by Krista Davis
Laci bustled out of the kitchen. “Well! This is about the rudest thing I’ve seen in a long time.” She made no effort to whisper. “We have company, you know. George, I think we’ll have to put off going to the movies.”
We traipsed into the kitchen like scolded children. I poured milk into a pot to warm it, but my mind was on Emma. It wasn’t fair of me to exclude her from our list of suspects just because I felt sorry for her. Then again, someone had changed the wrapping paper. Didn’t that clear Emma?
I whipped cream, then mixed heady vanilla and a generous amount of decadent Bailey’s Irish Cream into the milk, and poured it into the coffee Laci had already poured into mugs. A dollop of rich whipped cream topped each latte, and Laci followed behind me tapping a sprinkle of nutmeg on the billowing white cream.
We carried the mugs to the table and handed them out. I nestled in the window seat, cupping a mug of latte in my hands. How could I draw Tyler into giving us information? As casually as I could, I said, “Tyler, it must have been great seeing your brother again.”
“Yeah, it was.”
Argh. He wasn’t the talkative type—at least not to me. I tried again. “Did you have a chance to spend time with Dasher while he was here?” That might have been too much. He flicked an annoyed glance my way.
Shawna preened. “He was too worried about me. Tyler called me in jail every night except last night. He went to a rock concert with Emma and Dasher. That’s why he didn’t know I’d been released.”
The change in Zack’s expression was barely noticeable. His eyes gave him away, though, when he studied Tyler. Zack must have known that Forrest claimed Dasher and Emma had left the area the day before.
I heaved a huge breath of relief. A cop now knew that they were still around. Hannah and I didn’t have to turn them in after all. Giddiness overcame me and I joined in the silly banter around the table.
Snow began to fall again, heavily this time. Laci reached a hand toward her sister. “If you want me to pick up clothes at your apartment, I’d better go now. It’s coming down hard.”
Grudgingly, Shawna wrote out a list of items for Laci. If they found the stolen Christmas Eve gifts in Shawna’s apartment, would George be able to convince Laci to rat on her sister? I doubted it.
George and Laci bundled up and headed out in the mini-blizzard. Although I didn’t want to shovel anything, Mom and Dad would be arriving in a hour or two, and I knew I had to clear the walk. I delayed as long as I could before pulling on a coat and boots. I let Daisy out to play in my fenced backyard while I retrieved the snow shovel. She romped through the snow with genuine joy. Thick snowflakes stuck to her black fur like a winter coat, but she didn’t mind, racing around the yard and burying her nose in the white powder. She accompanied me to the potting shed in the very rear of my property.
I stopped cold. I should have had to clear snow away to open the doors but it had been trampled under the new fluff. I pulled the left half of the double doors open, expecting to find my snow shovel just inside, leaning against the wall. Instead, I nearly fell over a pile of neatly stacked boxes, mostly covered by a blanket.
I whisked the blanket off them. A microwave and a crock pot sat in unopened boxes on top of the pile. Wincing, I used the tip of my forefinger to flip the lid on an open box. Christmas candles in jars. There was no doubt about it—Tyler had moved the contents of his SUV to my potting shed. My blood pressure soared. Shawna must have helped him. They staged that little escape so he could unload the ill-gotten goods.
Furious, I stomped back to my house. How dare they pawn those things off on me? What if Shawna and Tyler denied any knowledge of the stolen items in my potting shed? Would Zack believe me? Surely he would believe Hannah. Or would he be doubtful like that grim Kenner, who thought I made up stories just to see him? The trek across the snow did little to help me cool off.
Daisy looked up at me, wagging her tail. A white strip of snow bridged her nose. “You’re right. I’ve had enough of this pussyfooting around.”
Daisy and I entered through the kitchen door. The lovebird couples had eyes only for each other. This time, I didn’t mince words. I stared straight at Shawna. “I have taken you into my home and this is how you repay me?”
Shawna shrank back in her chair. “I ... I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Oh, I think you do. You and Tyler took us on a wild-goose chase. You ran away so we would follow you. Then you doubled back and unloaded the stolen Christmas gifts into my potting shed!”
Tyler’s eyes roamed the room like he sought a hidden exit. “You must be mistaken.”
“I have witnesses that those items were in your car.”
Hannah cocked her head. “I saw them.”
Fixing his gaze on Shawna, Tyler waved his hands in denial. “I didn’t steal anything.”
I went for the jugular. “Then why do you have a mug with Jen’s picture on it?”
Shawna appeared to be on the verge of tears. “You have to tell them. Tell them the truth, just like you told me.”
Tyler grabbed his head with cramped fingers. “All I’m trying to do is save the people I love!”
Save the people he loves?
I jabbed a finger in the air at Shawna. “Did you have anything to do with the missing gifts?”
A slow smile crept over Shawna’s lips. “You love me?”
Oh, brother. I glanced at Zack. He was the cop—why didn’t he say anything? But he was grinning at them.
“Tyler had to remove the stuff to save Bonnie’s reputation,” said Shawna.
Something in Tyler’s pocket jingled, and I knew that wasn’t quite the truth.
“It was me you saw that night, Sophie.” The jingling stopped, and he scratched Daisy under her chin. “Everything was in such chaos when Bonnie died. I forgot all about the stolen stuff in the shop. She was planning to sell it to some guy. Then when you needed access to the office for the auction, I panicked and loaded it all into my car. I heard Daisy howl and took off, but I didn’t know where to hide it.” He leaned toward Zack. “Shawna had nothing to do with any of this, I swear. She didn’t know about it until she saw my car today.”
“Your keys were never stolen?” I asked.
“No.”
Zack’s forehead creased. “You expect me to believe that Bonnie stole the Christmas presents?”
Tyler hesitated. “I don’t know the extent of her involvement. All I know is that they showed up in the shop and she planned to unload them.”
“It was my idea to put everything in your potting shed, Sophie,” explained Shawna, beaming like she’d aced a test. “That way, the items would be discovered and returned.”
At least she meant well, even if she could have landed me in a heap of trouble. I was still angry with her, but I guessed if someone had announced that he loved me, I might want to believe him, too. Who else did Tyler love and want to protect? His dad? Somehow I couldn’t imagine Tom stealing anything. Besides, he was front and center at the Christmas pageant in his role as Santa Claus. Dasher? Emma? Jen liked Emma and implied she was well liked by the neighborhood kids. Had Tyler nursed a secret crush on Emma like he had on Shawna?
“But that’s not everything. Where are the rest of the presents?” Hannah asked.
Tyler’s hand remained on the table, clenched in a fist. “They were sold. I guess some stuff doesn’t sell very well. I never saw any electronics or the computer Ginger made such a fuss about, but there are tons of candles.”
Zack sighed. His demeanor reminded me of Wolf. He took it all in and processed it without the drama that Kenner usually brought to a situation.
“Let’s have a look, then.” Zack stood up.
I didn’t wait for them to pull on their coats. I headed out front to shovel the walk. The snow had stopped, and Old Town lay under a clean, fresh blanket of white. As twilight fell, candles glowed in windows and cozy lights flicked on. The cold air nipped my face, which was still hotter than normal.
&n
bsp; Ordinarily, I’d have been enchanted, but Shawna’s little stunt, and the fact that the killer hadn’t been apprehended, left me feeling anxious. I returned to the kitchen, where Hannah and Shawna both looked glum.
“What happened?” I asked.
“Zack and Tyler are transporting the presents to the police station. Now neither of us has a date for New Year’s,” whined Shawna. “Couldn’t you have waited one day to discover the boxes in your shed?”
Well, if that wasn’t the height of audacity! “You’d better be glad I wasn’t arrested for possession of stolen property.”
“Could that really happen?” she asked.
Hannah snorted latte. No wonder no one who knew Shawna thought she could have rigged the music box with poison gas.
“Can you babysit for a while?” asked Hannah. “I’d like to shower and change, just in case Zack makes it back.”
“Sure.”
“I have some phone calls to make. I’ll be in my cell upstairs,” announced Shawna. I listened to the sound of her footsteps going up the two flights. At least I could set the table and putter around the kitchen. My old stairs would creak if she tried to get away.
I stood in the archway leading to my dining room and tried to switch gears from murder to dinner. I considered using a black tablecloth, but had done too many events with a black theme, and it seemed too deathly for the fresh start I hoped the new year would bring. I decided on a white tablecloth shot through with silver threads and flicked it out onto the table.
The knocker on my front door sounded. Thank goodness. It would be easier to keep an eye on Shawna once everyone arrived.
Daisy accompanied me to the door. When I opened it, instead of my family piling in, Ginger Chadwick marched into my foyer, unbidden.
THIRTY-FIVE
From “Ask Natasha” :
Dear Natasha,
I live in an older home and the only storage in the bathroom is an ugly medicine cabinet. My husband would like to replace it with a modern mirror, but it’s the only storage we have and it’s overflowing! I’d love to rip out the whole bathroom and start over, but our daughter’s college tuition comes first. Any suggestions?
—Vexed in Vixen, Louisiana
Dear Vexed,
The standard distance between wall studs is eighteen inches. If you remove the Sheetrock between two studs, you will find a floor-to-ceiling space about three inches deep. Add shelves and a door and you’ve got perfect storage for all those little bathroom items.
—Natasha
“Where is she?” demanded Ginger.
“Shawna?” What would Ginger want with Shawna?
“Are you always so dense? I don’t care about Shawna. Where is my daughter?”
Alice and Jasper zoomed down the hallway toward the open door with Mochie after them. I closed it in a hurry.
Ginger glanced at the cats, and her nose flared as though she thought they stank.
“Emma!” she shouted. “Emma, where are you?”
Without so much as a “please,” Ginger stomped up my stairs toward the second floor.
“Excuse me. Excuse me!” Where did she get off inspecting my house? What nerve! “Mrs. Chadwick! I have to ask you to leave.”
Nothing stopped her from her quest. I toyed with the idea of racing ahead of her and pushing her down the stairs, but prudence and propriety stopped me from following through.
They didn’t stop her, though, and the next thing I heard was a shocked scream from Hannah.
The door shut with a bang, and I heard Ginger’s footsteps continue as she probed my bedrooms. She wouldn’t find Emma, or anything else of interest for that matter, so I returned to the dining room and continued with my silver and white table decor, but I was seething inside. In the middle of the table, I clustered silver candlesticks with white candles. Shorter white pillar candles studded with silver stars led away on either side. A coil of silver stars on a wire stretched nicely through the length of the centerpiece, adding the illusion of movement. On top of that I draped a long garland of mirrors and glass beads that would reflect the candlelight.
An angry voice accompanied clomping down the stairs. Hannah, dressed in a sexy black sweater with touches of gleaming silver and a pair of black trousers, reamed Ginger out for bursting in on her bath.
My hands on my hips, I spoke harshly. “How would you like it if I barged into your house and poked my nose around?”
Ginger stopped at the foot of the stairs. Her mouth pulled into a bitter slash. “The domestic diva business must pay exceptionally well if you can afford a historic house like this.”
The woman simply couldn’t say anything nice. What an offensive person! I ignored her thinly disguised slight. Since she’d been so rude, nothing would coax me to explain that Mars and I had inherited the house from his aunt.
“I am not in the habit of searching houses. Just so you know.” Ginger started for the door.
“Hold it there, honey.” Hannah nabbed Ginger’s elbow. “I think we deserve an explanation.”
Ginger sucked in air so hard her chest shuddered. “I have followed my husband to Old Town on several occasions, but he always loses me. I can’t imagine that he’s having an affair. Who would want a fat, unhappy man with a boring job whose only joy is baking? While I was out recently, he baked Red Velvet Cupcakes, which are Emma’s favorites. He’s here, somewhere in Old Town tonight, and I suspect he’s sheltering the daughter who tried to kill me. Surely you understand that I cannot sleep, or do anything else for that matter, until she’s safely behind bars.”
“Why would you think she was here?” I asked.
“Your father was helping Forrest in our garage, and I overheard your mother say something about you babysitting a troublemaker. Besides, there has to be a reason Detective Kenner is sitting in a car outside, watching your house.”
Hannah and I rushed to the dining room window.
“Where?” I asked.
Ginger hadn’t budged from the foyer. “Second car from the corner directly across the street.”
A twinge of guilt nagged me. She might be rude and insulting, but she was obviously afraid and taking in every detail.
We couldn’t see much in the dark, but the streetlights offered sufficient glow to make out the shape of a head in the front seat of that car.
I returned to Ginger in the foyer. “Look, you may not care for me or my family, but I think you should know that Hannah and I suspect you were the intended victim of the poison fumes in the music box—and we don’t think Emma is the culprit. You ought to be very careful.”
She focused enraged eyes on me, and I braced for a tongue-lashing. “I’m not stupid. The facts are undeniable. My daughter thought she could murder me from afar, thus providing herself with an alibi. When I didn’t die, she tried to frame me by sending that ridiculous Dasher to impersonate me and attack Natasha, in the hope I would be arrested. Clearly, that hasn’t happened, either. Emma and Dasher lurk in this town somewhere, plotting their next strike against me—but I shall find them first. Those two will rue the day they ever hatched a plot to kill me.”
“Mrs. Chadwick,” I said, “I don’t think Emma—”
She interrupted me. “You think I don’t know my own daughter? Emma was groomed to go to Cambridge. She has a higher IQ than most of the people you will meet in your lifetime. She’s pregnant with the devil’s spawn just to spite me. I know what she’s capable of, and mark my word—I will find her before she knows I’m looking for her.” She opened the front door and paused. “Besides, everyone else loves and admires me.”
I closed the door behind her, and though we shouldn’t have, Hannah and I burst into shocked laughter. “She’s delusional,” I gasped. “The devil’s spawn? What an awful thing to call her own grandchild.”
“Should we warn Emma?” I asked.
Hannah’s mouth twisted. “I don’t see why. Ginger obviously doesn’t know where Emma is holed up or she wouldn’t have come here.”
Ha
nnah retreated up the stairs to do her hair and makeup. Still shaking my head over Ginger, I hustled to the kitchen to cut hard, nutty Gruyère and slightly fruity Emmental cheese into small chunks so they would melt easily for the cheese fondue later on. I poured canola oil into a pot and set it aside, ready to be heated for the meat fondue. Next I cut lovely lean steaks into inch-size cubes and stashed them in the fridge.
While I worked, I couldn’t help thinking of Ginger. Surely she wouldn’t harm her own daughter—would she? I didn’t have Emma’s phone number so I couldn’t call to warn her.
I washed and dried mushrooms, sliced crunchy red peppers, and broke cauliflower and broccoli into small florets that would be fabulous dipped in the cheese fondue.
Maybe I could call Forrest or Tom, and one of them would warn Emma. But what if I was wrong? What if Emma did try to kill her own mother? Or more likely, what if Dasher was the murderer? No, that couldn’t be. At least not if the wrapping paper was relevant. Though it was possible that Dasher hadn’t known about it, but I thought that unlikely. Emma was pretty chatty and would have mentioned it to him. That still left Tyler and Tom as possible culprits.
I debated my options as I washed and tore curly red leaf lettuce for a salad, sliced red onions and black olives, and separated sections of clementines. I mixed them all in a bowl and put it in the fridge until later. I was on the verge of making a vinaigrette when I heard a commotion upstairs.
“Jen alert!” shouted Hannah as she raced down the stairs.
I scooted to the family room. Where were Jasper and Alice? What a time for them to hide.
I dashed through the sunroom, Mochie and Daisy at my heels, delighted about the excitement. No kittens. I passed Hannah in the foyer.
She held the kittens’ empty basket. “You can’t find them?”
I shot up the stairs and looked in my closet. Once again, the little furballs had gone for my laundry basket. I scooped them up, hurried down to the foyer, deposited them in the cute basket, and paused to catch my breath before I opened the door for my parents and Jen.