by Gayle Hayes
"Well, do you?" Phyllis was impatient.
"No. I'll write to Emma," Carole said.
"You will like hell. You never send cards."
"I don't like those Christmas letters, and I always have a hard time with cards. I can't get started, and then I can't stop. I wind up writing over the logo and up the sides."
"You make a problem out of everything. You're a writer. Christmas cards should be a piece of cake."
Carole tried to explain. "That's the problem. I'm a writer. I can't write about the weather. I need to be more creative."
"Nobody cares if you're creative. They want something colorful to decorate the mantle."
"I have nothing to say. My life is boring. If I tell them about mother, it's depressing. I don't want to tell anyone I lost Babe in a Christmas card."
Phyllis rarely laughed out loud. Now she couldn't stop. "I'm sorry. It sounds like one of those goofy Christmas tunes. There'll be no Christmas this year. I lost Babe in a Christmas card. It struck me funny," Phyllis said. She wiped away tears from laughing.
"I don't know how you can laugh about Babe. Not having him here has taken all the fun out of Christmas," Carole said.
"You need to get out of the house. Take a trip. Volunteer. Your arteries are going to clot sitting in front of the computer all day."
"I didn't realize you gave so much thought to how I spend my day." Carole sounded hurt.
"I don't. I'm just saying."
Carole left the restaurant kitchen without a word and opened a box of tinsel. It was not the same as the tinsel she remembered while growing up. The strands were skinny and dull. It seemed she was reminded of her age no matter what she did. Nothing was the way it used to be. While she hung the tinsel, Carole tried to think of something interesting she could write on a card to Emma. Thinking about Emma reminded her of Babe. She brushed a tear from her cheek and tried to focus on the music. Holly Jolly Christmas was easy. Then she heard Elvis and thought of Babe. She'd have a blue Christmas without him.
Phyllis set a box of ornaments on the floor near the tree.
"You can't put the tinsel on before the ornaments!" she said.
Carole shoved the tinsel at Phyllis. "Here. You do it. It's obvious I can't do anything right today!"
Phyllis took the tinsel. She was stunned by Carole's outburst.
"I'm sorry. I know you know that. You're just preoccupied today. Let's hang the ornaments together. No one should decorate a tree alone."
Carole was fine as long as she could be angry with Phyllis. She was unprepared for Phyllis to be sympathetic. Tears welled in Carole's eyes and streamed over her cheeks. Phyllis set the tinsel down and wrapped her arms around Carole, patting her back.
"I know it's hard. He was always the best part of Christmas. I miss him as much as you do. But he wouldn't want to spoil Christmas for us. We have to go on. Maybe Emma will find a way to come for the holiday. There's an idea for you. Tell her how much it would mean to us to have her here."
Phyllis pulled two tissues from a box on the coffee table. "Here. Dry your eyes and blow. We've got each other. It's more than some people have at Christmas." She handed Carole a box of ornaments. "You do the plaid ones, and I'll do the shiny balls."
Carole took the box full of plaid decorations and began hanging them. She held the tip of a branch in her left hand. Then she slipped the gold loop at the top of three-dimensional bows, stars, mice, and toy soldiers over the branch. Before long, she and Phyllis were singing slightly off key, "Santa Claus Is Coming to Town."
CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO
It was the middle of the second week in December before Emma received the Christmas card Phyllis convinced Carole to finish. Phyllis' description of events in Buffalo Jump to mark the holiday season left Emma wishing she'd not volunteered for office duty during Christmas week. She had questioned whether she was suited for the fishbowl of Buffalo Jump. Phyllis made the town sound very inviting. Perhaps Emma would find it easier to join the community activities in Buffalo Jump. It was a less competitive, superficial environment. She allowed herself to daydream a little. Perhaps Eric would become Sheriff or Mayor of Buffalo Jump. Emma would stop practicing law and volunteer her time for the community. She could almost see a family portrait of her and Eric and their two children posed in front of their Christmas tree on cards she would send to her friends in Denver. Then Ally knocked on her door and the daydream vanished.
Detective Dolan and another man walked into the office.
"Emma, this is Detective Connor from District 1. He's working on a homicide in a neighborhood there. We'd like to ask you a few questions."
"A homicide? I don't think I know anyone from that part of town."
Detective Connor reached across Emma's desk and showed her a photograph. "Do you know this man?" he asked.
"Yes. Jack Hennessey. He's not…?"
"No. He's not the victim. This is a surveillance photo from a security camera mounted outside the victim's home. Mr. Hennessey was the last person seen going into the garage, and he's the last one who came out."
"I don't know what to say. I can't believe Jack had anything to do with a homicide. I talked to him a week ago, I think. He was off on another trip. He said his luggage didn't show up for two days."
"Did he say where he was?" Connor asked.
"No. He couldn't say. I've never been able to pin him down, but I've always assumed he's CIA. When we met, he said he was involved with international development. I assumed it was a cover."
"Why do you think he's CIA?" Dolan asked.
"I thought I saw him on TV one night. I guess it was right before Halloween. An embassy was attacked. He was standing behind an ambassador who was holding an impromptu press conference."
"Did you ask him about it?" Connor asked.
"No. I was half asleep, and the reception wasn't very good. I forgot about it more or less. The only reason it bothered me was because Jack said he was on a flight to Paris. I was surprised to see him in a dangerous place."
"Did he ever mention Henry McDonald to you?" Connor asked.
"No. Is he the victim?"
"Yes."
"Was he CIA, too?" Emma asked.
"Henry McDonald started out as an upholsterer, but he also had a fascination with technology. He combined his talents in both areas to provide specialized equipment and weapons for a shadowy underworld. We think Jack Hennessey hired McDonald to do a job for him. They were close. Unless Hennessey snapped, we don't suspect him of the murder. We think he might know why someone would kill McDonald, though," Connor said.
"I'm stunned. Jack is an old-fashioned gentleman. I can't imagine him even getting physical with anyone let alone killing them."
"Do you talk to Hennessey on a regular basis?" Connor asked.
"No. I called him last week to thank him for his Christmas gift. He doesn't expect to be back in the states until after the first of the year," Emma said.
"I'd appreciate a call if you hear from him. Here's my card," Connor said.
Emma took the business card and shook hands with Detective Connor.
"Thanks for taking time for us, Emma," Dolan said.
"It's the least I can do after all you've done for me."
The two detectives left Emma's office. She was headed to the restroom when she remembered something else. She hurried out the door and caught the two men as they were getting on the elevator.
"Detective Connor, I don't know if it's important, but Jack invited me to spend Christmas in New York with him and his daughter and granddaughter. I told him I couldn't. Then, for some reason, he said he'd be out of the country until the first of the year. Could that be important?"
"Could be. Did he tell you his daughter's name?" Connor asked.
"No. He said his granddaughter would be disappointed if her Papa…it's her name for Jack…wasn't there at Christmas."
"Well, we'll certainly keep it in mind, Emma. Thank you," Connor said.
The elevator door closed. Emma went into
the restroom and then walked back through the waiting room, passing Ally on her way to the office.
"Hey, Em, you okay? You're white as a sheet," she said.
"Not to worry. Hold my calls for the rest of the day. I need a timeout," Emma said.
Ally gave Emma a thumbs-up. Emma shut the door to her office and then closed the shade on the door. She dropped into her chair and stared out the window. The Jack Hennessey in the photo taken by the surveillance camera was not the person she knew. She'd not told the detectives, but she thought there was something menacing about his appearance. Was it the power of suggestion? She wondered why his plan to spend Christmas with his daughter in New York changed. Maybe it had not changed. Was he really out of the country? Had he been without his luggage for two days? Why did he make a point to tell her? Was he creating a cover for himself? Emma wished he'd not given her the briefcase. It was obviously too expensive a gift to give someone without expecting something in return. She should have refused it. What did he expect from Emma in return for the briefcase? Would he expect her to help him hide from Detective Connor? Worse yet, he might be hiding from the people who killed his friend, Henry.
Emma remembered she didn't finish reading the Christmas card from Phyllis. Carole had added a short paragraph at the end. It was difficult to read because it overlapped the logo on the back and wandered up the edge. She said she missed Emma's father terribly and begged Emma to come for Christmas. Pretty Please, she wrote.
CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE
Emma began work on a demand letter for a friend who could not afford to hire an attorney. She thought the demand letter would be the easiest way to get her mind back on work. She was looking through her folder of forms when someone knocked once on her door. She was irritated to think someone would knock when the shade was down. There was one more, sharp knock before the door opened. The expression on Emma's face was not the one she would have used to greet her employer, Tom Davidson.
Emma forced a smile. "Oh, Tom, please come in."
Tom Davidson sat in one of the chairs facing Emma's desk. He leaned forward and took one of the mints from a large mug. He unwrapped the mint.
"Detective Dolan paid me a visit this afternoon. He said he'd been working on your stolen scrimshaw set. I had no idea what he was talking about."
"I'm surprised he came to see you."
"Well, he told me I should fire Tori. He said she might've gotten you killed."
"I haven't found time to talk to you about it," Emma said.
"Detective Dolan said Tori gave your home address to a total stranger over the phone. Then he broke in and tied you up. I wish you would've told me about it, Emma."
"Well, you're so busy running the firm, it didn't occur to me. Frankly, I hoped it wouldn't wind up in the rumor mill," Emma said.
"Do you think I should fire Tori?"
"Tom, I'd hate to see anyone get fired at the holidays. But Tori lives at home, and her family isn't hurting. She has every new gadget on the market and dresses better than I do. I think it would teach her a valuable lesson. The man who robbed me got pretty rough and tied me up. He threatened to kill me if I didn't open the safe. Fortunately, he was wearing a ski mask or he might've killed me to keep me quiet. It was a terrifying experience, and I'm still having nightmares. Until he called the office, he didn't know where I lived. Tori not only violated company policy, she put my life in danger. So, yes. I think she should be fired."
Tom took another mint, opened it, and tossed the wrapper into the garbage like a basketball. He placed his hands together as if he was praying, held them to his face, and struck the pose he was famous for in the office. It meant he was about to shoot you down, but he wanted you to know he'd given it some thought first. His voice was more condescending than usual.
"Here's the deal, Emma. Tori's uncle Edgar is a very influential man. He's steered more well-heeled clients to us than anyone else. Tori's dad is his brother. Edgar's been floating trial balloons to gauge his chances for the United States Senate. It could be very advantageous for this office. I don't take what happened to you lightly. I don't want to piss off Edgar, either. Tori's his favorite niece. He asks how she's doing whenever we meet for golf. I always tell him she's the best receptionist we've ever had. You and I know it's not true, but sometimes you've got to put lipstick on a pig. He's not going to understand if I tell him she's terrific one day and then fire her the next. I think you should have a talk with Tori and let her know the repercussions of her mistake. This thing is really between the two of you anyway. I'm sure it'll never happen again." Tom Davidson's hands parted, and he patted the air with them as if he'd laid the matter to rest in the best possible way. He put a hand on each arm of the chair and rose to his feet. "Keep up the good work, Emma. We're hearing great things about you. Enjoy the holidays." Tom Davidson went to the door, opened the shade, and turned to Emma. "Keep your shade up unless you're with a client, Emma."
At first Emma was too stunned to be angry. Then she experienced a strange sense of relief. She'd wished for a little nudge to pry her out of her comfort zone and into a new life in Montana. Her reaction began with an almost imperceptible shrug. Then she started laughing and laughed until she cried.
CHAPTER FIFTY-FOUR
When Emma pulled into her parking space at home, Detective Dolan was waiting for her.
"We've got to quit meeting like this," she joked. Emma was trying to juggle the dry cleaning, her handbag, the mail from her post office box, and the briefcase Jack Hennessey gave her.
"Let me help you," Dolan said.
Emma handed him the briefcase. "This is the heaviest one."
"I hope you don't mind me showing up here. Tom Davidson told me to stay away from the office."
"Are you kidding me?" Emma said.
"Nope. I think I offended him," Dolan said.
"Why do you think so?"
"I told him my white-haired old granny had bigger balls than he did."
Emma laughed. "You didn't. What brought that on?"
"Two things. First, he said you weren't seriously hurt by the robbery. Then he said if Tori didn't commit a crime, what she did is none of my business."
"Well, I appreciate you talking to him. He came to see me this afternoon and dumped Tori in my lap. He said the problem was really between us, and I should talk to her. He mentioned her uncle being good for business. What really got me is he never once expressed any concern for me. If he didn't have the heart to fire Tori from her first job or during the holidays, I wouldn't blame him. But it was all about the bottom line. Then, after glossing over the seriousness of what Tori did, he had the nerve to raise the shade on my door. He chewed me out for lowering it when I wasn't with a client. I just laughed. It was so bizarre, it was laughable."
"Are you going to talk to her?"
"No. I'm not Tori's boss. If Tom doesn't want to do it, the office manager should. I already told her she almost cost me a client when she didn't give me the phone message. She insisted she gave it to me, and I lost it. I came very close to smacking her. Now, I give my clients my cell number so they don't need to go through Tori."
Emma opened the door to her apartment, flipped the light switch, and hung the dry cleaning on the coat tree. She tossed the mail and her handbag on the counter, and opened the refrigerator. "Can I get you a soda?" she asked.
"I'm good," Dolan said. He set the briefcase on a chair. "You must be writing on stone tablets these days. The case weighs a ton."
"It's the laptop. I like having one bag for everything, but it's heavy." Emma reached for the wand behind the shade, opened it, saw the near-darkness, and closed it again. She sat on the sofa and took a sip of soda. "You didn't say why you're here."
"We didn't ask you about the Christmas present Jack Hennessey gave you. Connor thought it might be important."
"It's the briefcase. I thought about not accepting it, but he had it delivered, and I didn't know when I'd see him again. He said he noticed mine was getting pretty worn out. I was a
little uncomfortable because it's such a nice case."
"Do you mind if I take a look at it?" Dolan asked.
"Not at all. I'll empty it for you." Emma got up from the sofa and removed the laptop, files, legal pads, adaptor, and power cord and set them on the floor. Then she handed the detective the briefcase.
Dolan looked at each compartment before handing it back to her. "It's really well made. He has good taste. Thanks, Emma. It doesn't seem to be important, but sometimes the solution to a case hinges on something insignificant. If you hear from Mr. Hennessey again, try to find out where he is and let me know about the call," Dolan said.
"I will. I wonder if he knows about his friend, Henry."
"Hard to tell. We're keeping it quiet for the time being."
Emma saw the detective to the door. She placed the laptop on the coffee table and returned everything else to the briefcase. Then she opened the freezer, removed a carton of pasta primavera, and placed the dish in the microwave. She picked up the mail and noticed an envelope in Jack's handwriting. There was no return address, but the envelope was mailed from Tel Aviv. Emma left the apartment, hoping to find Detective Dolan. He was backing out of a spot on the other side of the lot. She waved her hand with the envelope in it and was relieved to get his attention. He stopped the car, let it idle, and lowered his window.
"What's wrong?"
"I recognized Jack's writing on this envelope."
Detective Dolan turned off the engine. "Get inside. It's cold out there."
Emma sat in the front seat of Dolan's car and opened the envelope from Jack Hennessey. She handed it to the detective and then read the brief note on ivory onionskin stationery.