by Krista Davis
He promised to be there soon. As I hung up, Daisy headed to the front door. Moments later, I heard a clatter. Not Kenner! Oh, please, not Kenner! He would toss us both in jail if he found Shawna at my house.
I peered through the peephole in the door, wondering if I dared not open it. Was it illegal not to open the door for a cop? I tried to still my hammering heart. I couldn’t make out anything through the peep hole. Was Shawna dressed yet? Could she escape out the back before Kenner figured out that she was here? Had he followed her? What if he had listened to my phone call?
Kenner had warned Laci and me about harboring a criminal. Had he come back with a search warrant for my house? Argh. I beat my head gently against the door. What now?
I peered through the peephole again. Why hadn’t the person knocked on the door yet? Shawna was upstairs, and I couldn’t imagine who else would dally at my door.
Leaving the safety chain in place, I eased the door open for a better look. There, under the romantic glow of the Christmas lights surrounding my door, Hannah had locked lips with Zack.
My initial relief faded as I gently closed the door. He was still a cop. Hannah had surely told him about Shawna. He may have even made some phone calls to find out more. What would he do if he found her in my house?
I stood with my back against the door, as though it would send some sort of psychic message to Hannah to get rid of Zack.
It didn’t work. I could feel the door handle turn against my back. Hannah barged in, holding Zack’s hand.
They shook snow off their coats, laughing about a branch that had deposited its snowy load onto them. I gently shooed them into the living room and suggested Zack light a fire. I eyed Hannah. Should I risk telling her Shawna was upstairs? Or was she so deep in the throes of new love that she would blab?
I scurried around the living room, turning on the lights on the tree and on boughs of pine decorating the mantel. It turned out they’d eaten at Bernie’s, so I offered to whip up after-dinner drinks for them—anything to keep them in the living room, where they’d be least likely to see Shawna.
To cover up the sound of Shawna’s footsteps upstairs, I turned on lively Christmas music and was immediately rewarded with “It’s Cold Outside.” Not the noisiest song, but Hannah and Zack would relate to it tonight.
I rushed into the kitchen to make their drinks and saw a car cruising slowly down my block, as though the driver sought a parking space. Crossing my fingers, I hoped it was Phil and that we could get Shawna squared away before any of the rest of us got into trouble.
My stomach rumbled, out of nervousness as much as hunger. I reached for my sandwich. A few crumbs dotted the plate but the sandwich was gone. Daisy looked up at me innocently. I was about to scold her, but realized she wouldn’t have left crumbs. She wasn’t licking her chops, either. But if she didn’t take it, then where did it go? Shawna!
I sped to the sunroom and gazed into my backyard. The gate to the alley closed behind someone. Hoping I’d been right about the car cruising the street, I ran through the house and out the front door, in search of Phil’s car.
Someone was trying to parallel park a boat-size car in a spot far too small for it. I sped up and knocked on the window. Thank goodness I’d been right—it was Phil. “She’s in the alley.” I pointed to help him understand.
“Is she okay?”
“Fine, but confused. She needs your help.”
“This is all my fault,” he moaned. “I just wanted to make Marnie jealous, but now I wish I had never met Bonnie. I needed to prove to Marnie, and maybe to myself, too, that I was attractive to other women. I guess I’m not. I lied about seeing other women. Bonnie was the only one, and now I think she was using me to break up Shawna and Beau. Who knew that Bonnie would be crazy enough to announce our engagement at her party?”
“But you were engaged?”
“No! I have no idea where she got that ring she flashed around. Never in my wildest dreams did I think anything like this would happen.”
I peered through the window at him. Could I believe what he was saying? He seemed sincere. But if Phil hadn’t been engaged to Bonnie, what would have possessed her to make such an announcement? She’d obviously planned it since she brought along a ring.
“Why didn’t you say something then?”
“She took me by surprise. Plus, I would never embarrass a lady in front her friends and family like that. I figured I’d deal with it later, but then Shawna ran out of the room and the whole thing just spiraled out of control. Now Bonnie’s dead and the cops are after Shawna. I’ve been driving around in circles, looking for my little girl and chastising myself for bringing this horrible situation on my family.”
I appreciated his grief, but he didn’t have time to linger. Shawna could turn down another alley and be lost in the shadows in seconds. Besides, I’d noticed a movement in a nearby car. It was too cold to just hang out in a car—I had a bad feeling Kenner had charged someone with the unenviable duty of watching my house.
“Phil, I think we’re being watched. I’m going to act like I’m wishing you a nice holiday, okay? You need to find Shawna while she’s still in the neighborhood.”
Phil put the car in gear, and I backed away from the driver’s window, shouting, “Happy Holidays! It was great seeing you.”
I stood in the middle of the street hoping to prevent Kenner’s henchman from pulling out immediately behind Phil. Fortunately, there wasn’t much traffic, but the cold had permeated my turtleneck and snow collected on my shoulders and head. I shook it off and used the motion as a pretense to get a better look at the person in the other car. To my complete surprise, Kenner sat behind the wheel watching me.
Phil’s taillights disappeared around the corner at the far end of the street. I said a little prayer that he would find Shawna. I couldn’t imagine being alone on the streets on a frigid night like this.
Although I thought I would drop any second from the cold, I decided I’d better stall Kenner. I rushed over to his car and he rolled down the window.
“Awfully cold to sit out here,” I said.
“Are you inviting me in?”
“Look, Kenner—Shawna is not in my house. You can sit here all night and freeze your nose off for all I care.”
He held out a hand. “I swung by to bring you this.”
SEVENTEEN
From “THE GOOD LIFE” :
Dear Sophie,
I try so hard to be organized, but papers accumulate in piles until I can’t stand it. What’s worse, then I can’t find the things I need—like bills that have to be paid.
—Overpapered in Piper, California
Dear Overpapered,
Buy a shredder and a basket. The key is to place them where you open your mail. If you stand at the kitchen counter, find a spot for them in the kitchen. Don’t put the paper down once it’s in your hands. If it’s trash, shred it. If it’s important, put it in the basket. Be sure to clean out the basket regularly so you won’t overlook those bills.
—Sophie
Guilt saddled me for a moment, but only a moment. There was no doubt he’d been spying on my house. “What’s that?”
“The key to Bonnie’s office. You’ll need access for the auction.”
“How did you know about that?”
He grinned, his horsey teeth gleaming in the semidark. “I’m in charge of the auction for the Alexandria Police. Beau asked me to give you the keys.”
Argh. How did I get myself into these messes? The last thing I needed was more contact with Kenner. I sighed and took the key from his palm, but he closed his fingers over mine and pressed. A shiver sparked down my back, and it was not from the cold air.
I tried to jerk my hand away, but Kenner held fast. There just wasn’t any good way around this. As sweetly as I could, I said, “I’m sorry, Kenner. The truth is that I’m seeing Wolf.” There. It was out in the open, plain as it could be, clear enough for anyone to understand.
Kenner didn’t rel
ease my fingers. “Married?”
I tilted my head in irritation. “No.”
“Engaged?”
“No.”
“Then consider this my declaration of a good old-fashioned fight for your affections. He leaned forward and kissed the back of my hand.
Ugh! I was so horrified that I jerked it out of his firm grip. Fortunately, the key was in my possession.
I should have said something clever. Should have shot back a retort, but he left me speechless, and I marched to my house without so much as a glance back at him.
I did, however, continue to surreptitiously spy from my windows. His car remained in place, even after I fed the kittens, Mochie and Daisy, ate a turkey sandwich, and went up to bed.
I rose early the next morning, thoughts of the Auld Lang Syne Auction hammering me. Heaven only knew what remained to be done by tomorrow. I donned jeans with an elastic waist and an oversized sweater the color of celery. Grateful that I could call on my entire family to pitch in, I made a big pot of coffee and poured half of it into a carafe to take with me to Bonnie’s office. Mochie rubbed against me, reminding me that the kittens needed to be fed.
The door to my study was open and the kittens nowhere to be seen, so I assumed Hannah had taken them upstairs to sleep with her. Life had been so crazy after Bonnie’s murder that I hadn’t given the kittens much thought. Who would have left them here? They were adorable, but Mochie had first dibs and he clearly didn’t care for them in his territory.
After he ate, Mochie curled up on the window seat in the kitchen. I slid Daisy’s harness over her head, bundled up, and left Mochie and Hannah to doze.
The hazy clouds had lifted, and for the first time in days, the sun glistened on ice crystals and sparkling decorations. The brisk air felt good against my face. Daisy trotted with her tail high, and I felt like I could think clearly.
I unlocked the front door of Clutter Busters. It was eerily silent and the far corners seemed dark and sinister. I didn’t let Daisy loose until I’d located light switches. The shop came alive when overhead lights beamed. I snapped off Daisy’s leash and locked the front door, so no one would catch us unaware if we were in the back.
Daisy explored eagerly, and after a brief look around at the many closet and storage displays, I wandered to the office in the back, set down the coffee on a chair, took off my jacket and muffler, and stared at the desk of a dead woman.
It was a frightening mess. Heaps of paper threatened to tumble off. Bits of wrapping paper and craft projects clung precariously to stacks of boxes and organizing folders. Boxes upon boxes lined the walls, two and three deep in places. The organizing diva had been a sham. Maybe Natasha and the man with the Rhodesian ridgeback had been right about her. She presented a sweet, organized image to the public, but underneath lurked someone entirely different.
Thankful that I didn’t have to clean up the mess on her desk, I set about exploring the little rooms in the back, in search of anything auction related. A store room in the back overflowed with boxes. So much so that I couldn’t reach the light switch. I opened an unsealed box and found a small table and a footstool. They had to be auction items. I groaned aloud at the thought of having to go through every single box.
If I had been running the show, I would have kept a list of donated items. Surely she must have kept some kind of log. I drifted back to Bonnie’s office and stared at her overburdened desk. With enormous dread at the prospect of having to dig through that pile, I plopped into her desk chair. The sharp corner of something dug into my hip. I reached back and pulled out a receipt book. I held my breath when I opened it. Bingo! The names and addresses of donors, along with itemizations of what they’d donated. I sang aloud, “Hallelujah.”
Now that I had a clue about the donations, what I needed was a team of Santa’s elves to help me find it all and cart it over to the auction site. I pulled out my cell phone and called George’s house.
He answered his phone with a gruff, “Yeah?”
“Very nice. Is that how we answer the phone now?”
“C’mon, Soph. We’re in total chaos here. What do you want?”
“What happened? What are you talking about?”
“Hannah didn’t tell you? I just got off the phone with her. Know any good lawyers? Shawna and Phil are both in jail.”
EIGHTEEN
From “Ask Natasha” :
Dear Natasha,
My husband keeps everything that is remotely computer related. We have seven boxes of disks that no longer work in today’s computers. We have boxes of cords, plugs, scanning items, memory devices—until I want to scream. Not to mention all the old computers and keyboards. Hubby is convinced that they will all be “worth something someday.” How do I get rid of them?
—One Computer Woman in North Pole, Idaho
Dear One Computer Woman,
I have learned the hard way that there are some things that cannot be wrenched away from men, no matter how useless, filthy, broken, or outdated. I recommend giving up a closet or a storage cabinet in the garage to hubby for his computer clutter. Mark it with a piece of straw in the door, so that it will fall to the ground if the door is opened. If he doesn’t open it for two years, have the contents hauled away.
—Natasha
I jumped to my feet. “When did this happen?”
“Early this morning. Shawna was arrested for murder and Phil was taken in for helping her—an accomplice after the fact or something. Now we’re worried that they think Phil was involved in the murder all along.”
Oh no. It made sense that the police might think someone more clever had rigged up the gas. Phil had seemed perfectly happy with Bonnie on Christmas Day, though. He didn’t have a reason to kill her. Well, not until she announced their engagement anyway. “So what now?”
“We’re coming to town in the hope we can find a lawyer who can spring them.” He lowered his voice. “Do you have something to keep Laci occupied? She and Marnie are beside themselves.”
Did I have something to keep them busy? “You bet! Come straight to Bonnie’s business.”
The second I hung up, my phone rang. Hannah was calling to relay the message from George. “I thought you were home until I found your note in the kitchen.”
“Feel like calling Zack?” I asked.
“Isn’t he fabulous? Sophie, I’m dreamily in love.”
“Call your dreamboat and tell him we need help organizing and transporting items for the auction. Then drive my SUV over here so we can fill it up, okay? Oh, Hannah? Stop at a bakery and pick up croissants or doughnuts or whatever they have that looks good—and get lots of it.”
I poured myself coffee and revved up Bonnie’s computer and printer, both nearly buried under papers. Please, please let her have kept a running list of all the items as they came in. That would save an enormous amount of time. I felt a little bit guilty going through her computer files, but someone had to do it.
When I didn’t find anything that sounded quite right, I gave up and made a list of what needed to be done. I’d just finished when Daisy barked in the front of the store. I raced to the door and unlocked it. My family piled in, along with a bunch of strangers who seemed to be there with Zack.
He helped Hannah carry in the baked goods, grinning like a lovesick fool the whole time.
I found a chair to stand on, and explained my plan to everyone. Half an hour later, we had an unbelievable assembly line going. Cops took turns opening the boxes and calling out the contents. Laci found the corresponding listing in the receipt book, and Hannah, the computer wizard, transferred the information to a spreadsheet. Zack then marked the boxes, and the cops moved them out to a troop of SUVs and vans that waited to transport them all.
I put Jen in charge of Daisy, and George quietly slipped off to spring Shawna and Phil. Marnie seemed completely hopeless, and drifted aimlessly until I told her to find a coffeemaker and disposable cups, and brew coffee for our team of elves.
I drove Dad ove
r to the auction site and arrived just in time to receive the first load of items the cops were driving over.
Surprisingly, the process went smoothly for two hours, and then Hannah called me. “Houston, we have a problem. Better come back to Bonnie’s shop.”
NINETEEN
From “THE GOOD LIFE” :
Dear Sophie,
I have some expensive heirloom ornaments that I would like to pass along to my grandchildren someday. Should I store them in a special way to be sure they last?
—Doting Gramma in Silver Bell, Arizona
Dear Doting Gramma,
Ornaments, Christmas houses, and other collectibles should be stored in the boxes in which they came. The boxes are usually made to fit the exact dimensions of the items, which cushions and protects them. In addition, because boxes are so often thrown out, the value of collectibles is usually higher if the original box is still available and in good condition. Never store them where the temperature will exceed eighty degrees or be less than forty degrees.
—Sophie
I left Dad with a couple of the cop elves so they could continue to receive the items en route while I drove back to Bonnie’s shop.
The second I entered the store, Daisy dashed to me for petting, and Jen ran along behind her, waving a Christmas ornament in the air.
“Here.” She shoved it in my face.
