by Krista Davis
“I wouldn’t be so pleased if I were you. An abrupt departure can be a sign of guilt,” sneered Kenner.
Forrest’s Adam’s apple bobbed. “My daughter is not a killer.”
Emma? Why did Kenner suspect her?
“But your wife is?” asked Kenner.
The spunk left Forrest’s voice. “I didn’t say that, and you know it.”
“Emma couldn’t kill anybody,” protested Jen. “She’s too nice. She always comes outside to protect us when the school bully walks by on his way home. And when her dad bakes cookies and cupcakes, she shares them with the neighborhood kids.”
The hint of a smile grazed Kenner’s lips. “Kid, there’s no such thing as someone too nice to murder.”
Forrest’s son, Edward, lingered near the side of the house, looking gawky and uncomfortable. Moving slowly, so Kenner might not notice me, I strolled over to him and asked softly, “How are you holding up?”
“Things have been better. I think I just sent my mom to jail.”
Poor kid! “What happened?”
He plowed the snow on the ground with the toe of his shoe. “You remember Christmas Eve? I went to the pageant with my parents so Mom wouldn’t make a big fuss, but when we got there, I doubled back and ran home because my girlfriend was coming over.”
I tried to suppress a grin. It was hard to imagine this gangly young fellow being romantic.
“We were upstairs in my room when we heard someone enter the house.”
“So you saw the Christmas-gift thief?”
“Not exactly. See, at first Emma didn’t think she would make it home for Christmas, so a couple weeks ago she sent a big box of gifts to Mr. Thorpe. I guess she was afraid Mom would throw them all out if she sent them to us. So Mr. Thorpe brought over our presents. Talk about a scene. Dad opened his right away. Emma had sewn him an apron and hand embroidered it, which infuriated Mom because she can’t stand that he’s a better baker than she is. Then Mom unwrapped hers early because it didn’t match her decor.”
“Her decor? I don’t understand.”
He took a deep breath. “It’s so stupid.” His words dripped with teen disdain. “Every year, Mom announces a gift wrap color scheme that matches the tree decorations. This year all the packages had to be red and gold. Emma wrapped her gift to Mom in red and green, so Mom refused to put it under the tree and opened it early. Anyway, when I peered over the railing on Christmas Eve, Mom had come back from the pageant to get the gift Emma sent her—a music box.”
My knees nearly buckled. “Music box?”
Edward nodded. “An old and fancy one.”
I could see why he felt guilty for telling Kenner. “Did you see your mom putting anything into the music box?”
He seemed relieved for a second. “No. She was wrapping it. She took it with her. If you stand in the doorway to Emma’s room, you can see over the railing into the foyer. I was lurking there so I could intercept her in case she came upstairs. When she left, I ran back to my room. “
“And then the Christmas thieves came?”
“After she left, we heard somebody downstairs. I thought Mom came back because she figured out I wasn’t at the pageant. My girlfriend and I hid under my bed. But nobody came upstairs to look for me, so I think it must have been the gift thieves.” He averted his gaze and held his head down as though in shame. “My girlfriend should have left right after we heard the thieves leave. But ... we, uh, kind of got caught up in saying good-bye, and before I knew it, my folks came home. Then things got worse when Mom called the cops.”
“So you were necking with your girlfriend?”
A flush as bright as Rudolph’s nose flooded his face.
“When the cops went to your house that night, you ran home ahead of them ...” I left my question open-ended.
“Yeaaaah! My girlfriend was still hiding in my bedroom, and I had to get her out the back door before the cops and my mom found her! Can you imagine the kind of scene my mom would make? She threw Emma out of the house because of the ring in her nose. I didn’t want her to do that to me. Where would I go?”
Edward had been living under more stress than any teen deserved. I felt guilty for prying but told myself it might be cathartic for him to talk about his feelings. “Your dad said your mom was lying.”
He looked at me incredulously. “We’re all lying. Don’t you get it? Every single one of us is lying about something. I don’t know what the truth is anymore. Mom told the cop that Emma and Dasher were trying to kill her, but as awful as Mom’s been to them, Emma would never murder anybody. She won’t even use a fly swatter—she catches wasps and takes them outside. Dad told the cop that Emma and Dasher left yesterday, but they didn’t. When the cops got here, Dad snuck out the back way and went over to the Thorpes to tell them to leave.” He wiped his eyes. “I hope Emma gets away, and they figure out who wanted to kill Mom before they catch up to Emma.”
I reached out to hug him, and to my surprise, he didn’t pull away. It seemed to me that his dad, Forrest, might have wanted to kill his mom. I hoped that wasn’t the case. Edward needed a stable parent.
After a short visit with my family, I took off for home. Zack was supposed to pick up Hannah at George’s house, so I had the luxury of a day to myself. A few hours to straighten up and prepare some dishes in advance for a late New Year’s Eve dinner the next night when they would all stay with me so they wouldn’t have to drive home after Old Town’s First Night celebration.
I swung by my favorite grocery store to replenish my cupboards. I planned to serve fondue before our trek down to the New Year’s celebration. Fondue occupied guests and made for a fun leisurely dinner with lots of laughs. Gruyère, white wine, steak to cut into cubes, veggies, and the Sterno that I usually forgot went into my shopping basket. I stopped in front of the cat-food section. I’d been so absorbed in Bonnie’s murder that I’d forgotten about Jasper and Alice. It was odd that no one had taken credit for giving them to me. If I had dropped kittens off, I would have called to check on them. As much as I would love to keep them, Mochie didn’t seem to be adjusting to their presence. I plunked canned cat food into the cart and was selecting coffee and chocolate ice cream for my bombe when my phone rang.
“Sophie!” Laci sounded excited. “I need a favor. A huge favor. Anything you want, I’ll do it—I promise.”
Why did I suddenly find it difficult to swallow?
“In light of the new information about Ginger, Emma, and Dasher, the police are letting Shawna out on bond!”
“That’s great news!” It was. Unless they expected me to put up money for her bond.
“There’s a teensy provision, though. She can’t leave Alexandria.”
“Isn’t her apartment in Alexandria?” I asked, afraid I knew what was coming.
“Just across the line in Arlington, actually. Could she stay with you? Please?”
What could I say? I didn’t really mind, and if the shoes were on my feet, I’d be forever grateful if someone did the same for Hannah. It would be cruel to leave Shawna in jail. “Sure. Should I pick her up?”
Laci squealed and then said, “No, no, no. We’ll arrange everything and bring her over.”
She clicked off and I hurried through the grocery store, picking up extra supplies in case the whole family descended upon me a day early.
The car loaded with groceries, I drove home, past a Santa Claus who’d lost his hat. I pulled over and got out to have a closer look. Sure enough, someone had also removed his jacket. When Daisy and I walked tonight, we would have to bring Santa’s clothes back. Next to him, Mrs. Claus had also been stripped of a few items. Her white locks were missing, as was her skirt. I grimaced. Looked like Marnie wasn’t the only one out pilfering Santa’s threads. The owner of the cute Claus display must be irate.
I took note of my location, and walked to the nearby intersection. To my left, Bonnie’s house was only a couple of blocks away. Immediately to my right and two doors down was the empty building where I’d run int
o Forrest the day Bonnie died. The fact that Forrest and Marnie had both been in the vicinity of Bonnie’s house around the time of her death seemed significant, but I couldn’t tie the facts together in a way that made sense. They could have been there at different times, though I’d thought Forrest might be waiting for someone. Had he planned to meet Marnie? Ohhh, I did not want to go there. Surely there wasn’t an affair brewing between the two of them.
Marnie had acted devastated by Phil’s attraction to Bonnie. Could her odd behavior have been due to guilt over an affair with Forrest? What if he had tampered with the music box to kill Ginger so he could be with Marnie? It was the perfect setup. He could have ditched the deadly music box before the police came and they never would have known the source of the poison gas. The mere thought made my head spin.
“Hi.”
I looked up to find Forrest standing next to me, and shrieked like I’d seen a killer. “Oh! I’m so sorry. You surprised me.”
“We have to stop meeting this way.”
It was a joke, of course. Or was it? Could he mean it in a threatening way?
He carried a bulging environmentally friendly grocery bag. Biting the tip of the finger of a glove on the free hand, he pulled off his glove, unwound the muffler from his neck, and casually stuffed it on top of the bag as if he wanted to hide the groceries that peeked out of it. The palm of his hand glowed red—much as Laci’s had from making the Red Velvet Cake.
“Thanks for being so nice to Edward today.”
“I didn’t do anything.”
“Just taking the time to listen is something, especially since he feels like his entire life is falling apart. Having his mother and sister accused of murder will mar him for life, and I don’t know how to make it any better for him.” Forrest certainly seemed sincere. Rather abruptly, he said, “I’d better get going.” He crossed the street, going back the way he came, away from the building where I’d seen him before.
That man was hiding something. I just hoped it wasn’t murder.
I returned to my car and drove to the intersection where I’d spoken with Forrest. I stopped for the light behind another vehicle just in time to see Forrest, wearing a big cat-ate-the-canary smile, striding briskly across the street past the spot where we’d spoken, in the direction of the empty building where I’d seen him before.
TWENTY-FIVE
From “Ask Natasha” :
Dear Natasha,
My wife watches your show faithfully and strives to do everything you suggest. Perhaps you could help me with her car. The passenger seat is piled with makeup and jewelry. The gearshift acts as a holder of necklaces and bracelets. The backseat is loaded with children’s books, toys, assorted shoes, lost French Fries, and half-eaten chicken nuggets, not to mention the packets of ketchup that fly around.
—Wiseguy in Wiseman, Arkansas
Dear Wiseguy,
Cars are not moving closets. They should contain a flashlight, a small first aid kit, no more than three CDs, and a blanket in the winter. Anything else left in the car should go into a trash can—even if you have to do it for her. She will soon learn to remove extraneous items each time she comes home and won’t have a problem with clutter anymore.
—Natasha
The light took forever to change. By the time I turned right and cruised by the empty storefront, Forrest had disappeared. I didn’t know what bothered me more—that he felt he needed to deceive me, or that he was clearly up to something.
I drove home and unloaded groceries, promising Daisy we would go for a walk very soon. I had to get my New Year’s Bombe started first. A Bauer family favorite, the bombe featured a frozen raspberry interior covered with layers of coffee ice cream and chocolate ice cream. When sliced, the pink center surrounded by the café au lait color and then the deeper chocolate made for a beautiful presentation. I’d left the chocolate ice cream on the counter while I put away groceries. It had softened enough for me to run a knife around the edge of the containers and slide the cylindrical chunks of ice cream onto a cutting board. I sliced them into half-inch rounds and pressed the frosty chocolate into a bowl, starting with the bottom and working my way to the top, until the entire bowl was lined with a layer of ice cream. Working fast, I pressed a top onto the bowl and stashed it in the freezer to firm up.
Daisy sprawled on the floor, her eyes half-closed, so I took a few extra minutes to work out the path the music box had taken.
It appeared that Emma had bought it. There was the possibility that she had unwittingly purchased a music box that already contained poisonous gas. Unlikely, but still a possibility. While it was in Emma’s possession, Dasher, who had every reason to dislike Ginger, could have installed the poison. I didn’t know why I was so reluctant to imagine that Emma could have wanted to kill her mother. Maybe I felt sorry for her because of the way Ginger treated her. I had to face facts, though. Emma could have installed the poison herself.
Emma sent it to Tom Thorpe, who made no secret of his hatred for Ginger. Tyler could have had access to it during that time, too.
Tom delivered it to Ginger, after which Forrest and Edward could have tampered with it.
Ginger rewrapped it and gave it to Natasha, in spite of, or possibly because of, their disagreements about decorating the community center. While it was in Natasha’s possession, Mars could have tinkered with it. But I felt certain I could scratch Mars off the suspect list. I knew my ex-husband well enough to know he couldn’t hammer a nail in the wall, much less set up poisonous gas inside a music box.
Natasha gave it to Shawna, who rewrapped it with Natasha’s snowman. Shawna left it on the table at Bonnie’s party where anyone could have picked it up and fooled with it. Actually, wasn’t that when Marnie went missing?
Soft mewing complaints attracted my attention. I followed the sound into the sunroom and caught Mochie in the act of carrying Jasper. Just like a mother cat, Mochie held Jasper by the scruff of fur on his neck and was depositing the kitten in the basket in which they’d arrived.
Utterly surprised, I waited to see what would happen. Mochie scampered away and returned with Alice, whom he also placed in the basket. When he was finished, he sat next to the basket, washed his front paws, and then stared at me.
I wished I could see inside his little cat head to know what he was thinking. I had the notion he thought he’d packed up his cat company and it was time for them to go home.
In any event, I didn’t think I should leave him alone with them. I took the basket to the sofa in my den and left the kittens there, safely behind closed doors. Mochie rubbed against my ankles. I picked him up, and for the first time in days, he head-butted me and purred.
I wished our music-box problems could be solved as easily. I fed Mochie some leftover turkey and put on my coat. Grumbling about the number of people who could have arranged for the poison in the music box, I grabbed the Santa hat and jacket that Marnie had worn, latched a leash to Daisy’s harness, and struck out for the Santa and Mrs. Claus who were missing clothing.
We had just crossed the street that ran along the side of my house when I pulled Daisy to a halt. No doubt about it—Ginger Chadwick was driving her vanilla latte-colored Cadillac along my street at a snail’s pace. I didn’t think she noticed me, even though she leaned forward and appeared to be scoping out the area. She’d mentioned an interest in a house for sale in Natasha’s neighborhood. Had she turned her attention to moving in order to get her mind off her other troubles?
I gave the leash a little tug, and Daisy gladly resumed forward movement with occasional stops for particularly enticing scents.
To an outsider, the Chadwick family seemed to have everything. Forrest was employed and, from the looks of things, made a considerable income. They lived in a nice house and neighborhood. Yet trouble clearly brewed under the surface. Edward was a sweet kid, but saddled with the burden of hiding everyday activities from his mother so he wouldn’t incur her wrath. Forrest didn’t agree with his wife’s tough-love at
titude toward their daughter, and Emma suffered from her mother’s contempt. And then there were Forrest’s mysterious repeated appearances in Old Town.
Daisy and I reached Santa and Mrs. Claus. I stepped behind a small red sleigh. The Santas and their sleigh were neatly displayed in the curve of elegant stairs that led to the front door of a historic town house. Working fast, I stuffed Santa’s arms into the sleeves of the jacket, pulled it up over his shoulders, and buttoned it. I slid the belt around his middle and fastened it, glancing at the window of the house in the hope no one would catch me.
So far, so good. I jammed the hat on Santa’s head and had a feeling that it ought to be secured with a pin or something, but I hadn’t come prepared. I hoped a strong wind wouldn’t carry it away. Poor Mrs. Claus still wore exposed bloomers since her skirt had disappeared, and underneath her hat, her cloth face was bald as it could be. At least this time around, I didn’t think Marnie had anything to do with the missing clothing.
I thought I heard footsteps inside the house. “Quick, Daisy!” We ran for the corner and turned right without looking back. Breathing hard, I paused and leaned against the brick wall of a building. Daisy wagged her tail, and when I bent to pet her, she licked the tip of my nose.
I slid down the wall a bit and hugged her. When I stood, she tugged me along the street, and stopped in front of the empty building where I’d seen Forrest the night of Bonnie’s death.
The early dusk of winter had begun to descend on Old Town. I peered through the plate glass storefront but couldn’t see much. Daisy’s ears perked up, though, and I listened. Was that laughter?
Hurrying, Daisy and I jaywalked across the street. From our new vantage point, I had a better view of the second and third floors of the old building. In the semidarkness, white woodwork glowed against the redbrick walls. The glass panes shimmered, almost black, so the flash of a light inside was shockingly obvious. My breath caught in my throat, and I waited for another sign that someone was on the second floor. I was about to give up when I saw it. This time more than a flash—one window glowed with a warm light, steady and continuous, and then, the light clicked off.
