10 Never Mess with Mistletoe

by Edie Claire

  Maura smirked. “Gerry and I will never be forgiven for that toddler drum set, will we?”

  Leigh smirked back. “Oh, hell, no.”

  “Can we talk now, Aunt Mo?” Allison begged. “We can go to my room. You want to interview me privately or does Mom have to be there?”

  All lightheartedness drained from the atmosphere. “Mom will be there,” Leigh answered, rising unwillingly to her feet. “Let’s do this thing.”

  Chapter 16

  Leigh had eaten way too much, and she blamed her husband. As usual, Warren had outdone himself. The dinner was scrumptious, the cake was amazing, and even the weird flavors of ice cream the kids had wanted ended up capping off the rest of the meal perfectly. Now that the presents had been opened and the birthday hoopla concluded, most of the crowd had gone outside. The weather was still pleasant for December, crisp and clear but not too cold, and both kids and adults alike were enjoying throwing around the new LED-lighted discs and watching Ethan fly his Millennium Falcon. Leigh remained inside, however, wallowing around regretting her third helping of dessert.

  “The party’s been lovely,” Lydie congratulated from her position next to Leigh on the couch. “It’s been nice to forget everything else for a few hours.”

  “Amen to that,” Leigh agreed. Maura’s “interview” with Allison hadn’t been too horrible, since it was Allison who had done nearly all of the talking. Maura had easily deflected all the girl’s attempts to draw information the other direction, though Leigh noticed the detective was far more polite about it than Leigh was used to. Maura’s questions were dispassionate, her discussion of next steps was need-to-know, and she refused to participate in any group conjecture. If the detective was concerned about Allison’s personal safety, she did a good job of hiding it, and Leigh found her fears relieved a little. Sooner than expected, Maura had pronounced the interview concluded and herself ready to party.

  “Maura and Gerry do make wonderful parents, don’t they?” Frances commented from the recliner. “They’re both such calm, level-headed people. Towers of patience.”

  Leigh’s lips twisted. Clearly, her mother had never been dressed down by Detective Maura Polanski in full flip-out mode. She certainly had never been falsely arrested by her bloodhound of a husband, Lieutenant Gerald Frank. But that was ancient history. “Yes,” she agreed to the first part. “They are wonderful parents.”

  Mason entered through the patio door and came to sit down by Lydie. “That little drone is amazing!” he insisted. “You should go watch. Ethan’s getting the hang of it pretty fast.”

  Lydie smiled and put a hand on his thigh. “I’ll check it out in a minute.”

  “That was a nice basketball you and Randall gave him, too,” Mason said to Frances. “Good quality. I would have loved one like that when I was his age.”

  Frances lifted her chin. Her gaze moved vaguely in Mason’s direction, but she did not meet his eyes. “Thank you,” she said politely.

  The room fell quiet. Frances’s socially acceptable response held no congeniality whatsoever. It was the way she always spoke to Mason. Unfailingly courteous, yet devoid of any warmth.

  The same could not be said for the air temperature around Lydie. Today marked the first time in months that Leigh had been around both the sisters and Mason at the same time. Since Frances had decided not to openly protest her sister’s upcoming Christmas Eve wedding, Leigh had hoped that the awkwardness among them would settle down. But all afternoon, the tension had been palpable. Leigh was convinced that Frances was actually trying to accept Mason as her future brother-in-law, but her attempts seemed to necessarily include either looking right through him or pretending he was somebody else. And although Lydie had seemed content with that level of acceptance at the time of her engagement, the closer the wedding drew, the more irritated she became with her sister’s lack of progress.

  Lydie puffed up with breath as if preparing to speak, but Mason quickly laid a hand on her arm. “Not now,” he said softly. “It doesn’t matter.”

  “It does matter!” Lydie insisted, her own voice at full volume.

  “Not at the kids’ party,” Mason replied. “Go on out and watch the drone. You really should see it.”

  Lydie looked at her ex-husband and fiance a moment, then stood. “We will finish this discussion later,” she announced to Frances. Then she grabbed her coat and walked out the patio door.

  Leigh, Frances, and Mason were alone for only a matter of seconds before Frances stood up. “I wonder if Warren would like for me to start some coffee? That would be nice,” she murmured, more to herself than to anyone else. Then she was gone.

  Mason chuckled softly. Leigh turned to look at him. The look of regret on his face saddened her, but at the same time, she could see that he truly bore no ill will. “I think you’re taking all this extremely well, you know,” she praised. “I admire you for that.”

  He shook his head. “It’s not a problem for me. Same old, same old. I just wish it didn’t bother Lydie so much.”

  Leigh smiled at him. “That’s big of you. I’m well aware of how it feels to be on the receiving end of one of my mom’s super-chiller ice glares. And she loves me.”

  To her surprise, Mason smiled back. “She used to like me, too. Way down deep. That’s why she got so damn mad at me when I hurt Lydie. She didn’t admit it then, of course, and she’d sure as hell never admit it now. But I always knew. I could tell by the way she yelled at me.”

  Leigh’s eyes widened. She’d always heard that Frances never liked Mason. She looked toward the kitchen and lowered her voice to a whisper. “She used to yell at you?”

  He grinned broadly. “Oh, that was pretty much our primary form of communication, back in the day. She’d call me a hustler and a swindler and a two-bit snake oil salesman. And I’d ignore everything she said and pretend she adored me. Of course, that made her even more furious. Your dad never said a word about our back-and-forth, but I could tell he thought it was funny, and so did Lydie. So I just kept on. Frances would get so wound up at me that once or twice I even got her to curse.” Mason chuckled to himself. “Oh, Lord. I wish I had a recording of that. One time, your dad was listening in, and I knew he was there because I could see him around the corner, although your mother couldn’t. Well, she was letting me have it for some sin or other, I’ve no idea what. I was guilty of a lot of things, and whatever it was, she was probably right. But after she’d ripped me up one side and down the other and finally stopped to take a breath, I managed to squeeze a tear out of one eye and I said ‘Francie, does this mean you don’t love me anymore?’ Hell’s fire, I thought the woman would explode.”

  Leigh shook with muffled laughter.

  “Yeah,” Mason said with a chuckle of his own. “That’s pretty much how your dad reacted. I heard words come out of your mother’s mouth I haven’t heard before or since. But I always figured if she really hated me, I wouldn’t be able to get to her so much.”

  Leigh’s mirth dampened a little as she observed the wistful glint in his eye. A pang of sadness struck her as she realized that for all of Mason’s hard-won layers of thick skin, some part of him must still long for Frances’s favor — even after all this time. And after everything she’d put him through.

  “Yeah,” he said more casually, relaxing back into the couch with a smile. “Those were the days. Between you and me, kid, I’d take the cursing and the yelling over this icy politeness any day. At least that was honest.” His expression became concerned again. “But all that really matters is how Lydie feels.”

  “She was wonderful with my mother yesterday,” Leigh praised. “The two of them were like peas in a pod again. Mom needed her desperately and Lydie came through, no matter how strained the last few months have been between them. But still, Mason, I’ve got to tell you… things are definitely different now. They always used to side with each other, no questions asked. But now, the second my mother dares to turn against her sister’s man… Watch out for those claw
s!” Leigh smiled at Mason. “Methinks my Aunt Lydie is rather fond of you.”

  Mason’s blue-green eyes twinkled, even as his smile seemed sad. “I wish my very existence didn’t have to come between the two of them. Particularly at a family event like this. But I can’t blame Francie for not making nice tonight. She’s had a hell of a weekend.”

  “We’ve all had better,” Leigh agreed.

  Mason shook his head, his voice sympathetic. “It’s worse for her. That whole ‘Filthy Francie’ thing really cut her to the bone. I didn’t meet her till years afterward, and it still had a hold on her. I don’t think she ever got over it, really. And everything about this just brings all that pain right back up. And believe me when I say — reliving the darkest stuff that’s in your head, not being able to forget, having to go back over it in your mind… Well, that’s some of the worst torture there is. I ought to know.”

  Leigh stared at him. She knew that Mason’s past included misdeeds he might struggle to forget, but for him to draw parallels with her mother’s squeaky-clean background was unexpected. She had never in her life heard the moniker “Filthy Francie.” The very phrase was an oxymoron. “What are you talking about?” she asked.

  He looked back at her a second, then dropped his head. “Aw, hell, I did it again, didn’t I? I thought for sure Lydie would have told you that story while I was gone!”

  Aha. The sweet sixteen thing again. Leigh shook her head. “No. She said she would, but… well, we haven’t had a chance yet. So how about you enlighten me?”

  Mason frowned. “You’re determined to get me in trouble, aren’t you?” He glanced toward the kitchen again, and kept his voice low. “Please don’t tell anyone I let that name slip. Your mother hasn’t heard it in decades and if she hears it this weekend it may well put her over the edge. Ask Lydie later and she’ll tell you. But leave me out of it! Please, kid?”

  Leigh was spared answering by Maura, who came back in the patio door with her son asleep on her shoulder. Seven-month-old Eddie was almost completely swallowed by a puffy turtle-green parka. The only part of him that was visible was a mohawk of cornsilk-colored hair on top of his head.

  “He’s out,” Maura announced cheerfully, balancing the sleeping child against her chest with one strong arm. “We’re taking off now; Gerry’s bringing the car around. Thanks again for the invite. It’s been fun.”

  Mason bid the detective goodnight and went back outside to find his fiance, and Leigh offered to walk her friend to her car. It was too cold to be out without a coat, which of course Leigh hadn’t bothered to put on. “Thanks for coming,” she said with a shiver. “And thanks for not dragging Allison into all of this any more deeply than you have to. You know how she can be. Show her a puzzle to be solved and she’s like Chewie smelling popcorn.”

  Maura smiled. But only a little. The sight made Leigh four times colder.

  “You know I care about your family like they were my own, and I’ll always do whatever I can to keep them safe,” Maura said quietly. “But you have to realize, this situation is a little different. It’s not just a matter of Allie’s having a healthy curiosity about what’s going on around her. The fact is, she’s a material witness to a suspicious death.”

  Leigh rubbed her arms briskly to warm herself. It didn’t work. “Meaning?”

  Maura was choosing her words with disturbing care. “Allison is a minor, and the testimony of a minor tends to get discounted in some quarters. Right now, that’s good for us. Knowing Allie, it’s important that you not frustrate her by withholding information, because if you do, we both know she’ll try to find things out for herself. And we can’t let her do that. Not this time.”

  Leigh agreed wholeheartedly. But she didn’t like where the conversation was going.

  “It’s better for all concerned if no one outside the immediate family knows about Allie’s ‘special interest’ in law enforcement. It may be too late, as close as all these women are to your mother, and as many people as saw her taking notes last night. But as much as you and your mother can downplay that, make her seem less of a threat than she actually is, the better. You get what I’m saying?”

  Leigh nodded solemnly. “You mean that for a middle schooler, she’s unusually observant, intelligent—”

  “Yeah, that’s the kind of thing you don’t want to broadcast right now. In fact, just keep her away from the Floribundas altogether.” Maura paused slightly. “If you can.”

  Leigh huffed out a rueful laugh. At least her friend understood the challenge. “Do you think Lucille’s death could have been… foul play?”

  Maura shrugged. It was the kind of official shrug that said she couldn’t answer the question honestly, even if she wanted to. Leigh was used to that. But knowing what questions couldn’t be answered never managed to stop her from asking them.

  “We don’t even have preliminary autopsy results yet,” Maura said instead. “And it’s doubtful they’ll be conclusive. Toxicology will take weeks, maybe even months.”

  Leigh didn’t how to respond to that. She hated uncertainty.

  Maura’s husband pulled their car up. He parked and got out to open the door to the back seat.

  “The insurance policy in question is for a great deal of money,” Maura said flatly.

  Leigh shivered again. She could tell that Maura had more to tell her. Things she hadn’t wanted Leigh to dwell on during the party.

  “What I can tell you,” Maura continued, “is that if we’re dealing with insurance fraud, then our beneficiary has a major stake in making sure that Lucille’s death looks like an accident, preferably criminal negligence. Murder would also do, so long as the finger of guilt doesn’t point at him. But if he fails, he’s looking at jail time.”

  Leigh’s feet felt frozen to the ground. “I get that.”

  “Most likely he would need an accomplice, and the stakes are going to be high for that person as well.”

  Gerry took his sleeping son from his wife’s arms and laid him in his car seat.

  “I’m not saying that anybody involved necessarily has any reason to see Allie, or your mother, or you, as a threat to whatever game they’re playing,” Maura said firmly. “What I am saying is that they could. Which means the smartest thing for you all to do is to appear as unaware, as uninvolved, as uninterested, and therefore as nonthreatening as possible. Capiche?”

  Leigh nodded mutely.

  “I didn’t want to get into this with Allie in the middle of her party, but I’ll be happy to explain it to her myself if you’d like,” Maura offered, moving to get into the passenger seat. Gerry had finished buckling in his son and was now behind the wheel. “She might take it better coming from me.”

  Leigh nodded again. “No question.” You should stop sticking your nose into this for your own safety had never been a winning piece of motherly advice.

  “I’ll call her right after school tomorrow,” Maura finished. Then she attempted a smile. “Stop looking like that, Koslow. Everything’s going to be fine. Tell everybody I said thanks again and to have a nice night.” She shut the car door, and then she and Gerry drove off with a wave.

  Leigh remained standing at the edge of the drive. She could hear shouts and squeals of delight from the backyard, along with the happy yips of a corgi. It all sounded so wonderfully, blessedly normal.

  But her limbs had no blood in them.

  Chapter 17

  Monday morning dawned bright, clear, and way too early. It was a gorgeous December morning, with sky the color of a robin’s egg and frost shimmering on every blade and twig. Leigh watched out the window as Allison, Ethan, and Lenna hopped on the middle school bus. They were fortunate to have their own bus stop, right where the highway met the end of the private drive that connected the Harmons’ house with the Marches’ much larger farm. Leigh and Cara were no longer allowed to stand outside and wait with their offspring, however. That was entirely too “elementary school.” Leigh still watched from the window, though. And Cara, who co
uldn’t see that far from her own house, trusted that Leigh was watching.

  Leigh took another drag of her pleasantly hot cup of coffee and managed a small smile. If she could excise anything and everything to do with Lucille Busby from her memory, her family had actually had a pretty stellar weekend. Ethan’s laser-tag party on Friday night had been a blast. Frances had managed to get her house decorated authentically, and hundreds of paying guests of the regional Holiday House Tour had been delighted with it. And on Sunday, pretty much everyone in the family except for Leigh’s Aunt Bess — who had given the kids her gifts early because a boyfriend had surprised her with a weekend Caribbean cruise — had enjoyed a scrumptious dinner and a laid-back evening of fun and frolic.

  Her smile faded again. Unfortunately, the specter of Lucille Busby could not be excised. A looming threat still hung over them all, and it was going to hang there for an indeterminate amount of time. Never mind that Lydie and Mason’s wedding was coming up and Christmas was in the air. She exhaled with frustration.

  The school bus pulled away, and as Leigh gazed out over the front yard she caught sight of the green-plastic wrapping of the morning paper lying out in the grass. Warren was one of the last people in Pittsburgh who still paid for delivery of a printed newspaper, but this morning he’d had an early meeting and had left before the bundle arrived. Leigh put down her coffee and walked to the front closet. No sooner had she touched her coat than a corgi began circling her ankles. “No, Chewie,” Leigh said regretfully. “I’m just going out for the paper. I’ll be back in ten seconds. I’d love to trust you out front, but we both know you have zero control when it comes to squirrels.”

  The dog stared at her mournfully, his canine soul crushed. Leigh forced her eyes away and slipped outside. Chewie did guilt exceptionally well, the little beast.

  She stomped across the crunchy grass and stooped to pick up the newspaper. Only then did she see the piece of trash. It was lying in the grass on the far side of a maple tree, which is why she hadn’t seen it from the window. She frowned and walked towards it. Litter from the highway found its way into their yard all too often. People just opened their windows and tossed. It was infuriating.