Santa's Subpoena

by Rebecca Zanetti

  “No,” I said hastily, making sure the steps were covered in de-icer before getting out of their way. “I don’t mind driving. How did you find Sharon Smith, anyway?”

  Thelma tucked a jumbo electric-pink purse against her chest and maneuvered carefully down the stairs and along the walkway to the car.

  Georgiana followed her, carrying a black handbag neatly over her shoulder.

  Both bags appeared roomy enough to contain a gun or two.

  I sighed and followed them, waiting until we were all seated, belted, and moving through the neighborhood with the heat blasting merrily at us. “All right. Now please tell me what is going on?”

  “Head toward Montana,” Georgiana said next to me, staring out the window at all the twinkling lights.

  I glanced in the rearview mirror at Thelma, who looked like a wrinkled and shrunken gumshoe from the fifties. “I don’t have all day to go to Montana,” I admitted. “I have a stalker, and I’m trying to stay close to the authorities and town.”

  Thelma calmly withdrew a .45 with a shiny and large silver barrel. “Well, why didn’t you say so? Hawk Investigations can handle stalkers, right G?”

  Georgiana nodded. “That’s one of our many specialties.”

  I bit my lip, not wanting to dissuade or insult them but also not wanting to see them get hurt. Plus, it did seem that they’d found a line on Sharon Smith when none of the authorities had been able to do so. “Okay. So how about you at Hawk Investigations clue me in, considering we seem to be working together right now?” I drove south toward I-90. “Are we really going all the way to Montana?”

  Thelma pushed against her seatbelt as much as her wiry body could, leaning forward. “We are. There’s a snowmobile poker run in Montana right now, and rumor has it Sharon Smith will be there. If we hurry up, we should be able to catch her at the 10,000 Silver Dollar Bar for the third stop of the day.”

  Georgianna partially turned around. “It’s the 50,000 Silver Dollar Bar now.”

  “Don’t care,” Thelma sniffed. “It’ll always be ten-k to me.”

  I nodded, having spent plenty of time at the restaurant and bar in Haugen, Montana. It was named so because it had that many silver dollars in it. “I haven’t done a poker run in too long,” I murmured. It was a fun snowmobile ride where riders earned a card at each stop, and whoever had the best hand at the end of the ride won the prize. “That’s at least an hour and a half drive in these conditions, probably more. How sure are you two that there’s a poker ride on a Wednesday and that Sharon will be there?”

  Georgiana set her purse on the floor with a loud thunk.

  Hopefully she hadn’t loaded her gun.

  She looked at me. “It’s the Elk’s Charity Ride for the old folk’s home, and it’s today. Sharon will be there because we have the signup sheet, and her name is on it. Well, one of her names.”

  I drove onto the onramp to I-90, headed east. The interstate was nicely plowed, and my tires kicked up de-icer as I sped up. “Do you two know her?”

  “No,” Thelma said. “However, my friend Eunice from Silverville does know her, and that’s how we unraveled this mystery.” She squinted through the glasses, catching my eye in the rearview mirror. “Should I get a pipe? I feel like all detectives, the good ones, should have a pipe.”

  I switched lanes. “I think the trench coat is enough, to be honest.”

  She looked down at her lighter-beige coat. “You’re probably right, although this isn’t very warm. They should make wool detective trench coats.”

  “What’s Sharon’s other name?” I asked.

  Georgiana seemed to ponder the question for a moment. “We really can’t divulge privileged information, Anna. You understand.”

  I sighed. “None of your information is privileged. You’re not a priest, medical provider, or lawyer.”

  Thelma reached out and almost patted my shoulder, just waving in the air since she couldn’t reach me. “We took an oath, you know.”

  I flipped the windshield wipers to a faster speed. “I did not know that.”

  The 50,000 Silver Dollar Bar was hopping at lunchtime on a Wednesday, and a trickle of snowmobiles had started arriving outside. I sat with Thelma and Georgiana to the far side of the bar, happily eating a club sandwich. I’d always loved the atmosphere of the place, and the food was incredible. Both ladies had hung their trench coats over their chairs and put their hats on the free chair at the table. “If we have time, let’s hit the gift shop on the way out,” I said, finishing my fries.

  Thelma wiped her hands on a napkin. “What did you buy Aiden?”

  “I’m still working on that,” I admitted. “Any ideas?”

  Georgiana paused in eating her burger. “Gun?”

  I shook my head. “I think he likes to choose his own guns. I do have a cute leprechaun tie I bought the other day.”

  Thelma snorted. “No, unless you’re trying to ditch him. Truth be told, I have been worried about you two.”

  I jolted, surprised. “I thought you liked him.”

  “I do,” she said, leaning toward me and lowering her voice. “But no man that handsome can be good in bed. They just don’t have to be, and I think you probably are good.”

  I coughed out some of my soda. “Um, huh.” Was there a way to answer that?

  Thelma snatched one of Georgiana’s onion rings. “I was right? That’s sad.”

  “No.” I tossed my napkin on my empty plate. My very empty plate. “You’re not right. He’s a god in bed and that’s all I’m going to say.” I felt the oddest responsibility to defend his honor, even while knowing that he’d rather I just didn’t say anything to her.

  Thelma brightened. “A god? Well, that’s lovely.” She ate the onion ring, staring at the varied bottles of alcohol stacked on glass shelves behind the bar. “Well then, how about a new leather jacket? He does look good in leather.”

  “I think he likes the jackets he already has right now,” I said, my hopes sinking. I sucked as a girlfriend.

  “Chaps?” she asked.

  Georgina, normally the quiet one, nodded. “He does have a nice caboose.”

  I shouldn’t have brought up the subject. What had I been thinking? Snowmobilers began striding inside, tearing off gloves and hats and dropping snow on the way to the bar. “All right. Let me know when you see her.”

  Thelma stood and moved her chair next to mine so she could see the door as well. “We don’t know what she looks like.”

  I sighed, barely keeping from allowing my chin to drop. “You don’t?”

  “Nope,” Thelma said agreeably. “But I know who she’s with.”

  I perked up. “Who?”

  “Should we tell her?” Thelma leaned forward and twisted her stick-thin body to better see Georgiana.

  “Sure.” Georgiana chewed thoughtfully on an onion ring, watching the doorway carefully.

  A group of men stomped inside, and I smiled. “Hey, Bos!”

  Bosco turned, spotted me, and made a beeline. In a second, he’d plucked me from the chair in a strong hug.

  I chuckled and swatted at his riding jacket. “Your jacket is wet, dummy.”

  He set me down. “Sorry.” Like most of the Albertini brothers, he was over six feet tall with light brown eyes, and his brown hair was thick and wavy. He was the youngest, like me, and we had commiserated through the years. “You’re looking good, Anna Banana.”

  I grasped his hand, feeling lighter than I had in ages. Bos was home and was safe. I introduced him to Thelma and Georgiana, and I swear, Thelma fluttered her eyelashes and pushed her sunken boobs out under her knitted sweater.

  Bosco winked at her, and that was it. I hoped he knew what he’d just done.

  “Are you home for a while?” I asked. While he was stationed at Fairchild, he did a good amount of traveling. Something about refueling jets in the air.

  He shrugged. “Dunno. I’m staying with Vince for a few days and then will head over to my apartment in Timber City. Rumor
has it you’re dating Aiden Devlin, and I’d like to have a nice dinner with him.”

  I rolled my eyes. “I can take care of myself.”

  Thelma reared up. “Jacki? Hey, Jacki.”

  A woman with bobbed gray hair beneath a gray knit cap turned and waved. “Hey, Thelma,” she called over the crowd. “You made it.”

  Thelma stood, her gaze eagle-like. “Where is she?” she yelled.

  I stilled. “I thought we were going to do this quietly?”

  Jacki turned just as another woman walked inside, this one with red hair over a black jacket and snow pants. “Sharon is right here.” She jerked her thumb toward the redhead.

  Sharon frowned, turned, and spotted us. Then she pivoted and ran out the door.

  “Damn it,” Georgiana muttered, tossing her chair back and barreling through the crowd with Thelma right behind her.

  I ran after them, aware of Bosco at my side.

  We all skidded outside to see Sharon plunk a helmet on her head, jump onto a green sled, expertly start it, and zip out of the parking lot.

  I spotted my cousin Rory next to his snowmobile and ran for him, jumping on. “I’ll be back.” I twisted the key and grabbed the throttle.

  “Hey.” Rory barely shoved his helmet into my gut as I roared past him.

  “Thanks,” I yelled back, slamming the heavy metal onto my head and flipping up the visor to follow the redhead through the snow. Lowering my chin, I settled into the seat and twisted the throttle, going full out through two trees onto a trail.

  Chapter 28

  Sharon was a decent rider on the older sled, but Rory had a new Arctic Cat, and so long as I kept it on the trail, she couldn’t outrun me. She tried to take a couple of different trails, and I followed easily, my palms kept warm by the heaters built into the handles. Unfortunately, the skin on the outside of my hands was freezing.

  She looked over her shoulder at me, and I gunned it, coming up to her skis. I hit a couple of rocks in the trail, and my back protested, but I kept up the speed. The wind blew mercilessly, and my breath fogged up the helmet since it was too big for me. No way was I taking it off, though.

  Then she took a sharp right turn, climbing up a hill.

  I slowed and then stopped, considering my options. My sled was more powerful than hers, and I could probably climb the hill. She wasn’t going to make it.

  She had to stop halfway up, partially turned and then sank right down into the heavy snow. Her head dropped. She was only about six yards up the hill from me, but the snow was at least at thigh level, if not more.

  I cut my engine and took off my helmet. “Looks like you’re stuck.”

  She turned off the sled and removed her helmet, turning to sit and face me. “Looks like it.”

  The wind whistled through the trees, and the snow lightly fell, cocooning the two of us in the wilderness. Sleds could be heard in the distance, but right now, there were just the two of us and the snowy trees. “Why did you run?” I asked.

  “I know who you are and that you’re representing Bernie McLintock,” she said, not having to raise her voice. “Gossip travels fast from Idaho to Montana, as you know. Also, I’ve seen you in the paper a lot lately—usually in bar fights or ridiculous situations.”

  “Don’t believe everything you read,” I said. That darn Jolene O’Sullivan. At least she hadn’t caught up to me about the Santa case yet. For now, I had a job to do, so I studied Sharon. Red hair, blue eyes, fairly smooth skin for a woman in her sixties. “Should I know you?”

  “Probably not.” She rested her elbows on her knees and seemed content to just sit there in the cold. “I actually go by Rona or Ronnie and not Sharon, but I have met your Grandma Albertini before. Nice lady.”

  “You’re going to need assistance digging out the sled,” I said, rather helpfully.

  She sighed, her nose turning pink. At least she was wearing gloves. I shoved my hands in my pockets, wishing I’d grabbed gloves before chasing her into the wilderness.

  I cleared my throat. “Did you know you inherited a bundle from Lawrence Forrest? I was at the reading of the will.”

  She cocked her head to the side, watching me. I had to admit, there was something impressive about her, about the way she just sat there unconcerned with anything.

  I shifted my weight on the snowmobile, setting both feet on the runner and facing her. “I’m not leaving. You might as well talk to me.” I thought through what I knew about her. “Here’s the deal, Sharon. I’ve pretty much put it together that Lawrence hired you to pretend to sleep with Bernie McLintock, and you did so. It was five years ago, and any statute of limitations on fraud or anything else have run. You can’t be arrested or charged with a crime.” Bernie might have a civil case against her, but criminally, she was off the hook. “So talk. Either now, or I’ll subpoena you to come in and speak with me. It’s up to you.”

  She sighed.

  I wasn’t entirely sure I’d be able to find her again, but I kept my expression confident. Well, as confident as possible, considering the frigid wind was trying to shred the different layers of my face off. I shivered and huddled deeper into my jacket, which was not made for snowmobile riding.

  “Fine.” She pushed her hat farther back on her head. “Yeah, I helped Lawrence set up Bernie McLintock. Lawrence had been in love with Florence for eons, and apparently Bernie wasn’t being nice to her, so I figured, why not?” She rubbed snow off her face. “Although, it really wasn’t like Lawrence. I mean, I loved the man as a good friend, but he wasn’t a master planner, you know?” She shrugged. “Guess that’s what love does to a guy. I wouldn’t know.”

  “Did you sleep with Bernie?” I figured I owed the guy to actually ask the question.

  “No. Lawrence drugged him, and we carted his butt out to some apartment Lawrence kept for mainly business, after we put a bed in the night before. Woke up naked, lied, and figured I’d helped out Lawrence.” She blinked snow out of her eyes, her voice echoing off the trees behind me. “I think he and Florence would’ve been happy.”

  I swallowed. “You know Florence?”

  “No,” Sharon said.

  The snow was clinging to my hair, so I shoved it over my shoulders to keep my face free. “How do you know Lawrence, then?”

  Sharon smiled, making her look like a snow sprite. “Until I retired, I worked for Elroy’s Flies and met Lawrence at a trade show in Vegas about twenty years ago. We became friends. In fact, when I retired, I went to Montana after talking to him about it. I live in Missoula, and it’s a great place to be.”

  “That’s it?” I asked, curling my fingers into my hands, trying to banish the chill. “You were just friends, and he left you a hundred thousand dollars in his will?” Sure, it wasn’t the millions he’d left Florence or even Hoyt, but it was still a boatload of money.

  She chuckled, her eyes dancing. “Yeah, I know. Crazy, right? We were pen pals most of our working lives, and we became really good friends. I would’ve done anything to help him, and I guess I did.” She brushed snow off her forehead. “He sent me a letter after Florence divorced Bernie, saying that now he had a chance and would always owe me. That he was putting me in his will, and someday he’d be able to repay me, but hopefully not for a long time.” She sobered. “I can’t believe Bernie killed him. So sad.”

  “Why haven’t you contacted the lawyers? Obviously you’ve heard of Lawrence’s death,” I said, my teeth chattering.

  “I called them yesterday,” she said. “To be honest, I’d figured Lawrence was just talking and joking about his will. I’m shocked he left me that much money.”

  I swallowed. “Where were you the night he was killed?”

  Her smile was rueful. “I was at a Christmas party my neighbors threw and have about twenty witnesses. We partied all night, man. I had a heck of a headache the next day.”

  “I’d like the names of your neighbors.”

  “Sure,” she said, looking down the distance between us.

  I
tilted my head. “If Bernie didn’t kill Lawrence, who do you think did?”

  She gingerly stepped down, sinking up to her hips in the snow. “Nobody. Bernie’s the only person in the world who would’ve wanted Lawrence dead, as far as I know.” She kicked snow out of her way. “You going to help me get this sled out?”

  The roar of engines finally pierced the silence, and I turned to see Rory and Bosco riding with Thelma and Georgiana holding on tight behind them, both wearing helmets and protective gear. I wasn’t sure whose sled Rory had borrowed, but it looked like a new Polaris.

  Sharon’s chin dropped and she snorted. “This is your backup?”

  I looked to make sure everyone was safe. “Yeah. They found you, didn’t they?”

  The ladies could barely contain themselves on the drive home from Montana, past Silverville, and through the pass. Unfortunately, my back was already aching from the ride, and my feet would not warm up. Plus, I was driving them all the way home, and then I needed to collect Violet and drive back over to Silverville. I should’ve thought of a way to combine the trips, but it wasn’t like I could’ve taken Violet to hunt for a woman in a bar.

  “So,” I said, cutting into their excited chatter. “You never did tell me how you two found Sharon Smith.”

  This time, Thelma sat in the front with the heat filtering across her tightly curled hair, and Georgiana sat in the back.

  Thelma hopped in place, looking like a happy chipmunk who’d found some brightly colored fabric to play with. “It’s so wonderful. We canvassed Timber City and then headed over to Silverville where everybody knows everybody.” She grinned. “We talked to everyone we could, including the Lady Elks. They didn’t know a redhead named Sharon, but then Betty Johnsville mentioned that she had a cousin named Sharon who went by the name of Ronnie.”

  I sped up to pass a truck that was catapulting dark chunks of ice up from its rear tires. “So you figured out Sharon’s name was Rona?”