He chuckled and glanced at his notes, getting back to business. “Has anyone contacted you about the letter?”
“No.” She sat up, refocusing. “If I was invited here because someone thinks I’m a Scrooge, why hasn’t anyone asked me to come to a Scrooge group therapy session or sit with a hypnotist who will change my feelings about Christmas?”
Angel brought over their dinner and set the plates before them. “One Cobb salad and one cheeseburger and fries.”
“Thanks, Angel.” Jack looked over his food. “Hey, do you happen to know when the mail gets picked up at that mailbox out there?”
Her forehead wrinkled. “You mean Santa’s mailbox?”
His lips tightened, as if he were restraining a grin from taking over his face. “Yes.”
“If the candy cane flag is raised, it gets picked up the same night.”
“Who picks it up?” he asked.
“One of Santa’s elves,” she answered in all seriousness.
Jack caught Charley’s eye. She was also trying not to laugh. “Of course,” he replied, staying professional.
“Anything else?” she asked him with a pleasant smile.
“No. Thank you.”
Charley waited for Angel to be out of earshot before she said, “Bet you weren’t expecting that answer.”
“Trust me.” He squirted ketchup on his burger. “I’ve heard it all.”
He shoved a handful of fries into his mouth while staring at his plate, and she sensed he had slipped into his own little investigative world. Even though they’d been apart fourteen years, she knew he hadn’t been satisfied with the odd answers that Angel had given him. Jack looked to be working out the problem in his head. “What’s the plan, Detective?”
He glanced up at her as if she had instantly appeared out of thin air. He sat back, wiping the grease from his fingers with a paper napkin. “We’re going to conduct a stakeout.”
Her mouth fell open. “A stakeout?” He nodded. “Cool.” She was totally on board with that. At first she hadn’t been able to understand what drew him to detective work, but now she was beginning to understand. There was something sexy and dangerous in being a voyeur, not to mention unraveling a real-life mystery. Now that was exciting.
He dove into his food. “Eat up, Charley. It could be a long night.”
She picked at her salad, cursing herself for not ordering the burger. She eyed Jack’s, which looked so much tastier than lunch meat on lettuce.
He cut his burger in half and plopped it on her plate without saying a word. Just like old times.
Chapter Eleven
By the time they left the diner, it was well past eight. Jack had to admit the town looked impressive at night with all the Christmas lights outlining every store, every lamppost, every tree branch. Even Miss Scrooge was finding it difficult to ignore. And he was finding it difficult to ignore her. She still had that lively, effervescent quality he remembered so well, but it had greatly diminished. He wondered what had stifled her endless optimism.
“Do you want to walk around the town before we get to work?” he asked.
“Sure,” she said, moving closer, and he barely stopped himself from grabbing her hand.
Back in high school, they would always hold hands. He couldn’t believe how, after so many years, it was still such a natural response. Not trusting himself not to do it again, he shoved his hands in his pockets. “So, what have you been doing the last fourteen years?”
“Uh, well, let’s see. I went to UCLA for journalism, and after I graduated, I couldn’t find a job in my field, so I bounced around until I got an internship at Authentic Lifestyles, where I’ve been ever since,” she said in one breath. “I guess that doesn’t sound like a whole lot for fourteen years.” With wide eyes and hands to her cheeks, she presented her best expression of horror, which made him laugh. “What about you?”
“I studied criminal justice at the University of Colorado, Denver. After that, I went to the police academy, was a police officer for a year, helped out a sheriff in a small town for another year, and now I’m a detective where I focus mainly on fraud and other white-collar crimes.”
She looked at him thoughtfully. “That’s impressive, Detective Brody.”
“No more than your story,” he replied, attempting to put the focus back on her. He wanted to know what made her tick. “What’s your blog about?”
“Gosh.” She sighed loudly. “I guess the best way to describe it is I reveal the facts behind a romanticized story, legend, or myth.”
“Oh, yeah?” He nodded with interest. “Like what?”
“Well.” She shrugged. “For instance, why do we enjoy stories taking place in medieval times? Why are little girls taught to dream of living in a castle with Prince Charming? The most common answer is ‘because it’s romantic.’ But was it really? Of course not. I point out that life in medieval times was just that. Medieval. It was tough. No antibiotics, no sanitation. They slowly poisoned themselves by using mercury in medicine and lead in kitchenware. People didn’t bathe for months. There were rampant fleas and—”
“Seriously, Charley?” He frowned.
“Oh, yeah. Those are the cold hard facts about life back then.”
“No, I mean, you’re seriously writing about this?” The question tumbled out of his mouth before he had a chance to rephrase it. It sounded way too harsh, even to his own ears, and he had to fix it fast. “You, Charley Dawson, Queen of Light and Optimism, are out there crushing little girls’ dreams?” Oh, no. That was worse. He added a laugh, hoping she wouldn’t take offense. Too late.
“Little girls aren’t my readership,” she replied icily. “Besides, my blog covers a wide variety of subjects. I have articles that talk about which hotels are the cleanest, which cities are the safest. I’d think you, being a detective, would appreciate that there was someone out there, like me, who tells it like it is.”
“I do and I am.” He put his hands up in defense. “Sorry. Will you ever forgive me, milady?” he asked in jest, and she poked him in the ribs with her elbow.
She had a sour expression on her face. He couldn’t tell if she was pretending to be mad, or if she really was. Best not to guess wrong.
“I really am sorry. That came out all wrong because you actually crushed me. I mean, here I honestly thought castle life was all about slaying dragons and winning the heart of a noble lady such as yourself with your ethereal flaxen hair and your beguiling forest-green eyes.”
Charley shook her head, truly laughing this time. “You’re impossible.”
Not to love. He finished their high school saying in his head. When he glanced at her, she was staring at him with a pensive look on her face, and he thought that maybe she had remembered their saying too.
“Apology accepted,” she finally said as she moved closer to him again.
“How are your parents?” he quickly threw out, choosing a neutral topic of conversation.
“My mom passed away from cancer when I was twenty-two.”
“Oh, Charley, I’m so sorry. I remember how close you were as a family.”
“Thanks. It came as quite a shock,” she said, walking slowly with her head down and her hands tucked deep in her pockets. “My dad had a very tough time, as you can imagine, so he threw himself into work. He’s with an investment firm that has him traveling a lot. Two years ago, he met someone in London where he now lives.”
Jack was beginning to understand the change in her. It would be hard enough to lose one parent, but then to have the other move halfway across the globe had to be tough. “Do you at least see him when he travels back to LA?”
“He was promoted to the London office. I haven’t seen him since he moved.”
“Then you’ll have to visit him.” he said, trying to sound cheerful.
“Maybe,” she replied, though Jack sensed there was more to the st
ory. “How are your parents?” She flicked him a glance.
“Good,” he told her, but held back that his mom had continued to ask about her long after they broke up. “They live five minutes from me, so I see them often—probably too often because I’m a lousy cook.”
Charley laughed. He wanted to ask her more about her life but was afraid he’d step in it again, so they fell into a comfortable silence.
As they walked along a path in the town square, they accidentally bumped shoulders. He thought she did it on purpose since she’d poked him with her elbow, but then they bumped into each other again, and then again.
“I’m seriously not trying to run into you,” Charley said, a little flustered.
“It’s not you,” he said, realizing what was happening. “Did you know that humans can’t walk a straight line without a focal point?”
“Is that true?”
He nodded. “But we’re probably bumping into each other because you’re left-handed and I’m right-handed. Those are our dominant sides, which means we’re walking a little off center of a straight line.”
“Okay, Mr. Brainiac, let’s test your theory and switch sides.”
They did and walked toward the Christmas tree without running into each other once.
“You’re right!” she exclaimed, overflowing with that bubbly charm he’d missed for so long.
“Just one of the weird facts I’ve picked up being a detective.”
“Permission to put that under the Weird Facts section on my blog?”
“Be my guest.”
She stared up at the sixty-foot Christmas tree, and he heard her take in a satisfied breath. “What a beautiful tree.”
He was impressed himself. The tree was expertly decorated with just the right number of lights, shiny bulbs, and bows. A bright silver star adorned the top, and for a moment, he remembered the good Christmases of years gone by. “It really is.”
They stayed there for a few more minutes, listening to Christmas carolers and observing families taking pictures in front of the tree. Jack kept giving her sidelong glances. Her eyes lit up when she watched children, and she laughed at goofy dads being silly. He wondered if she wanted to have children. He had wanted the whole package at one time, but gave up on that dream a few years ago.
As they continued their stroll, he became aware of all the couples walking arm in arm. Charley seemed to notice them as well. Had she been apathetic about being in a relationship like he had? It didn’t seem possible. She was too much of a people person, whereas he could go days without social interaction. He knew losing her mom and missing her dad were sure to dampen her spirits, but he sensed there was something else that had made her lose her spark. She might not want to tell him, but he would know soon enough. He was a detective, after all, and he was very good at his job.
Shortly after nine, they were back on the Scrooge case and in full stakeout mode. Jack thought it best they didn’t inspect the mailbox before the stakeout, so instead, he parked his SUV on the side of Main Street, far enough away to avoid detection but close enough to monitor the situation.
“Do you go on a lot of stakeouts?” she asked as she sipped hot coffee, keeping an eye on Santa’s mailbox.
“It depends on the case, but I’ve had my share.”
“I’m guessing you don’t have a nine-to-five job.”
“Does anyone anymore?”
She laughed. “Good point.”
Jack stayed focused, scanning the area around the mailbox. Not that he wanted to show off for Charley, but he was determined to catch and question whoever was collecting the mail. And maybe he did want to show off a little.
“All those long hours must be tough on your wife.” She fixed her eyes on him.
Jack raised his bare hand, minus any wedding ring—just like she’d done for him earlier. “I’m not married, either.”
“Good,” she said with satisfaction. “I mean, it’s good we got that out of the way.”
He looked at her curiously. “Are you saying that you wouldn’t have come along on this stakeout if I’d been married?”
“No, I was just wondering.” She shrugged. “And now I can concentrate on the task at hand.” She let out a loud determined breath and zeroed in on the mailbox.
He smiled, amused by her behavior. He peered through the binoculars, then passed them to her.
“Flag’s still up,” she said, sounding disappointed, before she handed them back.
“We’ve been at it for less than an hour,” he reminded her. “You’re not already bored, are you?”
“Me? No. It’s exciting to stare at a mailbox. Best Wednesday night I’ve had in a long time.”
He laughed. “You remind me of my partner, Adam. He’s funny, like you. Makes the stakeouts more interesting.”
“Well, someone needs to be your sidekick,” she teased. “But I’m glad to see you’re not so serious, like you were as a teenager.”
“Oh, I’m still serious. Ask anyone in the department. You just seem to be making me laugh.” He thought about that for a moment. It had been a long time since he laughed so much on a date—not that it was a date, but if it were...
Her mouth hitched up into a half smile, and he found that very attractive. “How come your partner’s not with you now?”
“It’s better I’m alone—to keep my investigation on the down low, so to speak.”
“Ah. I’m guessing Mary and Joe don’t know you’re a detective.”
“Nope. I’m just a guy taking some time off.”
“Copy that. I’ll keep your true intentions on the DL,” she said in an affected voice, then suddenly sat up straight. “Who’s that?”
He swiveled his head to see a conspicuous-looking man wearing a hat and a long dark coat walking toward the mailbox. Jack raised the binoculars to his eyes. “One of Santa’s elves?”
The man slowed, stopped several feet short of the mailbox, and scoped out his surroundings.
Charley gasped. “Oh, my gosh. This could be it.”
The man retrieved a ringing phone from his pocket and answered it. He kept looking around as he talked, then abruptly disconnected the call.
“That’s weird.” She frowned.
Jack continued to study the man through the binoculars. “He’s waiting for someone.”
A minute later, a woman came running up. They hugged, exchanged words, then rushed off toward the diner.
He lowered the binoculars. “False alarm.”
“Shoot,” she grumbled.
He glanced at the time on the dashboard: 10:03. “I hope Angel’s right.”
“She said it’s always collected when the flag is up.”
He peered through the binoculars again. “The flag’s still up.” He handed them over to Charley so she could see for herself.
She set them to her eyes. “We could still get a lead tonight.”
“Spoken like a true detective.”
As Charley remained focused on the mailbox, he found himself studying her face—her pretty lips, her determined chin, her slender but slightly turned up nose.
She lowered the binoculars and he quickly averted his gaze, feeling guilty he’d been staring at her without her knowledge.
“I know we’re working here, Jack, but do you mind if I ask you something personal?”
“Not at all.” He gave her his undivided attention. “Fire away.”
She paused for a moment and took a deep breath before she raised her eyes to meet his. “I’ve been wanting to know why you—”
A cackle from a teenage boy had Jack and Charley turning to see a group of high school kids wandering down the sidewalk, joking around. One of the boys scooped up snow from the side of the street, threw it toward his friend, but hit the car window by Charley instead.
She let out a startled scream.
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Jack jumped out of the car. “Hey! Get over here.”
The boy who threw the snowball seemed shocked to see six-foot-two Jack get out of the SUV. “I’m sorry, sir.” He cowered. “I was aiming for my friend.”
Jack couldn’t miss the look of terror on the kid’s face, so he dialed it back. “You need to work on your aim.”
The boy froze as though he wasn’t sure what to think until Jack cracked a smile. “Yes, sir!”
“Jack, look!” Charley bolted from the car, pointing to the mailbox.
He whipped around to see that the flag was down.
They raced to the mailbox, certain they’d find someone hiding behind it, only no one was there. Nobody was even near it. Jack cast his flashlight down the walkway in both directions, expecting to see someone running away, yet there wasn’t a soul in sight. He combed the nearby bushes and also came up empty-handed. “I can’t believe we missed the pickup.”
“We looked away for what, a minute?” she asked. “How could someone have collected it and disappeared so quickly?”
“I don’t know.” He inspected the packed snow around the mailbox, trampled by people’s boots, and worked his way around to the back side of the mailbox. Though the snow had seen less traffic, no single set of footprints stood out to him. He shined his light on the collection door and noticed a vintage, ornate, heart-shaped padlock. The detailed design reminded him of the metallic tubes he’d seen at Felicity and Nolan’s B&B. “Check this out.”
She came around and stood next to him. “Whoa.” She bent down for a closer look. “How old do you think that is?”
“Hard to tell, but I’d guess early 1900s. Can you hold this for me?” He gave her the flashlight and began manipulating the lock. “Interesting.” He ran his hand over the gold facing.
“What?”
“It’s a combination lock and key.”
“So?”
“It’s not an either/or combination. It’s both. Look here. Four numbers open this facing, which exposes the keyhole. It’s a two-lock system.”
“That’s pretty cool.” She studied the intricacy of it. “How long do you think it would take to get it open?”
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