Persephone Cole and the Christmas Killings

by Heather Haven

  Good God, I hope so. This being broke all the time is getting on my nerves.

  The scenery shifted from cement grey streets and red brick buildings to mostly trees and foliage, dressed down for the winter. It hadn’t snowed yet but had rained mightily and the rain-soaked terrain looked bleak and sad. Percy shivered and turned on the heater, hoping it might kick in. It didn’t.

  Percy removed the slip of paper with the directions from the right breast pocket of her suit when she reached the Nassau County line. She’d heard about Sands Point, where the swells lived, but had never met anybody with enough greenbacks to live there. The people she knew struggled for every dime and came from the tenements or Flat Bush.

  A glimpse of her reflection in the rearview mirror made Percy wish she’d taken time to comb her hair. She tucked a wisp of a curl back into the crown of the hat, pulled down the brim, and looked back at the road.

  Hanging a right off Middle Neck Road onto Tideway, a long row of filigreed wrought iron fences appeared. Ornate gates worthy of ushering in fancy schmancy cars stood sentinel in front of wide driveways. In varying shades of gold, black or grey cast iron metal, they shielded the sloping lawns and set-back mansions from the uninvited and riff-raff, such as her. From what she saw on the map, the other side of the mansions hovered near the Long Island Sound, within skipping distance of moored sailboats and yachts. Five years previous, a hurricane had struck Long Island, the likes of which no one expected. Fire Island was totally submerged, and a lot of the stately dwellings she passed had six-feet of water dancing on their marble and oak ballroom floors instead of somebody’s well-shod tootsies.

  You couldn’t pay me to live out here. She clucked self-righteously. Give me a fourth floor walk-up anytime. Well, maybe not a fourth floor walk-up, because I’d like a yard for Oliver to play in, but it has to be in the City, for crying out loud. Someday we’ll have our own place, maybe in Chelsea, just the two of us. Five grand could make it happen. I’ll make it happen.

  Finding the address she needed, she pulled into an oyster-shelled driveway, tires crackling her arrival, and came to a stop in front of a wrought iron gate wearing the initials WW in seven foot high letters. A sharp wind smelling of salty, cold air with an overlay of fish blew the broken butterfly window open, blasting her in the face. She pushed the small pane closed, only to have it blown open again, when she released her hand.

  She looked around the sparse, neat interior of the car for a string, twine or rope, something similar to the one attached, now frayed and broken by the strain of the constant wind.

  Where the hell’s a rubber band when you need one?

  Frustrated, she searched the seats of the car then leaned over to look on the floorboard. Her hat fell off and curls cascaded down and in her face. Wait a minute! She reached up and yanked at the rubber band containing her high ponytail. With hurried movements, she secured the band around the knob on the frame and the handle of the window. It held fast.

  She twisted her hair on top of her head and slammed on the hat, pulling it down as far as it would go, and checked the results in the rearview mirror.

  I look ridiculous. Her ears jutted out and she had no forehead to speak of. But the hat should stay on, even in the gale-force winds kicking up outside.

  Scanning the double gate for a latch, Percy spotted it, got out, and gave it a twist open. Percy pushed at both gates and, aided by the wind, they spread apart and smacked against the back side of the fence. She returned to the car, drove through, toying with the idea of shutting the gates.

  Nope. All things being equal, sweetie, you might need to make a hasty retreat.

  Though the rain had stopped hours ago, dripping, leafless trees lining either side of the driveway still looked depressed and ominous. Percy followed the driveway to the front of a three-story red-brick house, where the drive offered either the five-car garage as a resting place or made a circle that looped back onto itself. She stopped the car in front of the house, leaned over to the passenger’s side, and looked out.

  Holy cow! I’ve seen hotels smaller than this. I’m glad I put on matching socks.

  She hopped out of the car and shivered, wishing she’d worn her coat. It had to be at least fifteen degrees colder here than in the City. Turning her head to give her a full view of both the grounds and the front of the house, she noted that the place looked deserted. Between the lack of vegetation and the weather, she’d seen happier-looking graveyards.

  The curved front steps had been painted an austere white. The massive front door sported a large fir wreath dotted with holly and pinecones. It was the only human touch she could see. The Christmas wreath had been painted gold - like all of it, baby -- in the same gilding as her mother’s table and mirror. Even the ribbon had a veneered, stiff look. Percy took a moment to stare at the wreath then shook her head.

  I don’t know, this must be me. What’s with all the tacky gold?

  She raised her hand to ring the doorbell when the door burst open, startling her. On the other side of the threshold, a young brunette, equally startled, stood holding a small, blue leather overnight case in one hand. At her side, a large matching piece of luggage sat on a black and white checked marble floor, waiting for her to have a free hand to pick it up.

  Like most people who are surprised, both women momentarily stood staring and frozen in place, one with a hand reaching down for luggage, the other woman reaching for the doorbell.

  Percy recovered first. Even though the girl no longer had a face painted like a Hoochie Coochie dancer, Percy knew the owner of this clean, but blotchy mug was Lily. Further, the girl dressed in a dark green wool coat, matching wide brimmed felt hat set back from her tear-stained face, was obviously making a run for it – thus the luggage.

  Percy reached forward with the same hand she was going to use to ring the bell. The movement caused the girl to screech, wheel around, and dashed back inside the house.

  “Hey, wait a minute! Lily! I need to talk to you!” Percy followed her and snatched at the first thing she could grab hold of, the back of the girl’s coat collar. “Your father sent me. I’m here to help you,” she tried to say over the screaming.

  “Leave me alone! Don’t hurt me! Let me go!” Lily dropped the case, pivoting and twirling in place in an effort to break free, all the while shrieking at the top of her voice.

  Surmising the five-foot two- girl didn’t weigh more than a hundred pounds, Percy wrapped a solid arm around Lily’s body and lifted her in the air.

  “Jeesh, all right, already,” said Percy. “Shut up, will you, and I’ll let you go. What’s the matter with you?”

  Instead of answering, Lily stopped struggling, but reached back over her head. She made contact with Percy’s hat and ripped it off, pulling out hunks of red hair.

  “Ow!” Stunned, Percy dropped the girl, who turned around and kicked Percy as hard as she could in the shin. The older woman let out a cry of pain and bent over her injured leg. Long red curls, freed from their imprisonment, tousled every which way, some touching the floor.

  “Oh, no,” Lily cried out. “You’re not a man, you’re a woman.” She stood staring in wonderment at the wounded woman bowed over, rubbing her shin.

  “Ow! Criminy, sister, of course I’m a woman!” A pain riddled face stared back at the young one’s then broke out in a smile. She straightened up and looked down. “You thought I was a man?”

  The girl gave a stiff nod, as if embarrassed.

  “That’s funny.” Percy threw her head back and laughed then stopped mid-chuckle. “No it’s not.” She looked directly into Lily’s face, searching her eyes. “You were scared because you thought I was a man?”

  Lily didn’t answer but burst into tears, bringing hands to her face and sobbing noisily into them. Great gulping sounds wracked her small body.

  “All right, all right, all right. Stop it,” Percy demanded. Putting aside the throbbing of her shin, she grabbed Lily by the top of the coat sleeve, much the way Hutchers had grabb
ed her, and dragged her to a nearby seating area.

  “Okay, sit down, kid.”

  Lily obeyed, dropping herself into a red and wine embroidered high back chair. She looked young and miserable. Percy sat in a matching chair facing the girl and stared at her.

  “You are Lily Waller, right?”

  The girl nodded but didn’t look up.

  “My name is Persephone Cole and I’m a private detective. My friends call me Percy but you can call me Miss Cole. You hear me say your father sent me to help you?”

  The girl nodded again but turned away. Now she looked more scared than miserable. She started to cry again.

  “Okay, stop that. And I mean it.” Percy used her brusque and no nonsense voice. “We don’t have time for tears, so cut it out.”

  Lily stopped sobbing, but still wouldn’t look at Percy.

  “That’s better. We need to talk and we need to do it quick. The cops are going to be here any minute.”

  Lily looked up at Percy, horror written all over her face. “The police? Here?”

  “That’s right.”

  “Then I’ve got to get away!” She started to rise, but Percy reached over and shoved her back in the chair.

  “Not so fast. I’ll help you get away but, I have one question first and you’re going to look me in the eye and tell me the truth.” Percy leaned forward, sharp, green eyes staring into swollen, brown ones. “I’ve got an eight-year old son, so I know a lie when I hear one, okay? Look at me now. Look at me.”

  Hesitantly, almost as if against her will, Lily looked into Percy’s cool, assessing eyes.

  “You kill that elf?”

  Lily didn’t reply, but clenched her jaw, her lips set in a thin, tight line. She shook her head adamantly.

  “That’s good, but I’m going to ask you again and this time, you answer me out loud. Did you kill that man?”

  “No, no, I swear it.” Lily’s voice, unlike before, was low and calm. She sat up in the chair, suddenly revitalized, almost energetic. Words came tumbling out. “I don’t know what happened. I was only gone for a few minutes. When I came back, I found him shot! He was lying in the window, eyes open, blood everywhere. I swear on my dead mother’s grave I didn’t do it.” With those last words, she buried her face in her hands but didn’t cry this time. Maybe the dark felt good.

  Percy studied the girl. “All right, I believe you.” She looked around. “Anybody else here? Anyone know you’re here?”

  Lily looked up and said, “No, everyone’s gone. I --”

  Percy stood, interrupted Lily. “Then get up and let’s get going.”

  The girl stood but didn’t move. “Where --?”

  “I’ll tell you in the car.” Percy limped over and picked her hat up from the floor. “Jesus, those shoes are lethal.”

  “I’m sorry --”

  “Never mind. Grab the little bag and let’s get out of here.” Percy plopped the fedora back on her head, picked up the large suitcase in front of the still-open door, and turned to the girl. “What the hell you got in here, bricks?”

  “Books, mostly.” Lily ran to the overnight kit, lying on its side. As she bent over to retrieve it she said, “But where are we going?”

  “Some place safe. At least for now.”

  Lily walked toward Percy but hesitated after a few steps.

  “Lily,” Percy said, running out of patience, “we both got a lot riding on keeping you out of jail, but you move it right now or you’re on your own. Your call.”

  The girl practically flew past Percy, out the door, and down the steps. “Is this your car?”

  “It is. Get in.” Percy opened the back door on the driver’s side and slid the suitcase on the backseat, while Lily clamored into the passenger’s seat. After she slammed her own door shut, Percy started the engine and turned to her passenger.

  “How were you planning on getting away from here? You call a cab or --”

  Now it was Lily’s turn to interrupt Percy. “I’ve got my own car. It’s in the garage. I was going to drive to Canada, somewhere, anywhere.”

  Percy nodded, saying nothing. She followed the circular drive, heading toward the exit and looked over at Lily. “What kind of trees are those?”

  Confused, the girl looked out the window at the passing scenery, searching the terrain.

  “The drippy ones.”

  Lily shook her head. “I don’t know. Is it important?”

  Percy shrugged. “Not really. Just curious. They’re so damned ugly, I wondered why anyone would deliberately plant them.”

  “They’re pretty in the summer,” Lily said, her voice soft and far away, as if she was remembering a time when trees had leaves on them and there were no dead elves.

  Percy drove past the gates, put the car in neutral and opened the car door. “I’ll be right back. I’m going to close the gates.”

  Lily nodded absentmindedly, still lost in her reverie. Gates closed, Percy got back into the car, just as it began to rain heavily again.

  Jeesh, I hope the windshield wipers work, they’ve been shorting out. Oh, the hell with it, I’ve got more important things to worry about. If I have to, I’ll stick my head out the window.

  They drove in silence for several blocks, windshield wipers tapping nicely. The sound of police sirens, faint at first, got louder and louder, until Percy saw flashing lights coming at them on the other side of the road. She slowed down, pulled over, and came to a complete stop on the median. Black and white police cars, three of them, whizzed by.

  “Well, I think we know where that parade is heading.” Percy chuckled to herself.

  “Do you think they saw us?” Lily’s head whipped around, her voice anxious and strained.

  “In this downpour? They’re lucky they can see ten feet ahead of them.” Percy looked at her young charge before getting back onto the road. “Okay, Lily, time to tell me what happened.”

  “Oh, God, must I?” Lily sounded drained of life. She shook her head and leaned against the car door. “I’m so tired.”

  “Rest later, talk now. I need to know what happened; I’m sticking my neck out for you.” For you and five thousand clams, but I don’t have to go into that. “What were you doing in your father’s store at three o’clock in the morning?” The silent girl stared out the window. “Lily?”

  “Do I have to say? I…I’m…I don’t want --”

  “Listen, honey, a man’s been bumped off. He may have been wearing one silly getup, but he’s dead. The cops are looking to pin it on you. You better start talking.”

  “All right.” She let out a deep sigh but continued to lean against the door. “Connie and I…”

  “That’s Conrad Barnes, right?”

  “Yes, his nickname was Connie. It’s usually a girl’s name, but it was his.”

  “I know something about wrong gender nicknames, but go on.”

  “Anyway, Connie thought it would be fun to… to…have relations in Dad’s store window in the middle of the night in our Santa Land costumes.”

  “You mean sex?”

  “Yes.”

  Percy glanced at her. “In the store window? On fifth Avenue?” Even she could hear the school marm tone in her voice.

  “I know how it sounds, what you must be thinking, but it was all in fun. He was a fun sort of person.” She wiped away tears on her face. “I really liked him.” Lily became silent.

  Percy’s eyes turned back to the road. Large drops of water splashed on the windshield with noisy precision. Thankfully, the wipers continued to work. The car hit a deep puddle and slowed it down. Two huge arcs of water splayed out on either side of the vehicle. Percy took her foot off the accelerator, reducing the speed to twenty-five miles an hour, and pumped the brakes to dry them off. She looked at her watch.

  High noon. At this rate, we won’t get back to the City for at least an hour. It can all still work. I’ll make it work.

  “Kid, I’m not good with this silence,” she said to Lily. “Keep talking. How�
�d you get into the store and at what time?”

  “We got there around two, two-thirty. I used my keys --”

  “You’ve got keys to your father’s store?”

  “Sure. It will come to me some day.”

  “If you say so. Go on.”

  “I opened the door, turned off the alarm, and Connie and I started fooling around, you know.” Lily began to draw on the foggy window, little circles and squares. “After a few minutes, I started feeling sick. I’ve been throwing up a lot lately. I think I’ve got the flu or something.”

  Or maybe there’s a rabbit out there somewhere about to die in a pregnancy test. I wonder if you use protection when you have your ‘relations.’ Shut up, Percy.

  Lily stopped drawing on the window and sat bolt upright. “So I went into the bathroom in the back and vomited. I can’t have been gone for more than ten minutes. And when I came back, I saw him…Connie…Oh, it’s too horrible.”

  “Before you start to cry again, did you hear anything? A noise? Something unusual or different.” She glanced over and saw Lily shaking her head in sad jerky motions, wiping away the flowing tears with quivering fingers.

  “And you didn’t see anyone, either? Someone out on the sidewalk or something?”

  “No, no, no.” For the first time, Lily exhibited impatience and anger. “I never saw or heard anything. I’d closed the bathroom door, and I was pretty noisy myself.”

  “What about the hallway door? Did you close that one, too?”

  “Let me think. Yes, yes I did. I didn’t want Connie to hear me. Just thinking about it makes me want to vomit again.”

  “Well, you better give me plenty of warning. I just cleaned this car out.”

  Lily nodded but didn’t answer.

  “Why didn’t you take your purse with you when you bolted?”

  “I couldn’t find it. I looked everywhere.”

  “The cops found it under the body and it had your recently fired gun in it.”

  “Oh, God.” Lily bit her lower lip.

  Percy glanced at the girl. “How’d you get home if you couldn’t find your purse? Weren’t your car keys in there?”