by Teresa Trent
As I hung up, I had no idea what helpful hints had to do with nailing a Peeping Tom. One thing about Rocky was when you had a staff as thin as his, everyone could end up on the crime beat.
When I entered the Pecan Bayou Gazette an hour later, Rocky was on the phone.
“So, you say you saw the man outside your window. But did you see anything like body shape, age, skin color?”
Upon seeing me, Rocky rolled his eyes and started writing furiously on a piece of paper.
RUBY ON THE LINE.
“I see. Well, if you do remember something, be sure to give us a ring over here. This is news.” Once again, he paused. “Yes. Well, I don’t think I need to come over to your house and do an interview face to face. I think I have enough to go on right now, Ruby ... Yes, I’m sorry to hear that too.”
As he hung up, he blew out a breath. “That Ruby Green has been trying to get me in her clutches for years. It’s tough being an attractive man in his fifties in this town. Some days I feel like a mixture of Tom Selleck and Bruce Springsteen all rolled into one.”
Rocky did not resemble either Tom or Bruce, but who was I to spoil the dream? “Did you learn anything new from Ruby?”
“Not too much. It was around ten at night, so our creeper goes to bed early. Which makes sense if you think about it. I don’t think we’d get a young fella looking into her window. Other than that, she couldn’t identify anything. You’d think a beautician would at least know what color his hair was.”
“It was dark. Give her a break.”
“Have you heard about anybody else seeing this guy? I mean, from the number of casseroles I have in my freezer, there are a lot of single older women in this town. As a matter of fact, I’m a little worried about a slew of copycat sightings. Ruby sure is the center of attention right now.”
“No, I haven’t heard anything. Did she mention just where he was standing?”
“That part’s weird. He was on the sidewalk. Not by the window.”
Nicholas, Rocky’s son, came in from the back room. “Maybe he’s a shy Peeping Tom?”
Rocky nodded. “Good point. Maybe he was working up the courage to step onto the porch.”
“Or he has a heck of a prescription for his lenses,” I added.
“It seems strange because we just don’t get this kind of crime around here.”
“Yeah. Everybody’s too old.” Nicholas snorted. “Except for you, of course, Betsy.”
“And how is Suzie doing?” His girlfriend, Suzie Atwood was a real stunner.
“Suzie’s fine, and so is little Elizabeth. I have a picture here ...”
“Not right now, Nick. Can’t you see we’re on a case?” Rocky interrupted.
Ignoring his father, Nick showed me a quick picture of Suzie and Elizabeth.
“Beautiful,” I whispered.
I took the seat in front of Rocky’s desk. “So just what is it you want me to do?”
“Simple,” Rocky said, leaning forward. “Infiltrate the people who might know what is going on, and see if you can find out about anyone who might be secretly pining for Ruby.” Rocky scowled. “Sure, as hell not a sentence I ever thought I would say,” he muttered. “We have all this Christmas festival hoopla going on right now, so there will be lots of chances for you to quietly observe. Can you handle that?”
I gave him a mock salute. “Quietly observe. Got it, boss.”
“You really think this is someone who likes Ruby? Maybe this guy was checking out her house to rob her. Have you thought of that?” Nick asked.
Rocky nodded wisely. “You may have a point there, Son.” He turned back to me.
“Check with your father to see if things have been going missing around here. We could be on the tippy top edge of a crime wave. I may have to hire more reporters.”
“Maybe you could pull Morton off of the bowling beat,” I suggested.
“Not with the league championships going on. I can’t spread my people too thin. I’m going to have to depend on you and your experience as a reporter.”
I hesitated to tell him how far solving the creeper crime was from telling people how to unclog their sinks. “I’ll do what I can.”
“That’s what I like about you, Betsy. Always willing to take on the unknown whether it’s household tips or Christmas Creepers.”
Chapter 5
Even though I was now officially “undercover” for the Pecan Bayou Gazette, the chaos of Christmas preparations didn’t slow down. We had another rehearsal at the community center, and Maggie had decided she would show up, although I couldn’t exactly reason why. Could it be that she planned to enjoy watching everyone else suffer with their new soloist? Maggie had opted to drive herself, however, just in case things got uncomfortable and she needed to make a hasty exit. Coco was an angel in the program, and when we entered the rehearsal, all the other little angels were bobbing up and down in the church pews. Enid was screeching out her solo with the accompanist, and no one in the choir seemed to be enjoying it. If there was a hall of fame for politely enduring a terrible voice, this choir would be all over it.
The children’s program director came over and said, “Hello, Coco. You know this is a dress rehearsal, right? Did you bring your halo and wings tonight?” She pulled me to the side. “We find it best that the children have their wings on a little early so they don’t flap at each other in the performance.”
I had forgotten about the wings but didn’t want to confess that I had never taken them out of my car. “They’re just outside. We’ll run and get them right now. We forgot.” I grabbed Coco’s hand, and we returned to the parking lot. As we came down the church steps and a cold winter breeze hit us, Joe Nelson was getting out of his old Volvo with a series of music notebooks in tow. He wore a jaunty Santa hat tonight and grinned when he saw the two of us.
“Evenin’, Betsy. I’m glad I’m not the only one who’s late. I had a ... meeting. I hope you’re not leaving?”
“Oh, no. We forgot our halo.”
“I think a lot of people have forgotten their halos lately.”
“Joe!” Somebody shouted from across the parking lot. Joe did not turn around. The caller once again yelled out. “Joe!” It only took me a minute to realize that it was Karen Baldwin, our local carpenter. I touched Joe on the arm, realizing he still hadn’t heard Mrs. Baldwin.
“I think she’s calling you.”
Joe looked down at my fingers and realized what I was saying.
“Who?”
I gestured to Karen Baldwin.
“Oh.” He turned around looked genuinely surprised to see her.
Karen Baldwin stormed across the parking lot toward us. “I know what you did. I don’t know who you think you are, but you’re breaking federal law.”
Joe sucked in a breath. I should never have opened my mouth in front of Karen Baldwin. I didn’t know him that well and shouldn’t have trusted Karen with the secret of what I had found in Joe’s garage.
“You know how long I’ve been waiting for that letter. No matter what’s going on in her life, she always sends me a Christmas card. You knew how important that was to me. I’m not even sure if she is dead or alive. She could be trying to reach out to me, and you stopped her.”
Joe looked confused. “Excuse me?”
“Give me a break. You said I was better off cutting ties with her. I’m not proud of what she’s done or how she’s lived her life, but she’s still my baby. Maybe she’s off the drugs. Maybe she’s found a new path. Now she’s written me a letter, and you have taken it upon yourself to withhold it from me. You’ve stolen my property.”
“Why would you think I’m harboring a letter from your daughter? That’s ridiculous.”
Karen shifted her focus and pointed directly at me. “Her! She told me. You’ve got crates of mail in your garage. She told me all about how you’re interfering with the postal service here in Pecan Bayou.” Karen, her rage building, ran forward and shoved Joe hard in the arm, causing him to drop h
is folders.
Instead of immediately picking them up, he leaned closer and spoke in a softer voice. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. Go home, Karen.”
Some of the rehearsal participants, alerted by the yelling, stood on the steps of the community center watching the entire scene.
“Fine. I’ll leave it for now, but this isn’t over.” Karen Baldwin backed into the shadows, embarrassed by the crowd listening in on them. This whole scene brought me full circle. Why did Joe Nelson have so much mail in his garage?
Chapter 6
The next day I planned a visit to Maggie’s house to pick up an old Santa suit that Zach needed for his Christmas play. It was an unusual costume to have on hand, and I was hoping he wouldn’t figure out it was the same suit my father had worn one Christmas when Santa made a personal visit to our house. Back in those days, being a single mom, I found my family was always coming through like that. When it looked like Zach’s dad wouldn’t be around for Christmas, Maggie and my dad came up with the idea of a personal visit from Santa. And wasn’t it amazing he spoke with a Texas drawl?
That was a particularly sad year because Zach had been yearning to learn more about his absent father. How do you tell a child that his father left before he was even born because he feared he would have Down syndrome? A boy wanted to look up to his father and see him as a hero, not the heel that Barry, my ex, had turned out to be. I knew that having Leo as a father and Tyler as a brother had become a very good thing for him. We were what psychologists now called a blended family, and the yours, mine, and ours approach to children had worked out well for us.
I was almost there when my phone rang into the overhead speaker in my car.
“Betsy? Hi, this is Coco’s teacher, Mrs. Warner.”
I immediately started worrying. Before Coco went to this daycare, she was at Chickadees and kept getting sent home for biting. I only hoped the behavior hadn’t started again.
“Is everything okay?”
“Fine. Just fine. Well, almost. I noticed you had several loaves of bread on Coco’s order form. Good job! Some of the kids didn’t even try, but that’s another issue.”
At this time of year? No one even had time to go door to door, but I kept listening.
“Anyway, we’ve hit a bit of a snafu with the bread company. Seems they can’t deliver until after Christmas.”
“Oh, that can’t be good.”
“It isn’t. I’m going to need you to inform your buyers that the delivery will be in January. Could you do that for me?”
“Sure. No problem. I guess we didn’t need one more fattening baked good around anyway.”
“And if anyone wants to pay ahead of time, I certainly wouldn’t discourage it. We are trying to raise funds for new classroom supplies and had hoped the bread would be the answer.”
“Sorry it didn’t work out. I’ll do all I can to make sure Coco’s orders are taken care of. Say, we didn’t get enough bread to get the bear. Did anyone get it?”
“No. Coco was one of the top sellers. I guess people don’t have the extra income this time of year.”
Coco would be disappointed when she didn’t get the bear, but I had to hope she would forget about it.
When I pulled up to my aunt’s house, I realized what she meant now. She had jumped into the world of inflatable lawn Christmas decorations. A giant gnome with a sprig of holly on his red pointy hat and a white beard over a red folksy vest smiled back at me. He was amazing and just a little unnerving.
“Oh my gosh,” was all I could say when I entered Maggie’s house. “What is that thing out in your yard?”
Maggie gave me a knowing smile. “Oh, you mean my gnome? Isn’t he glorious?”
“He certainly is big. Where did you find him?”
“Over at the garden store in Andersonville. I just love him, and nobody else in town has one.”
I didn’t even have to wonder why. “I’ll be sure to get a picture of him for the newspaper. And now to the Santa suit.”
“It’s up in the attic,” Maggie said. "Let me pour you a cup of coffee before you climb those stairs and tackle the dust and cobwebs up there.”
On Maggie’s table, various pieces of mail were spread out. There were appeals for money for children’s hospitals, vets, even one for Seeing Eye dogs.
“Do you get mail like this all the time?”
“Yep. The minute Big Brother designates you as a senior citizen, you become fair game. You should read some of this stuff. It’ll break your heart. I usually just pop in a five-dollar bill for each one.”
“Each one?” There had to be five pleas for cash on the table in front of us. “Every day?”
Maggie playfully patted my hand. “Of course not. That would be silly. I just choose one a day. I have to put enough aside to give to the church and the Down Syndrome Association.”
“Good,” I said, not all that sure that contributing to unchecked charities was wise. I had no idea she was getting this many offers in the mail. It was wonderful to give to those in need. But were these groups legitimate?
“It’s like the entire world needs my help, Betsy. There are so many chances to help our fellow man. You know I’m on a fixed income and can only give so much. My Christmas offering will be less than it normally is this year. Sometimes just like in the stock market, you have to diversify in your charitable giving.”
Pastor Green would not like hearing that. The local church was instrumental in various community outreaches and provided food and funds for families who were in financial trouble as well as a missionary fund that went out across the world. Like the widow’s mite, the Pecan Bayou Community church’s offerings were small but always welcome. I took a closer look at one of the flyers and noticed a misspelled word. I had never considered myself a grammar snob, so maybe people who are in the helping business aren’t English majors. They also didn’t seem to proofread.
As we shook the dust out of the Santa suit Aunt Maggie had folded neatly away in a cardboard box, my heart warmed.
“Do you remember the night Dad showed up at my house in this?”
Aunt Maggie’s eyes became wistful as she ran her hand across the red felt. “Oh yes. That was a tough year for y’all, but our little Zachary needed a visit from the big red elf himself.”
“He was so surprised.” Zach had come downstairs to rearrange the cookies on Santa’s plate after a suggestion from me during our bedtime story. As he walked to the goodies set next to the tree, there was Santa—aka Grandpa—biting into a crumbly chocolate chip cookie.
“Ho-ho-ho. Zachary Livingston, I presume? One of my favorite good little boys?”
I was standing in the doorway trying not to laugh at my father’s hokey version of Santa Claus. I also hoped that Zach wouldn’t notice Santa sounded an awful lot like his grandpa.
“Yes, Santa. I’ve been good.”
“You don’t have to tell me that, Zachary. I know you help your mother around the house with chores, and even your grandfather has written me what a special young man you are. I’m just honored to finally get to meet you in person.”
Zach nodded dumbly, in awe of the great man.
“Thank you, Santa. Thank you so much for coming to my house. I’ll keep being good. I’ll help my mom whenever she asks.”
“Ho-ho-ho. That’s all I can ask.” My father looked around, needing to make an exit, and going up the chimney was not an option. He placed a hand on his back. “You know, I think I sprained a muscle with that last chimney. Where’s your back door? I can whistle for the reindeer.”
Zach pointed to the back of the house. “But before I go, I need to see you in bed, young man.”
I smiled and patted our visitor on the back. “Yes, Santa. I’ll take care of that part. It was nice finally meeting you.”
“Well, if it isn’t little Betsy. She was always one of my favorite children,” Santa whispered to Zach, making him smile.
My father’s little job of playacting made it a magical n
ight for my son. This was what family was all about.
“I’m surprised this old suit doesn’t have moth holes in it,” my aunt said, bringing me back to reality.
“Me too. Thanks for letting me borrow it.”
“Borrow it? You can have the darn thing. I’m always afraid Danny’s going to find it up there in the attic. I’ve had it hidden for years.”
Even though my cousin Danny was in his thirties, he was still a believer, like many people with Down syndrome. It was one of the things I liked best about him.
Before we could continue discussing this pleasant Christmas memory, Aunt Maggie’s phone rang on the wall. After all these years she still had a goldenrod push button phone with a cord, refusing to join the rest of us in the twenty-first century.
“Really?” she said over the phone as she listened to the caller on the other end. There was a slight pause, and she bit her lip. “Well, it certainly sounds like a wonderful deal. I might actually consider doing that myself. It’s so smart for us older people. Thanks for telling me about it, Ruby.”
I could hear Ruby on the other end even though Maggie didn’t have the phone on speaker. Ruby had one of those voices that could break through any kind of sound system with ease.
“Why don’t you just save the brochure and let me take a look at it. It’s always good to have an ace in your pocket.”
I had no idea my aunt cheated at cards. I think what she meant was an ace in the hole.
When she finally hung up with Ruby, I asked, “What has her so excited?”
“Oh, well, Ruby may have found herself a little pot of gold. You know she’s been having some financial troubles, but she decided to get herself one of those reverse mortgages. She’s been paying on her house all these years, and it’s time for her house to pay her.”
I had heard some things about reverse mortgages, but I had also heard about some people being ripped off by unscrupulous investors.
“Is she sure about that? It’s such a new thing. I really don’t know a lot about it.”
“She sounds pretty sold on the idea. I wonder what would happen if I did that with this place.”
