by Krista Davis
“The dark blue SUV.” George walked fast.
“You’re sure it’s his?”
“Duh. He parks it across from our house every night. Tom’s garage is so packed with clutter that only one car will fit inside.”
“But Tyler’s in the organizing business. You’d think he would clean it up for his dad.”
“Laci and I joke about it—it’s like the reverse of the cobbler’s son having no shoes.”
Even though it had tinted windows, I could see boxes heaped in the back as we approached it. We peered inside. Tyler had thrown a blanket over some of the contents that filled the back two-thirds of his car, but it had slipped around the edges.
“He’s definitely moving,” said George. “I see a microwave and a crock pot in boxes over here.”
I looked through the windows on the other side. “I don’t know. I see a bunch of candles in jars. They have Santas and silver bells on them, and red ribbons tied around the necks.”
“What are you up to?” Hannah appeared out of nowhere and peeked over my shoulder. “Oh my gosh! These are the stolen Christmas gifts!”
“How can you tell?” George jogged around to our side of the car.
“Gee, that mug with Jen’s picture on it is a good give-away.” Hannah poked a finger at the window.
My gaze drifted past the candles. Sure enough, a mug bearing a photo of Jen lay on its side.
“I have to call Zack!” Hannah said it with such fervor I wasn’t sure if she was more excited about finding the gifts or seeing Zack.
“Whoo-boy. This is going to be another big blow for Shawna.” George rested his gloved hand against the hood of the car. “I guess there’s no way around it, though. If the creep stole the gifts ...”
“He stole them from Bonnie ... it doesn’t make sense. We found Jen’s gift to Mom at Bonnie’s shop.” Or maybe it did make sense. Sort of. I waved my hands at them. “The person I saw loading boxes in back of Bonnie’s place after she died was putting them into an SUV. I could make out the shape, but not the color. This dark blue would have been hard to see at night. Plus, I think Tyler was lying about his keys being stolen.”
George frowned at me. “Why would Tyler unload the stolen stuff at Bonnie’s, then load it up again and drive all over town with it in his car?”
Good question. “He didn’t have anywhere else to hide it? He lives with his dad, so he probably couldn’t take it home. Where would you stash stolen loot? Or maybe Bonnie arranged for the items to be stolen, and then when she died, he had to remove it all so it wouldn’t look bad for the business?”
“I think I should call Zack. He’ll get to the bottom of this.” Hannah headed for the house.
George and I followed with Daisy.
“I can’t wait until Laci’s parents go home. I’d gladly skip the New Year’s Eve celebration. The new year can’t get here fast enough as far as I’m concerned. If only Shawna would move back to Pennsylvania with her parents. They make our family look sane,” George grumbled.
We stepped inside the foyer, and as if to prove his point, Laci stood with her hands on her hips, her face flushed with anger. “Where’s Shawna?”
“She’s—with—you.” George pronounced each word carefully.
“She must have escaped when I went to the bathroom.” Laci buried her face in her hands. “I don’t believe this.”
“Where’s Tyler?” I asked.
Laci’s eyes widened. “I thought he went outside with you. Oh no! That silly lovesick fool would do anything for Shawna.”
“They can’t have gone far. We were just looking in his car.” As soon as the words left my mouth, all four of us dashed outside and around the corner in time to see the brake lights flash as Tyler briefly stopped the SUV at the intersection.
“Oh, crud,” muttered George. “Laci,” he warned, “please don’t cry.”
She fought back tears. “Mom and Dad paid a lot of cash to bail her out of jail. They can’t afford to lose it. Why would she do this to us?”
“Not to worry. I was just going to call Zack.” Hannah started for the house.
“No!” Laci grabbed Hannah’s sleeve. “You can’t call the cops. They’ll put Shawna in jail again. No, no, no.”
George’s head lolled to the side and his eyes left no doubt that, in his opinion, this was more of Laci’s ongoing family drama. “We’ll take our car and drive toward Shawna’s apartment. Soph, you and Hannah check Bernie’s restaurant and Bonnie’s old office.”
“Why would they go there?” Hannah asked.
Between gritted teeth he muttered, “Just do it. Maybe you’ll get a lead.”
Aha. It wasn’t easy reading between the lines, but I guessed he was afraid they might be leaving the state—the gift thief and possible murderess—and there wasn’t a darned thing he could do about it. It wasn’t like he could cut them off at the pass. Tyler’s work took him to all kinds of neighborhoods. He had to be very familiar with back roads.
Racing, we returned to the house. Laci grabbed her coat, I made sure the fire was extinguished and the stove was off, and we all headed out, promising to keep in touch by cell phone.
Hannah and I climbed into my car and turned in the direction Tyler had driven.
“This is ridiculous,” said Hannah. “We’re just doing this to placate Laci and George. We’d have been equally efficient waiting at home.”
I agreed. “There are some things we just do for each other. Surely you don’t want to sit in the kitchen with a hysterical Laci and just hope Shawna returns?”
“What a nightmare. You know calling Zack is the right thing to do.”
“What if they’re just innocently getting lunch?” I pulled into the alley behind Bonnie’s shop.
Hannah snorted. “You are so naive. I could use some lunch, though. That wasn’t much of a breakfast. Is that Tom Thorpe?” asked Hannah. “For an older guy, he’s really not too bad looking.”
I parked the car and we stepped out. Tom paused to look at us, a hammer in his hand.
“Taking care of the broken window?” I asked, making conversation, since it was painfully obvious that he was doing exactly that.
“Tyler called me. He had to take Shawna somewhere. He’s better at this sort of stuff than I am, but I guess the apple didn’t fall too far from the tree—I’m pretty decent at building things, too.” He hefted the hammer. “Too bad my younger son didn’t get the handyman gene.”
“Could I hold that for you?” I asked, pointing to a piece of plywood.
“Thanks. That would make the job much easier.” He hoisted the board, and I held it in place while he hammered.
“Did Tyler happen to mention where he was taking Shawna?” asked Hannah.
“Something about picking up clothes. I guess they’re planning to celebrate New Year’s Eve on the town tonight. Shawna has a lot to celebrate now that she’s out of jail.” Tom pounded nails, and from the corner of my eye, I could see Hannah making a phone call. To George and Laci, I hoped. Maybe it wasn’t a crisis after all. Well, except for the fact that Tyler was in possession of the stolen gifts. Uh-oh. What if he’d talked Shawna into stashing the stolen items at her apartment?
“Thanks, Sophie. You’re an excellent carpenter’s helper. You have great timing, too. Mars told me about your rescue of Natasha. You know, I was there shortly before it happened. If only I’d stayed a little bit longer, I might have prevented Ginger from attacking her.”
“Ginger?” Had I missed something? My family had a theory Ginger was involved but we didn’t expect others to share it. “Do they know for sure it was Ginger?”
THIRTY-TWO
From “THE GOOD LIFE” :
Dear Sophie,
I’m so impressed by all the gorgeous ideas people have for wrapping packages, but I’m no good at it. I don’t have room for a wrapping station, either. Rolls of paper get crumpled in my closet, and I don’t want to think about the tangled mess of ribbon under my bed. It’s just hopeless!
> —Klutzy in Jasper, Arizona
Dear Klutzy,
Develop a signature style that suits you. Pick a solid color wrapping paper or gift bag and always use the same ribbon with it—maybe a pink or red shot through with silver or gold for a little glitz. You won’t have to store as much, people will always know the packages are from you, and you won’t have to worry about it anymore.
—Sophie
“The police found a Santa skirt in Ginger’s trash today.” Tom raised his eyebrows and nodded with satisfaction. “Looks like Ginger is the one who killed Bonnie and tried to murder Natasha.”
My theories about Ginger fizzled. I’d been so inclined to believe that Ginger was guilty, but that one bit of news about the Santa skirt in her garbage changed everything.
Hannah’s gaze met mine, and she blurted out what I was thinking. “It wasn’t Ginger.”
His brow furrowed. “How do you know that?”
“Elementary, my dear Watson,” I quipped. “If you were the killer, would you leave such an obvious clue where it would be linked to you?”
Hannah pulled her long hair back. “Ginger could have grabbed the crutch off her lawn to use as a weapon and accidentally left it at the crime scene, but any idiot would know to ditch the Santa skirt.”
“She’s being framed,” we said simultaneously.
Tom laughed. “You two should be detectives. What if Ginger left the skirt there on purpose, hoping to make people think she’s being framed? She’s not beneath that, you know. She’s quite duplicitous in nature.”
Like Bonnie. Ginger’s overt hostility defined her. It hadn’t occurred to me that she might be just as sneaky and deceptive as Bonnie, who cultivated an angelic image and hid her dark side. I’d thought Ginger wore her emotions and anger publicly.
“Who do you think tampered with the music box?” I asked.
“Aaagh.” He rubbed his chin. “If I were a betting man, I’d have put money on Ginger. She’s very unhappy with her life. People like that can be dangerous. They blame other people for their misery and have a need to strike out at someone.”
“I hope that’s not the case,” I said. “Edward is such a great kid.”
Tom clapped me on the back. “We can thank Forrest for that. He’s a wonderful father. There isn’t anything he wouldn’t do for his children.”
“Have you heard from your son and Emma?”
He regarded me oddly, as if he didn’t like the fact that I’d brought them up. “No. I am sure they are already enjoying sunny beaches in Florida. Thanks for your help here, Sophie.”
“Oh! I almost forgot. The gorgeous kittens you gave to Natasha and Mars for Christmas ...” How to say this in the best possible light? “I’m afraid Natasha isn’t a cat person.”
Tom moaned. “Yes, Mars has informed me. I certainly made a big mistake with that gift. I was right there when she went on and on about the Ragdoll she loved so much as a child.”
“It seems she was actually talking about a doll. She brought the kittens over to my place, and Jen is in love with them. I’m sure they cost a lot, though. Maybe we can pay you for them?”
“No, no. They’ll have more fun living with little Jen, anyway. You know, I am not a young man. I have been around the block a few times, and yet, people continue to surprise me. If I had known Natasha wouldn’t like them, I’d have given them to Emma.”
I thanked him, we said good-bye and hopped into my hybrid SUV.
As I drove along the alley, Hannah said, “No wonder he’s going into politics. Besides his good looks, there’s something about him, an elegant way of presenting himself.”
I sputtered at her words. “In the first place, you sound like Mom, and in the second place, he was lying through his teeth.”
“You think you’re so smart. Was his left eye twitching or something?”
“Who would give kittens to people living out of a van and traveling from flea market to flea market? He knows exactly where Emma and Dasher are. Edward said when Kenner arrived, Forrest went out the back door and ran over to Tom’s house so the kids could get away. They didn’t have time to load their van or pack. Then we saw Forrest picking up three coffees and taking them back to his new bakery-to-be. The two doting dads hid their kids right here in Old Town.”
I cruised by the front of the building Forrest had rented. It looked the same. “What do you think?” I asked Hannah. “Third building from the corner?”
“Probably. What now?”
I stopped in front of a Chinese restaurant two blocks away, and handed Hannah my credit card. “Get take-out lunch for two, I’ll try to find a spot to park.”
“Let’s eat in the restaurant.”
“It’s not for us, you dufus. It’s for Emma and Dasher.”
“I don’t know what they like.”
“Just get spring rolls, General Tso’s Chicken, and lo mein.”
“Is that good for a pregnant woman?”
“Get anything you think she’ll like. Go already!”
Hannah disappeared into the restaurant, and I drove around in search of a parking spot. It would have been faster to park at home and walk.
On my third trip by the restaurant, I found a slot and parked. My phone rang before I could step out of the car.
Mom’s voice was as excited as if she’d won a lottery. “Sophie! You’re missing all the fun. The cops are going through Ginger and Forrest’s trash because they found a Mrs. Claus skirt in it. Jen thinks she’s Nancy Drew and your father thinks he’s Columbo.”
“Did Marnie and Phil come back?”
“Thank goodness, no. Bonnie’s death has been so stressful on them. I’m glad they’re not here.”
“How are Ginger and Forrest handling it?”
“Ginger infuriated your friend, Kenner. She hired some hotshot lawyer, and now neither Ginger nor Forrest will answer any questions! It’s just like TV.”
Even if Tom thought Ginger might try to make it look like she was framed, there was something peculiar about the skirt in her trash. “Mom, why would someone attack Natasha and then throw away the skirt but not the rest of the Mrs. Claus outfit?”
“Columbo thinks there must have been something incriminating on the other garments—like DNA. Nancy Drew says there’s probably DNA on the skirt, too, but we won’t know for weeks.”
That didn’t really answer my question, unless the killer didn’t want anyone to see Red Velvet Cake on the jacket. I wouldn’t know about it if Daisy hadn’t torn off a piece.
“Oh, oh! I have to go. They’re checking our trash now.”
“Wait, Mom! Did you happen to see Tom Thorpe last night?”
She chuckled. “The whole neighborhood gathered on the street in front of the Chadwick house. I know for a fact that he was there. We all had a good laugh.”
I felt like I was out of the loop. “What happened?”
“After dark, someone stole the pink and teal Christmas decorations from the community center, set them on Ginger’s lawn, and plugged them in. It was absolutely hilarious!”
I bet Ginger didn’t think so.
Mom hung up as Hannah opened the back door of my car and shoved three bags of Chinese food inside. “How much do you think pregnant women eat?” I asked as she climbed into the front seat.
“The rest is for us. I’m starved! Thanks for buying.”
Were all sisters like this? I put the car in gear and merged into traffic. A few turns and we rolled down the alley behind Forrest’s bakery. “Which building do you think it is?”
“I’d bet it’s the one with a sheet covering the window on the second floor.”
I suspected she was right.
We clambered out of the car and Hannah grabbed one of the bags of Chinese food. “Now what?”
I looked for a bell. “There must be some way to announce deliveries to the back of the shop.”
Hannah spotted it first and pressed the button. We heard a buzzer inside. On a hunch, I stepped back and looked up at the windo
w with the sheet in it. Sure enough, a finger coaxed it aside. “Emma!” I hissed. “We brought food!”
For the longest time, nothing happened.
“We could buzz again,” suggested Hannah.
At that moment, the door opened a crack. Emma glanced around nervously. “Is anyone else with you?”
Hannah didn’t waste time. She pushed the door open, saying, “I hope you like lo mein.”
“Hurry!” Emma motioned me inside.
We found ourselves in a dated multipurpose area with pegboards and benches lining the walls, presumably for employee coats. A lonely white apron hung on a peg, carefully draped to display the name “Big Daddy’s Bakery” and a Red Velvet Cupcake made of shiny bugle beads and sequins. Beneath it, not quite tucked away under the bench, stood a pair of men’s boots. Rugged, they’d seen better days. As we walked past them, a tiny glimmer caught my eye. I didn’t dare bend to examine them, but I gave them a little nudge with my foot to see better. A blotch of turquoise glitter gleamed on the toe.
The area opened onto a commercial restaurant kitchen. Stainless steel dominated the room, along with workhorse ovens and stoves.
“How did you know we were here?” asked Emma.
A male voice came from above somewhere. “They didn’t know about me until now, you goose.”
Emma peeked inside the bag of takeout. “We’re getting a little crabby from being cooped up. Come on upstairs. This was so nice of you!”
We followed her up narrow stairs and could hear footsteps above us heading for the third floor. The second floor didn’t offer much in the way of creature comforts. A bean bag and a couple of wicker chairs provided the only seating. A television rested on a box.
“So, how did you know we’re here?” repeated Emma. “Do the cops know?”
“We saw your dad picking up coffee.” I wandered toward the front window. The hardwood floors gleamed. It would be a nice room once it was furnished.
“Stay away from the windows, please!” The panic in Emma’s voice ripped through me. I hadn’t realized how taxing it must be for them to hide out in plain sight.
