Persephone Cole and the Christmas Killings Conundrum

by Heather Haven

  Being in the closest room to the front door and a light sleeper, Percy heard the knocking before anyone else. She slipped out of bed, threw on her robe, and gave a quick glance to make sure Oliver hadn’t been awakened. Shivering a little, she fiddled with the locks and threw open the front door just as the knocking turned into pounding. Detective Kenneth Hutchers stood before her, knuckle-fisted, a grim look on his face.

  “I was beginning to think nobody was home. Doesn’t your doorbell work?” He brushed past Percy and wheeled around, staring at her as if she was the intruder.

  “Not since 1935 and keep it down, Hutchers. What time is it?”

  He looked at his watch. “Four-thirty. I’ve been up since two.”

  “Well, good for you. The rest of us are still sleeping. What do you want?”

  “This is going to wake you up good. The Christmas angel’s dead, murdered. They found her body somewhere around midnight. We don’t think it was robbery.”

  “Keep your voice down, I said. And take off your hat. I don’t like people wearing hats inside my house.” Distracted, he took of his plaid, wood cap, while Percy gave a quick glance down the hall to the room where Lily was.

  If Lily comes out to see what all the commotion is, I’m dead.

  “Let’s go into the parlor.” She turned to the room across from her bedroom, switched on the overhead light, and motioned for him to follow.

  The largest room in the apartment, the fifteen by twenty-five foot room was spattered here and there with more of her great-aunt’s ornate furniture. A comfortable-looking but faded brocade sofa with matching chair and ottoman dominated the section of the room nearest the door. A radio console sat next to one end of the sofa. On the opposite wall, two smaller, wood carved chairs faced an octagon inlay tea table, still set with checkerboard and checkers. Badly done paintings of pastoral scenes and imaginary French aristocrats stared back at them, remnants of Mother’s temporary plunge into the world of art. Another one of her hobbies gone awry, they filled wall space bringing forth little appreciation, but much amusement.

  Emerald-colored ferns hung luxuriantly in each of the large windows, living odes to Mother’s more accomplished diversion, her green thumb. At one of the far corners, two still-life peacocks strutted on the golden background of an opulent room divider. Behind the screen sat her father’s dark oak desk and file cabinets, well oiled but worn.

  In the past, most of the room had functioned as office for Cole Investigations. That was before Gilleathain’s death and age and illness had its way with Pop. Cole Investigations was pushed farther and farther into the corner of the parlor by the realities of life and the needs of a growing family. Maybe with Percy assuming the partnership loss, the business might resurrect itself. Maybe.

  Percy crossed over to a mock Tiffany floor lamp wearing a large, half-domed, multi-colored stained glass shade. She pulled on the chain and the room was illuminated in a burst of soft, warm colors replacing the strident white of the overhead fixture.

  Percy closed the door and turned to Hutchers. “So talk to me. What dead Christmas angel?”

  “The broad from Santa Land. She was dressed up like a Christmas angel and like I said, we don’t think it was a robbery gone bad. She was still wearing her earrings, diamonds and pearls. Coroner said they looked real. And she had ten bucks tucked in her bosom.” He took out a notepad and read from it. “Gertrude Kunkle, forty-nine years old, accountant for Harry Wienblatt. Still in her costume, just like the elf. Skull crushed by a heavy object, maybe a brick; something like that. We’ll know more after the doc gives her a once over. I guess Santa’s next. What a Christmas.”

  “Where’d this happen? Santa Land?”

  Hutchers nodded and Percy went over to the small fireplace and wiped the dust off the alabaster mantle with the edge of her sleeve. A nervous habit, she always tidied things when she was stressed or trying to think fast.

  “Cleaning lady found her body at midnight.” Hutchers went on, “Gertie was crammed inside the gingerbread house.”

  “What made the cleaning woman look in there?”

  “She said the statue of Mrs. Clause was lying on the floor. When she went to upright it, she found the body. The cleaning lady must have polished off half a bottle of Irish whisky before we got there. What the hell is going on?”

  “How the hell should I know?”

  Hutchers’ glance was accusatory, as if Percy had some inside knowledge. She did, but glared back at him on general principles. It was a stalemate.

  The detective was the first to break the silence. “I know it’s that crazy kid, Lily Waller. She’s still on the loose and she’s killed again.” His look was one of defiance, like ‘tell me I’m wrong.’

  Percy kept as much emotion from her face as she could, knowing the girl was asleep down the hall in her son’s room.

  If nothing else, this clears Lily of the elf’s murder.

  She was surprised at her relief. Maybe she’d had more doubts about Lily than she admitted.

  “What makes you think the ‘crazy kid’ did it? You find another one of her handbags under the body, this time with a brick in it?”

  “Very funny. But who else could it be?”

  She didn’t answer, but changed the subject. “Who’s Danny DeLuca? You know anything about him?”

  His eyes narrowed. “The kid who escaped from Rikers yesterday? Why do you ask? Is he with the girl? I know they had something going at one time. If you know something, you’d better start talking. You could be an accessory.”

  Percy plopped down in a chair and threw her slippered feet up on the coffee table. Nonchalance was her middle name. “I just read about this DeLuca in the newspapers, that’s all, and thought you might know something about it. Sit down; take a load off.”

  Hutchers remained by the door. “No thanks. I’m on my way home. I pick up the kids in a couple of hours. I only came over to tell you about this, in case you know more than you’re spilling. She’s killed two people now.” He looked down at the cap in his hand. “I’m sorry I involved you. Winds up, I didn’t do you or Jude a favor. You’d better watch yourself.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind.” Percy stood, strode to the parlor door, and opened it in a dismissive manner. “If that’s all, I’d like to get back to sleep. Thanks for dropping by with the cheery news.”

  He didn’t move but stood looking Percy up and down. Embarrassed, Percy drew the orange, black, and white print kimono robe Mother made tight around her, holding it closed at the neck and waist.

  “What?”

  “I don’t know, Perce. You look different.”

  “Of course, I look different, Hutchers. You woke me up in the middle of the night. Give me a break, will you?”

  “No, no, I didn’t mean…. It’s just with your hair down loose and that silky robe on, you look feminine. You know, like a woman.”

  Jesus Christ, what an idiot.

  “I’ve got a news flash for you. I am a woman. I’ve got the son to prove it. Now get out.”

  He moved closer and stood in front of her, staring into her eyes. She stared back unflinching. “You’re a fine-looking woman, Perce, if you don’t mind my saying.”

  “You’re the second person to ask me if I mind what they’re saying. I’m starting to find it annoying.” She backed up and gestured to the front door with her thumb in a fisted hand. “Merry Christmas and so long, Hutchers. Don’t let the door hit your backside on the way out.”

  “Always the tough broad, right?”

  “Always the tough cop, right?”

  He smiled at her. “This isn’t over. You’re hiding something. I can tell.”

  She smiled back. “Right now I’m hiding a yawn.”

  He laughed. “Okay, Miss Cole, you win. I’ll go, but if it looks like you know anything, I’ll be back.”

  “Call first. Alexander Graham Bell can use the dough.”

  The detective walked out into the hall, and left without a backward glance, the front d
oor closing with a dull sound. Percy was drawn to it and studied the locks. Something dawned on her. She didn’t have to unlock the same number of locks to let Hutchers in as she’d locked before going to bed.

  Percy’s head whipped around to the coat rack. Both Lily’s hat and coat were missing. She ran down the hall to Oliver’s room, threw the door open and flipped on the overhead light. The room was as empty as the mussed bed.

  Don’t panic, kid. Check the whole house first.

  In case Lily and Sera had decided to have a pajama party in the middle of the night – as girls sometimes do -- Percy went to Sera’s room and opened the door a crack. There her sister was sleeping in her usual position, lying on her back, atop the bed covers, clutching her pillow in both arms. No Lily. Percy checked the kitchen then the bathroom. Still no Lily.

  Okay, time to panic. You’re a first-class chump, Persephone Cole. She’s gone and you’re left holding the bag.

  Chapter Fourteen

  “What’s going on, Persephone?”

  Percy, having shut the bathroom door harder than she’d intended, spun around to see her father in his chair, wheeling himself out of her parent’s bedroom. Dressed in pajamas, he had his robe loosely belted, his bad leg covered with a small rug.

  “Didn’t mean to wake you, Pop.”

  “I don’t sleep as good as I used to. Don’t worry about it. But what’s going on?”

  “Let’s go into the parlor, Pop. Something’s happened.” She half pushed, half followed his chair as it silently rolled down the hallway. She could feel her heart pounding in her chest, but tried to control it.

  She started to close the parlor door but was stopped by her father. “Leave the door open, Persephone. I’m a light sleeper these days, but I want to hear if this woke anyone else up. We’ll keep our voices down.” He folded his hands in his lap. “Now who was here?”

  “Detective Kenneth Hutchers just left. There’s been another murder, Pop. This time a woman who was filling in at Santa Land as the Christmas angel. Coshed on the head. I don’t have many details but he came to tell me. He thinks I know more than I’m telling, which I do.”

  “This tied in with the elf killing?”

  She nodded but looked away. “There’s more.” She looked at her father. “Lily’s gone and I don’t know where or for how long. All I know is she’s not in the apartment.” Percy began to pace. “I’m a dope, Pop, a real dope. I should have never believed her or been taken in by the money. For all I know, she killed both these people and I’m stashing a murderer in our home. And with my son --”

  “Persephone, don’t get yourself in an upset,” Pop interrupted. “We don’t know anything yet.”

  He opened his mouth to continue, when they both heard the rattle of one of the locks on the front door. Percy and Pop turned and saw the front door open just enough for Lily’s head to peek in, snow covered hat dripping wet flakes on the floor. Not seeing father or daughter, a hunched over Lily crept inside careful and slow, making as little noise as possible.

  Wordless, Percy crossed over to a closet in the parlor, took out her son’s baseball bat, and held it in a menacing manner. “You!” she said in a hushed but threatening voice to Lily. “Get in here.”

  Startled and scared, Lily jerked her body upright and emitted a slight cry, slushy snow spilling onto her shoulders and the floor.

  “I…I…” she said, eyes focused on the bat in Percy’s hands.

  “You’ve got ten-seconds to tell me where you’ve been, and then I’m making no promises for what I do to you.” Fury covered Percy’s face. She reached out, grabbed Lily by one of the shoulder pads of her coat, and dragged her into the room, leaving the door slightly ajar.

  Lily stumbled inside, saying, “I…I...I’m sorry. I went out for a walk. I know you told me not to --”

  “You’re damn straight I told you not to. So you went out for a walk, did you? Maybe, maybe not. Maybe you took a cab to Fifty-ninth and Fifth. Maybe you killed the Christmas angel. Did you? Not that I am going to believe anything you say anymore.” She stepped forward. Lily backed away.

  “No, no. I just went for a walk. In the snow. It’s snowing. I wanted to be in the snow.”

  Pop put his arm out in front of Percy. “Hold on, Persephone. Let her talk. And you’d better make it good, child, or I will personally dial the police department and have them come to pick you up.”

  “Please don’t do that, Mr. Cole. I didn’t do anything. What Christmas angel? What are you talking about? I just went out for a walk. I --”

  “How’d you get back in?” Percy demanded to know. “Where’d you get that key?” She pointed with the narrow end of the bat at the key still clutched in Lily’s hand.

  “Sera gave it to me. I swear! I told her about my claustrophobia. I got locked in a closet once when I was a kid. I can’t be cooped up inside for long, not even in here. So when I told Sera, she gave me this extra key. I can’t go to jail. Please don’t send me. I’d go crazy.”

  Percy and Pop stared at her, their faces riddled with doubt.

  Lily went on, her voice desperate and beseeching. “I just went out for a walk! I wasn’t gone more than a half an hour, I swear. I don’t know anything about an angel. I swear.” She started to cry.

  “Stop that bawling, Lily, or I’ll slug you for sure,” Percy said. “I’m sick of your pathetic act. Now take off your coat and hand it over to Pop, easy like. You make one quick move and I hit a home run using your head. You got me?”

  Face drained of color, Lily nodded once and unbuttoned her coat. She walked over slowly keeping her eye on Percy and the bat. She handed the coat to Pop. He looked at Percy for further instructions.

  “Pop, search the pockets. Give him your hat, too, just in case you’ve got something hidden in there, sister.”

  “I don’t, I swear.” She handed the hat over, nonetheless.

  “You also swore you’d stay inside,” Percy countered.

  “There’s nobody outside now to see me, honest. The streets are deserted. How could it have hurt?” Lily wasn’t making any noise, but a stream of tears flowed down her strained face.

  “Detective Hutchers was here, kid. You know, the cop who issued a warrant for your arrest? That’s who’s out on the streets. It seems a woman was killed tonight, wearing one of the Santa Land costumes. Only this time, her head got smashed in - maybe by you - not far away from where Connie’s murder was committed.”

  “Golly!” Lily, jaw slack and wide-eyed, crumpled into one of the chairs.

  “There’s nothing in here but a hanky, Persephone,” said Pop in a quiet voice. “Nothing else.”

  “And the key. That’s all I had with me. I wanted some fresh air. It started to snow. I love the snow,” she added wistfully.

  “Go pack your things and get out.” Percy’s face was grim and her voice devoid of emotion.

  “But where will I go?”

  “I don’t care where you go. You’ve got the money; check into the Ritz.”

  “Shouldn’t we take a vote on it?” The voice came from the other side of the doorframe. Sera stood there in a hot pink bathrobe and fluffy slippers. “After all, I’m the one that gave her the key.”

  Three pair of eyes turned to Serendipity, who marched into the room.

  “Percy, this isn’t fair. You’re not being fair.” Percy opened her mouth to speak, but Sera went on in a rush. “I told Lily to do it if she felt closed in. You can’t throw her out because of what I did.”

  “Persephone, really my dear, a person has a right to walk in new fallen snow. It’s so peaceful and Christmassy.” Mother walked into the room, her checkered robe open, worn, leather slippers slapping on the wood floor.

  “Now, Mother,” was all Percy managed to get out before everyone started talking at the same time.

  The level of voices rose, as each person tried to be heard about the rest until a yelp overrode everyone.

  “Hey!” All turned to see Oliver, sleepy-eyed, barefoot and clad onl
y in pajamas, standing in the doorway. “What’s going on? You woke me up.”

  Percy was the first to recover. “Oliver, sweetie! Come here to mommy.” She set down the bat, picked him up and cuddled him in her arms, letting out a sound of the effort. “Whoa! You’re getting to be such a big boy. I can hardly lift you.” She turned away from the others. “Let’s get you back to bed.”

  “No!” The boy struggled to get down. “I don’t want Lily to go anywhere either, Mommy. I like her.”

  “I know, Oliver, but --”

  Everyone started to talk again. Pop picked up the baseball bat and banged on the floor for attention. “Enough. I want everyone to be quiet and listen to me.” He looked at his eldest daughter, who opened her mouth to talk. “You, too, Persephone.” He turned to Lily. “What you did, young lady, was foolish. And you disobeyed very explicit instructions.” Lily also started to reply but Pop held up his hand. “Nobody speaks right now but me. Understood?”

  Lily nodded, and looked down, shame written all over her face.

  “Serendipity, you need to learn some manners and respect. And don’t you open your mouth and sass me. You’re not too big for me to turn you over my knee. Your sister is supporting this family right now. She is keeping a roof over our heads. You are to respect what she says, in particular, anything regarding her cases. You do not undermine them. Understood?”

  Serendipity shuffled from one hot pink slipper to the other but nodded and looked down.

  “Mother, you are a wonderful woman and anytime you want to take over your kitchen again, you go right ahead and do so. It was very generous of you to let Lily usurp your place while she’s here, not that anyone could, my dear, ever take your place,” he added in a warm, loving tone.

  “Oh, Father, what a sweet thing to say.” Mother beamed at her husband. “I find I am enjoying not being responsible for the kitchen right now. It gives me a chance to catch up on my Christmas knitting. I’ve been working on your present, Father, although I can’t remember if it’s knit one, purl two or knit two, purl one. It’s so confusing. And you know, Father, Lily is a very good cook.”