by Gayle Trent
He nodded.
“How much?”
“A hundred,” he said.
“But don’t you need it?” I asked.
“Nah. I’m all right this week.”
“We can halve it,” I said.
He grinned. “This one is all yours.”
“Thank you so much,” I said, tucking the wallet into the pocket of my voluminous dress. “You don’t know how much I appreciate this.”
“Glad I could help.” He winked and then pushed the cart toward the double doors that led to the east entrance.
The way I had it figured, either the Magnesium Man Gang was testing me to see if I would steal; or Bo felt sorry for me and gave me some poor guy’s wallet. Either way, the wallet was safer with me. I could get Cooper to help me decide what to do with it.
I called Cooper as soon as I got home with the bag of day-old pretzels Glen had saved for me.
“I really think they’re trying to gauge my character, Coop,” I said after telling him about the wallet. “Would you mind looking up—” I held the identification card I’d found in the wallet at arm’s length so I could read it. “Homer S. Impson?”
“Homer Simpson?” he asked. “That’s the name on the I.D. card in the wallet?”
“Not Simpson,” I said. “It’s Impson with an I.”
“Is there any other form of identification in the wallet?” asked Coop. “Is there a driver’s license?”
“No…just this card that comes in the wallet. It might even belong to a child. Do you think it belongs to a child?”
“No, I think you’re right in your first assumption. Give me the other information on the card. I’ll run it through to make sure it’s fictitious.”
I read out the address and the phone number. “But what should I do with the money?”
“Hold on to it for now. In fact, hold on to the entire wallet just like it is.” He blew out a breath. “As much as I dislike you doing this, I have to admit this will probably be the best lead the town police have on this case.”
“So they think Jackson Barnard was murdered too?”
“Unofficially, yes,” he said. “I’m going to pass your information along to them. What’s your next move?”
“I’m going to pretend I spent the money on groceries,” I said. “How I’ll do that without telling a flat-out lie, I don’t know.” I mean, what if I told a big bald-faced lie and then had a heart attack or something and had to meet Jesus with that lie on my conscience? Not that he wouldn’t understand—he knows I’m trying to fight crime and all. Plus, Rahab lied about them spies, and it turned out all right for her. Still, I wasn’t too awfully eager to risk it.
“I’m sure you’ll figure something out,” Cooper said.
“Yeah…. By the way, I’m looking forward to Thursday.”
“Me, too. Goodnight, darlin’.”
“Goodnight, Coop.”
After hanging up from talking with Coop, I talked things over with Matlock. He’s not much of a conversationalist, but he’s a heck of a listener. We decided the best thing I could do would be to go to the store in the morning, get some more cookie making supplies, and make a batch of cookies to share with the Magnesium Man Gang tomorrow. Then they’d know I’d gone to the store. And I wouldn’t have to eat an old cold pretzel for dinner tomorrow either. I handed Matlock a plain one that Glen had saved for me, and the poor dog gnawed on it like it was rawhide. I figured it wasn’t far from it.
Chapter Eight
The next morning, I got up early and went to the store for the stuff to make potato chip cookies. They’re pretty quick and easy to make. I could’ve taken some out of the freezer, but I wanted to make a fresh batch so I could tell the Magnesium Man Gang that I’d gone to the store and bought the ingredients and made them that morning.
Of course, there’s not any chocolate in them, so Matlock could have one or two before I had to go to work. I felt so guilty leaving him by himself while I went and worked at the mall from one to nine every day. Faye’s not crazy about dogs, or else I’d have asked her and Sunny to come over and stay with him once or twice a week. Hopefully, I’d be done with this mess and could be back at home where I belonged before long.
I made the potato chip cookies and put them--still slightly warm—into a bakery bag. I gave Matlock his two, and then we went into the living room to watch a little television before I had to get ready to go.
* * *
I was a tad late getting to work. Me and Matlock got to watching this movie, and it was really good. We had to see what happened at the end!
Anyway, I wasn’t late late…just too late to have lunch in the food court—which was fine because I had my lunch (a peanut butter sandwich that I shared with Matlock) before I left the house. The only reason I’d been having lunch in the food court anyway was to snoop around the Magnesium Man Gang. I figured I’d see them at dinner.
It was pretty slow going the first part of the day…just a few toddlers trickling in here and there. I was glad. In fact, I was sitting on my stool beside Santa and we were playing that word game “hangman” when Nancy—formerly known as Pinchy—came along.
“Well, it doesn’t look as if you guys are getting much business today,” she said, flattening her lips in disapproval.
“Not a lot,” I said. “Of course, it is the middle of the work week. Most parents don’t have time to bring their young ‘uns by to see Santa today.”
“They’ll be along directly,” said Santa, and he ho-ho-hoed for good measure.
I grinned. He was all right in my book. Plus, it was hard to fool him in hangman.
Nancy glanced at my lunch tote in the corner. “What good did you bring for lunch today, Myrtle?”
“Actually, I brought some cookies I made this morning to share,” I said. “I think I’m going to have something decent to eat today. I had an old cold pretzel yesterday, and it didn’t go very far.”
“Well….” She sniffed. “Must be nice.”
“The pretzel? Not particularly.” I nodded toward the tote. “Would you like a potato chip cookie?”
“No, thank you,” she said, turning and creeping away.
No wonder she was so skinny…and so unhappy.
“I’ll take one,” said Santa.
“Me, too,” I said. I got us a couple cookies out of the bag, and we ate them as we resumed our game of hangman.
“These are great,” he said. “Would you mind writing the recipe down for my wife?”
“I’ll bring it to you tomorrow,” I said. “No, wait…I’ll have to bring it Friday. I don’t work tomorrow.”
“Friday’ll be good.” He brushed crumbs off his beardy chest. “The missus can make me some while I’m at work.”
Well, Pinchy Nancy wasn’t the only one to come by that afternoon. It wasn’t long after she left that here came Delphine with a little white box tied up in white ribbon with gingerbread men on it.
Delphine was giggling before she even got to Santa and me. “I’ll swanee! I never thought I’d see Myrtle Crumb in such a getup as this!”
I pursed my lips. “I reckon Tansie told you?”
“Oh, yeah. Honey, she’s kept the phone lines hot with news about you being Mrs. Claus,” she said, laughing again. “She’s telling everybody they absolutely have to come down here and see you.”
“I’m doing a nice thing here,” I said.
“Oh, sweetie, I know you are.” Delphine wiped tears from under her eyes. “You have to admit, you don’t look a thing like you normally do, though.”
“Well, thank goodness for that,” I said.
She held out the box. “I didn’t come to just make fun. I did bring you some peanut butter fudge.”
Now Delphine makes some of the best peanut butter fudge you’d ever want to put in your mouth. So I could pout and be mad, or I could take the fudge. I took the fudge. Besides, it’d be pretty petty of me not to be able to laugh at myself, wouldn’t it?
“Thank you, Delphine.” I
took that box of fudge and put it in my lunch tote. I wanted a piece of that fudge right this minute, but I could tell that Santa did too; and, by crackies, he wasn’t getting my fudge. “I do look awfully silly, don’t I? The kids seem to get a kick out of it, though.”
“I’m sure they do,” she said. “You look like the pictures in their storybooks.”
I nodded.
“With everybody so busy, we’re not going to have us another M.E.L.O.N.S. meeting until next month,” Delphine said.
“That’s a good idea,” I said. I had my fudge and didn’t want to stand around discussing the M.E.L.O.N.S. with Delphine, so I was thrilled to see a little boy and his mother walking past. I told Delphine “excuse me” and then I went to rope the boy into a visit with Santa Claus.
Delphine said something about having some shopping to do and wandered off as the little boy came and got up on Santa’s lap. After the child had left, Santa asked me what a M.E.L.O.N.S. meeting was.
I rolled my eyes. “Some of my friends got it into their heads a while back that we were Mature Elegant Ladies Open to Nice Suggestions and formed a group to celebrate it.”
He frowned. “That sounds kinda shady.”
“I know,” I said. “I think it makes us sound like old hookers…nice suggestions notwithstanding. Anyway, I have a gentleman friend, so I’m not even interested in the group anymore…except that they do throw really good parties.”
“I love a good party,” he said.
“So do I.”
* * *
I took my dinner break about four o’clock—that was after the kids got out of school but before their parents got home from work, so it was a pretty good time to go grab a bite to eat.
I went to the food court and got a chicken salad croissant from the Chicken Coop. I got some kettle chips and a chocolate milkshake to go with it. I went all out. I wanted the Magnesium Man Gang to see how I was throwing money around.
After I got my food, I took my tray and looked around the room. I spotted them sitting at a table near the far left side of the food court. Luckily, there was one vacant seat at their table. I hurried over, sat my tray down, and opened my tote bag.
“I hoped I’d see you all today,” I said. “I’ve brought you something.” I took the cookies out of the tote and sat them in the middle of the table. “Potato chip cookies.”
Bo scrunched up his face. “I’ve never had a potato chip cookie.”
“Try one,” I said, pulling out the chair and sitting down. “I bet you’ll love it.”
He reached into the bag and took out a cookie. He was hesitant about biting in to it, but once he did, his face changed into a look of joy.
I grinned. “Told you so.”
“Do I have to share these?” he asked, after finishing the cookie.
“Yep…but you can take whatever’s left home with you,” I said.
“Thanks!” He dug back into the bag for another cookie.
“She said you have to share,” said Glen, taking the bag. “What’s up with you today, Myrtle? Did you win the lottery or something?”
I smiled and shrugged. “I came into a little bit of money I wasn’t expecting. So I decided that one—I was going to have a tasty lunch, and that two—I was going to do something to thank you all for being so nice to me.” I directed my number two remark to Bo.
“Aw, it never hurts anybody to be nice,” Harold said, taking the bag from Glen. “We sure do appreciate these cookies, though. My momma used to make potato chip cookies. I haven’t had them in years.”
Glen and Harold finished their food before Bo and I did, and they left us alone. After they got out of earshot, Bo said, “I’m glad you decided to keep the money.”
“Well, I have to tell you, I struggled with it a little bit,” I said. “But when I looked through that wallet, I came to the conclusion that it belonged to a child.” I put up my hand. “Now hear me out before you think I’m heartless.”
“Why’d you think it belonged to a kid?” he asked.
“There was no driver’s license, no credit cards…just an identification card filled out with what was probably phony information,” I said. “Working at Santa Land, I’ve seen my fair share of spoiled brats come through the line. And I decided that if it was one of them carrying around a hundred dollars, either he wouldn’t miss it or his parents would give it back to him.” I shrugged. “Maybe he’ll learn a valuable lesson and appreciate things a little more.”
“Good thinking,” Bo said, nodding.
“Besides,” I said, “I needed it.”
He grinned. “Thanks for the cookies.”
“You’re welcome, Bo. Glad I could do something for you.”
Chapter Nine
Boy, did it feel good to have a day off! I rolled out of bed and stayed in my gown and housecoat for a good two hours before I even thought of getting dressed.
I called Faye and asked her if I could pick Sunny up after school. I missed that young ‘un like crazy. Faye said I could get her and that we’d all go to dinner after she got home from work. I said I’d have to pass on dinner because I had other plans. Then I had to listen to her “oooh” and “uh-huh” like her daddy used to do her when she had a date.
After talking with Faye, though, I did come to the decision that I’d rather fix Cooper a meal rather than go out somewhere. I’m a good cook, if I do say so myself, and I’d been missing home cooked meals. I reckoned Cooper would like a home cooked meal himself. I called him and asked him.
“Are you sure you wouldn’t rather go to the steakhouse?” he asked. “I hate for you to put yourself out on your day off.”
“I’d like a break from eating out,” I said. “Plus, I need to talk with you some more about what’s been going on at the mall. I’d rather not do that in public.”
“Gotcha,” he said.
“What would you like to have?” I asked.
“You’re the chef,” he said. “Surprise me. I’ll eat just about anything.”
“What about meatloaf, mashed potatoes, green beans, and vanilla cake with chocolate icing?” I asked.
“I can hardly wait! What time do you want me there?”
“Will six o’clock work?”
“That’s an awful long time to wait, but, yeah, it’ll work,” he said. “See you then, darlin’.”
I was grinning like a schoolgirl when I hung up the phone because he’d taken to calling me darlin’. I had to admit I was getting pretty sweet on Sheriff Cooper Norville.
Before I forgot, I set him some cookies out of the freezer to thaw. Then, since it was sunny and not too cold out, I went into the backyard with Matlock and threw his tennis ball for him for what seemed like a hundred and forty-two times. He doesn’t tire out as fast as I do.
After playing with Matlock, I cleaned up a little bit and went to the store. I hadn’t been planning on making dinner tonight and didn’t have all the stuff I needed.
As soon as I got back home, I fixed the cake so I could watch my soap opera, The Young & The Restless, while it baked. If you’re a fan of Y&R, you ought to read Jeanne Cooper’s memoir. It’s really interesting, and you’ll be surprised all to pieces which cast member she had a torrid love affair with. I could tell you, but I don’t want to spoil it. I will tell you he was quite a bit younger than her…. And he was awfully good looking….
Anyway, before I get too carried away and spill the beans on Katherine Chancellor’s love life, I’ll move on along with my story. After the show went off, I iced the cake with a chocolate frosting that has been passed down through my family for generations—the recipe, not the frosting itself—and you knew that, but I thought I’d better say so or else some smart aleck would call me on it. The icing is a fudgy chocolate, you put it on the cake while it’s still warm, and it nearly sets up like candy. It’s so good. I knew that if I wanted to keep having to use padding on that Mrs. Claus costume, I’d better send the majority of that cake home with Sunny and Cooper.
By the time I f
inished with the cake, it was time to go get Sunny from school. I hate waiting in that car rider line…so I didn’t. I picked her up five minutes before the bell rang and signed her out so we could blow that Popsicle stand before all that other traffic got moving.
“Mimi!” Sunny gave me a wide grin before crossing the office to launch herself into my arms. She’s a teeny little thing, but she’ll nearly break your ribs in a hug. But that’s all right. “Mom didn’t tell me you were picking me up today!”
“We just decided this morning,” I said. “I’m taking you home, and she’s going to pick you up when she gets off work.”
“Cool!”
“There’s somebody waiting for you in the car,” I said.
She squealed Matlock and took off like a shot. I had to trot along just to keep up.
Instead of riding in the front seat with me, Sunny rode in back with Matlock. “I’ve missed him so much, Mimi…and you too, of course.”
“Of course,” I said, throwing her a wry look by way of the rearview mirror.
“I really have missed you,” she said. “I’ll be kinda glad when you’re done with this Mrs. Claus thing.”
“I will be too, honey.”
“How’s the investigation going?” she asked.
I shrugged…weighing in my mind what I should tell her and what I shouldn’t. I didn’t want her to worry, and she does tend to play mother hen to me. “I think I’m making some progress.”
“That’s good.” And then she changed gears like only young ‘uns can. “Thanks again for the cookies. They were so good.”
“I have more in the freezer, if you’d like to take some home.”
“Yes!” She giggled.
“I made a vanilla cake today with chocolate icing too. I’m going to send you and your mom some to have with dinner.”
“And breakfast,” she said. “There’s nothing better than cake for breakfast.”
“I heard on one of them morning programs the other day that morning is the best time to eat sweets if you’re going to eat them,” I said. “They said that way you have all day to work off the calories.”