A Box Full of Trouble

by Carolyn Haines

  “Tammy, dear, I was growing worried,” Amelia said. She had a beautiful tea services on the coffee table. “Have a seat. I’ll pour before the tea gets cold.”

  “I need to make a call first.” She smiled. “May I borrow your phone? I left my cell phone at home. I’m so forgetful these days.”

  “In the kitchen.”

  Tammy was glad to see Trouble jump up on the chair with Amelia and distract her with some kitty love. She’d memorized the sheriff’s number and dialed. When she was told that neither Rob nor Aiden was available, she asked what was going on.

  “There was another murder,” Alma told her. “Young woman named Jessica Whiddon. Killed behind the Methodist church.”

  “Oh, dear,” Tammy said, feeling her stomach drop to the floor. “Please ask Rob to call me at Amelia’s house.” She left the number and squared her shoulders before returning to the den. It was going to be difficult not to tell Amelia what was happening, but Tammy was determined not to spoil her friend’s Christmas. Besides, chatting about books for an hour was exactly what she needed emotionally.

  “What did you think about Rebecca Barrett’s new black cat mystery?” She steered the conversation to safe ground. Amelia loved mysteries and she loved cats—and Trouble loved her back. The conversation jumped to life and Tammy sipped the delicious light tea and settled back in her chair, glad for the hot beverage, and the warm room and friendship.

  For the next half hour, Tammy allowed herself to relax. She’d been so tense—and cold—that the muscles of her back and neck were actually painful. She’d just begun to sink into her chair when the sound of a car stopping at the curb outside Amelia’s house made her bolt to her feet.

  “Tammy, is something wrong?”

  “I, uh, didn’t lock the door when I came in.” She hurried to the front door and looked out. Frasier McNaughton was coming up the walk at a fast clip. Rob must have sent him. He’d have news of the latest murder.

  She stepped outside. “Amelia doesn’t know about the murders,” she said. “I don’t want to tell her. It’s Christmas Eve.”

  “Of course.” Frasier looked back at his car. “Aiden asked me to check up on you. He’s busy at the crime scene. I gather Alma told you about Jessica Whiddon’s murder.”

  “Yes. Come in and let me figure out a way to leave without upsetting Amelia any more than necessary.”

  Frasier nodded. “This is serious, Tammy. A mad killer is on the loose, and I don’t think the law officers have a clue how to stop him. Sheriff Sieck and his deputies seem hamstrung by this killer. They don’t have any real leads.”

  Tammy pulled Frasier into the house. “Just keep it under wraps for a little longer. I want you to help me find Rob and Aiden as soon as I can leave without upsetting Amelia.”

  “Happy to help. So is there hot tea? I’m a bit frosty myself.”

  * * *

  Amelia’s home is the perfect place for two young felines, and Tammy has been feeding a feral colony near the Coosa River Bridge. The mother is now spayed and the kittens are becoming very friendly. They’d be purrfect for Amelia. As soon as this serial killer case is over, I’m going to make it my mission to make this happen. Little fuzz balls of destruction. If they show up on her screened porch on a cold winter morning, she’ll take them in. Once she’s had them ten minutes, they’ll have a permanent home. Bipeds are well-known to be out of touch with their inner spiritual needs. Amelia needs kitty love. Once she has it—she’ll surrender to it.

  While I’m nattering on about kittens, don’t think I’ve abandoned Tammy and the SSK case. It’s just that I’ve considered a dozen reasons why Thad Brady was at Tammy’s house, and none of them make sense.

  Someone has been in Tammy’s house, and it could easily have been Brady. I believe the intruder was in the house the night the minister tripped—with a little assistance from me. Before I’m indicted on tripping a man of the cloth, consider that I was unprepared for him to appear in the house. He was creeping down the hallway—and I assumed he was the intruder who meant to harm Tammy. I acted with speed and decisiveness to stop an attack. How was I to know it was McNaughton? The minister was in the wrong place at the wrong time.

  I firmly believe the SSK is onto Tammy, and he was in the house. I believe he was hiding in the pantry, waiting for everyone to go to sleep so he could strike. And I believe he meant to silence Tammy. Permanently. Well, the meat wagon will be coming for that bloke when I catch him.

  Which brings me back to the one reason Thad Brady might risk confronting Tammy in her own front yard. I believe the killer left something important in the pantry. I know I’ve searched it and found nothing. I must have overlooked whatever it is. And it must be pretty important for the killer to return to get it. So who could have been in the house? Aiden, of course, had free rein in the house. Frasier was also there. And Benjy. And now Brady. I can’t put Brady in Tammy’s house, but I can’t rule him out, either. He obviously knows where she lives—something that troubles me greatly. But an interesting aspect is that he could have grabbed her. He truly could have snatched her when she first saw him.

  Give the devil his due, Tammy acted with dispatch even M, James Bond’s boss, would laud. Tammy tricked that villain into the back seat and then slammed the heavy door on his legs. If he isn’t crippled, he’s certainly hurting. But he managed to get away.

  I overheard Frasier telling Tammy about Jessica Whiddon. Another dead woman. This killer has moved into high gear. I would say it’s the beginning of a disorganized phase. It will make him easier to catch, but also more volatile and unstable. We have to act fast. Enough people have died. Enough lives have been ruined.

  * * *

  Jessica’s body was loaded into the ambulance and Aiden stood in the parking lot with the sheriff and watched the vehicle depart. He could only remember one day when he’d felt worse. The day Kayla disappeared. He was responsible, in part, for both deaths.

  “Have you heard from Tammy?” Rob asked.

  “I sent Frasier to tell her. Alma said she was at Amelia’s house, so Frasier went there.”

  “I’m glad she’s not home alone.”

  “Yeah.” Aiden had a difficult subject to broach. “Sheriff, how did the killer learn I’d spoken with Jessica Whiddon?”

  Rob shoved his hands into the pockets of his thick jacket. “I’ve been thinking about that, too. It had to come from the sheriff’s office. I can’t believe someone is working with a killer, but I do believe someone is inadvertently tipping the killer to our investigation.”

  “That would mean the killer is someone known to members of the department.”

  “And that really worries me.”

  “Do you have any ideas?” Aiden pressed.

  “The dispatchers know every call and the location of every officer. Of course, it could be someone in patrol. We’re a small office. Everyone knows pretty much what everyone else is up to.”

  “That doesn’t narrow it down.”

  “I’m going to talk to Alma,” Rob said. “She’s got her thumb on the pulse of everything. That’s the best place to start. I’ll catch her after Christmas and see what she can tell me. Until then, keep Tammy under your thumb, okay?”

  “Seriously?” Aiden almost laughed at that mental image. Tammy was one person he’d never be able to lock down.

  “A short leash?” Rob grinned.

  “Keep dreaming,” Aiden said. “I’ll try to keep up with her, but I’m not making any promises.”

  “Tammy is a terrific woman,” Rob said. “I’d like it a lot if the two of you got together. I’ve always had a sense that you never meant to stay in Wetumpka. Tammy would give you some roots. And you’d give her what she really wants—a family.”

  “You’re getting ahead of yourself,” Aiden said. The familiar feeling of claustrophobia came at him. “I told you when you hired me, I’m not the kind to settle down.”

  “Life changes us, Aiden. Or at least it changes those of us smart enough to flex and be
nd. The others, it just breaks.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind. See you in the morning.” He watched Rob drive away.

  There was nothing left for Aiden to do at the crime scene. Rob had sent a deputy and child services to the Whiddon home. Jessica’s husband was due in. The children had been found safe at home, but it would be a horrid Christmas for that family and the others who’d lost a wife and mother.

  A hard, clear rage filled Aiden. He would find this killer. And when he did, he wasn’t certain he’d remember that he was a lawman and not a vigilante.

  He’d learned some valuable things at the scene of Jessica’s murder. She’d been killed in the parking lot. There were signs of a struggle in the gravel dust. Sadly, she’d been wearing gloves, and Aiden feared there’d be no trace evidence. But there might be transfer. the one question he wanted answered was why. Why had Jessica come to the parking lot on Christmas Eve? Why after being scared nearly to death had she come back to town and ventured to an isolated area? It didn’t make any sense.

  Unless the person who’d lured Jessica to the area was someone she knew and trusted.

  The truth hit him hard. He had to get Jessica’s cell phone and see who’d called her. Rob had taken it back to the police station.

  * * *

  By the time the tea was finished, Frasier had Tammy and Amelia laughing out loud at the antics of the church choir and the near missteps of the cantata.

  “Someone had waxed the organist’s bench, and poor Mildred had worn a dress of very slippery material. She kept sliding off the stool and nearly under the organ.” Frasier shook his head as Tammy wiped tears from her eyes.

  “And that’s not the worst of it,” he continued. “Mildred’s granddaughter was sitting in the choir as a special treat, and at one point, she screamed out, ‘Help Grandma, the organ is trying to eat her.’”

  “It sounds like I missed quite a show,” Tammy said at last. “I’m so sorry. I was really looking forward to it.”

  “Next year I’ll have to force myself out of the house and attend, too,” Amelia said. “Shall I make more tea?”

  “No, I have to head home,” Tammy said. “I just wanted to be sure and wish you Merry Christmas.” She hugged Amelia to her.

  “I know something is wrong,” Amelia whispered in her ear.

  “I’m fine,” Tammy assured her. “I’ll be in touch tomorrow.”

  She and Frasier left together. Tammy stood outside the door until she heard Amelia engage the lock. When she looked down the sidewalk, Trouble was waiting beside her car door.

  “Could you give Aiden a call?” Tammy asked. She still hadn’t retrieved her coat, and the night had grown even more bitter. Low clouds had scudded across the moon and blocked out the multitude of stars.

  “Sure.” Frasier pulled out his phone and punched in a number. “Aiden, I’m taking Tammy home. I’ll stay with her until you get there. About forty minutes? Good.” He replaced the phone in his pocket and faced Tammy. “He’s finishing up some work at the station on that poor young woman’s murder. He’ll meet you at your place.”

  “Perfect. See you there, Frasier.” She went to the car and opened the door so Trouble could hop in.

  The cat was acting strange again. He paced on the front seat, and he was normally a good traveler. “What’s wrong?” she asked.

  Trouble responded with a deep meow. He rubbed against her arm as she pulled into the road. It had been a hard few days—ever since their initial trip to Rook’s Vantage. It seemed her eagerness to view the Sassafras Moon of Choctaw legend had set off a chain of events that had consumed her life. But there had been rare wonderful moments. Amelia and Frasier had lifted her spirts considerable. She didn’t plan on leaving the Wetumpka area, even if her dream vision of her little town had been battered and bruised.

  They pulled into her driveway with Frasier close behind. She cast a wary glance at the bush where Thad Brady had been hiding. Trouble sensed her uneasiness and hurried forward to check it out.

  “Hurry inside before you catch your death of cold,” Frasier said to Tammy, taking her arm and maneuvering her toward the door. “I can’t believe you left without a coat.”

  “It wasn’t voluntarily,” she said, realizing that she had to tell the whole story of Thad Brady to Rob, as soon as he called her.

  Frasier escorted her inside. He slammed the door as fast as he could and locked it.

  “Did Trouble come in?” Tammy asked. She went back to the door and opened it to find the cat staring up at her, tail twitching. She picked him up and closed the door.

  “Sorry, I guess I’m not a cat person,” Frasier said, smiling. “I can’t for the life of me figure why people dote on them. They carry diseases, you know.”

  “Yes, just like people,” Tammy said, taking Trouble to the kitchen. “Start the fire, would you? I’ll pour us some wine.”

  “That would be lovely,” Frasier called back to her. “Just lovely.”

  Chapter Eleven

  The minister and Tammy have settled into a comfy confab in front of the fire. I’m glad to see her relaxing—she’s been so tense. But I swear, it looks as if she might melt into her chair. I know she’s tired, but I’ve never seen Tammy fall asleep in front of a guest. She was out in the bitter cold, and that does make a body exhausted. At least Frasier is taking the hint and covering her with a warm throw. That’s the ticket, put her feet up, tuck the covers around her. And now you can leave.

  I’ll jump up on Tammy to indicate I’m on watch and he can head home.

  He’s not taking the hint. He’s sitting down across from Tammy and pouring another glass of wine. Which is just a little…peculiar. And the way he’s looking at her. It makes the fur on my back stand on end. And it’s not Halloween.

  Uh-oh. What is Frasier up to? I should have been on red alert when he tried to shut me out of the house, but I figured he was one of those anal people who simply don’t like felines. Some people, particularly men, are threatened by a cat. They comprehend we have abilities, that we can detect certain characteristics. But my radar has utterly failed me. I knew Frasier McNaughton was a little off—a bit of a misery-guts with his attitude. I never liked him, but I never considered him a threat.

  Until now.

  The more I watch him watching Tammy, the more concerned I become. I can see the wheels turning behind his icy blue eyes, and I don’t think he’s putting touches on a party schedule. Aiden had said that the SSK was a master of disguise. That he was someone who blended into the community. Someone who could worm his way into the inside of a town. That describes Frasier to a T. And heaven knows what information he dug out of Tammy, Aiden, and even the sheriff. Who would suspect a minister? Especially one as dedicated to building homes for the homeless, offering soup lines, hosting cantatas.

  Observing him now, when there are no bipeds around for him to put up his façade, I see something completely different than the man of the cloth dedicated to service. I see someone cold and calculating. And he is alone here with Tammy.

  If he makes a move toward her, I’ll gut him like a sheepshead from the River Thames. Let me project that thought to him so that he is aware that I will fight to the death to defend Tammy.

  Ah, he’s getting up. He’s going to the kitchen, and I’m right on his tail. He made a beeline for the pantry door, and there he goes. I knew something was in there. I knew it. But I couldn’t find it. I searched everywhere. He’s turning on the light and going to the top shelf, above the pickles and jams. No wonder—I couldn’t get that high without knocking things off the shelf. And he’s pulling something out. A long scarf…no! A stocking! Bloody hell, he’s wrapping the stocking around both hands, and now he’s going back to the den.

  I’m taking a stand in the hallway. Oooff! The maggot kicked me, and with a lot more agility and speed than his rotund appearance might indicate. So a direct assault isn’t advised. I’ll adopt guerilla tactics. One way or another, I’ll protect Tammy.

  * * *


  It was almost midnight when Aiden cruised by Amelia Weatherford’s house. There was no evidence of Tammy’s car parked nearby, and Aiden wasn’t surprised. Jessica’s murder had tied him and the sheriff up for hours.

  Alma had said Tammy called and asked for Rob, not him. That she needed to talk with the sheriff. That request had aroused Aiden’s curiosity, but not overly. Tammy and Rob had been friends for years.

  Rob was still dealing with Jessica Whiddon’s husband, who had come home expecting Christmas and stepped into the worst nightmare a loving husband could enter. Aiden was only glad he hadn’t been the one who had to deliver the heartbreaking news. Even worse would be facing the children. But he sure hoped Rob found out who had lured Jessica into town on Christmas Eve.

  Perhaps she’d gone to pick up a last minute Christmas gift for the kids. But it didn’t make sense that she’d gone behind the empty church. And she hadn’t attended the cantata. Frasier was positive of that.

  Aiden turned south and circled toward Tammy’s neighborhood. If the lights were still on, he’d intrude. He drove down the quiet street, disappointed when he saw Tammy’s house dark and silent, her vehicle in the drive. Well, it wouldn’t be long until morning, and then he’d make it a point to be at her door as soon as she was awake. He’d make it up to her that Christmas Eve had been a bust for them. And she would understand. That was something he truly appreciated about Tammy—she could put others ahead of her own personal needs.

  He was almost past the house when a small black shadow ran into the road. He slammed on brakes instinctively, praying he’d missed the animal. He had a terrible feeling that the near roadkill might be named Trouble. But what was the cat doing outside at night. Tammy had made it a point to let him know she always brought the cat in at dark.

  He got out of the cruiser dreading what he might find in the road. To his relief, Trouble sat by the gutter, his green eyes glowing in the car’s beams.