The Skeleton Stuffs a Stocking

by Leigh Perry

  “Could somebody have been hiding in the house?”

  “Sure, Georgia, a busload of thieves was hiding in the attic while all those people were wandering all over everywhere.”

  “You don’t have to snap,” I snapped.

  “You don’t have to be ridiculous.”

  “Well you don’t have to be sarcastic, and you don’t have to be—” I stopped. “Wait, what did you say?”

  “I said you don’t have to be ridiculous.”

  “Before that.”

  “I said a busload of thieves—”

  “A bus. That’s it.”

  “That’s what?”

  “Annabelle didn’t have a car. How did she get to the Nichols house?”

  “Deborah!” we said together.

  Not that we meant that Deborah had provided transport. We just knew that my sister was the person to ask. It was late enough that I should have considered waiting until morning to call, but I was too excited, so I dialed her number.

  “What do you need, Georgia?” she said wearily.

  “I’ve got another question about your job at the Nichols house.”

  “Am I supposed to be surprised?”

  “How did the cleaning crew get there?”

  “They flew in on giant butterflies.”

  “Deborah…”

  “Fine, let me think.” I didn’t count off the seconds, but I think Sid did. “Okay, now I remember. All of the Bostock people came together in a bus. Which was late most days, so I had to wait for them to get there before getting started.”

  “Like a city bus?”

  “More like a shuttle bus. It must have belonged to the college—who else would have a stupid name like that on their bus?”

  “Bostock? I’ve worked at colleges with worse names.”

  “It didn’t say Bostock. It said Bus-Stock, with a logo of a bus with a creepy smile.”

  I was glad they’d changed that. “What about the driver?”

  “Yes, Georgia, there was a driver. The creepy smiling bus did not drive itself.”

  “I meant did he help with the stuff in the house?”

  “No, I already told you everybody who worked in the house. The driver didn’t even help the cleaners load up the bus. And before you ask, I don’t know his name, age, or shoe size. He was just a guy. I never even spoke to him.”

  “Anything you can remember will help.”

  She sighed. “College aged. White. Blond or light brown hair, I think, but he was wearing a hat most of the time. Average height, and as far as I could tell with the parka he was wearing, average build. That’s it.”

  “That’s more than we had before.”

  “I’m thrilled for you. Anything else, or can I go to bed now?”

  “That’s it.”

  “Don’t make promises you can’t keep,” she said and hung up.

  “The bus driver!” I said to Sid.

  “The bus driver!” he replied.

  Then came an impromptu dance party that was intense enough that Madison banged on the attic door to say, “Hello! Some of us are trying to concentrate.”

  “Sorry,” I called back and threw myself onto the couch to catch my breath. “So how do we figure out who the bus driver was?”

  Sid stopped short and plopped down next to me. “I have no idea.”

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  “Coccyx, Sid, I feel as if I’m riding a roller coaster.”

  “I’ll take your word for it, but I assume you’re talking about the ups and downs.”

  “Yeah, sorry,” I said, resolving to come up with a way to get Sid onto a roller coaster. “Now what do we do?”

  He made the sound of a deep breath. “I’ve got this. I’ll check the Golden Pages to find out who was a part of Bus-Stock ten years back, and then figure out who is local and might have access to the museum and cross reference. And as soon as I get an updated list of what’s been stolen, I can research where those items could have been sold and so on. It’s spreadsheeting time!”

  He did not, however, move a single bone in the direction of his laptop. Even when I received an email from Dr. Sieck a minute later that listed all the items she was sure had been stolen and replaced, he just nodded.

  “Are you sick of spreadsheets?” I asked.

  “I’m sick of useless spreadsheets. And don’t say this is our process.”

  “I wasn’t going to,” I lied, but I was telling the truth when I added, “We would never be able to do any of this without your lists, and your spreadsheets, and your major Googling skills.”

  “I guess,” he said, clearly not convinced.

  Trying for a lighter note, I said, “Isn’t there a rule forbidding pouting this time of year?” I hummed a few bars of “Santa Claus is Comin’ to Town.”

  “I’m not pouting. You need lips to pout.”

  “True, but you better not sulk doesn’t rhyme with you better watch out.” He kept pouting. “It’s late, and I should get to bed. Why don’t you watch a video or read tonight? Do something fun. We’ll brainstorm or skull-storm when I get back from work tomorrow.”

  “Wait, you’re going to work tomorrow?”

  “Don’t tell me you believe this riot nonsense.”

  “It’s all over the Bostock parents’ Facebook page and the Bostock alumni page. Don’t you think you should take it seriously?”

  “Whatever happens will happen after I leave. I’ll be out of there as soon my office hours are over.”

  “I still don’t like it.”

  “I’m finding it hard to believe that there’s going to be a riot of academics. Fighting over footnotes, sure, but this? It just sounds so unrealistic.”

  “Georgia? You’re talking to an ambulatory skeleton. Reality isn’t always what you expect.”

  “Try to picture somebody like my parents or Charles in a riot, and tell me how realistic that is.”

  “They’d riot in a heartbeat to protect you.”

  I just patted him on the skull and went downstairs.

  I’d halfway expected Sid to see me off the next morning so he could warn me of danger another half dozen times, but he didn’t appear, and I hoped he’d taken my suggestion to enjoy himself the previous night.

  I kept on hoping until I was halfway to work and heard a tiny bing from the backseat, followed by a less quiet, “Coccyx.”

  I looked in the rearview mirror and saw that my emergency blanket was covering a lump that had not been there the night before.

  From long experience, I knew that lump was the size and shape of a crumpled skeleton.

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  “Sid, are you back there?” I said.

  “Yes. I forgot to silence my phone.”

  “Why are you and your phone here?”

  “I thought I’d hang around while you’re in class so that if I get any useful information out of my ossifying spreadsheet, we’ll be able to move on it instantly.”

  “Sid, I don’t have any place to hide you. All I’ve got is a cubicle.”

  “That’s okay, I’ll stay in the car and work under this blanket. After all, I don’t get cold, I don’t breathe, and I can see in the dark. I’ve even got a couple of charger bars to make sure I don’t run out of power. My rolling bag is in the very back in case you need to take me somewhere, and I’ve got some clothes to wear if I need to get out of the car. I’ve even got your spare car keys, just in case.”

  “You’ve been very thorough,” I admitted. “How did you arrange everything?”

  “I’m a meticulous planner, and I can move like a ninja when I need to.”

  “Madison helped you, didn’t she?”

  “Yep. She didn’t want you on campus without backup.”

  “Charles and Brownie are going to be there.” There was a painful silence, and so I added, “Of course, neither of them are the ninja type.”

  “That’s what I thought. So, good plan, righ
t?”

  He really did seem to have covered all the bases, and I couldn’t see any harm in him being there if he was willing to stay cooped up in the car for several hours. “Excellent plan. Thank you, Sid.”

  “You’re welcome. Team Supreme, right?”

  “Team Supreme.” I reached into the backseat with my left hand made into a fist and a second later, felt a bony fist bump it.

  Hoping my next sentence wouldn’t erase that warm fuzzy feeling, I said, “I was planning to stop by the food trucks to get Brownie up to speed.”

  “I didn’t think of that. Should I move further back?”

  “No, I’ll get out to talk to him.”

  “What, are you afraid I’ll listen in?”

  “Says the skeleton who made smooching sounds at me just a few days ago.”

  “Fair. Go ahead and talk to your hug muffin.”

  “My hug muffin?”

  “Your sweetie pie. Your snookie-ookums. I’ve got more.”

  “Please keep them.” We reached the food trucks just in time, and I parked and got out before Sid could start reciting his other euphemisms for Brownie.

  The crowd around the coffee truck seemed surlier than it had been before, and some of the looks I got as I went around to the back of the truck were downright hostile. Brownie must have been watching for me because he had a cup of coffee and an egg-and-sausage breakfast sandwich waiting.

  “I’d join you,” he said, “but we’re getting slammed. One of my cooks didn’t come because he heard there’s going to be a riot.”

  “I would love to know how this rumor started.”

  “Rumors grow in the corners of the mind, like mold.”

  “Are you quoting?”

  “No, just short on sleep.” As if to prove himself, he yawned.

  “Have you got time for a status update?” I asked.

  “On the case? You bet!”

  I told him about Professor Sieck’s call and how it had eliminated everybody, which then led to the shuttle-based epiphany. “I thought I’d quiz the shuttle bus driver when I go on campus and see if he has a list of former drivers we can look at.”

  “Sounds promising, but you’ll be off campus before the rally, right?”

  “That’s the plan,” I said. “You’re not going, are you?”

  “Nope. My mother heard the rumors from my missing cook, and I had to promise that we’d shut down early. Riot damage is expensive.”

  “Fair enough.” I heard somebody calling “College Boy!” from inside the truck and said, “You better go. I’ll talk to you later.”

  “You bet.” After a quick kiss, he went back to the truck while I got into the car to eat my sandwich and drink my coffee.

  “How do the strikers seem?” Sid asked.

  “Testy. They keep looking around as if expecting wraiths to attack. It doesn’t help that the weather is so gloomy. I forgot to check the forecast, but it looks like snow to me.”

  A moment later, Sid said, “They’re saying snow starting just before four.”

  “That’s when the rally is supposed to start. Maybe they’ll cancel due to weather.” I finished up my coffee. “Time to get to work.”

  The parking deck was considerably emptier than usual. I parked near the shuttle stop and told Sid which buildings I was going to be in so he could find them on a map, just in case. Apparently paranoia is contagious because I was feeling anxious.

  When the shuttle bus arrived, I saw David was driving, which was a good sign. I was the only one on board, too, which was even better. “A wild professor has appeared,” I said.

  “I welcome her aboard,” David replied.

  As he drove, I said, “Hey David, can I ask you something?”

  “I don’t know anything definite about the rally, and we haven’t decided about cancelling service.”

  “Thanks, but that’s not it. I’m trying to track down one of the Bus-Stock drivers—”

  “The what drivers?”

  “Bus-Stock. Isn’t that the official name?” I asked.

  “Not since I’ve been part of the company. I think one of the drivers who was here when I bought in called it something like that once, but I thought it was a joke. I mean, what kind of lame name is that for a company?”

  “What do you call yourselves?”

  “Bostock Shuttles. It’s a bit on the nose, but sometimes simple is best.”

  “Okay,” I said, “then I’m trying to find one of the Bostock Shuttle drivers from years back. Do you guys have a company directory?”

  “There’s our Advisory Board, which is made up of the drivers who’ve graduated. They’re always willing to give advice to the current drivers, especially the Founding Five. They’ll drop everything to help out, even the one who’s a VP with Prudential now.”

  “Would you be comfortable with sharing that directory?”

  “Why do you want it?”

  “I won’t lie. One of your former drivers may have done something illegal.”

  “Like speeding illegal or hurting somebody illegal?”

  “Seriously hurting somebody.”

  “Then I’ll give it to you. If one of our drivers did anything serious, they should be punished. Good businesses need to be ethical, right?”

  When we got to my stop, he parked long enough to pull up the list on his phone and email it to me.

  “Thanks, David.”

  “You bet. And keep out of trouble, okay?”

  As soon as I got inside, I forwarded the directory to Sid, along with an explanation, and informed him that he was not authorized to have a dance party in the car, no matter how excited he became.

  When I arrived at my first class, I was wondering if I should have stayed home after all. A third of my students were missing, and the ones that were left were distracted and restless. I ended up letting them leave early, and the second class was a near repeat of the first. I still felt obligated to keep my posted office hours, even though I wasn’t expecting anybody to show up, and I was correct. The only person I saw that whole time was Professor Lefebre, who walked by my cubicle without even glancing in my direction.

  I texted Brownie to see if he wanted to have lunch, but when he didn’t reply, I figured he was still busy at the trucks. Next, I called Sid to see if he’d made any progress.

  “Yes and no,” he said.

  “What does that mean?”

  “I went through the list of drivers and none of them could have both killed Annabelle and robbed the museum so recently.”

  “Is that the yes or the no?”

  “It’s—Don’t get technical on me. The positive part is that a lot of the former drivers are on the alumni Facebook group, and I’ve been going through their posts. There are a couple of references to a driver that doesn’t appear on the Advisory Board list.”

  “By name?”

  “Only by his nickname, unfortunately, which is T.J. So in my alumna persona, I’ve posted a whatever-happened-to-T.J. note. My finger bones are crossed that I’ll get a reply.”

  “Well, my office hours are over, so I’m going to head back in your direction.”

  “Good idea. The forecasters have moved the snow prediction up an hour and added a couple of extra inches.”

  “I’m on my way.”

  I packed up, bundled up, and went to the shuttle bus stop outside the building to wait. And wait. And wait. Nearly half an hour after I got there, another adjunct came by and said, “Didn’t you hear? They shut down the shuttles for the afternoon.”

  “Without warning us?”

  “Professor Lefebre told me there was a sign up at the student center,” he said before going inside.

  That would be the same professor who’d walked right past me without bothering to speak. Seething, I started walking toward the parking deck. I wasn’t even halfway there when my phone rang. Though I expected it to be Sid checking on me, it was Dana Fenton.

  “Is Brow
nie there?” she asked.

  “No, not with me. Is something wrong?”

  “I don’t know. I tried to call him to see when the trucks are going to get out of there, but he didn’t answer. I got a hold of one of the guys working with him, and he said Brownie told him he had to do something on campus. I thought maybe you and he were having lunch.”

  “I haven’t seen him since first thing this morning, and he didn’t reply to a text I sent a little while ago. Could he have left without your other people seeing him?”

  “He hasn’t got a car—he rode in one of the trucks.”

  Treasure Hunt got on the line and demanded, “Did you get him mixed up in that stuff with Sue?”

  Before I could answer, I heard Dana say, “He got himself mixed up, and you know it. Now give me that phone back, you old fool.” A moment later, Dana said, “Can you take a look around for him? We’ll get there as soon as we can, but we don’t know the campus.”

  “Of course. I’ll let you know if I find him or hear from him.”

  “Ditto for me.”

  As soon as she hung up, I called Sid.

  “That shuttle is really slow,” he said.

  “They cancelled service already even though the rally isn’t until later.”

  “Not as late as it was. They’ve moved it up to try to dodge the snow. I just saw a post on the Bostock parents’ group page.”

  “Coccyx! Look, Dana just called. Brownie’s not answering his phone, and he’s not at the food trucks, and nobody knows where he is. I’m heading back to look for him.”

  “Come get me first.”

  “Sid, I’m sorry, but I am not going to drag your suitcase all over campus.”

  “At least come get the car and move it closer. The place we went for that tour was right in the middle of campus, wasn’t it?”