Christmas in The Sisters: A Holiday Mystery Novel (The Sisters, Texas Mystery Series Book 6)

by Becki Willis

  Despite his best intentions, his hands began to wander and knead. She shifted slightly away to allow him better access, her own hands greedy.

  “Believe me, I know,” she breathed. Beneath her agile fingers, the top buttons of his shirt popped open.

  “Don’t start something we can’t finish,” he warned through a heated kiss.

  “Then you’d better stop touching me like that… nooo, don’t stop,” she complained, all in the same breathless sentence.

  It pained him to say it, but he did. “We have to, Maddy.” One more lingering caress, and he stilled his hands. “We’ve talked about this. We have to set an example for the kids.”

  “I know, I know,” she grumbled. “If we can’t control our own raging hormones, how can we expect them to?” Still throbbing with unfulfilled need, Madison blew out an unsteady breath. “I don’t like it, but I know.”

  “I’ve taken so many cold showers, I think I’m now an honorary Eskimo,” Brash admitted on a grumble.

  Maddy smiled in response. “At least I’m saving on the expense of hot water. That’s something. Not much, but something.”

  “Here.” He thrust her wineglass at her. “Drink your wine and keep your hands off me, before I forget everything I just said and decide to ravish you, after all.”

  “Do not tempt me,” she warned, only half in jest.

  “Maybe we should change to a safer topic. Like the case.”

  “Not as much fun, but I agree. Much safer. So, anything new?” She settled comfortably into the curve of his arm and sipped her wine.

  “Your dad said Tom Haskell used to have a girlfriend that lived here. As far as I knew, he was from the Navasota area and didn’t really have a history here. But if he has ties to The Sisters, he might be more involved in the gambling ring than I realized.”

  “Was this anytime recent?”

  “No, like in the seventies.”

  “That was a long time ago, Brash. I’m not sure it would be relevant.”

  “Maybe not, but it’s worth checking out.”

  “Especially if you can tie him into the Christmas Crimes. You’ve always wondered if they were related.”

  “I’ve watched those security tapes until I’m cross-eyed. I can’t see anything suspicious between Tom Haskell and Danielle Applegate.”

  Madison sat up in interest. “Her last name is Applegate?”

  “Yes, that’s right. Why, do you know it?”

  “That’s the name of one of the women Vanessa Hutchins works with. She’s in the Bunco group.”

  “Where does she live?”

  “Several miles out of town, out on Luna Road. Her first name is Charmaine.”

  “They could be related,” Brash reasoned. “Growing up, Danielle lived out that direction. She didn’t mention whether her parents still live here, but apparently, her aunt does. She’s the one who told her about the recent burglaries.”

  Madison chewed on her inner lip. After a moment of silence, she announced, “So, now I’m even more convinced that Danielle Applegate is involved.”

  “How so?”

  “Vanessa and Charmaine both work at the pharmacy. It’s only natural to talk to your co-worker about what you’re doing for Christmas, the gifts you’re buying and wrapping, that sort of thing.”

  “It is?”

  She ignored the interruption and continued with her theory. “So, what if Vanessa discusses her Christmas purchases at work? I know almost everyone in The Sisters uses Shubert’s Pharmacy, being it’s the only one in either town. What if Charmaine inadvertently tells Danielle some of the things people are buying this year? Danielle tells Tom Haskell, Tom Haskell breaks into the houses, they share the wealth between them.”

  “I suppose it’s possible.”

  She could hear the doubt in his voice. “But you don’t think it’s probable.”

  “I see some problems with that scenario. For starters, Tom Haskell doesn’t fit the description of the man Marilyn Bashinski saw running from her house.”

  “You’re the one who said the man ran a gambling operation from prison. It stands to reason that he has underlings to do the dirty work for him.”

  “True. But I’m still not convinced that Danielle Applegate is the common denominator in all this. I did a background check on her and she’s clean. Not even a speeding ticket. And there’s nothing on the surveillance tapes to incriminate her or any of her co-workers from the jewelry store. I hate to say it, but there’s also no reason to think Tom Haskell is directly connected to the Christmas Crimes, either.”

  Disappointment sagged in her voice. “You think I’m way off base. That I’m fixating on the Danielle/Tom Haskell link because I don’t like the man.”

  “Don’t get me wrong. I’d love to pin this on the guy, too. And yes, your theory is somewhat plausible, but only if we assume the hijackings along the road are crimes of opportunity and not part of the overall plan. Still possible, but something about it feels off. I think we’re still missing something.”

  “Like what?”

  “If I knew that, I’d have already made an arrest.”

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  Madison knew she was being stubborn. Brash was an experienced officer of the law and made perfectly valid points to discount her theory about Danielle Applegate and Tom Haskell. There was nothing to point at their guilt. Nothing, other than this nagging notion in the back of her head. Like a hound dog on a scent, she couldn’t let it go.

  She still tested the theory in her head the next day, as they finished the final round of cookies for the Cookie Campaign.

  “Last batch, going in the oven,” Granny Bert announced. She dusted her gnarled hands off and propped them upon her hips. “Can’t say I’m not glad to be done with it. This was a good project, but I’m getting too old to bake this many cookies on an almost daily basis.”

  “You, old?” Happy smiled at her mother-in-law with true affection. “You haven’t aged a day since I married into this family. You’re just not accustomed to being tied down to one task this long.”

  “I think you have me confused with my son, missy. Charlie is the one who doesn’t like doing the same old thing every day.”

  “True, but I think he may have learned that from his mother. Admit it, baking all these cookies keeps you from doing the things you’d really like to be doing, like traveling, or spending time with your handsome cowboy friend.”

  “I do like to travel, but not at Christmastime. I like to be here with my family during the holidays.” She handily avoided all references to Sticker. “Baking has been fun, but I’m plumb tuckered out from being on my feet for so long. And I still have more shopping to do. Ready or not, Christmas is upon us, girls.”

  “So, when these cookies are gone, the Cookie Campaign is over?” A note of sorrow clung to Happy’s voice. She and Charlie had thoroughly enjoyed the interaction with old friends and new acquaintances.

  “Folks will still drive by, looking at the lights,” Granny Bert assured her. “But when they text the number, they’ll just get a song, or a heartfelt wish for a Merry Christmas. Leaves us these last few evenings to take care of our own rat killing.”

  “I guess that’s only fair,” Happy agreed with a sigh. “I know you’ve been doing this a lot longer than Charlie and I have. Maddy, you and Brash are still going shopping this evening, right?” When her daughter didn’t reply, she repeated the question.

  “I’m sorry,” Madison apologized. “My mind was somewhere else. And yes, ma’am, we’re leaving as soon as his shift is over. I don’t know the first thing about picking out a rod and reel for Blake.”

  “You’ve been quiet all afternoon,” Granny Bert remarked. “What’s bothering you?”

  “I can’t stop thinking about the Christmas Crimes. I think I’m on to a good lead, but Brash doesn’t fully agree.”

  “You can run it by me, see if it makes sense to an old lady.”

  Maddy gave her grandmother a shrewd look. “You aren’t fo
oling me a minute with this ‘old lady’ routine. You just want in the loop.”

  “Darn tootin’, I do. But you know good and well I can probably help.”

  After a moment’s consideration, Maddy gave in. “Maybe you can help. What can you tell me about a woman named Danielle Applegate? She grew up here before moving to Bryan. I think she might be a niece to Charmaine Applegate, the woman who works at the pharmacy.”

  “I remember Danielle. And yes, you’re right about her being Charmaine’s niece, even though they tell a different story. In their version, Charmaine claims to be her mother.”

  The news took Madison by surprise. “What? Why?”

  “Charmaine and her husband took the baby to raise, after her sister gave birth out of wedlock. Right out of high school, Molly met some fellow and took off with him. Next thing we know, Charmaine leaves town for a couple of months, then comes back with a baby, claiming to have been hospitalized in Dallas.”

  “How do you know that wasn’t true?”

  “Because your grandfather and I happened to be over in Lufkin, where their momma was originally from. Who do you think we see, but a very trim Charmaine and a very pregnant Molly, just a few weeks before Danielle was born. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to know which one was the baby’s mother, especially when Molly came back to town and picked up her romance with Randy Redmond, right where she left off. It paid off, too. They were married within six months.”

  The surprises kept coming. “Danielle’s birth mother married a Redmond?”

  “Yes, but the marriage didn’t last but a few years. When she realized Randy wasn’t going to be the next banker in the family, she moved on to greener pastures.”

  “So, Charmaine raised her niece as her own child and no one was the wiser?”

  “Oh, most folks knew their stories didn’t add up, but they also knew the child was better off with Charmaine than her sister.”

  “What happened to the sister?”

  “You mean Molly? After dumping Randy, she married Berle Shubert.”

  This was the biggest surprise of all. “You mean Molly Shubert, the second and much younger wife of sweet Mr. Shubert from the pharmacy? That’s the Molly we’re talking about?”

  “The one and only.”

  “So, Molly Shubert had a baby right out of high school, gave it to her sister to raise, married into and out of the Redmond family, and then hooked up with a man old enough to be her father?”

  Granny Bert nodded, her facial expression filled with meaning. “A man whose first wife conveniently died of a prescribed drug overdose. A man who was rich enough, and lonely enough, to buy his young, pretty wife anything her heart desired.”

  “But—But Mr. Shubert wouldn’t harm a fly!” Madison sputtered in outrage. “You can’t seriously think he had something to do with his first wife’s death!”

  “Never said that he did. But Charmaine has been a tech at that pharmacy her whole career. What’s more, she got a job there for her sister, about a year before Blanche Shubert took a fatal overdose.”

  “Are you saying what I think you’re saying?”

  “I’m saying that Molly Crowder Redmond set her sights on Berle Shubert and she didn’t rest until she had his two-carat ring on her finger. I’m saying she befriended Blanche and somehow ingratiated herself into their lives. Ran errands and cooked for her as Blanche started getting weaker. I’m saying she practically pushed her way into the house, all the while pushing their two daughters out. She even convinced Berle to let her plan a surprise trip for Blanche to celebrate their fortieth anniversary. I’m saying that Molly was one of the last people to see Blanche alive, and the first person in the house when she died. By the time the daughters asked questions and the police got around to investigating—that hair-brained Roy Lee Sikes was chief at the time—the pill bottles were long gone. I’m telling you that four months after his wife was buried—four months, mind you!—Berle Shubert married that girl down in Tahiti, on a trip he thought was meant for Blanche.”

  Madison was horrified by her grandmother’s account. “That’s awful! And the police could never prove anything?”

  Granny Bert snorted, resorting to one of her favorite sayings. “Sikes was as useless as a screen door on a submarine! That man couldn’t prove it was raining during a flash flood. The daughters tried to bring in outside investigators, but Berle wouldn’t hear of it. Threatened to cut them out of the will. The way I hear it, Molly managed to do so anyway, although I’m not sure they know it yet. That should make for an interesting situation when old Berle dies. He’s been doing poorly, you know. Too sick to even play Santa this year. Not sure if his diabetes is catching up with him, or if Molly’s got eyes on another husband.”

  Scowling heavily, Madison asked, “Granny, are you sure about all this?”

  The look her grandmother seared her with could wither a rose. “What kind of question is that?”

  Madison shook her head in defeat. “A silly one, I’m sure.”

  “So why are you asking about Charmaine and Danielle? Molly may be a real number, but as far as I know, Charmaine is a decent kind of gal.”

  The buzzer sounded on the oven. Happy donned a mitt and pulled the trays out, leaving Granny Bert and Madison to their conversation. Without calling Tom Haskell’s name, Madison briefly outlined her theory.

  “I don’t know,” Granny Bert ruminated. “Seems like a mighty flimsy connection to me.”

  “It makes sense,” Madison insisted stubbornly. “Almost all the cases involve a jewelry purchase. Working at the jewelry store, Danielle knows where the people live and what they bought. That gives her means and opportunity. And believe me, the man she’s friendly with is definitely not above breaking into their homes to steal it.”

  “Has this same sort of thing happened with customers in other towns?”

  “Not that Brash is aware of.”

  “I hate to point out the obvious, but there are very few millionaires, if any, living here in Juliet and Naomi. The bigger diamonds and the really valuable jewels are most likely under trees in some other town. Why pick only on customers living in The Sisters?”

  “Like Brash pointed out, we live in a trusting community. Not many houses here have alarm systems. Half of those are only used when the owners are away on vacation. A few people still don’t even bother locking their homes or automobiles. He thinks all that trust and sense of security makes our town an easy target.”

  “Hate to say it, but he might have a point.”

  “Being from here originally, Danielle Applegate would know that.”

  “True, but so would plenty of other people.”

  Happy interrupted them with an exasperated, “Am I going to get any help over here?”

  “Sorry, Mom,” Madison apologized, quickly lending her mother a hand. As they worked to transfer cookies to cooling racks and sort those already cooled, Madison thought about all she had learned.

  “I still can’t believe that about Molly Shubert,” she said after a while. “She seems so refined. I only know her from the pharmacy, but she always seems nice.”

  “It’s easy to be nice and to put on airs,” Granny Bert pointed out, “when you’re spending someone else’s money. Berle’s credit card bought her way into the finest salons and spas, where they whittled away the rough edges and polished her up nice and pretty. But that old bird still has some sharp talons. Did I mention she has a connection to your friend Bernie Havlicek?”

  Madison’s eyes widened and she stopped in the middle of bagging a cookie assortment. “How?”

  “Her other daughter married Bernie’s younger brother. Like most of his family, Doug had an aversion to working. He was more creative than most of his relatives, though, and he was forever coming up with some get-rich-quick scheme. He even convinced Molly to invest in a hotshot service. The business lasted longer than the marriage did. She keeps it on the down low, but the way I hear it, Molly still has her fingers in the business. Now that she’s got mon
ey, she likes to downplay her connection to the Havliceks.”

  “What’s a hotshot service?” Madison asked.

  To her surprise, her mother was the one to answer that question. “That’s what your father did for a while. It’s an on-call delivery service, geared mostly for the oil industry. When something breaks down on an oilrig, it can mean losing thousands of dollars an hour. People will pay ungodly amounts to have a piece of equipment delivered onsite. I’ve seen your father drive all the way out to Odessa to pick up some critical gear and deliver it to a rig over in Jasper.” She made a tsk-tsk sound and shook her head in wonder. “He wore out a brand-new Dodge truck, driving back and forth across Texas.”

  “Is that what you called his trucking days? I thought you meant he drove an eighteen-wheeler.”

  Her mother shook her head, long hair dancing around her shoulders. “He took the smaller jobs, when a half-ton truck was faster and more efficient. Plus, using his own truck meant less paperwork and regulations. And you know your father, the less restrictions, the better!” Happy laughed at her own joke.

  “Never did like my son working for those people,” Granny Bert grumbled. “Those Havliceks are nothing but trouble!”

  “Wait. Dad worked for the Havliceks?” The thought was preposterous.

  “Only for a few months,” her mother assured her. “He made a couple of runs with Tom Haskell—they were both working as hotshots at the time—but something just didn’t feel right to him. He suspected they were carrying stolen goods. He put in his resignation right after that.”

  “A prime example,” Granny Bert spat, “of the sort of riffraff those Havliceks mingle with.”

  “I think my head is going to explode,” Madison murmured in amazement. “I have learned all sorts of new things in the last thirty minutes.”

  “Well, here’s something else to tuck into your little noggin,” her grandmother said. “Something you can pass on to your man. Word is that there’s another game scheduled for tomorrow night, the last one of the year. They’re calling it a Christmas party so the wives won’t grumble about the men going out, so close to the holidays.”