Snow Way Out

by Christine Husom

  “I’m just sorry it happened at our class.”

  “Not to worry, really. I was mostly puzzled about it.”

  “Did you have anyone who wanted to make a second snow globe on class night?”

  “No, I didn’t.”

  “Like I said before, when I saw you in town earlier today, I had hopes it was to pick up your lost supplies.” There, I’d given her another chance to tell me the truth.

  “I get to Brooks Landing every once in a while. You know, they sell my things at Crafts Landing.”

  Pinky hadn’t told me that. “No, I didn’t know. I’ll have to check out that store.”

  “It’s fun. Not as quaint as your shop, but fun.”

  “Are you doing okay, with your ex-husband’s death and all?”

  “My daughter is pretty broken up. Mostly for the relationship she didn’t have with her father. But I would be lying if I said I was sorry he’s gone.” At least she was honest about that.

  “I’ve taken enough of your time so I’ll let you go. Take care, May, and have a good night.”

  “You, too.”

  I pushed the end button on my phone with more force than was necessary.

  I was frustrated with May for not telling me the truth, and more frustrated with myself for not telling her what I’d observed. Pam had told me she wasn’t home, so whoever May met with was still in question. She wouldn’t reveal where she had been or why. Which meant she did not want me to know she’d been to Pam’s house or she didn’t want me to know who she’d met there. Or both. What was that tangled web saying?

  I got up and went to the living room window to close the drapes. A penny lay on the floor on the carpet. I picked it up, fingered it a moment, then dropped it in my pocket. When I looked outside, I saw the same guy—and now I could swear it was him—ride by slowly on his bike on the other side of the street. He turned his head toward my house, but his face was in shadows. A chill streamed from my shoulders down my spine and raised goose bumps on my skin.

  It was beginning to feel like the man was spying on me. If he was the same guy who’d given me a brief stare at Sherman’s, and the same guy who had looked in Pinky’s shop window, and the same guy I’d seen those few times riding by on his bike, then I’d gotten a fairly good look at him. It was possible he was one of our classmates, one who was scoping me out for one reason or another. Over the years a few of the boys from our school had contacted me and eventually asked me out on dates, which had taken me by surprise each time.

  My school yearbooks were in a rubber storage tub in the spare bedroom closet. I went in there, closed the curtains to keep others from looking in, then flipped on the lights. Was I getting paranoid or what? I opened the closet door and surveyed the rubber storage tubs, trying to remember where the one I was looking for had ended up. I slid the tub closest to the door out and found the purple one marked High School Mementos on the floor behind it. It was easy to spot since purple was one of our class colors and I’d selected that bin color because of that.

  I plopped down on the floor, stretched out my legs on either side of the tub, and pulled it close to me. I flipped off the cover and studied the top layer. There were a number of certificates, awards, and club membership pins: choir, student council, debate club, drama club, junior class president. Activities my dad thought would help me overcome my shyness. And they did, to a great extent. The more time I spent in front of people, the easier it became.

  I glanced at each item as I removed it until I got to the yearbooks on the bottom. There was one for all four years, freshman, sophomore, junior, and senior. The books had padded purple leather covers with silver lettering depicting the school and year in a variety of ways. I started with the most recent. It was a trip down memory lane paging through the book, reminding me of all the sporting events, band and choir concerts, school plays, teachers, classmates. Events and people I hadn’t thought about for a long time. I looked at each face, studying more closely the faces of the boys I didn’t know very well. I tried to imagine what some of them would look like eighteen years later and made a mental note to check on them to see what they were up to.

  I looked through the pictures of the juniors, sophomores, and freshmen and got more confused than anything else. No one jumped out at me as a probable match to the mysterious bike rider. I closed that book and picked up the one from my junior year. I turned to the seniors’ pictures and found Clinton Lonsbury looking at me with a half smile on his face. His family had moved to Brooks Landing when he was a sophomore or junior. I hadn’t hung around with him much in high school, but enjoyed watching the basketball games, where he was a standout player. He had pumped up his muscles quite a bit since those gangly high school days.

  After forty minutes perusing the yearbook photos, including the ones of various school events, I had a few leads to pursue, but none that seemed very promising. Maybe I would ask Mark to be on the lookout for a lanky man walking or riding his bike around town. But if the guy wasn’t committing a crime, Mark would have no reason to stop and question him. And I had no real reason to suspect him of anything, either; it was more of a hunch. I reached in my pocket and touched the penny. Is there something about that man I’m supposed to be paying attention to?

  My “fan club,” as Pinky had called the trio, was waiting for me in Brew Ha-Ha when I arrived for work Thursday morning. They were dressed in their workout clothes. When the three women turned and rushed me, Pinky stared at me and snapped her dish towel.

  “Camryn, we’re here for your answer.” Tara looked like she was going to start jumping again and I was tempted to tell her to save it for her aerobics class.

  Instead, I said, “The party is on the twenty-fifth? What was the time again?”

  “Seven o’clock. Does that mean you can make it?” Heather asked.

  “Sure, why not. It’ll be good to meet more people in town.” And there was always the remote possibility a lanky guy would be there in a Buddy Holly costume. Ha.

  Heather gave me a light hug. “I am sooo excited.”

  Emily moved in closer and put one arm on Heather’s shoulder and one on mine. “It will be the best party ever. And if you’d like to come in costume, that’d be great. I think most everyone else is.” Mmm. Buddy Holly, meet Marilyn Monroe. A kickback tribute to the fifties.

  “But you’re the guest of honor, so you wear whatever you like. We usually have one or two who opt out for one reason or another,” Tara said.

  They gathered together, ready to move on to the next adventure, then called out their thanks and good-byes and flitted out the door like little sparrows.

  “Well, that was a treat. I can’t believe you agreed to that whole fiasco they have planned.” Pinky struck her favorite “I’m upset” pose—her head tipped to the side with her hands on her hips. “Do you have their phone numbers so you can cancel?”

  We had never exchanged numbers, nor did I have the address of where the party was being held. Maybe I wouldn’t be going after all. “I’m sure they’ll be back with the details,” I said.

  “Hmm.”

  I left to open my shop for the day and was struck by an odd snow globe sitting on the shelf closest to the coffee shop. I picked it up and studied it. “Pinky, come here.”

  “What?”

  I handed her the globe. “Any idea where this came from?”

  “Why, no. It’s your shop, after all.”

  “But it doesn’t belong here; it wasn’t here yesterday.”

  “How would you know that for sure with the hundreds you’ve got in there?”

  “Because I dust the shelves and pick each one of them up.”

  “Boring.”

  I shrugged. “That’s beside the point. Don’t you think it looks like it could be one of the snow globes we made last week?”

  Pinky looked more closely and gave it a shake. “It does, doesn’t it? The snow could be the same stuff May whipped up.”

  “Another park scene, but it’s daytime and there�
��s a cop walking through in this one, and three kids playing,” I said, more to myself than to Pinky.

  Pinky handed the snow globe back to me and grabbed my arms. “Cami, by ‘another park scene,’ do you mean like the other one someone left on your shelf?”

  I nodded. “When I locked up last night, I didn’t notice it in here, but it’s possible it was left on the shelf sometime yesterday. I’m positive it wasn’t there yesterday morning, so it wouldn’t have been left here Tuesday. Help me think of everyone who’s been in here yesterday and today, so far.”

  “Cami,” was her one-word protest.

  I put my hand on her back, steered her to a table in her shop, and pulled out a chair for her to sit on. “I know the ten o’clock coffee break rush is about to start, but let’s take a minute to think about this. Pinky, you know most of the people who come in here—the regulars, at least. Who’s been in here today?” I set the globe on the table and studied it while I waited for Pinky’s answer.

  She rattled off a dozen names of people I knew or had at least met, and a few I didn’t recognize. “Then of course, Erin, Mark, and Archie all came in for their morning special. Oh, and Pamela Hemley stopped by on her way to work, which was kind of a surprise.”

  “Pamela? Really? What did she have to say?”

  “Not much. There were three or four people in line, so I pretty much just took her order and said, ‘Take care,’ and that’s about it.”

  Pinky’s door’s bell dinged and six local businessmen charged in, carrying on at least two, maybe three separate conversations. They ranged in age from forty to late sixties and were some of her faithful ten o’clock regulars. I left the snow globe where it sat on the table and joined Pinky behind her service counter to help dish up muffins and scones while she served each of them the coffee choice of the day: Jamaica Blue Mountain Blend, a medium-body, rich flavor that had a smooth chocolate finish. When I added a little cream, it was one of my favorites.

  The men wanted a recap of my late-night discovery in Lakeside Park and asked if I had any updates on the investigation. Of course I wasn’t about to reveal I was conducting an investigation of my own. “I know the police have a prime suspect, but the guy sort of fell off the face of the planet. They figure he’ll surface one of these days.”

  “Yeah, I’ve seen his mug shot on the news and in the papers. Kind of a tough-looking character,” one said.

  “My friend in the PD, Jake, told me a lotta guys put on a mean face to change their appearance somewhat,” another man said.

  The most senior of the group nodded. “That’s right. A guy walking around with an expression like that would have people running for cover. I’d be freaked out, and I’m almost too old for things to scare me.”

  The youngest in the group gave him a slap on the back. “Our fearless elder.”

  I looked up and saw a customer in my shop so I excused myself and went next door.

  • • • • • • • • • • • •

  Business was fairly steady until midafternoon when the shop cleared of customers and I had time to think about May not disclosing her visit to Pam’s house and about the new mysterious snow globe, which reminded me I’d left it on one of Pinky’s tables. I slapped the counter when I realized we had messed up the evidence by touching it and leaving our fingerprints all over it. I’d know better next time even though I prayed there wouldn’t be a next time. The first globe depicted a death scene; the second one signified—what? When I went into Pinky’s shop to retrieve the mystery item, it wasn’t there.

  “Pinky, where’d you put that snow globe, the one we found this morning?”

  She shrugged. “I didn’t touch it. I noticed it wasn’t on the table and thought you took it.”

  “Is someone trying to push me over the edge or what?”

  “That’d be a short shove,” she quipped and smiled.

  “Very funny.”

  “Well . . .”

  “You may be right, but that’s why I need all the help and support I can get around here.”

  “At least this time I can testify that you did find a snow globe in your shop that wasn’t part of your inventory, and then it disappeared from where it was sitting in my shop.”

  “How many customers have you had since ten?”

  “Gosh, I don’t know. Maybe thirty.”

  “Any of them a shady character who would steal a snow globe?”

  “Holy moly, Cami. No one was wearing an ‘I am a snow globe thief’ T-shirt, if that’s what you mean.”

  “Okay.” I looked up at Betty Boop, and the hands on her clock said it was 3:40. “It’s just about time for you to go, but do you mind if I take a little walk first? I’m going nuts over that snow globe, not to mention everything else.”

  Pinky put some cups into her sink. “Sure, that’s fine. Take your time.”

  I grabbed my lightweight rain-or-shine jacket and took off like a bat out of hell. Nearly a week had passed and I felt compelled to return to the scene of the crime. I headed to Lakeside Park. When I reached the path that led into the park I felt a twinge that was hard to describe. A sense of fear mixed with curiosity and a little repulsion. I glanced down at the path every few steps, thinking there might be another penny from heaven. No penny. Instead there was a different kind of surprise altogether. A young and burly Brooks Landing police officer was walking toward me. That was peculiar. I had never seen an officer on foot patrolling the park before, unless there was a community event there. Normally, they’d pull their police cars in one of the two adjoining parking lots and scan the park from there.

  I tried to appear as nonchalant as possible when we met, and intended to say hi and keep walking, but he stopped. “You’re Camryn Brooks.”

  “I am. Officer . . . ?”

  “Dooley. Jake. They say they always return to the scene of the crime.”

  How does one respond to that? “Um, I’ve heard that.”

  “At least that’s what we’re hoping for. That the killer won’t be able to resist coming back at some point.”

  I’d thought he meant me.

  “What brings you to the park today?”

  “I often go this way.”

  “I see.” Jake got a call on his police radio and I took the opportunity to smile and mouthed, “Keep up the good work,” and walked away like I had someplace to go. Up ahead, there was a group of middle-school-age children running and goofing around. Another freaky snow globe scene that imitated real life: a police officer and children at play in the park. Who in the world was creating those scenes and leaving them for me to see? And in each case, the globes disappeared before I could turn them over to the authorities.

  I picked up my pace and when I reached the end of the path, I turned around to go back to the shop. About five minutes later I went in my door and heard Pinky talking to someone as I headed to the back room to hang my coat. “I don’t think Cami suspects a thing, but who knows for sure?”

  I snuck up to the side of the archway and hung back to eavesdrop on her conversation.

  “Cami’s awfully smart, and intuitive to boot, so we just have to be careful not to say anything about it at all.” It was Erin’s voice.

  “Mum’s the word.”

  Pinky’s door’s bell dinged and they stopped talking. I went back to my own door and pretended like I had just gotten in. “I’m back, Pinky,” I called out.

  Erin appeared in the archway. “Hi, Cami. Pinky’s with a customer.”

  “Hey. Done with school for the day?” I looked down and unzipped my jacket to compose myself. My friends were keeping something from me and I’d heard it with my own ears.

  “Pinky was telling me you had another snow globe appearance and disappearance. Only this time, she saw it, too.”

  “I think I need a vacation. And maybe when I get back things will be normal again.”

  Erin frowned. “After what happened last week, it doesn’t seem like things will ever be normal again.” Her eyes focused on the d
oor then she nodded and smiled. “Your mom and dad are here.”

  I turned, and was reminded in that second that no matter how confused things got, my parents were the safe harbor in my life. I couldn’t begin to count the number of times I had sought refuge in them. Mom’s illness had stopped me from burdening them with all the madness of the past week, but perhaps I shouldn’t have let that stop me from seeking their advice. As soon as I sorted out a few things, we’d sit down for a heart-to-heart.

  Dad was a big man, towering over Mom, but he seemed even more so since Mom had lost weight. She looked about half his size. And ten years older, with new wrinkles brought on by the weight loss. The doctors were confident she was on the road to recovery, and we all held on to that hope. Even with all they’d been going through, they still seemed younger than their early seventies.

  Mom and Dad looked around and smiled broadly. “My, everything is sparkling,” Mom said.

  “Your daughter is the queen of clean, as you well know,” Dad said.

  “Yes, I do. A woman after my own heart.”

  I reached over and took her in my arms for a gentle squeeze then gave Dad the bear hug he liked.

  “Good to see you, Erin. How is your mother doing?” Mom walked over to her.

  “Well, I think. She’s busy with her new life. Her husband likes to go, go, go. And they have a lot going on with his kids and grandkids.”

  Mom reached over and picked up Erin’s hand. “It sounds like a big adjustment for you, dear.”

  Erin shrugged. “I have to admit it’s been hard. Losing Dad was the worst thing I’ve ever gone through. And I know it was for Mom, too. But after three years of being alone, I can’t blame her for wanting another chance at happiness. And they are making the most of their new lives together. Don’t get me wrong, I’m very happy for her. But a little sad for me now that she’s moved out of town and I don’t see her as much as I’d like. Thank God for good friends like Cami.”

  I thought back to the story the Vickermans had told me over the years about Erin’s arrival in the United States. Mrs. Vickerman had brought a small entourage to the Minneapolis–St. Paul airport to greet her husband and new daughter when they got off the plane. I’d loved seeing the pictures of the dark-eyed beauty, with black hair that stood straight up, and a look of sheer awe on her face.