The Diva Cooks a Goose

by Krista Davis

  I have to admit that I love the feeling of friends and family arriving. Magically, all the competing voices aren’t noise, and all the people aren’t in the way. It’s a warm, happy moment every time.

  Hannah held the kitten basket out to Jen. “I think these are for you.”

  Jen’s squeal made the moment even better. “Are you serious? Mom and Dad are letting me keep Alice and Jasper? I can’t believe it!” She pulled the kittens from their basket and clutched them to her.

  As Mom, Hannah, and Jen moved toward the kitchen, I hung up their coats.

  “Need some help taking down Christmas tomorrow?” asked Dad.

  “That would be great!” The dreaded chore would go much faster with his help.

  He handed me his coat. “After the cops left, I gave Forrest a hand storing their Dickens carolers. Those things are heavy!”

  “Did he mention anything about a divorce?”

  Dad’s expression of shock lasted only a second. “Oh. Now I understand. He didn’t mention a divorce, but he said something odd that makes more sense now. I can’t say I’m surprised. His wife is rather caustic. Did you see Natasha’s column this morning?”

  I rarely paid her column much attention. “About feng shui?”

  “Half the people on George’s block cleaned out their garages today! When I was helping Forrest, Ginger charged into their garage, waving the column and insisting Forrest build a wall of cabinets in their garage for storage. She had a fit that we covered the carolers with plastic bags and stashed them in the corner.”

  “Eww. Didn’t that look a little bit creepy? Like people in cocoons?”

  “That’s what Forrest said. ‘Like pod people waiting to emerge and finally live their lives.’ But he didn’t do what she wanted. When Ginger left the garage, he chuckled and said, ‘It doesn’t matter anymore.’ Maybe that’s what he meant—that they’re divorcing.”

  Maybe. Then why were the little hairs on my neck prickling and why did a shiver run through me? “Did he say anything else of interest?”

  Dad raised his eyebrows. “Wait until you hear this! The strangest thing happened when we left George’s house tonight.”

  Mom appeared in the doorway. “Are you telling Sophie? Come in the kitchen so Hannah can hear, too.”

  We shuffled into the kitchen, where Mochie looked on like a sourpuss as Jen cuddled her new babies.

  I scooped him up and whispered, “They’re going home with her tomorrow.” He rubbed his head against my chin, and I hoped he understood he was still the top cat in my life.

  Dad scratched Daisy behind the ears and sat next to the fireplace. “We drove out of the subdivision behind Forrest. I wasn’t paying particular attention to him, and we were separated in traffic. Your mother wanted to stop for some champagne, so I waited in the car while she and Jen went into the store. Forrest had parked his car in a remote corner of the parking lot and—right in front of my eyes—he got into a white van and pulled out.”

  “A white van?” said Hannah.

  “To evade Ginger?” I set Mochie on the floor. “He must know she’s been following him.”

  “Unless”—Hannah’s eyes met mine—“he’s looking for Ginger to finish her off.”

  Mom gasped. “Forrest? He’s far too nice!”

  “But Ginger is just odious. The most perfect person in the world couldn’t stand the way she treats her own children. Who could blame Forrest for wanting to get rid of Ginger? I barely know her, and today I wanted to wring her neck. How can she be so awful to Emma? We should have realized it all along,” I said. “He was in an ideal position to plant the poison in the music box. When she was dead, he would be able to pursue his dream of opening a bakery. It seems so obvious now.”

  “What about the wrapping paper?” said Hannah.

  I shrugged. “I guess I was wrong about that. Or maybe he used the wrong stuff on purpose, so she would open it sooner. Then, when that didn’t kill her, he attacked Natasha and planted the Mrs. Santa skirt in their trash to throw suspicion on Ginger. If she was in jail for Bonnie’s murder, Forrest could do whatever he wanted.”

  Hannah’s eyes grew wide. “We have to warn her.”

  “Did she say where she was going?”

  Dad scowled at us. “Shouldn’t you report this to the police and let them take care of it?”

  He was right. “Of course. Kenner’s parked outside.” I walked to the foyer and pulled on my coat and boots.

  Hannah reached for her coat. “I’m coming, too. In case he doesn’t believe you.”

  We ventured into the cold night and jaywalked across the street. I stopped in the middle of the road. Why did Kenner’s car look so familiar? A plain dark-colored sedan, there was nothing striking about it. Until I remembered where I had seen it before—on George’s street on Christmas Eve, slowly following me.

  Kenner saw us coming, but I rapped on his car window anyway. When he rolled it down, I couldn’t help challenging him. “That was you on Christmas Eve!”

  “What?” Kenner looked straight ahead and avoided my eyes. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “You followed us. You’ve been tailing me. That’s why you pulled me over on Christmas Day.” I leaned toward him. “That’s how you managed to get to the crime scene so fast. You knew exactly where I went. Were you sitting outside in your car waiting for me to leave Bonnie’s house?”

  “No. Once I knew where you were going, I drove to the police station.”

  “So you admit it! That’s stalking!”

  Kenner finally met my gaze. It was the first time I had seen a softness to his face. He seemed almost wistful. “It’s not stalking to watch out for someone.”

  That shut me up. I stared at him in shock. “It’s Christmas, what did you think was going to happen?” But as soon as the words left my mouth, the truth dawned on me. “You didn’t have anywhere to go for the holidays. You didn’t have anyone to share them with, so you were watching my family?”

  His jaw tightened, and I knew I’d hit a nerve. “I’m sorry, Kenner.” For a split second I considered inviting him to our fondue dinner, but Hannah nudged me and hissed, “Ginger!”

  I spilled everything we knew about the Chadwicks. “We don’t where Ginger went, but she’s planning to do harm to Emma, and Forrest is after Ginger. There’s going to be a massacre in that family tonight.” I gave him the approximate location of Forrest’s bakery, and he pulled out into the street behind a line of slow-moving cars whose drivers were probably in search of parking spots.

  “It will take him forever to get there.”

  Hannah groaned. “He has a siren, for pity’s sake. Why doesn’t he use it?”

  Without another word, we rushed toward the bakery on foot, pounding the freshly fallen snow and trying to avoid icy patches. Traffic grew heavier as we neared the center of Old Town. The sidewalks remained surprisingly clear of pedestrians, though. I guessed the cold weather prevented idle strolling through the scenic town.

  We cut through the alley behind the bakery. Lights glowed near the back doors of most of the buildings. I hit the buzzer and bent double to catch my breath.

  Hannah braced herself by placing a hand against the brick building and gasped, “I have got to get into better shape.”

  I turned my head toward the door. “They don’t know how important this is.” I rang the buzzer five times in a row to convey urgency.

  “What if Ginger is already here?” asked Hannah. “What will we do then?”

  I had no idea. I just hoped Kenner would arrive soon if that was the case.

  The door creaked open. My breath coming hard, I stood up straight to face Emma. She grasped the edge of the door with both hands, and two of her bangle bracelets, adorned with scattered diamonds, caught the light.

  “What’s wrong? Is Dad okay?”

  The words stuck in my mouth. How do you tell someone her mother might harm her, and her father is after her mother? Even worse, her bracelets mesmerized me. The
way the stones glinted, they looked like real diamonds.

  “Your mom’s looking for you,” Hannah blurted out.

  As she did so, I grabbed Emma’s arm and pulled her outside. “She’s not in there, hiding behind the door, is she?”

  Emma blinked at me. “No. We’re fine. It’s just Dasher and me. What’s going on?”

  “Where did you get the bracelets?” I demanded.

  “Sophie!” Hannah’s tone scolded me.

  Emma didn’t seem to mind my abrupt question. “Dasher gave them to me for Christmas.”

  Dasher. The worm who complained bitterly about how much Emma spent on the music box. The same worm who’d barely had enough money to come home for the holidays.

  Hannah nudged me. “Tell her about her mom!”

  I felt fairly foolish as I explained what had happened. There was no emergency, no imminent attack. Her mother was looking for her, but since her father was driving a different car, the likelihood that Ginger would locate Emma by following him was almost nil. Ginger was the one we needed to warn. If Forrest found her first, he might finish the job he’d started. “Just be careful, okay? If your mom should come knocking on the door, don’t let her in.”

  She burst into tears. “Nothing I do will ever please her. I try so hard. She wouldn’t have had a turkey to eat for Christmas if we hadn’t had extras. I snuck it over to my parents’ house in the middle of the night and stashed it in the fridge. I bet she even complained about that.”

  That cinched it. No one else on the block had a turkey after the food was stolen. Yet they had extras? “Dasher raided the houses and stole the Christmas gifts, didn’t he? That’s why he could afford the bracelets. That’s why you had extra turkeys.”

  Emma shuddered. “No. He wouldn’t have.” But her voice faltered. “He ... he sold some things, some art to a friend of his.”

  “I don’t think so, Emma.” I wanted to be kind, but saying the father of her child was a thief wasn’t easy. “He went out last night. He decorated your mom’s house with the turquoise and pink things she despised, and then he broke into Bonnie’s office to retrieve the stolen gifts he stashed there with her.” Why didn’t I see it sooner? Bonnie had an ugly side, and she helped raise Dasher after his mother died. They were in cahoots.

  “See?” Emma said hopefully. “That’s just not true because he didn’t bring anything back.”

  “Because Tyler had moved it all out,” said Hannah.

  The slow crackle of tires on snow alarmed all of us.

  “It’s not a van,” said Hannah. “Is it Ginger?”

  I shielded my eyes against the bright lights of the car.

  “It’s Kenner.”

  Emma covered her mouth but it didn’t stifle her shriek. “You ratted him out!” She barreled inside and slammed the door. We could hear her yelling, “It’s the cops! Quick, bring my coat. We can go out the front!”

  I leaned against the door. How could we have muddled everything so badly? Would Kenner take Emma off to jail for evading the police? Or for aiding and abetting Dasher? I sighed. At least she would be safe from her mother there.

  Emma still screamed inside. “Please tell me you’re not the Christmas-gift thief.”

  Silence followed. I guessed Dasher was trying to explain. Then Hannah and I heard Emma yell, “You moron!”

  “We needed money, Emma. Did you think your mother was ever going to give you one thing for our baby? We were entitled to their stuff. Your brother’s brand-new computer brought in a nice chunk of change.”

  “Why would you spoil Christmas for the whole neighborhood?”

  “For somebody with a high IQ, you can be really stupid. If I only hit your parents’ house, the cops would have guessed it was me. Besides, we needed the money. All those people can replace what we took.”

  Hannah and I didn’t wait for Kenner to park. I ran over and rapped on his window. “Dasher is the Christmas-gift thief. He’s heading out the front way.”

  We ran around to the front of the building just in time to see Emma and Dasher escape through the front door. They dodged traffic to cross the street, passed us on the other side, and disappeared into the night. In a matter of minutes, they would be among the throngs of revelers on King Street. Kenner wouldn’t find them, but Ginger might.

  We had turned to walk home when we heard a scream.

  THIRTY-SIX

  From “THE GOOD LIFE” :

  Dear Sophie,

  I’m itching to buy one of those gadgets that holds sports balls so they don’t roll around everywhere, but my husband thinks they’re too expensive and take up too much space. How do I store balls so they’re not in the way all the time?

  —Tripping Over Balls in Candlestick, Georgia

  Dear Tripping Over Balls,

  Buy an inexpensive hammock and hang it in your basement or garage. Toss the balls inside and you’re done.

  —Sophie

  Hannah and I stopped. “Did you hear that?” I asked.

  “It didn’t sound like a Happy New Year scream. Which direction?”

  I pointed toward the corner where I had run into Forrest. We jogged along the sidewalk to the intersection.

  “There!” Hannah pointed toward the Santa and Mrs. Claus whose clothes had been taken.

  Under the shield of darkness from the curving stairs, it appeared that two people struggled. We sprinted toward them like crazy women. As we neared, one of the shadowy figures raced away, running like he meant to save his life. Tall and heavyset, there was no question that it was Santa Claus.

  We found the other person sprawled on the sidewalk. It was Ginger Chadwick. Forrest had found her before we did.

  At that moment, the front door of the house opened and light spilled out. “Hah! I’ve caught you now, you hooligans!” Another light shone down on us. “I told my wife if we left Santa out here, you would be back.” He sounded elderly, and against the light escaping from his house, it appeared he brandished a large candlestick over his head.

  My focus moved downward. Ginger’s body lay crooked, her head bent at an unnatural angle.

  “Should we do mouth-to-mouth?” asked Hannah.

  Mustering every ounce of strength not to sound hysterical, I looked up at the man above us. “Would you please call an ambulance?” It came out as little more than a whisper.

  Still, the old man heard it. He shouted into his house for his wife to call for help. “Who is that down there?”

  “We should do something,” Hannah knelt next to Ginger.

  “I don’t think we should touch her. Her neck might be broken.” I joined Hannah on the ground. “Is she breathing? Can you tell?”

  The light vanished as quickly as it had arrived. Seconds later, the old man joined us and flashed his light directly on Ginger. “Good Lord in heaven. I knew I heard something out here. Is she alive?”

  Ginger’s eyes blinked but she didn’t move a muscle.

  A hand gripped my shoulder, and I looked up to see Kenner leaning over us. “An ambulance is on the way.”

  The words were hardly out of his mouth when we heard the sirens.

  In moments, Hannah and I had backed up to make room for the rescue squad. Kenner pulled us aside to learn what we’d seen. Not much, unfortunately.

  They put a brace around Ginger’s neck and immobilized her on a gurney. In spite of her condition, as they rolled her toward the ambulance, she said, clear as a bell, “It was Dasher.”

  “She’s just pure evil,” exclaimed Hannah.

  Kenner asked, “You’re absolutely certain you saw Dasher leave with Emma?”

  “They took off in the other direction. There’s no way it could have been him. Plus, the guy who did this to Ginger was tall and heavy,” I added.

  “Forrest.” Hannah and I said his name together.

  Kenner nodded. “Love is a very strange thing. It’s not the first time I’ve seen a woman protect the husband who just tried to kill her.”

  The grinding sound of a car th
at wouldn’t start resounded farther up the block.

  Kenner’s mouth twitched. “It’s going to be a long night. Happy New Year to both of you.”

  At least he knew who to look for now. Old Town wasn’t very big. If he put out an all points bulletin, the cops would nab Forrest quickly. We wished him a Happy New Year and walked toward the sound of the stalled car. I wondered what time it was and whether my mother had served the fondue to everyone else.

  “He’s not as bad as I thought,” whispered Hannah.

  “Who?”

  “Kenner. I mean, he’s kind of gaunt, with those sunken cheeks, and he looks like he couldn’t smile for anything, but he’s okay.”

  “You’re turning into a police groupie.”

  “Oh, gosh! I wonder if Zack is at your house.”

  We passed a little alley where someone still tried desperately to start a car. Kenner pulled his car up behind it, and the driver of the stalled car got out.

  Hannah elbowed me. “It’s Tom. Oh my gosh, he looks great!”

  He did. We joined Kenner and Tom at the open hood of his car.

  “Beautiful sweater!” gushed Hannah.

  “Thank you. Emma made it.” Tom’s chest puffed out a little bit as he showed off the white sweater with slate cables knitted into it. “I’m late to pick up my date and now my car won’t start.”

  Kenner leaned forward under the hood. “What is this? Did you put it in here on purpose?” He withdrew a mass of blue fluff and shone his flashlight on it. “Eww. Mouse poop. Mice moved into your engine. Looks like they shredded a blanket and made a nest.” He bent closer with his light. “Nuts? They’ve done a number here. They’ve carried almonds into your engine. Didn’t you have trouble driving here?”

  “Maybe you should have kept those kittens, Tom!” Hannah giggled.