by Jana DeLeon
Gertie laughed. “You have so much to learn about Southern living. Most people have winter clothes and summer clothes. Southerners also have everyday pants and holiday pants. Of course, now that you can get most everything with spandex in it, it makes things a lot easier.”
“I refuse to give in to the spandex craze,” Ida Belle said.
Gertie rolled her eyes. “You refuse to wear shorts unless we’re in a different state.”
“Well, I for one am glad that spandex is a part of everyday life for me,” I said. “Without yoga pants, I’d probably have to just bop about in underwear.”
“There’s just as many people in Sinful who wouldn’t complain about that as would,” Ida Belle said. “The danger, of course, is starting a trend. We don’t want to see just any panty-clad butt strolling down Main Street.”
“We’ve all seen Celia’s a million times now,” Gertie said. “I don’t think it can get worse than that.”
“Famous last words,” Ida Belle said as she pulled into Gertie’s drive.
Thirty minutes later, we’d all showered and changed and were sitting in my kitchen, drinking wine and sampling goodies from ten different containers.
“We really should have some protein with all this sugar and carbs,” Ida Belle said.
“I have Greek yogurt,” I said.
“Oh, bring that out,” Gertie said. “I can dip the chocolate-covered strawberries in it. Then I’ve got all the food groups represented.”
“You don’t have vegetables,” Ida Belle said.
“I do if I eat the leaves,” Gertie said.
I considered it a somewhat reasonable compromise but Ida Belle didn’t look convinced. Ten minutes later, she had my grill fired up and chicken cooking. Despite the fact that it was December and 10:00 p.m., it was still seventy degrees outside, which I’d been informed by Gertie was either light jacket or thick T-shirt weather, depending on your hormonal level. I opted for the T-shirt route and we toted wine out to the lawn chairs. Merlin, who’d been pursuing a rather wily lizard when we’d come outside, had opted for the easy and guaranteed meal route and now waited patiently next to the grill.
“So tell me about Rollie,” I said, figuring who he was had to play into this whole scenario somehow.
“Not a whole lot to tell,” Gertie said. “He’s midsixties and has a build that’s perfect for the Santa suit, which is how he got tapped for the role years ago. His family has been here three generations, although he’s the last one left in Sinful. His parents died years back and his wife maybe five years ago. Cancer. They had one son who never really fit into small-town life, even as a kid. He’s a programmer in Silicon Valley.”
“Is Rollie trouble?” I asked.
“Not by Sinful standards,” Ida Belle said. “He likes his drink but does it at home or while fishing. He’s hunted out of season and probably poached a gator or two, but that’s it.”
“What does he do for a living?” I asked.
“He’s retired now,” Gertie said. “But he was an electrical engineer. He’s the brainy type and quiet. Mostly always been a loner, really.”
Ida Belle nodded. “But not in a Unabomber way. He’s just a typical geeky introvert. He’s always been nice, though, and he’s really good with kids…another reason he’s kept the Santa role for so long.”
Even more strange. A retired, introverted engineer with no bad habits, other than the usual Sinful ones, didn’t exactly fit the role of intrigue he had been cast into.
“And you guys really didn’t recognize Santa?” I said, still struggling to come up with an explanation for the imposter.
They both shook their heads.
“That’s odd,” I said. “I mean really odd. Because both of you remember people you haven’t seen in years or people you’ve only met once. So if his face doesn’t even cause a twitch, that means it’s likely you’ve never seen him before.”
“Probably not,” Ida Belle agreed.
“But he knew enough about Sinful to know about the Christmas show and that Rollie always played Santa,” I said.
They both frowned.
“I hadn’t thought about it in that perspective,” Ida Belle said. “But you’re right.”
“Do you have anything online?” I asked. “Social media? Blog? Anything that gives dates and times, maybe pictures and names of past participants?”
“It’s on the Baptist church website,” Gertie said. “There’s always a page dedicated to the event, with a description of everything planned and approximate starting times. There’s always a thanks to the volunteers and pictures of past events, of course.”
“But does anything identify Rollie as Santa?” I asked.
“Not on our site,” Gertie said. “But the Catholic church probably has one, and that’s where Rollie attends.”
“Rollie hasn’t attended church since he was young enough that his mom could make him,” Ida Belle said. “But Gertie’s right. I suppose he’s still a member.”
I pulled out my cell phone and looked up the Catholic church website, then navigated to the page about the Christmas show. I scrolled down the page and located a picture of Santa with a child on his lap. I read the caption.
“‘Church member Rollie Long always does a great job fulfilling the role of Santa.’”
“Well, there you go,” Ida Belle said. “Everything someone needed to know right there on the internet. I miss the days when you had to live with a person to know anything about them.”
“It does make stalking a bit easier,” I said. “And robbery. People can’t seem to keep from advertising on social media when their houses are empty.”
“You won’t catch me advertising my business on those sites,” Ida Belle said. “If someone cares what I had for dinner, that person needs a hobby.”
“I’m all over social media,” Gertie said.
“Courtesy of your ability to make a scene and a million people with smartphones,” Ida Belle said.
Gertie nodded. “Francis and I are totally trending on YouTube right now.”
“Our society is doomed,” Ida Belle said.
“I’d have to agree with that.” Carter’s voice sounded behind us and we all turned around to look as he approached. “Please tell me there’s enough of whatever that is cooking for me?”
“I think we can make do for Sinful’s most dedicated law enforcement officer,” Ida Belle said as she checked her watch. “In fact, it’s time to take the chicken off the grill.”
“Baked beans should be ready,” Gertie said. “And the kitchen counter looks like a bakery exploded.”
“I couldn’t be more grateful,” Carter said.
“Grateful enough to tell us about the investigation?” Gertie asked.
“What I know won’t take us through one serving of baked beans,” Carter said.
“It’s got to be more than we know now,” Gertie said. “And probably a sight better than the crazy theories we’ve been rolling around.”
“I wouldn’t be so sure,” he said.
We headed into the house with the chicken, Gertie served up the baked beans, I grabbed more drinks, and we ate silently.
“Jeez Louise,” he said finally. “It’s quieter than prayer time at church in here.”
“That’s because people are snoring in church,” Gertie said. “We’ve just been waiting for you to come up for air and tell us what happened with Rollie.”
Carter nodded. “I’ll tell you but I don’t think it’s going to help with the crazy theory part of the night. Someone knocked on Rollie’s door this evening and when he opened it, the guy punched him in the face then added a couple more blows to the mix. Next thing Rollie remembers is waking up in the dark and tied up. He was still locked in his living room closet when I arrived. He heard me knocking and started yelling.”
Gertie gasped. “Good Lord! Is he all right?”
“He’s got a shiner and his jaw is going to hurt for a while,” Carter said. “He’s got some rope burns on his wri
sts and given his general physical conditioning, I don’t imagine his back is going to be happy about being slumped over and bundled up in that closet. But otherwise, he’ll be fine.”
“Who hit him?” Ida Belle asked.
“Fake Santa,” Carter said.
“He knows who Fake Santa is?” I asked.
“Not a clue,” Carter said. “But I had the paramedics snap a picture for me and Rollie recognized him as the man who attacked him.”
“What the heck is going on?” Ida Belle asked. “This is over-the-top, even for Sinful.”
Carter nodded. “I can honestly say I have absolutely no idea. I can’t even work up a far-fetched guess.”
“Maybe you’ll find out when the medical examiner comes up with an identity,” I said.
“You don’t know how badly I’m praying that Fake Santa’s prints are on file,” Carter said. “I mean, he’s dead so it’s not like I’ll be arresting him for assaulting Rollie, but the whole thing stinks. Who attacks a man so he can pose as Santa?”
“I’m not sure I want to know the answer,” Ida Belle said.
“I’m pretty sure I don’t either,” Carter said, “but I have to try.”
I nodded. I understood all the possible implications, and the fact that it took place during an event focused mostly on children made it that much more insidious. I wanted to know what was going on as much as Carter did and I was certain that as soon as word got around that Rollie wasn’t the dead guy, Sinful residents were going to be clamoring for answers. The whole thing had the potential to be a huge nightmare for Carter.
“If there’s anything we can do, let us know,” I said.
Carter looked at Ida Belle and Gertie. “You guys are sure you didn’t recognize him?”
“Not at all,” Ida Belle said. “We were just discussing that earlier. If Gertie or I had seen him before, we’d remember. We might not remember who or where but we would have known if we’d seen his face.”
Gertie nodded. “I’ve never seen him before. I’m certain of that.”
Carter sighed and started to speak, then his cell phone rang. He pulled it out and answered.
I could hear muffled talking on the other end but couldn’t make out the words. But only seconds after the man started speaking, Carter stiffened and I saw his jaw flex.
“You’re certain?” he asked, then paused. “On it!”
He jumped up from the table as soon as he hung up the phone. “We have to get Ida Belle to the hospital now!”
He moved beside her and grabbed her shoulder, tugging her up from her chair.
“What the hell are you doing?” Ida Belle asked as I stared, completely confused.
“Santa was poisoned,” Carter said. “Cyanide. And you gave him mouth-to-mouth.”
Chapter Three
Ida Belle stared, her eyes wide. “I thought he smelled like almonds because he’d been eating the cookies.”
“Holy crap!” Gertie said and scrambled out of her chair. “Someone call 911!”
“That will take too long,” I said. “Let’s go. I’ll drive Ida Belle’s race car. Carter, you lead. Lights on, please.”
Ida Belle didn’t utter a single word of protest as I hurried her out the door and into the passenger seat. Gertie was pale and clearly panicked as she jumped into the back seat and leaned forward, studying Ida Belle’s face, apparently waiting for her to fall out in the floorboard.
“Stop breathing on me,” Ida Belle said, and waved a hand at Gertie. “I’m fine.”
But I could tell by her tone that she was as worried as I was. I backed out of the drive and took off after Carter, who had the emergency light on his dash flashing as he tore through town for the highway.
“Let’s not panic,” I said, trying to recall what I knew about cyanide poisoning. “Any headache, dizziness, abdominal pain?”
“Sure,” Ida Belle said. “All those sweets gave me a stomachache. Your driving is giving me a headache. And Gertie’s breath is making me dizzy.”
Gertie sat back. “She’s fine.”
I wasn’t ready to launch into full-on alarm mode but I was still glad Carter was breaking every traffic law on the books. Given how long it had been since she was exposed, there was a good chance that Ida Belle hadn’t ingested any of the poison, but it was always better to be safe. And no way was I taking chances with Ida Belle.
“Should we call Walter?” I asked.
“Hell no!” Ida Belle said. “He’ll probably drive himself into a ditch trying to get to the hospital and for what? So all of you can sit around and wait for doctors to tell you there’s not a darn thing wrong with me?”
I glanced in the rearview mirror at Gertie, who held up her cell phone. A second later, I heard her punching the buttons.
“Are you sending a text?” Ida Belle turned around and snatched the phone from Gertie’s hand.
“Nope,” Gertie said. “I sent a text.”
Ida Belle tossed the phone back at her. “That does it. I’m returning your Christmas gift.”
“I’ll take it,” I said. I had helped Ida Belle pick out the riflescope and knew it was top-notch.
“You told me to send it,” Gertie accused.
“I never said a word,” I said.
“You wanted me to,” Gertie said. “I could tell by your look.”
“I’m going to keep your gift for myself,” Ida Belle said.
“Give us a break,” I said. “You know if Carter hasn’t already called, he will as soon as he stops his Dale Earnhardt routine.”
No way was Carter escorting Ida Belle to the hospital and then not letting his uncle know that the woman he was now engaged to might have been poisoned. That was a level of aggravation that he didn’t need.
“Fine,” Ida Belle said. “You can have your gifts, but I’m returning Carter’s. This is all unnecessary.”
“If it were me or Gertie, would you be saying the same thing?” I asked.
“Busted,” Gertie said.
Ida Belle sighed. “I’ll get checked out. But I’m telling you, I’m good. I don’t have any symptoms and I haven’t since I gave him mouth-to-mouth.”
“You looked a little worried back in Fortune’s kitchen,” Gertie said.
“Well, of course I was worried,” Ida Belle said. “I’d just been told I might have been poisoned, but once I had time to process it, I realized that I haven’t had any side effects.”
“Look at it as doing Carter a favor,” I said. “If it got out that you could have been exposed to cyanide as part of a murder investigation, and he didn’t insist that you get checked out, it wouldn’t look good for him.”
“That’s true,” Ida Belle agreed. “But I still think everyone could have waited until tomorrow to tell Walter about this.”
“Not if we all want to continue living in Sinful,” Gertie said. “Walter is a peaceful man, but I have a feeling that when it comes to you, he could get Old Testament.”
Ida Belle frowned. “This is all my fault. If I hadn’t agreed to marry him, no one would feel obligated to put him in the loop. And this kind of thing is exactly why I’ve said no for so many years.”
“It will be okay,” I said, understanding her dilemma. “Walter has known you your entire life. He’s hardly going to fall apart when something bad happens.”
Gertie nodded. “If he did, the man would be practically numb by now.”
We pulled into the emergency room drive and Carter rushed inside, calling for help. An orderly hurried out with a gurney and Ida Belle climbed out of the SUV and glared at him.
“Until I’m dead, I’m not taking a ride on one of those things,” Ida Belle said.
The orderly, apparently used to a variety of denial and bad manners, simply nodded and waved his hand at the door. “Come with me and I’ll get you in a room.”
Carter was talking to a doctor as they walked by and Ida Belle shot him a dirty look.
“I got a call from the ME,” the doctor said as Gertie and I stepped up. �
�Has she had any symptoms?”
“No,” I said. “And we’ve been with her since she administered mouth-to-mouth.”
The doctor nodded. “That’s good. I’ll run some tests but if she’s not presenting with any side effects, she either didn’t ingest or inhale any of the poison or didn’t process enough to cause problems. But we’ll make sure.”
“Thank you,” Carter said, and looked at us as the doctor walked away. “This will probably take a while. I’m going to make a coffee run. Orders?”
“I can do it,” I said.
“That’s all right,” he said. “I’m already in the mode.”
Gertie and I told him what we wanted and he headed out. Five minutes later, Walter rushed in the ER wearing striped pajamas like you saw in the movies and started demanding answers from the nurse at the desk. Then it hit me why Carter had offered to do the coffee run.
“That was sneaky,” I said to Gertie. “He left us to deal with Walter.”
“I don’t know whether to be irritated at his scheming or admire his cleverness.”
“Let’s see how bad a reaming we get, then we can decide.”
I stood up and hurried over to a clearly distraught Walter and touched his arm. He whirled around and looked relieved to see me standing there.
“What’s going on?” he said. “This nurse won’t tell me anything.”
“That’s because she doesn’t know anything,” I said, and guided him over to a couch to sit. I explained everything that had happened, making sure I stressed what the doctor had said and that Ida Belle had never experienced any symptoms.
His shoulders slumped in relief. “When Carter called me, I about had a heart attack. Then I got that text from Gertie and I knew it was serious. You three don’t tattle on one another.”
Gertie shot me a guilty look.
“Well…given the status change in your relationship, we didn’t feel it would be right to wait until tomorrow,” I said.
“Oh, I see,” Walter said. “So if she’d said no to my proposal, I’d still be none the wiser.”
“Yeah, pretty much,” Gertie said.
He raised one eyebrow. “Really? So what you’re saying is you wouldn’t have told me because you’re more afraid to face me than Ida Belle?”