If only she knew what she had done to make him so angry at her.
She looked around, but the Jolly Elf was nowhere to be seen. Display stands were bunched together to one side of the area, arranged in an organized sort of mess; all to make room for the fake North Pole scenery that was now holding her little sister’s attention. On the wall, to the left of the cardboard fireplace and plastic tree and empty pretend presents, was a large door. Attached to it was a sign that read EMPLOYEES ONLY.
“That’s probably where ‘Santa’ is really taking his break,” she thought to herself.
Merrie’s stomach was now churning more, and she pressed the palm of her free hand against it. Even through her coat she could feel her insides gurgling and somersaulting. If only Sister Regina hadn’t made her eat that lunch, then maybe, just maybe it wouldn’t hurt so badly right now. And maybe she wouldn’t feel so much like she needed to puke.
She swallowed hard and wondered how much longer they would have to wait. She really wished this would all be over. If Mister Babbs would just come out here right now in his red suit and listen to Becca for a couple of minutes and give her a candy cane, they could leave. Maybe Mom would be finished with the shopping then, and they could go home.
Home. Safe. Then she could wait for Daddy and tell him what happened. He could fix this. She just knew he could. He had to. Because, if he couldn’t, then she really was going to Hell—if she wasn’t already there, that is.
Merrie squeezed her eyes tightly shut and wished as hard as she could for Santa to appear and get this over with. Wishing hadn’t worked before, but this one was just a little wish. It wasn’t big like the others. Maybe it was just small enough to come true. Besides, she had no choice but to wish because she was too afraid to pray. If God really was mad at her, she knew he wouldn’t listen. Still, even if the wish didn’t work, at the very least she hoped Miss Ruth was right about Santa being here soon because she wasn’t sure how much longer she could keep herself from throwing up.
However, as she stood there concentrating she remembered something Daddy always said. Be careful what you wish for, because sometimes what you wish for isn’t what you really want at all. When she heard the door she opened her eyes, and then she knew exactly what he meant. It wasn’t Mister Babbs in the Santa suit this year, and in that moment Merrie began to wish that she had never wished for anything, ever.
“Ho, ho, ho,” the sickeningly familiar laugh came from the man in the Santa suit. As he started toward them he said, “Well if it isn’t, my very, very special little helper… And, ho, ho, ho… You brought a friend to see Santa…”
CHAPTER 4
4:15 P.M. – December 22, 1975
Sheriff’s Department
Hulis Township – Northern Missouri
CLOVIS Meriweather started to speak but caught herself before any sound actually made it past her lips. Instead, she kept her mouth closed and bit down softly on the end of her tongue—not enough to hurt of course, but just enough to remind herself to remain quiet for the moment. The almost unconscious act was one she’d had since she was a little girl. In fact, it had started right around the time she’d heard her grandma say, “bite your tongue” in response to someone’s thoughtless comment. A year or two later, when the nuances of language began making sense to her, she realized that the instruction was really just a metaphor. However, by then it had already settled in as a quirky habit, and it just never went away.
Clovis furrowed her brow as she took a long look at the black, velvet-covered cube resting on the desk in front of her. It had been placed on the dark green blotter with a light but purposeful thump. However, the deputy who had done the placing had not yet spoken a single word. He was still standing silently on the opposite side of her desk. She knew he wouldn’t be expecting a stereotypical reaction, so she almost gave one just to trip him up; but that really wasn’t her style at all. No, this definitely called for one of her customary off-the-wall replies.
She released her tongue, pursed her lips, wrinkled her nose, and then looked upward to his face. As she figured, he was staring back at her with an expectant look in his eyes. She smiled and said, “Has it started snowing yet?”
“No,” he answered without hesitation. “Not yet, but it looks like it’s going to any minute.”
He continued to stare at her, the anxious expression intact.
She couldn’t resist making him wait. “I just heard on the radio that the weather service has issued a blizzard warning. Looks like it’s going to be worse than they originally thought.”
“Come on, Clovis…” the deputy appealed.
“Really. I’m not kidding,” she told him, staring back with an earnest expression as she nodded her head with enough vigor to tousle her layered shag of blond hair.
He sighed. “You know what I mean.”
She glanced down at the box on her desk. “Oh… You mean this?”
“Clovis…”
She cleared her throat then let out a dramatic sigh and said, “Well, Skip, I’m not quite sure what to say… I’m flattered and all, but you know darn well I’m already married.”
“Real funny,” Carmichael grunted, a slight chuckle now replacing the impatience in his voice. “You’re a regular comedian today.”
Now that she had toyed with him for a bit and delivered the expected sarcasm, she could safely embrace the girlish excitement that was bubbling inside her.
“So, should I assume this means…” she asked, leaving the crux of the question hanging in the air with an intentional pregnant pause to keep it company.
“Yeah,” he replied with a nod. “That’s what it means.”
She grinned then scooped up the small box and cradled it in her fingers as she carefully levered the clamshell open with her free hand. At almost the very instant her eyes fell on the intricate gold band adorned with a sharply faceted diamond, she breathed, “Oh Skip, it’s absolutely gorgeous…”
“You know the kind of stuff Kathy likes, Clovis. Do you think it’s the right style? Is the rock big enough? Old Man Turner said she’d looked at this setting a couple of times before, but I could exchange it if I needed to.”
“It’s perfect. Just perfect,” she returned. “I was with her when she was looking at it. She’ll love it, Skip,” she paused and then almost quivered with her now escaping enthusiasm. “Okay, so when? Christmas Eve or Christmas Day?”
“Christmas morning probably,” he said with a nod then gave her a half shrug. “That’s the plan, anyway… If I can wait that long… I know it’s only three days away, but… Well, you know… I’ve already been putting it off for so long as it is, what with her wanting to finish her degree and all… I talked to her dad yesterday, so at least that part of it is out of the way.”
“What did he say?”
Skip tensed and deepened his voice for effect. “‘Bout time, son. Just remember, deputy or not, if you hurt my little girl I’ll hunt you down and kill you.”
“That sounds like him,” Clovis replied. “Was he smiling?”
“Yeah.”
“Then you’re fine.”
He nodded and chuckled. “I know.”
“Okay, so explain to me why it is I’m just now hearing about this,” she pressed.
“That should be obvious,” he answered, shrugging. “You’re her best friend. I want it to be a surprise.”
She pouted an objection. “I can keep a secret.”
“You mean like the time you told her about the surprise birthday party I had planned for her?”
“We were in high school, Skip,” she grumbled.
“I’m talking about last year.”
“Oh… That… Well… That was different.”
“Different how?”
“It just was. Really… I can keep a secret.”
“Yeah… Do yourself a favor and don’t swear to that under oath or anything. Some of us know better.”
“Who’s the comedian now?”
“I wasn’t trying t
o be funny. Honestly, I wouldn’t even have told you about this at all, except that I wanted your opinion on the ring. I’m taking a big enough chance telling you now as it is. You’ve got a whole three days to spill it and ruin everything.”
She ignored the gibe. “You know if you’d just said something I could have gone shopping with you.”
“What was I just saying, Clovis? Are you not even listening to me?”
She rolled her eyes at him then ogled the engagement ring again.
“I won’t tell her,” she assured him.
“You’d better not. Besides,” he added. “It looks like I picked out the right one without your help anyway.”
“Sure, but how long did it take you to decide before you actually bought it?” she asked.
“That’s not the point.”
She chuckled. “It doesn’t matter, it’s beautiful, Skip. You did real good. Kathy is going to be so happy…” After a moment she furrowed her brow again and looked up at him. Visible confusion spreading across her features, she said, “Wait… You’ve always said you weren’t going to ask her until…”
He nodded as her voice trailed off. “Yeah, I know. That’s the other thing. I got the call last week.”
“Seriously?”
“Uh-huh. I start the academy in KC with the next class. Just a few months from now. And I should have a job waiting for me when I graduate.”
“Oh my gosh, Skip! That’s fantastic! Congratulations! Does Sheriff Morton know?”
A gruff voice came from across the room behind her. “Do I know what?”
Clovis swiveled her chair and glanced over her shoulder at the sheriff, who was several feet away and in the process of emptying the dregs from a drip coffeemaker carafe into his stained ceramic cup. She twisted quickly back around and shot a wide-eyed gaze toward Deputy Carmichael as she mouthed, “I’m sorry.”
“KC, Boss,” Skip announced, shaking his head and grinning. Then he addressed Clovis directly. “Don’t worry, he’s known ever since I got the call. He was the first one I told. After all, it was him that got me accepted in the first place.”
“Bullshit,” the sheriff huffed, ambling over to the side of the desk. He took a sip of the coffee, screwed up his face, then swallowed with an even deeper grimace while shaking his head. “Christ… How old is this sludge?”
“I’m pretty sure it’s leftover from this morning,” Clovis replied.
“No wonder,” he sighed. Without hesitation he leaned toward the poinsettia on the corner of her desk and dumped the remaining contents of the cup into it.
“You know you’ve killed two of those already this month by doing that,” Clovis announced.
“Better them than me,” he replied then held the now empty mug with his middle fingers hooked through the handle as he nodded toward Skip. “You got your own damn self into the academy. I just made a couple of calls to warn ‘em that you’d probably be a pain in the ass to them just like you are to me. But since you got in anyway, it looks like they didn’t much care what I thought, now did they?”
Skip chuckled. “Whatever you say, Boss.”
The sheriff shot him a quick and wholly uncharacteristic grin. Since Archie Morton wore an almost perpetual poker face to go along with his dry wit, any visible show of emotion in his expression was more than enough to give his staff pause.
“Needed doin’. You’re just wastin’ your talent here, son,” Morton offered. “That much was obvious as soon as you got your head on straight and started using your powers for something other than winning bar bets.”
“Powers,” Skip repeated with an embarrassed chuckle. “You make it sound like something from a comic book.”
“Whatever you want to call it,” Morton continued. “You and that scary accurate instinct of yours would better serve a police force that has actual crimes to solve, and we both know this isn’t it. Hulis is where old cops go to relax when they’re too tired to chase the bad guys anymore. Hell, that’s why I came back.”
Skip waited a beat for another dry wisecrack to be tacked onto the end of the statement. Just as Sheriff Morton’s expression remained virtually constant, praise was not something he offered on a regular basis either, especially not without something diametrically opposed thrown in to temper it. Given that he’d now given him two compliments in a row, surely there was a dig coming in their wake.
However, when several seconds had passed with no further comment, the deputy raised an eyebrow and said, “Uh… Thanks, Boss.”
“Yeah, well don’t let it go to your head. You might be ‘The Amazing’ Skip here in Hulis, but when you get to KC there’ll be some sonofabitch who’s even more special than you are, trust me.”
The sheriff looked around and then let out a snort. “Now, shouldn’t you be workin’ or somethin’?” He offered the words as a statement more than as a question. “You ain’t off to the big city yet, you know.”
“I’m in early. I’m not scheduled for duty until five.”
“Yeah, so what? You’re here aren’t you?”
“True.”
“Well then don’t just stand around looking for more compliments. You just got your quota for the year and then some. Make yourself busy. Put on a fresh pot of coffee or something…”
Now that sounded more like what he had been expecting. Skip started to offer a quick, “right on it, boss,” but before he could speak the aforementioned instinct kicked in. In truth, it was really just a keen awareness of his surroundings combined with a good memory, but instinct was as good a word as any. The semantics weren’t all that important.
Skip cocked his head and announced, “Phone’s about to ring.”
A half-heartbeat later, the first pushbutton along the bottom of Clovis’s telephone began to flash, and then the loud mechanical ringer itself jangled for attention.
Even though she’d been warned, or perhaps because of that very fact, Clovis physically jumped in her seat at the first ping of the sound. She then shuddered as she started reaching toward the device. “Darn it, Skip! You know it creeps me out when you do that. Now I’m all jittery.”
He shrugged to punctuate the fact that he considered the feat to be wholly unremarkable. Jerking a thumb toward a nearby door he explained, “The junction box over here in the closet clicks twice just a couple of seconds before the phone rings. It always has.”
“Like I said,” Sheriff Morton offered. “Scary accurate.”
“And creepy,” Clovis announced again, snatching up the phone and then stabbing the winking button with her index finger just before the fourth ring had finished. Placing the handset against her ear she said, “Sheriff’s office, how can I help you?”
With her other hand she snapped the small ring box closed then held it out toward Skip, who took it from her with a quick flash of a smile. Then she switched the handset to her other ear and picked up a pen from the desk as she talked. “Sure, Hazel. What can we do for you this afternoon?”
Sheriff Morton nodded at the velvet-covered box in Carmichael’s hand and waved him toward the front reception counter. Once they were a few steps away from Clovis’s desk, he asked in a quiet tone, “So… You and Mack Higgins’ daughter finally taking the plunge?”
“That’s the plan,” Skip replied. “Guess I’ll find out for sure come Christmas Day when I ask her. She could still say no.”
“That she could,” the sheriff grunted, then inspected the inside of his empty coffee mug for a moment before adding, “Seems like just yesterday that you and Ron Connelly got all drunked up over at Happy’s Tavern and went to fighting over her.”
“It’s been a few years, actually, boss,” Skip replied.
Morton ignored him and continued. “Right out in the middle of the street, if I remember correctly.”
“Yeah, boss,” Skip conceded. “Never going to let me forget that, are you?”
“Nope,” Morton replied.
“Thanks.”
“Don’t mention it. So… You tell her about
the academy yet?”
Skip shook his head and held up the jewelry box, giving it a small shake. “I figured I’d tell her once this part was out of the way.”
“Take my advice, son. Tell her about it before you ask her to marry you. You owe her that. No matter how much you two might be in love right now, she has to be able to make an informed decision.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean there’s a big damn difference between bein’ a city cop’s wife and a small town deputy’s wife.”
“You mean the risk.”
“For one,” Morton agreed with a nod. “But even more so, the stress. It can be hell on a relationship, son. Especially if you plan on starting a family.”
“Yeah… Guess you’re right.”
“Ain’t no guessin’ to it. Been there, got the divorce papers and the alimony payments to prove it,” he told him. After a short pause he snorted out a half chuckle. “Probably doesn’t matter either way though. If she’s smart, and with that fancy degree Mack paid for she oughta be, then she’ll run the opposite direction the minute you ask her.”
Skip grinned, taking the tension-breaking gibe in the good nature he knew it was intended. “Yeah, boss, th…”
“That was Hazel Parish down at Norris’s Market,” Clovis interrupted as she hung up the phone. “She says Elizabeth Callahan is down there pitching a holy fit. Apparently one of her girls went missing while she was shopping.”
“Well hell, if she’s at Norris’s the kid probably just wandered over to Bremerton’s Five-and-Dime to look at the toys,” Sheriff Morton huffed. “Hazel should know that. So should Elizabeth. They have a look for her over there?”
In The Bleak Midwinter: A Special Agent Constance Mandalay Novel Page 4