The Christmas Walk Caper

by J. B. Michaels

  The Christmas Walk Caper

  A Mac and Millie Mystery

  JB Michaels

  Harrison and James Publishing

  “From the opening pages to the final sentence, you are treated to a rollercoaster of fun and frights.”- DT Chantel

  SEE THE BACK OF THE BOOK FOR MORE!

  For Becky Jo, thanks for your incredible dedication to your family and steadfast commitment to unending humorous sarcasm.

  For Johnny Rogers, thanks for your kindness, dedication to your craft, and enthusiasm for all things sporting.

  For the staff of The Little Traveler, thank you all for welcoming me and my work.

  The Christmas Walk Caper

  Chapter One

  MORNING

  Mac Rickman adjusted his chair in the atrium café of the Tiny Wanderer, a labyrinthine retail center inside a colonial-style mansion nestled on the famously charming Third Street of Geneva, Illinois. He moved his hands closer to the keyboard of his brand new appropriately named Mac computer. He stopped just short of typing when he decided to take a drink of his black coffee that smelled better than it tasted. Alas, that was just the way the former cop and national hero liked it. Bitter, black, and hotter than hell. Many Chicago winters on the beat needed coffee just like this.

  As much as Millie would like to point out and Mac deny, he always slurped his coffee. He slurped it now. He realized it when the old gray-haired man lowered a newspaper to reveal a menacing scowl.

  “Sorry. Just really love the coffee here.” Mac smiled.

  The man stared for an uncomfortable pause then put his paper back up to his face.

  Mac made a face back at him but only after the older man couldn’t see. Time to work. The brand new computer beckoned him to write. Though admittedly, Mac would have rather just watched movies on the amazing screen. He had a hard deadline though. A major New York publisher wanted his story. The true-life story of a cop who prevented an attack on the Chicago marathon through his wits and resolve and apparent willingness to follow a hunch even though it disobeyed direct orders from a superior officer.

  Mac hadn’t come away from the attack without the weight of severe consequences. He would never be a cop again. Well, a cop in the way he wanted to be. He didn’t want the desk job and instead had opted for the big publishing contract and a chance to start anew. The advance was big enough for him to take some time off and figure out his next move.

  For now, the chronic pain in his leg would forever be a reminder of his once vigorous job and the fuel that drove him to write the book. He looked to the cane that leaned on the wall next to his small circular table. He sighed, trying not to let it bother him and sink him into a bleak depression. He was told that writing the story would help him and help other cops to inspire them to be the best they could be.

  “You got this, Mac. Let’s do this.” He cracked his knuckles, slurped his coffee again.

  The man lowered the paper. Mac winked at him.

  Paper back up. Mac wondered how far he could push it with this guy.

  He thought better of the possible antagonism and moved his fingers to the keyboard.

  “I tried calling her house again and again. She should be here by now,” Edith, the hostess in the café, said to another Tiny Wanderer employee, who held garland and a string of lights.

  Mac, doing everything he could to not actually write a damn word, looked up from his beautiful, vibrant, blank computer screen. Eavesdropping was a much better idea.

  “That is not like Patricia at all. You think someone should go over there? I mean, she lives right behind the store,” the employee responded.

  “Can you stay here? I will run over there. She would be here today of all days.” Edith walked down a hallway presumably to grab her jacket.

  Mac surmised she meant the day of the Christmas Walk. Today was the first day of two where the people of this delightful little burg gathered to light the Christmas tree and then walk through elaborately staged and decorated homes around downtown Geneva, all in celebration of the holidays.

  Geneva did Christmas celebrations right. If you couldn’t feel the magic of the holidays in this town, then your name must be Ebenezer Scrooge, pre-hauntings of course. The Tiny Wanderer did great business on this weekend, and Patricia, the owner of the retail mansion, would most definitely be here to greet guests and hand out hot chocolate, etc. You know, Christmassy things.

  Mac closed the laptop and put it in his backpack. Put his peacoat on and grabbed his cane. He decided to leave the backpack as it would slow him down. Edith wouldn’t mind a former cop joining her for a stroll.

  Chapter Two

  “Edith, mind if I join you?” Mac hobbled with his cane to the side door of the Tiny Wanderer.

  “Officer Rickman, of course I don’t mind. In fact, I am worried about her. Happy you decided to join me. I assume you heard us talking in the café.” Edith opened the door for Mac.

  “I did. I am sorry. Old cop habits. I have been wondering myself where Patricia was, especially on the most festive weekend of the year. She would have warmed my coffee, and we’d have had our morning small talk by now.” Mac walked out on the covered walkway to the wintry December air.

  “Luckily, she doesn’t live far. How’s the leg this morning?” Edith asked as she joined Mac on the walkway.

  “Don’t worry about me.”

  The pair walked down the sidewalk and past the back of the Tiny Wanderer to the neighborhood that ran parallel to Third Street. The neighborhood of downtown Geneva was a beautiful, varied, and very expensive place to live. The taxes alone rivalled Mac’s gross paycheck in his rookie year. Some houses were traditional Victorian while others were new builds with stonework in the front and beautiful siding and shutters in various colors.

  Mac and Edith approached Patricia’s ranch home that was hidden behind several trees. Patricia’s house only had one floor, but it stretched an entire corner of Fifth Street. There was even greenhouse paneling on one section of the roof that let light in all year round. Patricia had her own version of a year-round garden inside. She loved gardening. Spent hours talking about it.

  “That’s not a good sign.” Mac pointed his cane at an unmarked squad car that he recognized. His brother Vince stood outside of the front door. He waved at the pair.

  “Oh dear, no. What happened?” Edith ran across the street to Vince.

  Mac shook his head and hurried with his cane, frustrated that Edith was faster than him.

  Edith crumpled in Vince’s arms.

  Mac figured that the reaction meant the worst for Patricia. He walked onto the driveway. His heart pounded in anticipation of the bad news.

  “Vincey, what happened? Why are you even here?” Mac asked his brother who still consoled Edith.

  “Her house is one of the one’s displayed on the Christmas Walk tonight, and Jerry came over to talk with her about the security he would be providing tonight as hundreds of people were to walk through her house to see the decorations. He knocked and knocked and finally just let himself in. That’s when he found her,” Vince, Mac’s taller, silver-haired, handsome brother and Geneva police detective informed.

  Edith finally let go of Vince’s tan peacoat.

  “Who’s Jerry?” Mac asked.

  “He’s a patrolman for GPD. Come on in. I will show you. Edith, do you want to stay out here?”

  “I’d better get back to the store and tell everyone, I suppose.” Edith wiped her tear-laden cheeks with her sleeve.

  A black town car rolled into the driveway next to Vince’s squad. The mayor of the delightfully charming town of Geneva emerged from the back seat of the luxury vehicle.

  “What the hell happened? Today of all days!” the rat
her rotund, well-dressed in a suit and tie, and bald politician yelled. He vigorously stomped to Vince, Edith, and Mac’s position at the front door.

  Vince opened the door. “I am afraid a wonderful citizen of Geneva and owner of the Tiny Wanderer has passed away, Stieg. Looks to be a heart attack from what I can tell, but the medics will be here shortly to sort that out.”

  “If you’ll excuse me. I have to get back to work.” Edith made her way back down the driveway.

  “Should she be going and blathering about Patricia’s demise all about town? This is a big weekend for the Chamber of Commerce. One of the biggest! Let’s be real,” Stieg, the mayor, said.

  Mac felt the urge to stuff his mouth with the business end of his cane.

  “These things happen, Stieg. They were close friends. Let her be.” Vince urged him to come inside.

  “Oh, and your hero cop brother is joining us as well. Uh, Mac is it?”

  “Yes, so pleased to meet you, Mayor.” Mac rolled his eyes.

  As he enter, his stomach tumbled, his heart continued its rapid, rhythmic march, and he took a deep breath to try and calm himself for what he was about to see. The dead body of one of the kinder and more welcoming persons he’d met in his new town.

  Chapter Three

  Inside Patricia’s house, the scent of pine and freshly baked cinnamon buns immediately filled Mac’s nose. The entrance of the ranch home gave way to a view of the main living room. Visitors were met just inside the foyer with garland and lights stretched and wrapped around a classic boiler stove. A quick glance to the left and there was a wide Christmas tree decorated with white lights and elegant purple ornaments. Gold ribbons dominated the center wall and drew the most attention. Across from the tree was a miniature decorative village that spanned the length of the long bay window. Mac surmised there must have been fifty glass buildings and over a hundred small statues that made up the Christmas village.

  It was no doubt a popular and fitting stop on the Christmas Walk.

  “She’s this way.” Vince walked past the living room to the kitchen which was on the other side of the wall the Christmas tree stood next to.

  Stieg followed closely. Mac shook his head and followed a few paces behind.

  Patricia lay facedown on the wood floor. She wore a nice festive green suit jacket with slacks. A plastic medicine bottle was in her hand, the cap a few inches away from her on the floor and a few pills scattered across the floor. Mac didn’t expect to see her in such an unfortunate position.

  “Heart pills. She must have suffered a cardiac event and went for her pills but obviously didn’t down the pill in time,” Vince explained.

  Stieg wiped his bald head with a handkerchief from his pants pocket. “So, she had a heart attack and died. It happens. Very common. How long will it take the ambulance to get here? Have you notified her daughter yet?”

  “I don’t know if she died of a heart attack, Vince. Have you looked around? Done your job yet?” Mac wanted more time at the scene.

  “Mac, she was eighty-eight years old. Her heart gave out.” Vince shook his head.

  Stieg’s chest heaved. “Yes, old people die like this all the time. I can’t tell you how many wakes I have been to with donors to my campaign who died shoveling snow or whatever else. Heart attacks are common. If Vince, my lead detective, says she died of a heart attack, then I believe it.”

  “Patricia never mentioned anything about a heart condition to me.” Mac walked over to the pill bottle. The label read Levoxythyroxine.

  Vince walked to Mac and put a hand on his brother’s back. “Mac, she wasn’t murdered. She just died of old age. There is nothing more to it. I have to get home. I go on furlough tomorrow, and Tricia is nagging me about helping get ready for our trip. Just stop it. You are retired. Enough. Stop trying to make something out of nothing.”

  “Oh, so that is why you don’t want to work this scene. You are going on vacation. Patricia deserves better.” Mac picked the bottle up, pulled himself back up with his cane, and examined the label.

  Vince’s eyes widened. “Mac, you just moved here three weeks ago for Christ’s sake. She probably didn’t tell you her health problems because she hardly knows you. Hello! Oh, welcome to Geneva! By the way, I have heart problems. Did I say welcome to Geneva? Why would that even come up in conversation?”

  The creak of the door sounded from behind them. Two paramedics walked into the kitchen with a gurney between them.

  Stieg waved the medic over to the dead body. “Get her out of here, please. Also, Mac, could you please leave the premises while we clear Patricia.”

  “This is a mistake. You should at least pretend like there could be something other than just a heart attack and she’s old here, Vince.” Mac’s eyebrow raised.

  “Don’t do Dad’s eyebrow thing. The mayor is my boss. He wants her out of here. Let this go, Mac. It’s Christmas and I haven’t even notified her next of kin yet. Drop it. Go write your book already, hero.” Vince pushed him out of the kitchen.

  Mac didn’t resist, but he watched as the medics turned Patricia onto her back. He noticed a bruise on her neck. Small but significant.

  “She has a bruise on her neck, Vince.” Mac pointed with his cane.

  “Mac. Get. Out. I got this. If there is something I think needs to be looked into, I will. Trust me,” Vince said.

  “Time to go, Rickman,” Stieg urged.

  Mac took a deep breath, imagined a rightful caning of the mayor, then turned around. “Let me know if you decide to do your damn job, Vince. Merry Christmas.”

  Mac had zero plans to stop a private investigation. He would return to the scene of a very possible crime soon.

  Chapter Four

  Millie checked her newly dyed hair in the mirror of her place of work, Salem Bank and Trust. Two-toned style with dark roots and silver the rest of the way to her shoulders. Millie’s hair legitimately didn’t grow longer in a healthy way past her shoulders. Her teeth didn’t grow either. She still had baby teeth. At least ten.

  Millie had many health problems all remedied in some way by her mother’s obsession with natural cures and procedures. Still, Millie, passably, was considered a healthy thirty-year-old woman, tall and very attractive, fair skin, blue eyes, with a calming charm about her. People liked Millie. Mac really liked Millie and Millie really liked him, and life this holiday season was surprisingly good. Very good.

  She walked out of the bathroom and back to her desk. Her second morning appointment would be soon. She was a loan officer but also the investment banker and financial planner who handled the particularly large accounts that many held in the affluent ‘burb of Geneva. Again, likeable. People wanted to work with her and trusted Millie to do the job right. She had for many years already.

  Her desk phone rang. She smiled as she heard his voice.

  “Hulloh! Mills. You there?”

  “Yes, yes. You didn’t even let me respond. You sound hyped? What is it? I have another appointment soon. You know, parents coming in to see if they have enough money to cover their teenage daughter’s trip to Vail. Anyway, what’s up?”

  “Can you do me a quick favor? See what the drug Levoxythyroxine is used for?” Mac’s voice burst from the phone’s receiver.

  “You aren’t capable of searching the internet? Why am I doing this, by the way?” Millie asked.

  “I don’t have a good data connection near downtown for some reason. And I need to know quickly. I thought you would be the best option. Maybe I think too highly of you.”

  “Ha! Shut it. Levoxythyroxine is thyroid medication. I didn’t have to look it up because Grandma uses it. I have had to pick it up for her from the pharmacy a few times,” Millie said.

  “Thyroid medication. So not heart medication,” Mac said.

  “Yes, that is what I said.”

  “Hmm—”

  “Mac, what are you up to?”

  “I will tell you later. Gotta go. Thanks so much! I love you. We have dinner at your mo
m’s tonight, right?”

  “Yes, I am warning you she can be very sweet, but she is also super sarcastic. You have to experience it to know how severe it is at times. Then we are going to the lighting ceremony and Christmas Walk too. It will be fun. Your first Geneva Christmas. It will be great.”

  “Wonderful. See you later!” Mac ended the call.

  The rare sound of the dial tone buzzed in Millie’s ear. She shook her head. Mac got worked up rather easily. He was an enthusiastic man, and his energy could be infectious. It was part of his charm, but for some reason, she didn’t feel great about that last conversation.

  A woman with glasses and a poodle walked up to her desk.

  Time for her next appointment.

  Chapter Five

  Mac waited behind the wide pine tree across the street from Patricia’s ranch estate. The ambulance pulled out of the driveway first. Then Stieg’s town car. That jerk. Followed by his lazy brother who refused to actually treat the kitchen like a crime scene. Mac hadn’t saved thousands of people in downtown Chicago by ignoring his instincts. He hadn’t wanted to boast in front of Vince and his boss, but still. Something wasn’t right. Patricia showed no signs of poor health. Worked long hours at the Wanderer and ran the place with little stress and ease.

  She wouldn’t just up and die.

  The coast was clear. Mac waited an extra two minutes in case they forgot something inside the house. He walked back to the door. He flipped the bottom of his cane up and unscrewed the rubber stop at the bottom. His lock-pick kit fell out into his palm.

  Mac looked at the door handle. There was a bolt lock and a knob lock. He hoped he could get both open in a reasonable amount of time before the daughter made it here or whomever.