“What about Jennifer?” I asked.
“It depends on the judge. She could end up getting a suspended sentence, or she might spend some time in jail for keeping the gems. She knew they were stolen. The interesting thing is, she asked us to call Paul.” John laughed. “He came running down to hold her hand, and they acted like the most in-love couple you’d ever seen. She kept apologizing for her affair with Benton, and Paul kept on forgiving her. Not a word about the way she’d hidden the gems all this time and planned to take off to the Big Apple to start a new life on her own.”
After I cleared the dishes, I put on a pot of coffee and sat down to tell John what I’d heard Chris say to Dina.
“He admitted he’d murdered her parents?” John asked when I was finished.
“Yes, as if he’d done Dina and himself both a favor. Dina was horrified.”
John shook his head. “That kid’s some piece of work.” He glared at me, his lips pursed in disapproval. “You knew he was dangerous, yet you had to get involved.”
“I was afraid he was going to choke Dina to death.”
He let out a deep sigh and turned to my father. “Your daughter’s one special woman, Jim Singleton.”
“Don’t I know it.”
To my surprise, John said to me, “Now, if you’ll excuse us, your dad and I have some private business to discuss.”
Chapter Thirty-Seven
I never did find out what that conversation was about, but from the contented expression on my father’s face, I suspected it had something to do with cancelling a few outstanding warrants against him. It was close to nine o’clock when John bid us good night. I put the dishes in the dishwasher, gave Smoky Joe the few treats he’d been begging for, and had just sat down to watch TV with my father, when Dylan called to tell me how he’d spent the evening. My father disappeared inside his room while we were talking. When Dylan and I finished our conversation, I looked in on him. He was fast asleep.
I watched a bit of TV, then realized I was totally exhausted from the day’s activities. I got ready for bed, told myself I’d bake the brownies tomorrow, and quickly fell asleep.
Christmas Eve day I woke up early with a feeling of excitement. Christmas was almost here! My mind filled with childhood memories of TV shows about the holiday spirit of loving one’s fellow man, of the one year my father had played Santa and brought us gifts.
Jim was already awake and whistling in the kitchen as he prepared a cup of coffee for himself in the Keurig. Smoky Joe was chomping away at his breakfast, which was probably why he hadn’t bothered to wake me up this morning.
“Morning, Caro. Care for an omelet? I’m in an omelet-making mood.”
“Sure.”
He opened the refrigerator door and surveyed what I had on hand. “Let’s see—I can fill it with cheese, mushrooms, or onions, or all three.”
“All three would be nice.”
“Rye bread, multigrain, English muffin, or bagel?”
I giggled. “English muffin.”
“Sit back and relax.”
The doorbell rang. I went to answer it. A young woman with long blond hair that framed her pretty, heart-shaped face smiled down at me from her six-foot frame. Behind her stood a man with a camera, and behind them a white van with big letters on its side occupied my driveway.
“Carrie Singleton?” she asked.
“Ye-es.” I said, sounding as leery as I felt. My first impulse was to slam the door in the reporter’s face, but I was a public servant of sorts and didn’t want to come across as rude or offensive, especially not on local television.
“Good morning. I’m Ginger LeMotto, WTRX news.” She stepped to the side of the doorway and turned so the cameraman would get a good shot of both of us. “I understand you played a part in apprehending Christopher Crowley, the man being charged with murdering three people here in Clover Ridge.”
“Really?” I plastered a smile on my face. “May I ask who told you that?”
She returned a wider smile. “Ah, that would be telling. Do you think we could come inside for a brief chat?”
She tried to step over the threshold, but I held my ground. “I’m sorry. I’m very busy right now. Christmas preparations, you know.”
“I understand.” She fluttered her eyelashes. “We promise to take a mere ten minutes of your time. Not a second more.”
“Sorry. I wish I could help you, but”—I winked—“that would be telling.”
My father clapped as I closed the door firmly behind me. “My daughter has turned into a force to be reckoned with.”
I swelled with pride. “Do you really think so?”
“Absolutely. Now back to the kitchen before your omelet gets cold.”
Breakfast was usually a rushed event, but that morning I took my time, savoring every bite. Only after Dad had removed my plate and refilled my mug of coffee did I reach for the local newspaper. Sure enough, the lead story told of Chris Crowley’s capture and arraignment and filled the first three pages. The two large photos must have been taken when Dylan, Jim, and I were long gone. My name was mentioned in the second paragraph as having been present when the police arrived. Someone must have told the reporter I’d been there and not much else. I imagined Ginger LeMotto was simply fishing for a story. I didn’t think she’d be bothering me again.
I’d cleared the kitchen table and was setting out the ingredients for the brownies I’d be baking when Uncle Bosco called, sounding distressed.
“Carrie, dear, what were you doing at the Parr house when the police captured that murderer?”
I didn’t want to upset him further, so I downplayed my involvement. “I was there to see Dina,” I said, which was truthful in its own right. “How did you know I was there?”
“Your aunt just got off the phone with Grace Brower. Her son Danny seems to think you’re some kind of Wonder Woman.”
I laughed. “You know I’m not.”
“I hope you weren’t playing detective again. You know that could put you in serious danger.”
“I’m fine, Uncle Bosco. I’d love to talk more, but I’m in the middle of baking a batch of double-chocolate brownies for our dinner.”
“In that case I won’t keep you another minute,” he said quickly.
“See you later.” I grinned. Uncle Bosco loved my double-chocolate brownies.
Dylan stopped by while the brownies were baking to give us an update on the investigation. He kissed me briefly, then sniffed the air.
“Hey, does my nose tell me what I think it’s telling me?” he asked.
“As we speak, brownies are baking in the oven.”
His face took on a wistful expression. “Think I can have one?”
I grinned. “Only if you stick around for the next fifteen minutes.”
“That’s about all the time I have,” he said as we sat down on the living room sofa.
“What’s happening with Chris?”
“Stella’s hired an expensive lawyer who’s doing his best to get Chris out on bail. He might very well succeed.” Dylan grinned. “But not before Christmas has come and gone.”
“And the gems?” I asked.
“The latest revised arrangements are that I’ll have a special escort when I bring them to Atlanta to be authenticated by our gem expert. After that, if they prove to be exactly what our client says they are, they’ll be delivered to his company in Texas.”
I swallowed. “Does that mean you’ll be going to Texas?”
“Looks like it.” He drew a deep breath. “But I told my boss I have to be back here next weekend for a special occasion.”
“What special occasion?” I asked.
“Spending New Year’s Eve with you.”
“And after that?”
“My company’s one of the biggest in the country. I’ll probably be sent to work another case involving stolen artwork or jewels.”
“Oh” was all I could manage.
My father chose that moment to leave his room a
nd join us. From the way he and Dylan greeted one another, it was obvious they liked each other, which made me even sadder.
“Tell me more about the company,” my father said, and Dylan was quick to reply.
When the conversation changed to a discussion about the gems, I tuned out. Now would be a good time to ask Dylan when I could catch a glimpse of those fantastic jewels, but suddenly I didn’t care if I ever saw them. They’d caused the biggest upheaval in my life. They were the reason why three people had been murdered—and why Dylan would soon be leaving Clover Ridge. I was glad they were safely out of my father’s hands and on their way back to their rightful owner. All I could think about was that Dylan would be leaving—again.
The timer pinged. I hurried into the kitchen to test the brownies with a toothpick. Perfect! I let them cool off before cutting them into squares. I placed two in a small Pyrex container and handed it to Dylan, then walked him to the door.
“I’ll pick you up at two forty-five,” he said, removing the cover and biting into a brownie.
Not even a goodbye kiss.
I returned to the living room, plopped down on the sofa beside my father, and let out a mournful sigh.
“Honey, it’s Christmas. I wish you’d cheer up.”
“How can I, with Dylan flying off Monday morning? He’ll be back next weekend, but then he could be gone for ages.”
“You have it that bad, do you?”
I blinked back tears. “Silly, isn’t it? We’ve only been seeing each other since Thanksgiving, and most of that time we’ve been apart.”
“You really love this guy.”
“I do, but his job isn’t suitable for a long-term relationship.”
“Jobs change. People change. Look at me, getting my first honest-to-goodness job in I-don’t-know-how-many years.” He laughed. “I know my stones pretty well, but I might take a gemologist course so the company has it on record.”
I burst out sobbing. “And you’re leaving too. Soon as you’re feeling all right.”
“That’s true, but I’m not on the lam. John Mathers managed to vouch for me and see that I got some charges expunged. It turns out some jails are too full, so arrangements have been made to suspend charges against nonaggressive offenders. I’ll be traveling for the company, but I’ll have time off. I promise to come visit.”
“You promise?” I asked. I sounded like a little kid, but I didn’t care.
“Caro, honey, I intend to come back here often to spend time with you. I can never make up for the years I wasted being away from you and Jordan, but my absentee father days are over. And that’s a promise.”
We sat quietly until Smoky Joe leaped into my lap, his way of telling me it was feeding time again.
Suddenly energized, I decided to take extra pains with my appearance for our Christmas Eve outing. I hummed as I buffed and shaped my nails, then applied a vivid fuchsia-colored polish. I put on my new black jeggings, a soft forest green cashmere tunic, and my favorite leather boots. Next, I applied eye shadow, mascara, and blush, which I rarely bothered with, and blow-dried my hair.
“Stun-ning!” my father exclaimed when he saw the results of my efforts.
“Well, thank you, kind sir.”
“Really, honey, you look great.” He disappeared inside his room and emerged with a small wrapped box.
“Go on, open it.”
I ripped through the holiday paper and unlatched the box. “How beautiful!” I exclaimed. The earrings were beautiful—a twisted golden hoop with a scattering of diamonds.
“Why don’t you put them on?”
“I will,” I said as I opened the omega back of one and slipped the post through my earlobe. “They’re dressy enough to wear to a party, yet suitable for work.”
“Merry Christmas, Caro.”
I hugged him, then pulled away. “They’re not—stolen, are they?”
He laughed. “Of course not. I bought them in the jewelry store in the shopping center ten miles from here. I wanted to be sure you could exchange them if you didn’t like them.”
I bit my lip. “And I only have a woolen scarf for you.”
“That’s all right. Spending the holiday with you is the best gift you could give me.”
I burst into tears. “Why couldn’t we have had this years ago, when I was growing up and needed you?”
“Because things don’t always work out that way,” he said softly. “Let’s enjoy what we have now for as long as we have the time together.”
He left to get the box of tissues from his room. While I was blowing my nose and drying my tears, he switched on the tree lights and put on a CD of English Christmas carols.
I sat quietly in the living room while he showered and dressed, thinking about the many things I didn’t know about my father. Where had he been living all those years he was away from us? What were his favorite foods? Where had he gotten the money for my earrings if he was broke?
I finally managed to put an end to my mulling. I’d been doing a good job of making myself sad about what could have been, what should have been. I had my father back, and that was what mattered.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
“Don’t you look great!” Dylan said two hours later when he came to pick us up.
I eyed his suede jacket, breathed in his leathery aftershave, and reached up to kiss him. “You look pretty good yourself.”
“Great earrings? Are they new?”
“My Christmas gift from Jim,” I said, thinking how much Dylan and I still had to learn about each other. All this learning! It would take time.
My father and I put on our jackets and gathered what we were bringing that night: brownies from me, a bottle of Chablis from Jim, my gifts for Aunt Harriet and Uncle Bosco, and two toys I’d bought for Mark and Tacey. As we headed for the front door, Smoky Joe followed us, his bushy tail high in the air.
“Sorry, boy. You’re not invited,” I said, petting him. I’d left plenty of food and treats for him to enjoy while we were out.
“Brrr, it’s cold,” my father said as he climbed into the back of Dylan’s BMW.
“It’s snowing,” I said as I slipped into the front passenger seat.
“Just flurries,” Dylan said. “Nothing to be concerned about.”
“This is a really good Bordeaux,” my father said, reading the label on the wine bottle Dylan had placed in a carrier behind the driver’s seat.
“It’s my favorite,” Dylan said, sounding pleased.
Wine. Something they both know about and enjoy. I tucked away the information for future reference.
The snow was falling more densely when we arrived at my aunt and uncle’s home. I gazed up at their white house set back on a rise, then across the Green—past the large Christmas tree lit in all its glory—to catch a glimpse of the library that had become such an important part of my life.
“Looks just like a picture postcard,” my father commented.
Just as you’d imagine Christmas would be if you were reading a story about a happy family.
Uncle Bosco hugged each of us in turn and helped carry our packages into the house. He placed the gifts I’d brought for him and Aunt Harriet beneath the Christmas tree that sparkled with multicolored lights, then set about serving us drinks.
Wine glass in hand, I wandered into the kitchen, where delicious aromas were vying for prominence. After clasping me tightly and telling me I looked beautiful, Aunt Harriet handed me a platter of piping hot canapés.
“Be an angel and serve these to the Claymonts. They’re in the living room. And offer them to your father and boyfriend, of course.”
A fire was crackling in the living room fireplace. I found my aunt and uncle’s elderly neighbors sitting side by side on the loveseat. They each took a stuffed mushroom, along with a napkin, and nodded their thanks.
“You’re welcome. Merry Christmas.”
Mrs. Claymont smiled. “And to you, young Carolinda. Lovely earrings you’re wearing.”
I smoo
thed back the hair above my right ear. “Thank you, Mrs. Claymont. They’re my Christmas gift from my father.”
My cousins, Randy and Julia, arrived with their children, Mark and Tacey. We greeted one another with kisses and hugs, except for Mark, who offered me his hand to shake.
“I have presents for the children,” I said.
“Thank you,” Julia said. “We’ll put them under our tree when we go home.”
“Mom, it’s Christmas Eve already,” Mark said. “Can’t we open them now?”
“Please!” Tacey pleaded.
Randy shrugged. “Kiddies rule.”
I handed them their gifts.
“Thank you,” Mark and Tacey said in unison, then proceeded to rip off the wrapping paper in record time.
Mark’s eyes popped when he caught sight of the small electronic toy I’d bought him.
“Wow! Just what I wanted, Cousin Carrie.” He cannonballed into me, nearly knocking me off my feet, and hugged me tight.
Tacey was delighted with her Barbie doll. “I love Barbie dolls. I have two at home and a Barbie house. You should come see it, Cousin Carrie.”
“I will,” I said.
“We’ll have Cousin Carrie over very soon.” Julia winked. “Along with her boyfriend.”
“You have a boyfriend, Cousin Carrie?”
“I sure do. He’s in the den with my father, talking to Uncle Bosco.”
While the kids played with their toys, Randy and Julia plied me with questions about my part in catching Chris Crowley.
Randy patted me on the back. “Julia, who would have guessed that my shy little cousin here would turn out to be a great detective?”
Years ago his teasing would have upset me, but now I knew it was good-natured. Furthermore, I knew he was proud of me.
Randy joined the men in the den, and Julia went into the kitchen to help Aunt Harriet. I felt a tug on my arm. It was Tacey. I bent down so she could whisper in my ear.
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