To Thine Own Self Be True

by Judy Clemens

She blinked. “Artists for Freedom? They obviously had an agenda that was unattractive to certain people. But I can’t imagine the senator or anyone in his contingent resorting to violence.”

  I shifted in my chair. “Jewel and Mickey Spurgeon told me Mandy had something on the senator. She was going to tell the group that night.”

  “Until the detective told me, I hadn’t even known what meeting they were going to. They asked if I could keep Billy, but never got around to telling me where they’d be. You see, I had their cell phone number…” Her voice trailed off and I waited to make sure she was done talking.

  “Do you know what Mandy found out about the senator?” I asked. “Something bad?”

  Mrs. Freed frowned. “Mandy never mentioned anything to me. I always thought she hated the bill itself, but not necessarily the senator.”

  We were quiet for moment while I tried to match that image with the one the Spurgeons had given. An image of Mandy being furious with Trevor Farley.

  “How’s Billy holding up?” I asked.

  Mrs. Freed swallowed. “It’s hard. He seems so even-keeled, but of course it’s all been way too much for him. He’s only eleven.”

  “I heard about what happened last month. At the school.”

  “Oh, those awful boys.”

  “Do you know who they were?”

  “Well, of course.”

  My pulse quickened. “No one else seems to. Except the police.”

  “Wolf and Mandy wanted it that way. It was so humiliating for poor Billy.”

  “Yeah. It’s embarrassing to be beat up.”

  She lifted her gaze to me. “He wasn’t beat up.”

  “What?” Hadn’t Bart told me that? And Shisler?

  “Those horrible boys…those boys held him down and scratched a tattoo into his arm.”

  “They did what?”

  “Right on his shoulder. ‘IM A FAG.’”

  My breath caught. “Why would they do something like that? What did Billy do to them?”

  She met my shocked eyes with her sad ones. “Not Billy. Wolf.”

  “Wolf?”

  She stood and wandered toward the photos I had on the wall, crossing her arms over her stomach. “They came into the shop the week before and wanted Wolf to tattoo swastikas on them. He wouldn’t do it. Won’t do anything pertaining to racism or hatred. Wolf told them—well, Mandy probably told them—to get the hell out. They did, finally, but not without a fight.”

  Mrs. Freed obviously didn’t realize the impact her words were having on me. Didn’t she understand she had just pinpointed the most likely killers? A band of skinheads, not your typical southeastern Pennsylvania suburban kids, were as scary as a pack of Hell’s Angels.

  “So where are these boys now?” I tried to keep my voice level.

  “Jail, mostly. Or the juvenile detention center. A couple of the younger ones are on probation, but the leaders are locked away. At least for now.”

  “Detective Shisler knows about this?”

  “Sure. She helped put them in prison.”

  My mind raced, and I tried to rein it in. “Do you think they could have anything to do with Mandy’s death?”

  She winced, probably at my use of the “d” word. “I wouldn’t know how. Like I said, the ringleaders are in jail.”

  I itched to call Detective Shisler. “Any other ideas?”

  Mrs. Freed shook her head. “I know Mandy was strong. Too strong, sometimes. But for anyone to hate her this much…” Her voice broke, and she pulled another tissue from her pocket. “And now they wonder if Wolf could’ve done it. I know he never would’ve hurt my girl. His girl.”

  I concentrated on Carla’s calendar on my wall, trying to keep my emotions in check by focusing on something neutral. I thought of the claims Gentleman John and Tank were making about Wolf and Jewel. If Mrs. Freed had any idea about that, she certainly wasn’t saying, and she seemed to love Wolf like a son. And it would, of course, be way too tacky to ask her about it.

  Mrs. Freed’s voice softened, no longer quavering. “Please. Could you tell me about that last afternoon? Tell me what my Mandy did?”

  So I told her. Told her the funny stories, the anger Mandy voiced at back alley hacks, the way she gave Wolf the finger with a smile. Mrs. Freed listened with rapt attention until I came to the end of my story.

  “Thank you, Stella,” she said, when I finished.

  “I wish I had more to tell you.”

  “Me, too, honey. But this will have to do, won’t it?” She stood. “Now, I’d better head back in and get Billy. It is Christmas, after all, and I’m the only family he has.”

  “What about Wolf’s parents?”

  She shook her head. “Been gone for a while now. Billy never knew them.”

  I zipped my coat and circled around the desk to join her. “Would you like to stay for dinner? We’d be happy to have you. I’ve been assured we have plenty of food.”

  “Oh, thank you. Thank you so much. But I think we’ll go on home. In case Wolf calls, you know. This is the longest we’ve been gone since…since the other day.”

  “If you change your mind, the invitation’s open all afternoon. All week, if you want.”

  She rested her hand on my arm, unconsciously covering the tattoo Wolf hadn’t finished. “You’re a darling.”

  I swallowed the lump in my throat. Would she be so generous if she realized—truly realized—that I’d let her daughter die?

  “And you do know,” she said, as if reading my thoughts, “Mandy did not die because of you.”

  It was almost enough to make me weep.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Detective Shisler sounded harried when I got her on the phone, and my guilt about holding out on her grew. But not enough to make me ready to sacrifice the Spurgeons just yet. Especially since Shisler had been holding out on me, too.

  “What is it?” Shisler asked.

  “You knew about the skinheads? What they did to Billy’s shoulder?”

  Silence on her end.

  I raised my voice. “You there?”

  “I’m here. But I’m surprised you know what happened.”

  “Eve Freed was just here. With Billy. Wanted to talk about Mandy.”

  “Ah. Poor Billy. Poor Mrs. Freed, too.”

  “And you don’t think those Nazi freaks had anything to do with Mandy’s death? After they fought for swastikas and defaced her son?”

  “The main kids, the oldest and most problematic, are in juvie. They’ve been in custody for a month and couldn’t have done it.”

  “What about other kids from the gang? They can’t be nice if they’re in a group like that.”

  “The only ones left are newbies. Young. I don’t think they’d have the guts.”

  “But—”

  “Plus, I checked them out. The only two not in prison are basically under house arrest by their own parents, who were horrified by their boys’ actions. Not all kids with issues come from bad homes. They just get in the wrong crowd and their parents are more clueless than some.”

  “So they couldn’t have been involved?”

  “I really, really doubt it.”

  “Well, damn.”

  “Thought you had them?”

  “Hoped I did. Then we might be able to find Wolf.”

  She sighed loudly. “I’m with you. I’d love to give that boy his daddy back for Christmas.”

  “Billy didn’t look so good.”

  “I’d be surprised if he did.”

  I heard the rise and fall of voices in the living room, and knew I’d kept my family long enough.

  My family.

  I sat speechless as I allowed that thought to wash over me.

  “Ms. Crown?”

  I brought my mind back to the detective. “Sorry. You’ll let me know?”

  “I’ll let you know.”

  I hung up and did my best to put on my happy face for my
return to the living room. To my family.

  Nick met my eyes as I came in, and I offered him a tight smile. Lucy and Lenny gave me the same study, but it wasn’t the right time to be talking about Eve Freed’s visit or the phone call with the detective.

  “Okay, honeybun,” Lenny said to Tess. “Looks like it’s time to get rockin’ again.”

  We all filed back into the front room and reclaimed our spots, Nick’s leg again making my back warm.

  Tess ordered Lenny to open the next present, not forgetting for an instant where we’d left off. He was delighted to receive from Tess a comb set, with trimmer, to keep his beard soft and tangle-free.

  Tess kept the rest of the packages coming, and they revealed a casual conglomeration of goods: hand-made scarves, woolen socks, a poncho and a bracelet/necklace making kit for Tess, and a sweatshirt for me that said, “Home is where the Heart is.” I took a short break to run outside when the milk truck came, but our driver, Doug—who was remarkably cheerful for having to work on Christmas Day, and thrilled with the loaf of bread Lucy had made him—had no need for me to get in his way. When I returned to the festivities in the house, present-opening went along just fine until the last package—the one Tess had gotten for Nick.

  Nick sat up, pulling his legs from behind me and sitting close enough I could feel the warmth from his arm. He picked up the flat rectangular package and held it to his ear, shaking it.

  “Don’t!” Tess shrieked, giggling. “You’ll break it!”

  “No, he won’t,” Lucy said.

  Tess rolled her eyes. “Oh, Moooom, I know.”

  Nick carefully pulled off the first piece of tape, and Tess scooted closer, her nose above his gift.

  “Just rip it!” Tess chirped.

  He smiled at her, put his finger under a flap, and yanked. The paper fell away from a picture frame, and I stared at it. Heat crept up my neck.

  “Where did you get that?” I asked, trying to sound unconcerned.

  Tess chewed on her lip. “I took it one day, with Mom’s camera.”

  I glanced at Lucy, who smiled anxiously at me.

  “I love it,” Nick said. “It looks just like her.”

  It was a photo of me. Well, me and Queenie. We stood beside my truck, my hand on the open door. I was looking down at Queenie, smiling, while she crouched on her hind legs, ready to launch herself into the cab. It was surprisingly close-up, and I couldn’t believe I was unaware it had been taken.

  “When was this?” I asked.

  Tess shrugged, grinning shyly. “A couple of months ago.”

  Nick held onto the sides of the frame. “It’s a lovely present. Thank you, Tess. Now when I leave today, I won’t have to try so hard to remember what she looks like. Stella, I mean. Queenie’s easy to remember.”

  Everyone laughed at that, except for me. I guessed it was okay he had my picture. But I felt violated, even if the photo was the product of a little girl’s creativity.

  “Speaking of you leaving,” Lucy said to Nick, “I should check on lunch, now that the presents are all done.”

  “Oh, lunch,” Lenny rumbled.

  Lucy pinched him gently. “And you need to come help, you big couch potato.”

  He sighed resignedly and pushed himself off the sofa. “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Like you really mind,” Lucy said.

  He smiled brightly and followed Lucy out of the room.

  Tess pulled a new fluffy fleece hoodie over her head and lay on her stomach, cracking open the cover of the most recent “Amazing Days of Abby Hayes” book.

  I was glad her attention was on her stash and not on Nick and me. Nick rubbed a finger across the picture he’d received and spoke quietly. “You mind very much?”

  I lifted a shoulder. “What can I do? It’s your present.”

  His expression was troubled.

  “No,” I said. “I don’t mind very much. It just feels weird to see a picture I didn’t know existed.” I rolled my neck forward, stretching it from side to side.

  “Neck sore?” Nick asked.

  “Nah. Just tense.”

  Nick got up and sat on the sofa, tossing a pillow on the ground at his feet. “Come here. I’ll rub your shoulders.”

  I eyed him warily, indicating Tess right there in the room.

  He smiled wickedly. “All I’m offering is a shoulder rub.”

  I hesitated, then scooted onto the pillow. His fingers were strong, and while he did hit some sore spots, he also managed to relax some tension. I sat there, unwilling to move, until we were called to the table. Tess jumped up, disappearing quickly. Nick patted my shoulders and stood, swinging a leg over my head to stand in front of me.

  “Come on. Let’s eat.”

  “Thanks for the rub,” I said.

  I grabbed the hand he offered, and he pulled me to my feet, holding me against his chest. “You’re very welcome.” It was a sort of stalemate, broken immediately by Tess’ “Dinner!” from the next room.

  Nick released me, and we walked together to the table, where we devoured our share of the turkey and trimmings. Lucy and Lenny had outdone themselves with homemade cranberry salad, oyster filling, crescent rolls, and chocolate pudding pie for dessert.

  It was delicious, but it would’ve tasted a lot better if Wolf was at his house and Nick was planning on staying at mine.

  Chapter Eighteen

  It seemed that only minutes later Nick and I were standing in the foyer, his duffle bag at his feet. Lucy, Tess, and Lenny had said their good-byes, so now it was up to me to let Nick walk out the door.

  “Thanks for letting me stay,” Nick said. “And for sharing your Christmas.”

  I stuffed my hands in my pockets. “When will I see you again?”

  He looked away. “When will you get down to Virginia?”

  “Nick, it’s the middle of winter. The farm…”

  He closed his eyes. “Yeah. I know. The farm.” He reached down and grabbed the handle of his bag before leaning forward to kiss me. I kissed him back, taking my hands from my pockets and resting them on his arms.

  He pulled away and studied my face. “Stay in touch.” He opened the door and stepped out into the cold.

  “Nick,” I said.

  He turned.

  I paused, the right words evading me. “Drive carefully.”

  He looked at the ground, biting his lips together. “Yeah. Sure. I will.” He strode to the Ranger, which he’d already started and cleared of snow, then stepped into the cab, and shut the door. I heard the emergency brake let go, and Nick took one last look toward the house. I put up my hand, and he slowly drove out the lane.

  When I could no longer see the truck I closed the door and leaned against it, questioning already whether Nick had really been in my house for the past few days. I wondered when—if—I’d ever see him again.

  Pans clanged in the kitchen, breaking me out of my thoughts. I followed the sounds to find Lenny elbows deep in the sink, his back tense with the task of scrubbing the roasting pan.

  Lucy glanced up from where she sat at the table, picking meat off the turkey carcass. “You okay?”

  I wiggled my shoulders up and down, sitting across from her at the table. “Just how set are you about moving out this spring?”

  She frowned. “Moving out?”

  “To a garage apartment.”

  She pulled a piece of brown meat off a bone and ate it. “That’s the plan, right? You rebuild the garage the way it was, and we live in the apartment?”

  I leaned forward, my elbows on the table. “I was wondering if we might want to consider something different.”

  She paused. “Like what?”

  “Like you stay here in the house with me.”

  The room went quiet. Lenny even stopped splashing and peered at me over his shoulder.

  “What?” I said. “A woman can’t change her mind?”

  Lenny turned back to the dishes.


  Lucy smiled. “You’re serious?”

  “You can think about it. You don’t have to answer now.”

  “I don’t have to think about it. The answer’s yes.”

  Lenny peered over his other shoulder.

  “You have a problem with that, Len?” I asked.

  He quickly went back to scrubbing. “Nope. No problem.”

  “Good. I’m glad that’s settled.”

  Lucy smiled some more and ate another bite of turkey. I was enjoying a good yawn when the phone rang.

  “Guess I’ll get it,” I said. “Seeing how you guys are either wet or greasy.”

  “And it is your house,” Lenny said.

  I pushed back my chair. “Well, Lucy lives here, too.” I picked up the receiver. “Royalcrest Farm.”

  “Stella? Merry Christmas.”

  I smiled involuntarily. “Abe. What’s going on?”

  “Ma and the women are cleaning up the dishes, while us guys are busy watching the kids and arguing over what game we’re going to play. My vote is for Up and Down the River, but I’m being outvoted by Bull.”

  “The kids just want to say ‘Bull’ to the adults.”

  “Don’t I know it. Hey, I was wondering if I could come over later this evening? Unless you’ve still got company.”

  There was a twinge behind my temple. “Nope. He’s gone.”

  “I can’t tell from your voice if that’s a good or bad thing. You can fill me in when I come over. Would it be too late if I came after milking? I should probably stick around here for the afternoon.”

  “If you don’t mind me conking out while we’re talking.”

  He laughed. “Wouldn’t be the first time. I’ll see you then.”

  I hung up, and Lenny flung the dish towel onto the counter, having finished up the washing. Lucy still picked at the turkey, popping bites into her mouth. I grabbed the phone book and looked up the Spurgeons’ number. I dialed it, but got their answering machine.

  “Stella Crown,” I said. “Rusty’s friend. I wondered if I could come over sometime, ask you a couple questions. Give me a call when you get in.” I left my number and hung up.

  Lucy pretended not to hear my phone call, but Lenny stared at me with frank curiosity, which I ignored.

  “I’m going on the computer for a bit,” I said. “Unless Tess has hijacked it.”