by Kate Bell
“What did you do then?” John asked.
“I screamed. A lot.” She said, nodding again.
John began scribbling in his notebook and then looked up. “Is there anything else?”
“Yes,” she said. “There was a plate of gingerbread cookies and candy canes that looked like they had been dropped on the floor of the front porch. Right next to the little table he has there with plants on it. I thought it was kind of weird because the plate was broken like someone had dropped the plate and it had hit the porch really hard.”
“I see,” he said, making more notes. “Anything else?”
“No,” she said. “I don’t remember anything else.”
“Okay, Jennifer, I appreciate your help. If you think of anything, you’ll call me, right? Anything at all.”
“Yes,” she answered, sniffing.
He got up from his chair and turned to me. “Here’s my card. Give me a call if you can think of anything. I’m sure someone will be getting in touch with you shortly.”
I took John’s business card and walked him to the door.
“I’m sorry you all had to go through this on your visit,” he said. “It’s not pleasant.”
“Thank you, John. It isn’t the way we had planned on spending Christmas,” I said as I walked him to the door. “Oh, and John?”
He turned back toward me before leaving the porch. “Yes?”
“I’m sure Alec will help wherever he can, if you’d like.”
“Thanks, Allie, I appreciate that. I’ll have a talk with him and I’ll be seeing you around,” he said.
I went back into the living room and Jennifer was staring out into space. She looked up at me. “This is horrible.”
“I know, sweetie, I’m sorry you had to see that,” I said.
Mama got to her feet. “I’ll get you a glass of water, Jennifer.” She motioned for me to follow her into the kitchen, and I followed her.
She closed the kitchen door behind us. “Allie, that part about the plate of gingerbread men sounds suspicious to me.”
“Well, Mama, the whole thing is suspicious since Tom was murdered,” I said, trying not to sound like I was humoring her.
“I know that, but I think that’s a clue to Tom’s murder.”
“It very well could be. I’m sure Alec will check it out,” I said and went to get a glass out of the cupboard.
“If I had to guess, I’d say it was Ida Crawford that did it,” she said, coming to stand beside me as I filled the glass with water from the pitcher in the refrigerator.
“Oh? Why do you say that?” I asked.
I remembered Ida from when she worked at the phone company. Once a month I went with Mama to the companies that we made monthly payments to and Ida took the money for the telephone. She had red curly hair that bordered on orange and wore too much makeup. Her lips stood out, being bright red and glossy. Every time she saw me, she would remark that I had red hair just like her. When we left the phone company office, Mama would tell me not to pay her any mind because her red hair wasn’t natural and it wasn’t as pretty as mine.
“Well, she probably wouldn’t admit it, but she was sweet on Tom. I’ve seen her car parked out front a few times,” she said, nodding her head knowingly. “She still wears too much makeup and that orange hair of hers is even more garish now that she’s getting up there in age. She’s almost six years older than I am, you know.”
“You don’t say?” I said. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say Mama was a might bit jealous.
“Yes,” she said, lost in thought.
“How often would you say she stopped by Tom’s house?” I asked.
“Oh, at least a couple of times a month. Always bringing him something to eat. Mostly sweets because Tom did have quite a sweet tooth.” She sighed sadly. “Poor Tom.”
“It is a shame,” I agreed. I took a good look at Mama. Had she been sweet on Tom? I never would have thought it, but if it was true, then I knew she would be even more upset by his death. She was also at a disadvantage to Ida Crawford because she couldn’t bake. Then I remembered that Mama had called me back in the spring and asked me for my recipe for coconut cake. I tried to tell her it wouldn’t do any good for me to give it to her, but she insisted. Mama had not inherited the baking gene from her mother.
“I hope he didn’t suffer,” she said, and her eyes welled up with tears.
“I hope not. I think if he hadn’t died rather quickly, he would have yelled and we would have heard him,” I said, hoping to make her feel better. I couldn’t imagine there had been a struggle at all, or we would have heard something.
“Probably so,” she said, and wiped at her eyes with the back of her hand.
“Mama, were you sweet on Tom?” I asked. I figured I might as well be straight with it and find out.
“What?” she asked, blushing a little. “Me? No, not me. You wouldn’t know it, but Tom was a ladies’ man. He liked the ladies a little too much. If you ask me, bingo was nothing more than an excuse to flirt with the other women.”
Mama sounded a little hurt when she said it. I wondered if he hadn’t felt for her the way she did for him.
“But you liked him?” I asked gently.
“Now, Allison Marie, don’t you go spreading rumors. People will be bound to think I had something to do with the murder,” she said. “And I was right here, the whole time. And don’t you look at me with that raised eyebrow. I’m not dead, you know. A woman sometimes likes a gentleman’s company.”
I smiled, but my heart was hurting for her. Whether Tom returned her admiration was unclear to me, but she had felt something for him and now he was dead.
“All right, Mama. Maybe you know something that can help John and Alec figure out who killed Tom. He deserves to have his murder solved,” I said and headed back to the living room with the glass of water for Jennifer.
Thad was peeking out the side window, watching the investigation. He turned when I came back into the room. “I’m going to see if Alec needs any help,” he said.
“Stay out of the way,” I told him as he left.
“Here you go Jennifer, nice and cold. It will make you feel better,” I said.
“Thanks, Mom,” she said, taking it from me. “I just can’t believe this happened. And I had to be the one to find him.”
“I know, I’m sorry, Jen,” I said, and went to the window Thad had just vacated. The police officers, Alec and Thad stood around the body, as the coroner looked Tom over. This was beginning to become a familiar scene in my life and I didn’t like it one bit.
Chapter Four
Mama and Jennifer had gone to lie down in their rooms and I sat with Sarah in the living room, waiting. The girl was obsessed with the Christmas tree, examining every ornament on it, which was fine because it kept her from bothering me. Alec and Thad came back to the house when the coroner took Tom’s body to the morgue.
“That was wild,” Thad said as he walked in the house. “I’ve never seen a dead body before.”
“You get used to it,” Alec said. He gave me a lopsided smile when he saw me. “Your friend John seems like a reasonable fellow. But Elmer isn’t quite so friendly.”
“Yes well, you’re not the first person who’s said that,” I said. “Why don’t we go for a little walk? It’s nice outside and I could use some fresh air.”
“Sure,” he said.
I got up from the sofa, gave him a quick kiss, and took his hand. The afternoon sun was receding and there was a slight nip in the air, but it wasn’t terribly cold. I missed being able to go outside during the winter with just a coat on. In Maine, I had to bundle up with a big coat, gloves, earmuffs, and a scarf.
Alec closed the front gate behind us and we headed past Tom’s house. It looked sadly empty to me now, and I sighed. I could see the unlit Christmas tree peeking out from his front window.
As we got to the corner of his property, a brown 1983 Cadillac, still in mint condition, pulled up to the front of Tom’s
house. Alec and I glanced at each other, then turned around and slowly walked toward the car.
A woman with short, curly gray hair stepped out of the car and I recognized Mrs. Beale, the county librarian. I had spent many summers as a child at the library, reading as many books as I could so I could win the coveted gold plastic trophy in the reading contest. I had won six of them in my preteen years. Beat out twice by Sadie Beale. Yes, you guessed it. The librarian’s daughter. I still swear she cheated and only skimmed the chapters. Her mother probably gave her the cliff notes version of Are You There, God? It’s me, Margaret when she beat me in the sixth grade.
She didn’t seem to see us walking toward her, as she made a beeline to Tom’s front gate.
“Mrs. Beale?” I called out.
She stopped and turned toward me, giving me a vague look. Then recognition showed on her face. “Allie Hamilton!” she said, using my maiden name. “My goodness, how are you?”
“Oh, I’m fine,” I said and went to her and gave her a hug. “It’s been far too long.”
“Are you here visiting for Christmas?” she asked, peering over her gold-rimmed wire framed glasses, just like she had always done when talking to me at the library.
“Yes, I’m here with my family visiting Mama. And this is my friend, Alec,” I said introducing them.
Alec shook her hand, with Mrs. Beale looking him over. “He seems very nice,” she said, turning to me.
“Mrs. Beale, Tom isn’t home. Was he expecting you?” I asked. I didn’t know how to break it to her that he was dead and saying he wasn’t home just seemed nicer.
“Why yes, we play Uno on Thursday nights. I don’t cook much myself, but he makes me supper, and we keep one another company.” Her face lit up while she told us this.
Alec and I exchanged a look. I really didn’t want to be the one to have to tell her. Fortunately for me, Alec stepped up and handled it.
“I’m sorry to have to tell you this, Mrs. Beale,” Alec began kindly. “But Tom passed away this afternoon. It was very unexpected.”
“What?” Mrs. Beale asked, blinking. “What do you mean? I just spoke with him this morning.”
“I’m sorry, Mrs. Beale. It’s been a shock to all of us,” I said, and reached out and squeezed her shoulder.
She stood and stared at us in disbelief for a few moments. I wanted to say more, but my mind went blank. Then her face clouded over.
“Are you certain?” she asked quietly.
I nodded. “Yes, we are. I’m so sorry.”
“What did he die of?” she asked, and tears welled up in her eyes. “It’s so sudden. I don’t understand this. He was healthy. He went to the gym nearly every morning.”
I glanced at Alec.
“All we really know right now is that he has passed. I’m very sorry for your loss. Do you know if Tom had family in town?” Alec asked. He had a practiced tone, and I had a glimpse into his life as a person that had broken this news far too many times in his life.
“Oh, yes. He had his daughter. She lives across town on Sylvia Street. But I’m afraid they were estranged. His daughter didn’t like the fact that Tom … well, Tom,” she said and trailed off.
“Go on,” Alec gently encouraged.
“Tom dated sometimes. I never did ask him for details, but I heard his wife was in a nursing home for a few years, and he dated other women while she was in there. And Leslie, Leslie Warren is her name, couldn’t abide by her father dating while her mother was still alive. I can’t say as I blame her,” she said sadly.
“I can see where that would be very difficult for family communication,” I said, nodding.
“Oh, but Tom and I didn’t date,” she said, looking at me and shaking her head. “I mean, I didn’t start coming over to play Uno cards with him until Jane had been gone for quite sometime. And we’ve never really dated. I never did agree with Tom about seeing other women while his wife was still alive. If that’s what happened, anyway.”
“Oh, of course,” I said. “I understand.” Only I didn’t. Why would she come over every week to spend time with him and not know something this important about him? Was he a cheater, or not?
“I’m, well, I’m just so shocked. This is shocking news,” she said, looking at the ground. “So unexpected.”
“It really is. I’m so sorry,” I said.
“Well, I suppose I’ll be going now. This is all so shocking,” she absently repeated. She looked so lost, I wanted to say something more, but I wasn’t sure what. I hoped she had someone to share her grief with.
“I’m sorry,” I said again, and I walked her around the side of her car and opened the door for her. I closed the door and stepped back, and Alec and I watched the car pull away.
Alec gave me a sideways glance and then took hold of my hand and we continued walking.
“Well, that was something,” he said. “Were you aware of his estrangement with his daughter?”
“No. And I also wasn’t aware that he was seeing people while his wife was still alive. Seems kind of slimy. And don’t you think it’s odd that she wouldn’t ask him for details about his love life? It sounds like she was spending a lot of time with him.”
Alec shrugged. “She said they weren’t dating.”
“But don’t you think they would have conversations? Wouldn’t he mention the other women he had dated at some point?”
“You would think so,” he said. “Sometimes people are odd though. Maybe because they weren’t dating, she felt she didn’t have a right to ask.”
“I think she wanted to date him. Officially, I mean, and not just play Uno with him on Thursday nights. And Mama was always the one that brought food to Tom. Now Mrs. Beale is saying that he cooked for her?”
“Maybe Tom just enjoyed your mother’s cooking and never protested when she brought him food,” Alec said.
“Oh! Do you think he recycled my mother’s cooking?” I asked.
“Recycled her cooking? What do you mean?”
“You know. After my mother brought him food, he turned around and told Mrs. Beale that he had made it? What a cad!” I said.
Alec laughed. “You do have an imagination.”
“Do you think Mrs. Beale had anything to do with the murder?” I asked, turning toward him.
“I don’t think so. She seemed genuinely shocked,” he said. “After being in this line of work for so many years, you get to where you can read a person fairly well.”
“Did you see the plate of gingerbread men and candy canes on the porch when you were investigating?” I asked, remembering what Jennifer had said. “Jennifer felt like they had been thrown to the ground rather violently.”
Alec nodded his head. “There did seem to be some emotion behind it. Maybe he insulted someone’s baking?”
I looked at him, and he had a wicked grin on his face. “Well, if a person is stupid enough to insult a Southern woman’s baking, then they pretty much have it coming. They shouldn’t be surprised if they wind up dead.”
He chuckled. “I could see that happening. I know a Southern woman that is mighty proud of her baking skills.”
“I bet you do,” I said.
“John sent the plate in to be examined. He was able to lift quite a few prints off of it. It may be a very important clue to solving the crime.”
“Well, I hope so,” I said. “What a shame. Killing someone this close to Christmas. It ruins the holiday for family members for years to come.”
“I think it probably ruins quite a few things,” he said.
“Oh, and my mother thinks the killer is Ida Crawford. She use to be a cashier at the old phone company, back in the days when phones were attached to walls.”
“Times have sure changed. No one has those dinosaur phones in their homes anymore. Oh. Wait. I’m sorry, but you have one of those dinosaurs in your kitchen, don’t you?” he teased.
“All right, smarty. Yes, I do, but that doesn’t make me a dinosaur as well,” I said, doing my best to sound hu
ffy, but not really meaning it.
“And why does your mother think she did it, besides the obvious fact that she worked for a now defunct phone company?” he asked.
“Because she has garish orange hair and wears too much makeup. Oh, and she may have been seeing Tom on the side,” I said.
He nodded. “Garish orange hair should be a giveaway. I’ll have to ask John if he knows anything about her.”
“That’s a great idea,” I agreed.
“Do you know his daughter Leslie?” he asked.
“She’s younger than I am. I remember her from school, but we ran with different crowds. I do remember hearing that she was a little on the wild side when she was still in junior high, dating more than one boy at once. That was really frowned on back then, especially since she was only in seventh grade.”
“I’m sure John will want to talk to her, as well.”
A light breeze kicked up, and I felt a chill. I pulled my coat tightly around myself and I wondered how many girlfriends Tom had had.
Chapter Five
I was up early the next morning, baking fresh cinnamon rolls. There’s just something about the smell of fresh yeasty sweet rolls on a cold winter morning that makes me feel nostalgic for my childhood and my grandmama. I had peeled and cooked up some Granny Smith apples with spices, raisins, and walnuts for the filling. Cream cheese frosting would top them off nicely. Decadent, but oh so good.
I was spreading the apple filling on my carefully rolled out dough when Mama came into the kitchen.
“Oh my, Allie. What have you gone and done?” she asked, rubbing one sleepy eye with the back of her hand.
“I have made the most delectable cinnamon rolls you have ever tasted,” I said, spreading out the filling. “If you make some coffee, we’ll be eating shortly.”
“I can do that,” she said and headed to the coffee pot. She put whole coffee beans into the grinder and turned it on. The kitchen filled with the smell of wonderful, fresh roasted coffee beans. She turned off the grinder and stood staring at it.
“What’s wrong, Mama?” I asked. I already knew the answer, but I wanted to hear it from her.