“I hear you’re an aboveboard caterer now, too.”
I sniffed. “Who told you that?”
“My mother, of course. She reminds me on an almost daily basis that you and she are good friends, and that I am a rude and ungrateful son.”
I felt a burst of warmth and gratitude toward Ellie Parker. It was she who had tried to set me up with her son in the first place—and it had almost worked. Luckily Ellie and I had remained friends.
Parker was still looking at me. “By the way, that casserole that you made for Mom last Sunday—which my brothers still believe she made—was delicious.”
“Thanks. It was a new recipe. Kind of a German theme, with the sauerkraut and the cabbage.”
“People were raving about it all night. You’re a very gifted chef.”
“Okay. Go on with the questions.”
He sighed. “So you made food for Jenny Braidwell.”
“Yes. Two giant pans of macaroni and cheese bake. Kids love it. Jenny came out with this other teacher named Ross, and they said that someone named Brad was going to be the Santa, and we talked about some other things. They said there was a Christmas clown. I didn’t see her, just the Santa. He came out reading a message on his phone just as I was about to leave.”
Parker sat up straighter. “What phone?”
“He got some texts while he was talking to me. They made him mad. He read one and said he was going to have to take a trip.”
“Wait.” He got out his own phone, punched in some numbers, and spoke tersely to someone who answered. “Finn? Miss Drake says that the victim had a phone. Right.” He looked at me. “What kind?”
“An iPhone, I think. Black. But I think they took it from him.”
“What?” Parker, about to relay the message, paused and stared. “Who took it from him?”
“Whoever was in the car. Because he said, ‘Hey, give it back,’ and then I heard the shot. They snatched something, then shot him.”
Parker got up from his stool and went into the hallway, where curious Lilahs couldn’t hear what he was saying to Officer Finn. He talked for quite some time. The coffee was ready, so I poured two cups and set one next to the plate of sliced cake. When Parker returned, he sat down and stared at his plate without really seeming to see it. “Tell me everything he said,” he told me, pushing the food aside to center his laptop.
“Um—okay. He came out and was looking at his phone. First he was playing some kind of game—like a video game. And it was about knights or something. Somebody’s Kingdom—I didn’t catch the name. But I was sort of trying to see it because the image looked pretty.”
Parker’s lip twitched.
“Anyway, he clicked out of that and started looking at text messages, and he was sort of complaining out loud and saying, ‘Unbelievable,’ and stuff like that.”
“So he was upset by the text he had gotten.”
“Yes. And whoever texted him must be the person who shot him.”
“Why?”
“Because when the car pulled up he said, ‘I was just coming to you,’ as if the text had summoned him. And that would explain why they took his phone.”
Parker thought about that. His eyes always seemed to glow when he was doing police work; I admired their blueness while pretending to look at my nails.
“And you’re sure he didn’t say a name, or anything that would indicate—”
“No, I don’t think so. Anyway, when he came out of the school I went up to him—”
“Why was that? You said you didn’t know him.”
“I know, but—first of all, I like Santa Claus as a general rule. I see him as a positive symbol of love and unity.”
Parker said nothing—just stared at me with those eyes.
“And secondly, I’d been feeling kind of sad, and I—I don’t know, I just thought it would cheer me up to talk with Santa Claus, even if it was a guy in a suit at a grade school.”
“Okay,” said Parker. He typed a few words, which were probably “Lilah is weird.”
“You said you wanted to hear this.”
“Go on. What else did he say?”
“He was just—really put out. He said he didn’t have time for whatever the person wanted, and now he was going to have to make a trip somewhere. He actually seemed concerned about that part. So he started heading toward the parking lot, and we ended up walking together. He asked me what I wanted for Christmas, and—anyway, he made some comment about starting over. He quoted Shakespeare. He said he had gotten himself a second chance, and that you had to make your own destiny, not wait for some entity to grant it to you. Or something like that.”
Parker was typing away. “What kind of second chance? What was he talking about?”
“He was a stranger in a Santa suit. It wasn’t like I was interrogating him about each comment he made. We just exchanged a few words, and then I turned away and went toward my car.”
“And it didn’t make you turn around when you heard another car pull in? Weren’t you curious to see who it was?”
“Well—no—because I was kind of deep in thought, and I don’t know anyone at that school except Jenny, and she was inside. So I didn’t really care. I just glanced at the car and saw that it was blue. I feel bad about it now, but when the car was leaving there was a glare on the windshield. If there hadn’t been, I probably would have made eye contact with the person, but—”
Parker pushed aside his laptop and raked a hand through his dark hair, then beamed his blue eyes at me with laser intensity. “Lilah, if you had made eye contact, you would be dead. To be honest, I’m surprised the person didn’t try to—eliminate you as a witness.”
“But I don’t—I mean, they probably didn’t see me, right? I was several cars away, and there was that glare on the windshield. If there was a glare for me, there was a glare for him, right? I didn’t see anything inside, just a silhouette. One person.”
He stood up and grabbed my hand. “You look pale. Come here. Sit down. That hadn’t crossed your mind? That they might have seen you?”
“No. It’s been a weird day.” I sat on one of the stools; Parker took my coffee cup from the counter and handed it to me.
“Drink this. There you go. Look at me, Lilah.”
I looked up at his earnest face. “I’m too abrupt sometimes. I shouldn’t have frightened you like that. Obviously you’re in no danger now, because the danger is past.”
“And even if someone saw me, they wouldn’t know how to find me.”
“Right—I just have one small concern. When the car passed you—did it stay there long enough for the driver to see your bumper sticker?”
I thought about it. Had the car hesitated for a moment before it tore out of the lot? Now it seemed to me that it had, but perhaps my brain was just making up that detail as a byproduct of fear.
“The Haven sticker? Why? Do you—oh, I see.” Whoever saw the sticker would know where I worked. So if someone had been in too much of a hurry then, the Haven sticker might have given them a heads-up about where to find me in the future. “I don’t know. I don’t know if they saw it.”
“I doubt it. You said everything happened very quickly. And whoever was driving would have been under a great deal of stress. They wouldn’t have had time to notice small details.”
He didn’t totally believe that, and neither did I, now that I thought about it. Whoever had murdered the Santa might have second thoughts about trying to find me before I could summon up whatever clues I might have. He or she had left in a hurry, but it didn’t mean they wouldn’t come back—especially because when I saw the glare of the sun on the windshield, they might have seen me squinting into the car.
Parker sat down next to me and took a sip of his own coffee, then made a satisfied sound. “Still hot,” he said. Then he forked up some of the almond cake and made a little m
oaning sound. “God, your food is good.”
“Thanks.”
He ate the whole thing, and drank some more coffee, before he said, “I should go. There’s a lot of work to be done now.”
“Okay.”
“Lilah?”
“Yes.”
“What did you tell Santa you wanted for Christmas?”
I considered lying, but then I decided, what the heck. Brad Whitefield had told me to gamble on myself, and he had also said that life was short. Moments later he had been proven right. “I said I wanted a second chance. That’s why he was talking about it.”
He didn’t pretend not to know what that meant. He nodded at me several times, and his eyes darted around while he thought that over. Then he looked at me and held my gaze. “Maybe I want a second chance, too.”
I shrugged. “It’s probably too late.” I said it to tick him off, but a tiny smile escaped me, and Parker saw it with his eagle eyes. He smiled, too.
“But maybe it’s not, Lilah.” He touched the tip of my nose and said, “Your nose is cold.”
I nodded. My nose stays cold all winter long.
“Can I come to talk to you, when this is over? About second chances?”
As always, his blue eyes had me half hypnotized. “I would like that.”
Then Parker was all business. “I’m going to need you to call someone—your brother, maybe, or your parents. Have someone stay here with you for a few days. Hopefully we’ll get to the bottom of this before long.”
“Well, I mean—people have jobs. And I have a job. Oh no! I have to call work and tell them what happened.”
“I’ll talk with them if you want. Explain what happened. But are you sure you should—”
“It’s a brand-new job, and they need me. The holiday, you know.”
“Okay.” Parker looked troubled. “But I’m going to drive you there and pick you up until I know you have someone who can come here. We don’t want to take any chances until we—” He stopped and walked to my refrigerator, where a newspaper clipping was held on with a magnet. “What’s this?”
“Oh—it’s just an article about a friend of mine. Angelo—you remember I said I knew him? He just got his own cable TV show. Just a local thing, but knowing Angelo, it will lead him on to superstardom. That was in the Trib about a week ago.”
Parker scowled. He knew, from our previous association, that I had once dated Angelo. “I remember that he was a suspect in a murder investigation.”
“Not really. We know who the real murderer was. Anyway, he sent me that, so I hung it up. He wants me to be proud of him, I guess.”
He stared some more at the article with its prominent picture. It was a flattering shot: Angelo in a long black coat and a blue wool scarf, standing on the Clark Street Bridge; in the background boats could be seen chugging busily down the Chicago River. His black curls hung to his shoulders, and his dark eyes studied the camera with that special intensity of his. Women all over Chicago had probably fallen in love (and searched for him on Google). Parker looked as though he was about to say something else, but his phone rang, and he spoke tersely into it. Then he flipped it off and turned to me. “Let’s go. I’ll drop you at work, then I have to get back to the scene.”
I nodded and went into the kitchen. Parker and I both bundled up again in our winter gear, and he studied some ornaments on my little Christmas tree, pretending not to be peeved about Angelo. Then he said, “Where is this place? Is it that little storefront right next to the Village Hall?”
“Yes. Haven of Pine Haven.”
“Fine.”
We were both gloomy in the car. In Parker’s case, it was probably because he had to solve another murder. In mine, it was because (a) I couldn’t forget the sight of a prone Santa Claus in the polluted snow and (b) Parker had not spoken again about second chances, nor did he seem particularly fond of me at the moment. What else was new?
Parker flipped on the radio, clearly uncomfortable with our silence. Gotye was singing “Somebody That I Used To Know.” He was right at the part where the lover feels rejected and mistreated, and his pained voice echoed through the car. Parker flipped it off again with a flick of his wrist. “I thought there might be Christmas carols,” he said, not looking at me. The song lingered in my head, though, because my brain holds on to music, absorbs it, and replays it, even when I’m sleeping.
I was scowling by the time we arrived, and I didn’t look at Parker when I said, “Thanks for the ride.” I opened the door and stepped out onto the sidewalk. The snow had stopped falling, but the ground was covered with about three inches of white accumulation.
“Be careful,” Parker said. “It’s slippery.”
I stole a glance over my shoulder and saw that Parker had gotten out of the car.
“What’s going on?”
“I need to speak with your employer.”
Not two months ago I had been in a similar situation with Parker; we had feared, due to a bizarre set of circumstances, that someone would poison me. Now it was happening again, I realized: outside forces were controlling my life, dictating my movements in the name of safety. Feeling like a prisoner in shackles, I followed Parker through the snow.
CHAPTER THREE
Parker got there first and opened the door; he held it for me, and I stalked past, stomping my boots on Esther’s entry rug.
“Oh, Lilah—you’re a bit late, aren’t you?” asked Esther, her white hair disheveled and her face red from the ovens. She was toiling over a tray of bacon-wrapped scallops; we were doing a home wedding reception that evening.
Her husband, Jim, gray bearded and blue jeaned, worked beside her, his expression serene as he split figs with an expert hand, then began filling them with ricotta and drizzling honey on top. The more tense Esther got when under pressure, the more Jim seemed to grow calm. He was a good influence on us all when the schedule grew hectic.
Around the corner on the same big work space were Gabby and Nicole, two culinary students who worked for Esther part-time as interns. Their dark heads were bent over what Esther called mushroom fantasies—crisp little toast wedges covered in a mushroom-celery mix that the girls had sautéed in butter and sherry. The room smelled wonderful.
Before I could say anything to Esther, Parker raised a hand. “I’m Jay Parker of the Pine Haven Police Department. I wonder if I could speak to you, Mrs. Reynolds, and you, Mr. Reynolds? Perhaps in a different room?”
Everyone stopped dicing, chopping, and stuffing and looked up at us for a pregnant moment. Then Esther said, “What’s wrong? Is it one of my children?”
I suppose that would be every mother’s fear, always.
“Oh, Esther, no!” I cried. “It’s just—I had a little—incident today, and—” To my utter embarrassment, I started to cry again.
Esther’s eyes widened in horror. Parker said, “In another room?”
The four of us traipsed through a door and into Esther and Jim’s private apartment, leaving poor Gabby and Nicole gaping after us. They probably went straight to their phones to run a Google search on the police blotter for Pine Haven. We sat on Esther’s living room couches, and Parker filled them in succinctly on the day: my delivery, the ill-fated Santa, my unfortunate presence at a crime scene, the potential danger of my situation.
“I’m not saying that Lilah is definitely in danger. We’ll know more after we gather some additional information, and I need to get back to that.” Parker looked at his watch with something near desperation. “But I wondered if there was any way that you could keep Lilah to inside work today. I realize she probably helps you with deliveries or serving at parties, but perhaps she could take up more tasks here, and—”
“You can’t be serious?” I said, gaping at him.
Jim spoke in his calm voice. “Lilah, he’s being wise. We can get Gabby and Nicole to help us out at the re
ception, and you can man the phones here and start tomorrow’s soufflés. It won’t affect the timing of things in the least.”
Esther didn’t seem to have heard anything after the word murder. Now she came and sat beside me, taking my hands. “Oh, Lilah. You must have been so afraid.”
I hugged her. Esther was always brisk and efficient, but she was quite maternal when the situation called for it.
“I have to go. I’ll be back for Lilah tonight,” Parker said.
“I can get my family to pick me up, Parker.”
He stood; his keys were in his hand. “If you make other arrangements, call me. Otherwise I’ll be here at the end of your shift, which will be—?”
“Today? Around eight o’clock,” Jim said.
“All right.” Parker nodded at me. “Good-bye.” And with one quick blue glance around the room, he took three long strides and was out the door.
“A man of few words,” said Jim.
I said nothing.
“He’s the one, isn’t he?” Esther asked me. “The one who broke your heart?”
I tried to make light of it. “There’s more than one person who answers that description, actually.”
“It must have been so hard, having to be around him after such a tense situation.”
“It was okay. He was decent.” I still had my arms wrapped around Esther; I peeled them away and said, “I need to get to work.”
Jim stood. “In a minute, Lilah. You’ve been invaluable around here for the last month and a half, and you’ve been overworking yourself between this job and your little sideline. Sit there and take some deep breaths. Then you come out and work when you’re ready. And in the meantime, you can decide what you want to do for a ride. You’re always welcome to stay here, if you wish.”
“Thanks, Jim. Really, thanks.” He strolled over and patted my head, then went out to complete his cheese-stuffed figs.
Esther took one of my hands and squeezed it. “Be honest with me. Do you feel up to working now?”
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