the front door, but the press of upset humans created a bottleneck. Folks trampled each other despite Coleman’s and DeWayne’s best efforts to restore order.

  Lord Darcy turned the pig and zeroed in on Theodora. He kicked Petunia with all of his might. The frightened sow leaped forward, heading straight for the hapless Theodora as she sat in the middle of the floor. She saw the inevitable and held her hands up in self-defense, screaming, “Tath me, Lordth!”

  Elmo chose that moment to act. He cut loose with a vile, slimy green wad of regurgitated stomach contents and hit Lord Darcy in the back of the head. Unprepared for the assault, the boy was unseated. He tumbled to the carpet and Pluto appeared from behind the altar and took a deadly swipe at one ear. Blood gushed and Lord Darcy screamed and writhed.

  Tinkie strode forward swinging the metal hotshot Heathcliff had used to torment the pig. Lord Darcy was about to throw up from the horrid stench of the llama spitt that covered the back of his head and seeped down into his collar, mingling with the blood from his ear.

  “Stay down,” Tinkie ordered him.

  “Leave me alone,” he replied, crawling to his hands and knees.

  “Give me a reason,” Tinkie said, pushing the hotshot into his butt. “Please, give me a reason.”

  Theodora goaded Tinkie. “Do ith! Do ith!”

  “Not necessary,” DeWayne said as he grabbed the boy up and then nearly gagged himself. “He’s going to the courthouse as soon as I hose that stinky crap off him.” He dragged him down the aisle and out the door with Coleman, who had Heathcliff by the collar. At the front door, Coleman halted.

  “Listen up, everyone. Return to your seats. Calm down. No one is injured.”

  And just like that, it was over.

  As Vannessia gathered up the animals and loaded them into the trailer, Theodora managed to get the choir back in place.

  Without further ado, she managed to whip them up into a jazzy rendition of “Away in a Manger.”

  The pageant was over.

  * * *

  Coleman pushed back from the table. “How about some of your mama’s famous fruitcake, Sarah Booth? I’ve saved just enough room for a thin slice.”

  The meal had been a wonderful success. My friends were full, replete, and we had laughed ourselves silly recounting the Christmas pageant. Harold delivered the best line, “Behold, fiasco is born!”

  “This is an evening I’ll tell my grandchildren about,” DeWayne said as he patted his stomach. “Thanks for including me.”

  I got up to serve the fruitcake and coffee. It was after midnight, and while I was tired, I was also happy. It was Christmas Day. I’d made it through Christmas Eve without tears for my parents or Graf.

  In another few hours, we’d gather again at Harold’s for the official Christmas party. I turned the coffee on and loaded a tray with fruitcake slices. The red and green candied cherries had been soaked in Jack Daniel’s and gave off a whiff of Tennessee bourbon.

  The kitchen door creaked open and I turned, expecting Jitty. Instead it was Coleman. He had one hand behind his back and a grin on his face. “You came to help?” I asked.

  “Not exactly.” He brought the mistletoe from behind his back and held it over my head. “I told you I intended to press my case. I don’t intend to run at the back of the pack this time.”

  He pulled me into his arms and kissed me, deep and hard. My last kiss with Coleman had been on Harold’s front porch at another Christmas party. He’d melted my bones, and then chosen to sacrifice his life tending his crazy wife. Connie, though, had been exposed as a manipulative bitch who faked a pregnancy. She wasn’t in the picture anymore.

  I would regret it later because it was too soon, but I kissed him back. I drank in the smell of starch and sunshine embedded in his uniform. I laced my arms around his neck and clung to him.

  In the living room, my guests began to sing “Hark! The Herald Angels Sing.” Cece led the singing and Jaytee accompanied her on the piano. I kissed Coleman harder. When we finally came up for air, I was flushed and panting. Coleman, too, looked slightly singed.

  “I’ve been wanting to do that for a long time,” he said.

  I didn’t have a ready answer.
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  “Hey, are you bringing the fruitcake or should we come help?” Cece called out.

  “We’re coming,” we answered in unison.

  I put the fruitcake tray in his hands. Mine were shaking. “I’ll bring the coffee.”

  “Merry Christmas,” Coleman said, and the very devil danced in his blue eyes. He knew he’d worked a Christmas mojo on me, and it pleased him to no end.

  “Back at you,” I said and gave him a push. “Get out of here.”

  He left and I leaned against a window to cool my cheek. The slight jingle of bells came to me and I saw Jitty reflected in the glass. She wore the sexiest red satin pajamas and cute red high-heeled pom-pom slippers.

  “Merry Christmas, Sarah Booth,” she said, grinning in victory. “Now do the right thing and set to work making a baby with that man. Next year, we could have a little Delaney to buy presents for!”

  “Jitty, don’t push,” I warned her. “I’m going as fast as I can. I don’t want to make a mistake.”

  “Lord, girl, the world is full of mistakes. We call them Christmas miracles. Looks like you just got handed one.”

  Pluto chose that moment to fly through the door batting one of the bells he’d stolen off a package.

  Jitty and I looked at each other. “An angel just got her wings,” we said together.

  “Get busy!” Jitty made an indecent motion with her hands as Tinkie came to see what the hold up with the coffee might be. By the time the door opened, Jitty was gone. I poured the aromatic drink into the cups and Tinkie helped me with the sugar and creamer.

  “Who do you talk to?” she asked.

  “Let’s just call her a Christmas elf.”

  Tinkie nodded. “Coleman looks good in your shade of lipstick.” She nudged me with her toe. “Merry Christmas, Sarah Booth.”

  “Merry Christmas to you…” I balanced the tray and leaned down to kiss her cheek, “partner.”

  “I can’t wait for a new year and a new case. Now let’s serve this coffee.”

  Read on for an excerpt from the next book featuring Sarah Booth Delaney

  Available in hardcover from Minotaur Books in May 2016