by Diane Bator
Nothing had changed since her mom’s funeral. Since the fight with her father. A thin layer of dust blanketed every trinket and bowl, still in their original places since the day she’d left. Not even Clancy, ever a diehard optimist, had bothered to put up Christmas decorations. If he hadn’t bothered to be festive here, there was no way he’d be the one to decorate the bakery.
Shivering, she trudged up the stairs and into her former bedroom. Nothing had changed there either. For years, her mom had threatened to turn her bedroom into an office. Between the bakery and her illness, she hadn’t had the time or energy, nor had Mel bothered to do the renovations for her.
The thoughts stirred up a sense of nostalgia. Brady had been her best friend for so long she’d forgotten what it was like to talk to Clancy. Serious heart to heart stuff, not the shallow conversations she had with her father.
Christina sat on the bed that belonged to her since she was four. Since she was young enough to have dreams of being an artist and think that one day they’d come true. Now she was older and knew better. Dreams didn’t come true, it was all a myth. They were crushed by people like Brady and her father. Brutes who’d had their own wide-eyed yearnings squashed by someone in their pasts.
Her mother hadn’t given up. She always knew she’d run a bakery and make people happy. What had kept Mel from crushing Daisy’s dreams? Or Clancy’s? Her brother had walked away from Mel’s wishes for him to become a lawyer and now ran a tattoo parlor. What made him so much stronger than Christina?
There had been love and laughter in this house once, she was sure of it. She couldn't, however, conjure up any of the memories or the emotions. The house remained as gray and tattered as her spirit.
Christina took a deep breath and envisioned built in bookshelves where her posters hung. A wide desk where her dresser sat and a comfy reading chair to curl up in where her old bed currently sat. She opened the dresser drawers and remembered why she’d left it all the old t-shirts and ratty jeans behind. At least they still fit her and were good enough to wear in the bakery. The pastries didn’t judge her the way her father or Brady did.
Inside the closet hung a couple dresses she hadn’t wore since she was sixteen. Her mom had taken her out for dinner that night, just the two of them, and gave her a set of earrings that belonged to her great-grandmother. She hadn’t worn them in years.
Christina opened her old jewelry box. Grandma’s earrings still lay inside next to a small, carefully wrapped box with her name written in delicate letters on a gold tag. Vision blurred by tears, she slammed the jewelry box closed unable to even look at the gift from her mother. She’d only come home for warm pajamas and sweaters, not memories.
Steeling herself, she walked into her parents’ bedroom, ignoring the photographs and objects her mom had left behind. The pajamas were in the bottom drawer of the antique dresser. She shoved aside faded lingerie and found a pair of fluffy pink pants with matching top. Her mom had “borrowed” the pink pajamas when Christina first moved to Newville. Had wearing the pajamas made her feel closer to Christina?
Beneath the pajamas lay another package. Like the smaller package in her jewelry box, this one had her name in careful writing on a gold tag. Her shoulders sagged. First the greenery, now the gifts. Her mother seemed determined she celebrate Christmas this year.
She put both presents in a bag to take back to the apartment later, then set the pink pajamas on the floor. Blinking back fresh tears, she opened her mom’s closet. Sweaters would be helpful, especially for the walk between the apartment and the bakery. Four carefully folded sweaters sat on the narrow shelves down the middle of the closet.
The red sweater covered with dancing gingerbread men Christina gave her mom for Christmas only two years earlier. What had she been thinking? The sweater was horrible and tacky yet, ironically enough, just the thing to rocket her into a mild form of Christmas spirit.
She tossed it onto the pink pajamas in the middle of the room. The green sweater was even more hideous so she bypassed it in favor of the heavy cream cable knit Grandma Teeny made for her father years ago. The one Daisy rescued from the annual charity heap and wore it to the bakery as soon as the first snowflakes fell each winter. The cable knit sweater joined the red one on the pile with the pajamas.
Daisy and Christina had shared clothes for years. This year would be no different. All that changed this year was Christina didn’t have to give them back. She shut her eyes as tears threatened to fall and took a deep breath, glad it wasn’t up to her to clear out her mom’s closet completely.
As she took out the purple sweater, she discovered one more gift on the shelf, a long, rectangular box with a shiny purple bow. She looked toward the ceiling. “Why did you do this? You had enough to worry about. You were sick, you had the bakery, you had Dad and Clancy... Why bother with me?”
“Because she loved you, you dope.” Clancy leaned in the doorway. “I take it you found her Christmas gifts.”
She stared at the package in the closet, hugging the purple sweater to her chest. “A few. How many did you find?”
“Six. I didn’t open them yet.” He knelt down and grabbed the red sweater. “Are you actually going to wear this awful thing?”
“For now.” Christina sniffed.
“Good. It was her favorite one.” He smiled. “So how many gifts did you find so far?”
She tossed the purple sweater on the pile. “Three.”
Clancy’s eyes shone. “Three more to find. Where’d you already look?”
Christina pulled the package from the closet then retrieved the one from her jewelry box. “Just like when we were kids, only we weren’t supposed to find them back then.”
“Did you search all your drawers and the closet?” He fell to his knees on the thin carpet and peered beneath her bed.
She searched the dresser and found one more gift then moved to the closet. “Do you think she planned this? For us to find them now?”
“Of course, she did.” Her brother laughed. “I’ll bet she figured we’d find them months ago. I guess we would have if it wasn’t for...”
Christina waited for him to finish. When he didn’t, she sighed. “For Dad and I getting into a fight and him going to Florida. You can talk about that, I don’t have a problem with it anymore.”
“Yeah.” He sat on the floor. “What’s so important about going to Florida he left right after the funeral and stayed for three months? He could’ve stayed to help us clean all of Mom’s stuff out then gone in January. The weather is always worse here by then anyway.”
Christina dug gift number five out from beneath the dresser. She sat back on her heels and frowned. “There are a lot of things he could’ve done.”
Clancy sat with his back to the wall. “He’s not very good at talking about things. Even when Mom was sick, he kept it all bottled up and wouldn’t let me help. She’d want to sit down to make plans for the bakery, but he’d take off or tune her out.”
“Do you think he didn’t want to face reality?”
“Possibly.” Clancy nodded. “You know if it wasn’t for his name being on the legal papers, she would’ve willed the bakery to you.”
She frowned. “Oh, God, I hope that wasn’t supposed to be gift number six.”
“One left?” Clancy got to his feet. “Let’s keep looking. After that, you can buy me dinner.”
On a hunch, Christina found the last gift in her mom’s bedside table. Another small box, the size used to wrap a necklace. She threw the gifts, sweaters and pajamas into a bag then headed for the stairs. “Sorry. I should’ve called before I came over.”
“Hey, it’s still your house too. You sure you don’t want to stay for a while?” Her brother followed her down the stairs. “Dad won’t be home for Christmas anyway and the place is way too big for just me. It gets really quiet unless Lucy and the kids come over.”
She paused near the sofa, glancing around. The house seemed even more neglected than ever. “Maybe that’s why Dad
didn’t want to be here. Besides all the memories, I mean. It’s too big. Too empty. It needs a family.”
His eyebrows shot up. “You mean like you and Brady?”
“No, definitely not like me and Brady. More like you and Lucy.”
“Sit.” Clancy waved her toward the couch. “What’s Brady like? What does he do?”
“I don’t want to talk about him.” Christina reached for the doorknob. “I want to go back to the apartment, put these things away, eat some dinner, and go to bed.”
Clancy snorted. “Sounds like a real fulfilling life. How does Brady feel about you running a bakery?”
She clenched her jaw. “I haven’t told him.”
“And the secrets march on. One day, the skeletons are all going to fall out of your closet, Chrissie. Your whole world will crumble to the ground like fruitcake.” He grabbed his coat. “Let’s go to the Tipsy Duck for dinner. I’ll buy. It’s a lot less depressing than hanging out here.”
She wanted to yell “Don’t you think I know my life sucks,” but restrained herself. With Clancy on her heels, she trudged through the snow toward the bakery. The climb up the stairs seemed longer than usual with the bag full of clothes hugged to her chest. She opened the door, slid the bag across the floor then closed the door and turned to face him.
“You won’t even let me in my own apartment.” Clancy grimaced. “Are things really that bad between us? What are you hiding?”
Christina huffed. “Nothing. I’m hungry. That’s all.”
Clancy dropped an arm around her neck and hugged her. “I hope you know what you’re doing, Sis, and that all the secrecy’s worth it in the end.”
Chapter 9
“I’m leaving town.” Leo threw a change of clothes, toiletries and his laptop into a duffle bag. “I need to help a friend.”
“You’d better not be leaving the country again or I’ll hunt you down and feed you to the raccoons.” Danny sat in the rocking chair. “Where are you going?”
“I’m not. I promise.” Leo sat on the edge of the couch. “I’m just going to Newville, but I need a favor while I’m gone.”
Danny raised his eyebrows. “You need a favor? There’s a switch. What’s up?”
Leo sat on the edge of the couch. “I’m doing something to cheer up a friend—well, friend of a friend technically—and need someone to cover for me while I’m gone.”
“What do I need to do?”
“Play Santa Claus,” Leo said with a straight face.
Danny rolled his eyes. “Are you serious? This isn’t for the writing group’s Christmas party or something? I already told Katie I refused to do anything for them until they stop writing me into their novels as a bad guy.”
“Or something.” He handed Danny a list. “This will tell you what to do and where to put things. Just be careful and don’t get caught. She’s armed and can be nasty.”
“Whoa, Leo, are you actually doing something nice for someone?” Danny narrowed his eyes and held up both hands. “It wouldn’t be for Lucy or Katie, so it has to be for Christina. I thought she was part of this investigation now that we know she’s Brady’s wife. Why would you do this for her?”
“She is.” He set his duffle bag on the ground. “But she’s had so much crap thrown at her lately I figured we both need some fun.”
Danny grinned. “Now I’m worried. Maybe while you’re gone, I’ll have to go have a chat with her. I’ve never seen you like this over any woman.”
Leo rubbed the back of his neck. “I really wish you wouldn’t do that.”
“Don’t worry, I won’t tell her what you’re really like. I’ll just use it as an excuse to grab some treats for everyone at the bookstore.”
He grimaced. “Great. I’ll look forward to hearing all about your visit.”
By late morning, with a dozen misgivings about leaving Danny in charge of Christina’s Christmas surprise, Leo walked into the office of Shelley K. Black. Brady’s lawyer. The office decor was tasteful, neutral beiges with black and chrome furniture. Oversized paintings of mountains hung behind the couch and the receptionist’s desk.
Shelley Black’s spiky black hair with frosted tips reminded Leo of a hedgehog. She peered at him over the mounds of papers on her desk, her personality apparently as bristly as her hair. “What do you want?”
Leo wasn’t easily intimidated by anyone, but the look the four foot nothing lawyer shot him made him cringe. “I’m a friend of Rose Ryan’s.”
“Good for you. Why should I care?” Shelley’s mouth twitched and she seemed to refocus her attention on the file folders scattered on the desk, but her shaking hands gave her away.
“Because she’s Brady Ryan’s wife.” Leo sat across from her. When she raised one over-plucked eyebrow, he added, “The guy you’re defending in a murder case.”
Her head remained bowed, but her beady-eyed gaze ventured up like a vulture spying a fresh carcass. “I know who Rose Ryan is. Who’d you say you were?”
“Leo Blue. Wild Blue Detective Agency.” He handed her a business card.
She leaned forward and touched her fingertips together, her smile fake and saccharin sweet. “Well, Leo Blue, unless you know where Rose Ryan is and how I can get her back here to testify on Brady’s behalf, get out of my office.”
Leo propped his boots on her desk and made himself comfortable.
Her eyes narrowed as she puckered her peach-tinted lips. “You do know where she is.”
“And I could be helpful to your case if you ask me nicely.”
Shelley barked a quick laugh then leaned back. “I see. You’ll scratch my back if I scratch yours. Tempting offer considering how yummy you look. How long have you known Brady?”
Leo grinned. “Never met the guy. I’m doing this for his wife.”
“Really?” She raised her eyebrows. “Is she an old friend? A girlfriend, perhaps?”
He let her think what she wanted and glanced at the clock. He’d have to get in touch with Danny before he thought Leo had hopped a plane and deserted him and the case. A call to Clancy wouldn’t be a bad idea either.
Shelley looked down her pointy nose at him. “Are you licensed as a private investigator in the state of New York and are you carrying a firearm?”
He met her stern gaze. “Yes and no.”
“So why’d you come to me?” She tented her fingers again, a bead of sweat on her upper lip. “Why didn’t you go to the police or the DA?”
“Like I said, I’m here for Chris...Rose.” Damn. Leo balked at his own stupidity.
“Chrisrose?” She raised her penciled eyebrows.
He’d have to be upfront in order for her to trust him. “She goes by Rose Ryan here. Back home in Packham, she goes by Christina.”
“Back home?” Shelley rifled through her stack of papers. “Packham, huh? Why wouldn’t Brady tell me that?”
“Maybe he’s protecting her. Her mom died a couple months ago. She stayed to run the family bakery.” He hesitated. “Or maybe he really doesn’t know. She seems pretty good at keeping secrets.”
“Why protect her? She wasn’t even here when Gage was murdered.” Her nostrils flared, a signal Brady Ryan would be in a lot of trouble when she saw him next. “Was she?”
Leo shook his head. “I could find you a few dozen witnesses to say she was miles away. What evidence do the police have against him?”
When she folded her arms across her chest, he thought their meeting might be over before it really began. He hoped not. He needed answers for Christina and hoped he could help prove Brady’s innocence.
Shelley drew in a deep breath, then slowly released it out her mouth. “Okay, this case is pretty much cut and dried for the prosecutors and I need all the help I can get if my client really wants out of jail. What do you say we get some pizza and lay everything out on the table?”
“You trust me?” Leo was amazed.
“Hell no, but you’re the best offer I’ve had all week. I need a fresh pair of eyes and you’re
not half-bad looking. Once I bring you up to speed on the whole case, you and I can tag team on Brady. He’s been stalling, especially when it comes to his wife. Since you already know Rose, you might get more than two words out of him.”
So far, so good. Leo had one boot in the door and needed to watch his step so neither Shelley nor Brady cut his foot off. Everything Shelley had in her files was word for word what Leo already knew. They headed to the jail around one o’clock.
Shelley paused on the front steps. “So what do you think will work best? Should I come in with you or do you want to talk to him alone? I’d be on the other side of the one-way mirror in case anything happens.”
He shrugged. “We’ll go in together and see how chatty he feels. If he still clams up, we’ll split up and I’ll get him to open up.”
Shelley frowned. “Just keep in mind, if you lay a hand on him, I get kicked off the case.”
“I won’t touch him, unless you ask me to.”
She grinned. “Agreed. Let’s see what the boy has to say. I hope he realizes if he doesn’t start talking soon, there won’t be a damn thing I’ll be able to do to keep him out of jail. Maybe having you here will help make that crystal clear.”
Leo sat on the metal chair, the ugly green vinyl seat shredded by countless bottoms that had settled there before him. The room seemed oddly quiet, sounds from outside blocked by steel walls and thick locks. He sat back, aware of the beat of his heart and the throb of the vein in his forehead.
Shelley lay her briefcase on the polished metal table better suited in a morgue or a surgical theatre. The job that lie ahead was, in a twisted way, like surgery. They needed answers. Needed information. She coughed and dropped a handful of papers on the floor. Her hands shook. “Sorry. Coming here makes me nervous. I only took this case as a favor to a friend. Normally, I deal with wills and all the fluffy stuff criminal lawyers hate.”
