Chapter Twelve --
Great. It was bad enough that Sam would be away for the holiday. Now it looked like I might not get his gift in time. Sam knew the marzipan Christmas pig was a traditional German custom, one I had loved since childhood. He also knew those pralines are one of my weaknesses. Well, at least I wouldn’t have to worry about temptations this Christmas, I told myself. I was too bummed out to eat candy. The only sweets I wanted were Sam’s hungry kisses, and if I couldn’t have those, I didn’t much care about anything else.
I climbed into bed just before eleven, deciding that I was fine to go back into work in the morning. Rufus and I had touched base right after I left the federal building, but we still had to compare notes, to make sure we were up to speed, in case something went wrong for Annette in Manhattan. At least work would keep my mind off of missing Sam. I decided to throw myself into my deputy duties, making the village of Latimer Falls safe for its citizens.
The morning dawned a dim gray. I peered out the window on my way to the bathroom. It looked like we got about four inches of snow overnight. That sometimes meant fender benders, stranded motorists, and the occasional sledding accident. Last year, Jessica Mallins hit a big pine tree head-on behind the elementary school when she went roaring down the hill on her toboggan. I called her mom at Delia’s Bakery and had her meet us at Doc Morris’s office, where the gash on little Jessica’s chin required ten stitches. I wondered if we’d have any similar incidents today.
The worst were always the ones involving all-terrain vehicles. That usually required a more serious emergency response, like the time Gerry Rutgers had his machine roll over on his broken leg. We needed a team to pull the ATV off of the injured man without causing more harm. Biscuit hooked a tow rope to the police SUV, while a bunch of volunteer firefighters coordinated the lifting of the machine off the victim. The agonized screams of the poor man stayed in my head long after he was patched up at the hospital. I could do without those kinds of accidents.
At this time of year, the teenagers often engaged in creative Christmas decorating. Don’t ask me where the tradition started, but the little buggers often went around to the houses with the best decorations and redistributed them to the neighbors. It was almost always in good fun. Mrs. Winkler found her inflatable snowman plugged in down at the Rawsons’ barn, keeping the chickens company late one December night. Another time, the kids grabbed up the fake packages that Mrs. Wilson placed in her sleigh on the front lawn and put them under the library’s illuminated blue spruce. They also collected Mr. Wisnewski’s twig reindeer and scattered them across the library lawn. A couple of days later, another wise guy got a hold of the plastic coyote that the Latimer Lake Association put up to keep the Canada geese from polluting the lake with their droppings and set it up so that it appeared to be chasing the reindeer. You name it, we’ve seen it at the holidays. Even Louie Zefferelli got into the act one year when he put pink flamingoes in Lucy Wentworth’s holiday Toyland display. The only rule we had in town was simple. Don’t mess with the manger at the congregational church. The Baby Jesus is off limits.
The nice thing about the village of Latimer Falls was that folks didn’t care if you were Catholic or Presbyterian, Jewish, or Muslim, believer or non-believer. We respected each other as human beings, maybe even more so at the holidays. Mrs. Klein was a big supporter of the Latimer Falls Sheriff’s Department, and she knew that Rufus had a weakness for kugel. Every Hanukkah, she dropped some off for him, knowing it was a real treat for the former city cop.
We shared our customs and traditions across the village. Many of Gerhard’s workers stayed on the farm all year-long and my father encouraged them to uphold their traditions. It was a big reason why they stayed through the years. On Three Kings Day in January, the Hispanic farm workers in the surrounding towns celebrated in Gerhard’s heated garage, decorating it from ceiling to floor with tiny lights. They filled it with tables and chairs, set up a buffet table, and hosted a feast that was open to all. We would crowd into the space to listen to Latino music, cut the Rosca de Reyes, and hope to be the one to find the tiny doll baked inside.
I left for work just after eight-fifteen, taking my time on the slick country roads. I called in to let Marge know I was on my way, in case there was someone in need of assistance. She informed me that Mrs. Lukens reported that her mailbox had been knocked off its post, no doubt thanks to the Bartles’ snow removal service. I headed over there to see what I could do to fix the octogenarian’s problem. When I arrived on Larchmont Lane, I found the metal box tipped, but not off the platform. Grabbing my cordless screwdriver from the tool box I keep in the trunk of my trusty yellow bug, I had the mailbox righted in less than a minute. Once that was taken care of, I let the elderly woman know all was right with the world. She invited me in for a cup of tea and I accepted. I’m a big believer in community policing and sometimes the best information I get from Latimer Falls residents comes while I’m sitting in someone’s living room, shooting the breeze. We passed a quarter of an hour together, chatting about what was going on in the village before I continued on my way to the sheriff’s office.
Rufus and I met for about twenty minutes, exchanging information on a number of issues, including the roof incident. I had yet to file my official report, which I promised to do immediately after our meeting. Rufus warned me that there were a series of house break-ins a couple of towns away. Even though Latimer Falls isn’t right on the highway, we get our fair share of people passing through on their way to somewhere else. It sounded like the daylight robberies were related to folks looking for items to pawn, so they probably were hoping to feed a drug habit. I suggested that we up the patrols and create a more visible daytime presence on the main roads, as a deterrent. The sheriff agreed, assigning us to fifteen minute stints in the little lay-bys near the highway. That way, when the thieves rolled into town, the first thing they were likely to see was Latimer Falls’ finest.
Marge sent me on three calls before lunch, including a possible shoplifting incident at Voneger’s Bridal. They thought they might be missing a veil with a silk taffeta headband, although it was possible it was misplaced when they had a crowd in from Westford Corners over the weekend.
“Speaking of weddings, when are you and the Hunk tying the knot, Gabby?” That’s the downside of living in a small town. Everybody seems to have an opinion on your love life.
“Gosh, Fran, I couldn’t tell you. But if you hear anything, let me know.” I gave her a wink to let her know I wasn’t taking her snooping to heart. She threw her head back and laughed.
“Well, you be sure to come see me for that wedding gown. We have all the latest fashions right here. No need to go traipsing off to the big city.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
“Do.”
I grabbed a quick bite at the Watering Hole. They were offering minestrone soup and grilled cheese for the lunch special. Carol Findley asked me if I had seen the tree decorations over on Willow Brook Road. I had to admit I hadn’t.
“Definitely check it out, Gabby. It’s worth the trip.”
Sure enough, it was. Someone had plastered the faces of the junior high and high school faculty on the heads of Santa’s reindeer. I was still chuckling when I got back to the office.
I checked in with Annette when I got back home. She insisted she was doing fine, but it sounded like she was holding something back. I applied a little pressure to shake it loose.
“What’s wrong? You want me to call the special agent-in-charge and complain?” I figured that would get her in a tizzy. I was right.
“No, it’s nothing like that. It’s just...it’s just... well, Kevin Frist is a real creep!”
“Because....” I waited for her to fill in the blank.
“Did you know that he hired Joe to seduce me?” she demanded. I noted her use of Will’s cover name and decided not to correct her. Better she should maintain the fiction, just in case Frist got curious and bugged her calls. I didn’t giv
e her a direct answer. It didn’t seem like she was looking for one. She was just really mad.
“That really stinks,” I commiserated.
“God, this is so unfair! What am I going to do for a job when this one ends?”
“Is that what’s bothering you?” I asked. “Good heavens, Gerhard was just saying that he thought you could do a lot better, given your talents as model-maker. He said there are several architectural designers who would love to use your services. You know, he still has a lot of contacts in the city. He could set you up.”
“Oh, you’re just saying that to make me feel better,” she replied.
“Actually, no. He really does think you have a gift. Of course, Ervina thinks you should open your own cookie company. She even mentioned something about the fact that if you were ever interested, she could use you for the winery and the gift store, although that’s not really your thing.”
“It could be.”
“What?”
“You heard me. I think I want a change, Gabby. The city’s not for me, especially now that my boss is such a creep.”
“Well, you just say the word and we’ll help you any way we can.”
“Oh,” I heard her sigh. “Who am I kidding? I still have the condo. What would I do with that?”
“You could rent it out,” I suggested.
“And where am I going to find a decent place to live up there, let alone make enough money to support myself?”
“Well, funny you should mention that, because Ervina was just saying the other day that bookings at the bed and breakfast on her farm are down. I’m sure she’d let you rent a suite for as long as you want it. It’s not like she runs the place for a profit. She just enjoys sharing the whole farm experience with folks. And if you did decide to go into the cookie business, that place has a real baker’s kitchen.”
“Cookies? I don’t know, Gabby. That’s a lot of work. I doubt I’d make any money at it.”
“You’re probably right,” I said smoothly, letting the seed dig itself into the fertile ground. Let Annette talk herself into moving to Latimer Falls. I wouldn’t push her one way or another. I would let her make up her own mind. I knew how much she enjoyed her visits to the farm, even when she was fleeing from embarrassing debacles in public elevators. “Listen, I’ll be coming up on Friday with the car and your suitcase. Maybe we could do something fun. Take in a movie or go out to dinner. What do you say?”
“That sounds good. What time are you planning to come?” she wanted to know.
“I’d like to avoid that rush hour traffic. The sheriff approved my request for a vacation day, so I thought I’d head out early. I’ll probably get there by three. If you’re working, I can drop the car off in your garage and go explore the city.”
“Why don’t you come by Frist and Company? I’ll give you my key.”
That was the plan. Funny how things don’t work out the way they should.
On Thursday, I got in touch with Will in the FBI field office, to make sure I was up to speed. We went back and forth on some of the developments. He didn’t expect any problems over the weekend, especially if Nettie and I were out having a good time.
“Call me when you get there, just in case.”
“Will do,” I promised.
When Friday rolled around, I threw my overnight bag and purse in the Toyota Corolla. My bruises and contusions had begun to fade, from deep purple to mauve to a Christmas-y green, so I settled my tushie in the driver’s seat for the ride back to Manhattan. The clouds were heavy with moisture and I held my breath, hoping we wouldn’t get snow until I was a lot closer to the city. I really didn’t relish six hours of knuckle-biting driving.
By two, I was sitting in bumper-to-bumper traffic, listening to New York radio stations as I waited to cross the bridge. By two-thirty, I was pulling into the parking garage for the building where Frist and Company had their office. Before I went in, I gave Will a quick call, to see if he had any instructions for me.
“Things seem fairly copacetic, Gabby. Just keep an eye out. And feel free to share your impressions of the place.”
“I’ll be happy to do that, Will. You call me if you need anything. I’m here for the weekend.”
“Good to know.”
I made my way up the elevator and out into the foyer of Frist and Company. A twelve-year-old receptionist with spiky blond hair sat at the desk, looking bored. She was texting on her cell phone.
“Hi, I’m here to see Annette,” I announced cheerfully. She never bothered to look up.
“Not here.”
“She’s expecting me,” I smiled.
“Went out for a meeting. You can wait.”
“Did she say when she would be back?”
“No.”
“I’m her cousin, Gabriella Grimm. Did she leave something for me?”
“No.” Those black-rimmed eyes looked at me with resentment. I was interrupting her electronic word chat.
“Where is this meeting?” I asked, suddenly apprehensive. Annette knew when I would be arriving. She also knew that she would be giving me her condo key. This wasn’t like the overly efficient woman I knew.
“At 1423. She and the boss are inspecting the place.”
My heart dropped to my feet. Nettie never said a word about any meeting, and certainly Will didn’t seem to be expecting this when I spoke to him earlier. I dialed Annette’s phone. My unease grew as the call went to voicemail. She always left her phone on.
“Can you please point me to the ladies room?” I smiled as pleasantly as I could, even as I fingered my cell phone in my trouser pocket. “I just had a long drive.”
“Down the hall and on your left.”
“Thanks,” I called over my shoulder. Pushing on the door, I went in. No other feet under the stall doors. I made sure before I dialed Will’s number.
“Did you know Annette was inspecting 1423 today?”
“What?” he demanded. I repeated the question. “Oh, geez!”
Where's Hansel and Gretel's Gingerbread House?: A Gabby Grimm Fairy Tale Mystery #2 Page 12
