A VIEW TO A CHILL

by Larissa Reinhart

  I closed my eyes. "Prob'ly."

  "Now she's marching toward the kitchen. Fixin' to cook. Or inventory their supplies." Casey sucked in her breath. "The nephew's following. He looks madder than spit."

  Dreams interfered with Casey's play-by-play. I saw Santa, his eyes narrowed, lips pulled back in a snarl. Yanking the Christmas lights tight in his hands. Flinging it around the reindeer's throat. I drifted.

  "Wake up," said Casey. "Cherry, wake up."

  My eyes flew open. "What?"

  Casey sat on the edge of my bed. "The nephew and Pearl were gone for a minute, then he came back into the living room alone. I don't know what Pearl is doing. The nephew saw me, watching. And now he's moving the tree in front of the window."

  "Serves us right, I guess." I couldn't pull my thoughts together. Colored light shone on Casey. I looked up and saw the string of lights had been flung over Snug. The cord dangled down the wall. "Wait a minute. Mrs. Boyes wouldn't want anybody moving her tree. She's very particular about decorating. She always has the tree in that corner."

  "Never mind that." Casey's voice shook. She wrapped her arms around her belly. "Cherry, he saw me watching the house. The nephew. He pointed at me. Then drew his finger across his throat."

  12 Maizie Albright

  #WeNeedALittleChristmas #LikeRightNow

  * * *

  I was fairly sure Jay hadn't seen me. Soon after I escaped Martha Mae's backyard, I heard a door slam. Scooting from my hiding spot behind a sawhorse in the next door carport, I slid-crept between the parked vehicles and watched Martha Mae's house. A minute later, Jay tramped off the porch and strode around the side of the house. He disappeared from view. Looking for whoever broke into the house.

  Couldn't really blame him. Because it was a break-in. By me.

  Keeping to the far side of the artist's driveway, I used the cover of the old yellow pickup, the Firebird, then the big truck to keep myself hidden. Ran across the road and down the street. Slid and almost fell six times. Ducked into Tiffany's car. With trembling fingers, I shoved the keys in the ignition. And stopped before turning on the engine.

  Pearl. I bet she's the woman with the big truck. Casey, the pregnant woman, had mentioned her.

  What had happened to Pearl?

  I popped up my head to peer out the frosted windows. Martha Mae's living rooms lights were still on. I couldn't see Jay. In the sick artist's house, someone stood before the living room window. Hands around her eyes, looking out into the dark.

  Ducking beneath the driver's side window, I glanced at my phone, wanting to call Nash.

  And tell him you did exactly what he didn't want you to do? The man was already freaking out about the weather. Knowing Nash and his massive protection instincts, he'd drive hell-bent for Halo. The weather in the mountains would be much worse. I'd be risking his life.

  Call the police? And tell them I — while on probation — illegally entered a woman's house and discovered…nothing useful for the police. They were busy with a serious bank robbery.

  Maybe Pearl had stopped talking because she had gone back to the artist's house.

  I blew on my mitten-less hand. The sweat I had accumulated running —Twenty yards? I so need to get back to the gym— now felt like a film of ice on my skin. But with Jay skulking about, I didn't want to draw attention to my car by turning it on.

  I needed more information. First, see if Pearl is home.

  Cracking the door, I slid out and kept low. Squat-walked on the sidewalk behind the car and peered around the side. The woman in the window was gone. I didn't see Jay.

  "Coast is clear," I told myself. "Now just look normal. In case anyone is watching."

  "Like it matters now," said my inner Julia Pinkerton.

  Teenagers. Always the critic.

  Straightening, I strolled around my car, then hurried across the street, sliding and slipping. With my arms windmilling, I reached their drive. Decided on the better traction of walking uphill in the crispy grass. I grabbed the railing on the front steps and hauled myself on to the porch. Rang the bell, then knocked.

  Pregnant Casey peered out the window. I waved. She opened the door and dragged me inside.

  "What in the hell happened to you?" she said. "You look like you fell in a goat pen. Why did you break into Mrs. Boyes's house? I trusted you. My sister wants to report you to the sheriff."

  I raised my mittened hand. "Oh my God, please don't. I'm on probation. I'll probably get sent back to Beverly Hills to face Judge Ellis again."

  Casey's penciled eyebrows hit her hairline. "I'm calling Uncle Will."

  "It's totally cool. I used Martha Mae's key." I left off the part where Martha Mae hadn't given me the key. "I needed to check on Martha Mae. But I don't even know if she's in the house."

  "The nephew said—"

  "I know. But did you see her? Because I went into the bedroom — not all the way in, just the doorway, didn't want to scare poor Martha Mae — and called for her. I explained who I was and about Krystal. If anyone was in there — they've got the shades drawn, TV muted, lights off — they didn't respond. Does that sound like Martha Mae Boyes?"

  Casey stuck a hand on her hip and sucked on her lip, considering. "It don't sound like Mrs. Boyes, I admit. She's like Pearl. Kind of loud. But in a friendly sort of way. Even to strangers. If you were already in her room, she'd say, 'Well, now that you're here, you might as well come on in. Let me tell you about my ruptured disc.'"

  "See what I mean?" I clasped my hands together, then wiped my wet, bare hand on my dirty jeans.

  "Maybe she took pain meds, and she's sleeping."

  "But even sleeping people make some noise." I steepled my hands together and gave her my American Girl Magazine (circa 2000) smile. "I'm really trying to help Martha Mae. I have a bad feeling about her sister, her great-niece, and her nephew. Martha Mae's the only one in the family that doesn't set off my alarm bells. She really should've been a grandma."

  "Huh," said Casey.

  My smile stretched, froze, and dropped. "Niece and nephew. Distantly related nephew. Hang on. Sorry." Turning my back to Casey, I pulled out my phone. "Nash."

  "Are you in a motel?"

  My heart fluttered. I wished. That wasn't all I wished. Focus, Maizie.

  "No. I'm in a house. Next door to Martha Mae. Everything's cool." I turned and smiled to Casey. "It's my boss, Wyatt Nash. He owns Nash Security Solutions in Black Pine."

  "Who are you talking to?" said Nash.

  "Martha Mae's neighbor, Casey."

  "I don't live here," said Casey. "My sister, Cherry, does."

  "The neighbor's sister."

  "What's going on?" said Nash.

  "Krystal's dad. You said he was in prison? Is he still in prison?"

  "Dammit."

  "So you'll get back to me on that?"

  I snapped the phone shut and turned back to Casey. "I might have a lead on who Jay is."

  She shuddered, then wrapped her hands around her belly. "The nephew moved the tree. He knows Cherry's been watching the house. And he saw me. Kind of threatened me."

  "I thought I heard furniture moving." I paused. "But the living room is carpeted."

  "Pearl went over there." Casey ran her hands up and down her arms. "And she's not back."

  "Hells. I heard her talking to Jay, but I took off before I could help." I stared at my muddy boots. "I should've gone back in. Somehow."

  "I think I should call Uncle Will. But the bank robbery—" Casey bit her lip and hugged her shoulders.

  "Still a standoff?"

  She shook her head. "Sheriff had to let them go. The FBI team didn't make it in time. The robbery gang threatened to kill Luke. Uncle Will negotiated a van for them. They dragged Luke out. Bound, gagged, and blindfolded. They all had guns aimed at him. Makes me sick. If they kill him, I don't know what Cherry will do. Why did this have to happen on Christmas?" She choked back a sob.

  "What happened? Did they get away?"

  Casey jerked
a nod. "Uncle Will had our deputies and Line Creek police in unmarked vehicles waiting to follow them. They lost them for a minute. Then found the van headed toward the Winn Dixie on Highway Nineteen."

  She took a deep breath. "But the robbers must've had different vehicles waiting. When the police followed them round to the back, the van had parked so law enforcement couldn't get around a big delivery truck. The robbers had gone inside the store, through the back, and out the front. The Winn Dixie was full of shoppers. Folks still stocking up for Christmas, worried about being totally iced over. The robbers split up and slipped out the front with the other shoppers."

  "No one saw them?"

  "At the bank, they were all dressed like Santa. They left the suits in the van."

  "And the deputy held hostage?"

  "Luke wasn't left in the van. Don't know where he is. They're studying the Winn Dixie's security tapes and interviewing the employees. But they think there might have been another car that met them before getting to the Winn Dixie." Casey shook her head, her eyes filled with tears. "I should call Uncle Will. But I don't know how serious this is next door. He's got his hands full with the search."

  I hugged her. She felt warm and smelled like baby lotion. I could've used a longer hug. "You should go home. Take your sister with you. If it's serious—"

  "Cherry shouldn't be out. Her fever is real high. I can't leave her. Nik is working tonight, or he'd come over. He wouldn't want me to drive the Firebird in this anyway. It's rear wheel drive."

  "I'll stay with Cherry." I strode to the window and peered out.

  "I'm not leaving my sister," said Casey. "No offense, but she doesn't trust you. And with that fever, I don't trust her."

  "What would she do?"

  "She finds you in her house, she'd probably shoot you. Cherry keeps a shotgun under her bed."

  * * *

  I left Casey to check on Cherry — and hopefully to advise her sister not to shoot me. I'd met some crazy artists, but none with shotguns — and took a page from Nash's book. I paced before the window, thinking. If Jay was Krystal's father, why would he show up at Martha Mae's? Because he knew Krystal would show? If so, that meant I really couldn't leave. Was Krystal already there? What had happened to Martha Mae? And Pearl?

  My phone rang. "What did you learn?"

  "Merry Christmas to you, too, dear." My mother's honey-cloaked-in-steel drawl sounded tinny. "It's morning here. The jet lag is terrible. There's no Starbucks."

  "Vicki, you're in Fiji. Drink the local coffee." I paused. "I mean, Merry Christmas. I really want to talk to you? But it's not a good time?"

  "You're doing that uptalk thing again. Darling, you know it makes you sound stupid. Now, I have a list of things I need you to send me. Find a pen."

  "Vicki. I'm on a case. A grandmother is missing. Maybe two. And a granddaughter. I can't talk."

  "First, decent coffee. Second, Neiman's had a Kate Spade bikini that I almost ordered. I changed my mind. They have the audacity to say, they don't ship to Fiji. Unbelievable. So, I need you to express it to yourself and then express it to me. We're only here a week, so you'd better get on it."

  "You're not hearing me." I pulled in a deep Ujjayi breath, held it five beats, and let it out. Renata said it would help to clear my mind and focus on the message, not the mother. "I'm waiting for another call. And I have to prepare myself for breaking and entering. Again."

  "Is that a play? Are you auditioning?" Vicki paused. "Don't start back with stage work. Unless it's a charity gig. Are they paying? I'll negotiate—"

  "It's not a play. It's a form of trespassing. And I have to go. Merry Christmas." I hung up on my manager. I mean, mother.

  I'd not done that before. First time for everything.

  OMG, Vicki was going to kill me. Thank God, she was in Fiji.

  Casey walked in as I stared at the phone in my mittened palm. "What're you doing?"

  "Calling my boss again." I quickly thumb dialed and cradled the phone against my ear. "Nash. What's Krystal's dad's name?"

  "Jim Wiley."

  "And he was in jail for?"

  "Armed robbery. Got out three months ago."

  Shizzles. "Krystal might be next door. I'm pretty sure Jim is Jay."

  "Call the police."

  "The police are a little busy with the bank robbery. The suspects escaped. And it's not illegal for Jay and Krystal to be next door. As far as we know. Although I'm not sure where Martha Mae went. Or Pearl."

  "Dammit. Who's Pearl?"

  "Actually, I'm not sure." I looked at Casey. "Who's Pearl?"

  "Grandpa Ed's woman. She raises goats, too. That's the attraction, we figure."

  "Pearl's a neighbor," I simplified.

  "You're not going over there."

  "Don't worry."

  "Miss Albright, call the police. They can handle both emergencies. They're equipped."

  "I don't think they have enough evidence to search the house," I said. "I certainly can't give them my testimony."

  "What testimony? Did you—"

  "Don't worry. I won't break and enter," I said, then swallowed the words, "this time."

  "Did you say, 'this time?'"

  "And it's getting icy. So, I'll just stick around here. If Vicki calls you, don't answer."

  "I never do." He paused to add a string of curses. His voice sounded tinnier than Vicki's. Maybe it was my reception and not Fiji's. "Now listen. I'm speaking partner-to-partner here. You don't have back up. We don't know if Jim and Krystal are dangerous, but we do know Jim's been convicted of armed robbery. You're smart, and you're resourceful, kid. But you're getting in over your head. Again. We have no right to go into that woman's house unless she invites us. And you have no right to put yourself in danger. Again."

  "That last part didn't make sense. Why would that be a right?"

  "Do not put yourself in danger. Is that more clear?"

  "Nash—"

  "Dammit, Maizie. Just stay put in the neighbor's house. For once, can't you just wait it out?"

  "What if Pearl's in danger? And Martha Mae?"

  "And what about you? If they're in danger and you go sneaking into that house, you're in danger too. You make me half crazy, thinking of all the—" His voice shook. His breath expanded. Or was that wind?

  "I'll be careful, don't worry."

  "Of course, I'm worried. You do these—I wanted to spend Christmas Eve with you. I mean, Lamar spends it with his family. And I… so I just thought…never mind. That has no bearing on the issue. The point is, don't be stupid and get yourself hurt. Or killed. And if the roads are icy, yes, stay off them. Stay there. In a motel." He paused. "I'm done."

  My heart did a Parkour leap up my throat, dove to my toes, and bounced back into my chest. "Oh my gosh. You don't want to be alone for Christmas Eve. You want to spend it with me. That is so sweet."

  "Let's focus on what's important."

  "That is so important, Nash. That's the point of every single Hallmark Christmas movie. And everyone loves those movies. Micky tried to get me an audition for I'll be Home— Okay, rule number one. No talking about my former career." I took a deep breath. "Focusing."

  It was super hard to focus after hearing that. But business before pleasure, like Vicki always said.

  With Vicki, we never got to pleasure. I'd hoped it'd be different with Nash.

  "Bank robbery or not, call the police," said Nash. "Be concise as possible. But detailed. But only detail the facts."

  "Got it."

  "Then stay at the neighbor's house and watch Martha Mae's. Do not leave the house."

  "Uh…"

  "Miss Albright."

  "I need to call you back," I said. "A car's slowing down in front of Martha Mae's house."

  13 Cherry Tucker

  I'd forced myself against the grogginess and haze to evaluate what I knew against what I thought I knew. Mrs. Boyes had disappeared from view. Whether she'd hurt her back or had been strangled by Santa was yet to be determined. Pearl h
ad gone over there and not returned. She could be helping Mrs. Boyes. Or something else had happened.

  Then the nephew — Santa? — had moved Mrs. Boyes's tree. Mrs. Boyes who hadn't touched the tree in all the Christmases I remembered visiting Great Gam. Nor the Christmases after moving into Great Gam's in-town home from Grandpa's farm. Mrs. Boyes wouldn't abide the changing any of her decorations, let alone a tree. She made the exact same cookies every year. Unfortunately. Hung the same wreath on her door.

  Then this man had threatened my pregnant sister. That angered me beyond belief.

  At that thought, the ice melted from my toes. Heat poured off my neck. Who was this supposed nephew? Pearl wasn't here to answer that question. I wasn't sending Casey over there to ask. Then I remembered Pearl had said Gertie Sweetly was Martha Mae's best friend. I didn't know Gertie Sweetley, but she'd know me. Everyone in Halo over the age of fifty-five knew me through my grandparents.

  And through stories about my notorious mother. And maybe some stories about notorious me.

  This was all confirmed when Gertie Sweetley realized who was calling. "Cherry Tucker, the town council has already chosen someone to paint the water tower. We have to use a professional company who's licensed and insured. And we don't want some gewgaw painted on the side. It's a rust-proof, army-gray type of job."

  "Ma'am. That's not what I'm calling about—although something as tall as a water tower would be a fine place to represent town pride, but if y'all feel Halo is only worth army gray, then enjoy. I'm calling about your friend and my neighbor, Mrs. Boyes. She's got some strange visitors."

  Gertie Sweetley snorted. "And even if we were to paint an angel on the water tower, you'd give us one of those abstract messes. Or worse. I know about those nekkid men paintings you did. Angels wear robes."

  I sighed. "Miss Gertie. I really don't want to paint an angel on the water tower. And even if I did, it wouldn't be a nude. Even though nudes happen to be a classic representation of the human form used in art for longer than three thousand years."