by Becki Willis
“You were right. The Hutchins house is like the North Pole on crack.”
“You do know you’re starting to sound like Blake,” he laughed. “And yes, they do go a bit overboard, don’t they?”
“I have honestly never seen so many decorations in all my life. It makes me doubly appreciate my less-is-more concept around here. Granted, ‘less’ is all I could afford this year. Come to think of it, it’s probably all I can afford until the twins are out of college.”
“I think what you’ve done looks perfect.”
“Thanks. As for the investigation, they’ve given me their guest lists and I’ve checked out about half the names. The guys who delivered the freezer have impeccable records of employment, the boys who worked on the lawn turned out to be ace students in school with excellent reputations, the Avon woman is Reverend Wallace’s sister, the paper boy is ten, and most of the women who come to Bunco are connected to Vanessa through church. But I’m working on it, slowly but surely.”
“And the Carrs? Anything the two cases have in common?”
“They are like polar opposites. Where Vanessa Hutchins is cheerful and upbeat, Mona Carr is sarcastic and rude. And she’s a flat-out liar, Brash. They are cheating the insurance company, claiming all sorts of false purchases.” She told him the discrepancies she found and why she suspected fraud.
“I’ll give them a call,” he promised, “and mention that lying to the adjusters is the same as committing theft against the insurance company. What about either of those cases, compared to the Bashinskis? Anything jump out at you as similar?”
“Mrs. Hutchins mentioned stealing a Black Friday deal from—oops, bad choice of words. Of ‘out-shopping’ two of the junior high teachers on Black Friday. The B’s are both teachers. Could that be anything?”
“I doubt it.”
“I didn’t think so, but it’s about all I see so far, other than the whole Christmas gift angle.” She lifted her head from his chest to look at him and ask, “Isn’t it possible that the thefts are random? That it’s just someone out to make an easy score, knowing people are Christmas shopping this time of year?”
“Of course it’s possible. But it’s my job to ignore coincidence and look for confirmation.”
Madison couldn’t help but tease him. “And by your job, you really mean the one you handed off to me.”
“At a very reasonable hourly rate, I might add.”
She accepted his light kiss before snuggling against him again. “As soon as I cross-reference and clear all the people who had access or interactions with the victims, I’ll start cross-referencing the presents. See if they happened to shop in the same place, that sort of thing.”
Brash smiled down at her proudly. “I knew I made a wise choice, hiring In a Pinch as a consultant. You sound like a professional investigator.”
“Watching you, I’m learning from the best.”
“Good thing neither one of us is prejudiced.”
She returned his smile. “Yeah, isn’t, though?”
CHAPTER NINE
Granny Bert fully supported the twins’ plans for the Cookie Campaign, as Bethani dubbed it. She volunteered to buy the initial supplies, as long as they made enough cookies to stock her own jars. Granny Bert liked to bake ahead and freeze as much as possible, given the many events and parties she attended—and hosted—during the holiday season. This way, she said, they all came out winners.
For the next several days, the kitchen at the Big House looked more like a sugar war zone than it did the normally tidy retreat Madison had come to know and love. Because of the extra space in the newly remodeled kitchen, Granny Bert had agreed to do the baking there, rather than at her house. She also cited the disaster Blake created during their Mother’s Day bake-a-thon.
When they went through the first round of supplies at an alarming rate, Genny stepped up and said New Beginnings would donate whatever else was needed. With her and Megan helping, the family whipped out dozens of delicious creations.
The aroma of freshly baked cookies wafted throughout the old mansion and lent a special sweetness to the holiday season. Who needed sugarplums, Blake quipped, when they had visions of cookies dancing in their heads, and, most importantly, in their tummies?
With the help of Jamil’s father Demarco, Blake created the texting system for their Cookie Campaign. The girls made signs that explained the process. Text the number 266543—cookie, in numeric—while within fifty feet of the Big House and wait for a surprise response. It could be anything from a song, a special Christmas story or remembrance, or, if callers were lucky, the announcement that stated, ‘Please meet us at the gate to accept your gift of Christmas cookies.’ Calls from the same number were only granted cookies once, but they soon discovered that recipients came time and time again, simply to enjoy the lights and hear the random voice offerings.
Each night, a long line of cars made the corner on Second and Main to enjoy the new tradition.
One evening, dashing out to the curb with a bag of gingersnaps, Madison was surprised to see the driver behind the wheel of a shiny new Mercedes. The last person she expected to celebrate the holidays, particularly at her house, was Barry Redmond.
“Hello, Barry,” she said, forcing out a congenial smile. “On behalf of my family, Merry Christmas! We hope you enjoy your cookies.”
He batted the cookies away, knocking them to the ground. “I’ve reported you to the city council, you know,” he snarled. “You’re creating a traffic hazard! Just look at all these cars. There are vehicles backed up all the way to the railroad.”
“I have the perfect solution for you, Barry,” she said, keeping her voice even and pleasant. “Stay on your side of the tracks and don’t venture into Juliet. Problem solved.”
“You think you are some sort of princess, but you don’t have royal blood. You’re not related to Bertram Randolph in any way.”
“And thank the Lord, or else I would be related to you.”
If he heard her muttered statement, he chose to overlook it. He continued with his rant. “Yet you live in Juliet Randolph’s house! It should have remained in the Randolph bloodline.”
“Don’t you ever get tired of this ridiculous vendetta of yours? Juliet Randolph didn’t have children of her own, so she willed this house to my grandmother.”
“Her cook’s daughter!” he spat. “A servant!”
It was Madison’s turn to ignore the interruption. “Granny Bert sold it to me. It was all perfectly legal, perfectly legit. If you’re offering to buy the house from me, it’s not for sale.”
“I may take you to court and sue you for it, but I can promise you, I wouldn’t pay you a red dime for this house.”
“Good, because I prefer silver dimes.” She stepped back from the car. “If you don’t mind, Barry, you’re holding up traffic and creating a hazard.”
“Why you—you …!” Outraged, he could find no suitable term to condemn her with.
“Surely you have better things to do with your time than to harass me,” Madison said. She flashed a fake smile and suggested, “Like looking for wife number five, perhaps?” She moved further away from the curb. “Bye now. Merry Christmas.”
She turned her back to the glowering banker, feeling his hatred burn through her blouse. She had more important things to worry about than Barry Redmond.
For starters, she had to find time to re-buy all the gifts for the Angel Tree.
***
“You see what I mean?” Granny Bert beamed at her granddaughter as they exited the hardware store. “Now do you see why it’s so important to buy local?”
“Yes, Granny, they were very generous.”
“Generous? They matched every dollar you spent, nickel for nickel! You went in for three bicycles and a skateboard. You came out with four bikes, two skateboards, and one of those new fan-dangled scooters. You wouldn’t have gotten that deal at one of your fancy box stores, young lady. No ma’am, they wouldn’t have donated a thing, unless y
ou submitted it in writing to their board of overpaid executives, sometimes prior to the Ice Age. You couldn’t walk in one of their stores and walk out the same day with a deal like this.”
“No, but I could have shown a Groupon and gotten the same deal on the scooter.”
“What in tarnation is a Groupon?”
“It’s an online coupon that’s good for—oh, never mind. You’re right. Mr. Evans was very generous.” It was easier to admit defeat than argue with her grandmother, especially when she was on her soapbox. “Who’s next?”
“Jolene Kopetsky’s resale shop, but maybe I’d better sit this one out.”
Madison was immediately suspicious. “Granny Bert, what did you do?”
“Nothing.”
“You said that too quickly and too innocently. Spill it.” Madison got behind the wheel and slid her sunglasses into place. Even though it was the middle of December, the sun was bright and it was a balmy seventy-five degrees. The weatherman kept promising a cold front, but he had yet to deliver.
“I might have heard she was sniffing around where she doesn’t belong.”
“She was flirting with Sticker again, wasn’t she? I heard about that display she put on at the Lion’s Club Christmas party.”
“Made a darn fool of herself, fawning all over the man, and with me sitting right there by his side!” her grandmother sniffed, fastening her seatbelt at her waist.
“So, what did you do?”
“Why do you think I did anything, girl?”
“Because I know you. And because you’ve been in every single store so far, giving them all the hard sell. Now you suddenly want to sit this one out. So, what gives?”
“I’m eighty-one years old, Madison Josephine. A body gets plumb tuckered out, hopping in and out of a hot vehicle all day long.”
Unfazed by her grandmother’s empathic claim, Madison shook her head. “You’re trying too hard to convince me, Granny. We both know you have more energy than I do. Tell me the real reason you don’t want to go inside Mrs. Kopetsky’s store.”
“Because she’s a spiteful old woman who will take her personal grudge against me out on those poor, innocent, needy children.”
“I’m already sold on the program, Granny. Just tell me what you did.”
“Oh, all right! I may have put soap shavings in her egg salad to prove she’s a mediocre cook, at best. Nothing’s more embarrassing than taking home a full dish because no one will eat your cooking.”
“Granny!” Madison cried in dismay.
“She had it coming. She knows Sticker Pierce is stepping out with me. She not only disrespected our friendship, she made a spectacle of herself and gave widows worldwide a black eye!”
Madison bit back a smile. “Flirting with your boyfriend and asking him to dance is not giving widows worldwide a black eye.”
“You didn’t see the dance, girl. She did the down and dirty with him, right there in the middle of the Lion’s Club dance floor.”
“I did hear it was rather… risqué,” Madison admitted. She had heard a few other adjectives, as well, ‘comical’ being one of them.
“So, I think it’s best I sit this one out.”
Madison sighed. “You might have a point.” She pulled up to the business and gave her grandmother a sharp look. “Can I depend on you to stay out of trouble? You won’t egg her windows or anything like that, will you?”
“Not before you’ve gotten her donation, I won’t.”
“She might not donate anything. She might sell me the items at full price.”
“Not if you play your cards right. Mention that I’m feeling poorly, after racing around town gathering donations from all the generous merchants. Play me up to be a saint.”
“And you think that will encourage her to donate something to the Angel Tree?”
“I don’t know, but it certainly can’t hurt. Make her think twice about who’s she up against.”
“Granny Bert! This isn’t about you, you know.”
“Then do this. Throw in the clincher. Tell her I said that if we could get every single merchant in town to match our purchases, dollar for dollar, I promised to stay home all evening and wrap presents. Tell her she’s the last one on the list, and if she doesn’t participate, you lose the bet and have to wrap the gifts by yourself.”
“Why should she care if I have to wrap them all myself?”
“Because tonight is the Knights of Columbus party, and she made Sticker promise to save her a dance. She’ll donate half her store, just to make certain I stay home tonight and wrap.”
“But Sticker is out of town, visiting his newest great-grandchild.”
A broad smile broke across Bertha Cessna’s wrinkled face. “Yeah, but she doesn’t know that.”
Madison was still laughing as she walked into Good as New.
As Jolene Kopetsky bustled to fulfill Madison’s order and generously donated additional merchandise to equal more than twice the amount spent—it was such a good cause, after all, and what a shame Bertha would miss the party tonight—Madison visited with another shopper in the store.
“I heard what happened to you,” the older woman said, “getting your car and all your presents stolen. What is this world coming to? And here in The Sisters, no less!”
“Oh, my car wasn’t stolen,” Madison corrected. “But it is true he stole all the gifts I had purchased for the Angel Tree.”
“But pushing you down like that! That was completely cruel.”
“He didn’t push me. To be honest, I knew something wasn’t right, but I didn’t realize he was robbing me until he drove away, taking the presents with him.” When she said it aloud, it sounded so foolish. How could she have not known? The lights had been so blinding, though, and she had been busy trying to get a covert call through to 9-1-1.
“I heard Molly Shubert’s niece saw a man following you through the mall. After she heard what happened, she felt just terrible about not reporting it to security.”
“Oh, well, I don’t know about that,” Madison frowned. So far, nothing else the woman heard was correct. She wasn’t sure this was any different.
As Madison collected her wares and thanked the storeowner again for her generosity, Jolene beamed back at her. “It’s the least we could do, especially since you’re shopping local this go around. And you tell your grandmother I said bless her heart for helping you tonight. You tell her not to fret over her friend being left out. I’ll invite him to sit at our table, just so he won’t be lonesome.”
Madison felt almost guilty as she returned the smile and said, “That’s very thoughtful of you. I’ll be sure and do just that. Bye, now. And thanks again.”
“Oh, thank you!” the older woman gushed. She was already licking her lips in anticipation, fluffing her blue-gray bouffant as Madison walked out the door.
“Well?” Granny Bert demanded the minute Madison crawled into the car after stuffing her items inside.
“Worked like a charm. She donated more than I spent.”
Granny Bert laughed triumphantly, rubbing her hands together in glee. “I can’t wait to see her face tonight, when I walk into that KC hall!”
“But you promised to help me wrap gifts tonight.”
“No, I said to tell her I promised I would. I never made such a claim. That’s a horse of a completely different color.”
“Granny, that’s not fair! And that has nothing to do with a horse. It’s got something to do with the back end of a similar but slightly different breed.”
“Don’t be calling your old granny names, girl. And don’t be a sore loser. Let me off the hook tonight, and I’ll tell you what I just saw.”
Making no promises—two could play this horse game—Madison asked coolly, “What did you see?”
“I just saw Dickey Fowler hop on the weekly Greyhound. Looks like that boy is skipping town.”
CHAPTER TEN
Madison couldn’t reach Brash or either of his officers. Vina confirmed they were all
out in the field, following a lead on the gambling ring.
Cutter was the next obvious choice. Not wasting time with needless questions, the chief of the volunteer fire department jumped in the fire engine and chased the bus down, catching up with it a few miles out of town. He eventually convinced the driver it was part of a new fire prevention break-check program. By the time he boarded the bus to offer his personal apology for the delay—and to sign autographs for female passengers who were fans of the home-makeover show—Dickey Fowler had exited through the emergency door and taken off for the woods.
“I’m sorry, Maddy,” the firefighter apologized to his friend when they met up at New Beginnings Café. “He slipped out on me.”
Madison was disappointed but sympathetic. “It’s not your fault. And I hope you don’t get in trouble for stopping the bus like that.”
“Don’t worry. I covered myself.” He gave her an example of the charming smile that had gotten him aboard the bus in the first place.
Leaning over his shoulder as she poured another glass of sweet tea, his fiancé wasn’t fooled for a moment. “Which is his way of saying the driver and half the passengers were female,” Genny translated.
Cutter grazed her cheek with a kiss. “Don’t be jealous, Genny darlin’. The bus driver was old enough to be my mother.” With a glint in his blue eyes, he couldn’t help but tease, “She was at least a year or two older than you.”
“Watch it, buster, or I’ll toss you out of here,” she threatened in jest. “Didn’t you see my new sign by the register? No shirt, no shoes, no respect, no service.” She mussed his dark-blond hair with a devilish tease of her own. “Behave yourself, little boy.”
For months, her best friend had fought her attraction to the man eight years her junior. Now that she had accepted the age difference—along with his marriage proposal—it had become a favorite joke between them.
Genny went on about her duties with other customers, leaving Madison and Cutter at the booth to talk.
