by Liz Dodwell
“I suppose,” I grumbled. “Besides, she’d never risk breaking a nail or getting blood splatter on her Balmain skinny jeans by gutting someone’s insides. She’s more the poisonous type.”
Mom chose to ignore my comment, instead asking, “I never saw the bracelet; was it the kind to put these charms on?”
Tyler and I exchanged looks. I shrugged. “I suppose so. Are you thinking there’s some significance between the bracelet and the charm?”
“Possibly. It struck me Nicole must have gone to buy the charm right after she received the bracelet. Assuming she was buying it for herself, the first charm might well have some special meaning. You saw it on Britney’s wrist, Tyler; did anything catch your eye?”
“Not particularly. The frog seemed to be sitting with his arms out.”
“For goodness sake, we can easily find out what it looks like. Let me get my iPad.” I dashed upstairs and was back and online in minutes. Searching for “black and gold charm bracelet frog” brought up a load of hits, most of them for the Tesoro collection. I opened a link to an image.
Peering over my shoulder, Linda burst out, “Oh my goodness, it’s in a Lotus pose.”
Wide-eyed we looked at each other. The frog was in a yoga pose. Now surely that had to be significant.
Twenty Three
“What do we know about this Flavio guy?” Rooster asked. “How about A V O is a nickname for him – Avo. He and Nicole have been having an affair, she dumps him, he kills her.”
“Hmm,” I was doubtful. “He’s the kind of guy to be the dumper, not the dumpee. He oozes sex appeal.” Tyler frowned at me. “You should have seen the women playing up to him, like moths around the flame.”
“Yea,” Linda joined in, “but what if he did fall for her? A guy like that wouldn’t be used to rejection; he’d likely take it hard.”
“He could also have been the guy lurking round the Whittier house.” Mom decided to add her two cents to the mix. “It was dark, and Becky Marchand doesn’t have the best eye sight. She just saw a man with a backpack. And I suppose Flavio could be the one who tried to grab Ammi. I wonder why, though? Did he think the children had seen something?”
“We’re just shooting in the dark here.” Rooster spoke. “We’re coming up with theories but we need hard evidence. I know we all wanted to clear this up before Christmas but it looks like we’ll have to set it aside for now. First thing in the morning I’ll call Feliks and tell him what we’re thinking. Meanwhile, we could all use a good night’s sleep; tomorrow will be a busy day.”
Twenty Four
There was a crushing weight on my chest and a foul smell assaulted my nostrils. I opened my eyes and Ditto, my fat cat, stared ambivalently into my eyes as he lay on top of me. Turning my head to the right, Vinny was resting his head on the pillow facing me, sound asleep and snorting. Eww. Buzzard breath. I’d have to get his teeth cleaned soon.
I could hear quite a bit of activity downstairs. Grabbing my phone I checked the time: nearly eight. I’d meant to be up at seven.
“What happened?” I addressed my fur-kids. “You used to get me up at five.” They were all getting older, and slower, and I wasn’t so sure I liked it.
I threw on an old robe and slippers and headed downstairs with the dogs to let them out. “Morning gorgeous,” I heard. Turning to Tyler I caught a glimpse of my reflection in one of the windows; spiked hair, squash face and baggy eyes. Nothing gorgeous about it.
“And don’t you forget it,” I said.
He rumpled my hair, kissed the tip of my nose and we both laughed.
“I’ve got the dogs. Frank’s already outside and then I’ll feed them. You go and get dressed and I’ll bring the cats’ breakfast up when you’re ready.”
“You’re a prince among men.”
“Oh, and coffee’s ready in the kitchen.”
“I take it back, you’re a king of kings.” I am so lucky.
Actually, I hadn’t got out of the kitchen by the time Tyler and the dogs returned. Mom was telling me she had decided not to charge an entrance fee to the open house. Though it was hoped visitors would show their generosity through donations, the event was more about sharing what Welcome Home was about – offering a safe haven for veterans and their pets.
“Did Rooster talk to the Sheriff?”
“First thing,” Mom replied, “and Wisniewski is going to Mud River to talk to Flavio today. Which reminds me, I put your brochure in the napkin drawer so it wouldn’t get lost.”
Obviously I was far short of my caffeine quota because it took me a few moments to realize she was talking about the Averil Daine Yoga Studio brochure. I pulled it from the drawer and leafed through it as I sipped my java, casting my eyes over bulleted points touting the benefits of yoga, from balance and endurance to mindfulness.
“Yikes! Listen to this.” The activity around me stopped and everyone looked my way as I recited from the page.
“Improve your love life and increase your appetite for sex. Yoga doesn’t have to stay in the studio. Learn poses you can use in the bedroom to delight and excite your partner.
“Stimulating yoga poses will increase circulation to your pelvic area, lighting up your sexual awareness; and special breathing techniques release chemicals in the brain that will increase your sexual desire.
“Join Flavio in his weekly class, Better Sex, and you can learn to achieve whole-body orgasm.
“Private instruction available.”
I could feel my face heating up as I read. “It gives a whole new meaning to his motto: Love Conquers All.”
“Amor vincit omnia,” Tyler said.
“What did you say?” Mom had a startled expression on her face.
“Love conquers all. In Latin it’s Amor vincit omnia – A V O,” Tyler drew the words out slowly.
“Oh, my stars. It must be Flavio. He’s the killer.” My mind was racing as I pieced together what must have happened.
“We were right to think he and Nicole were having an affair and she dumped him. Perhaps the bracelet was a peace-offering.”
“No,” Mom interrupted, “it doesn’t make sense for her to buy a yoga-themed charm if she’d already dumped Flavio.”
Tyler was skeptical. “She could have been making a point; a metaphorical slap in the face.”
“It doesn’t matter,” I said. “The fact is everything fits. It was Flavio who Becky Marchand saw at the house. He could have been obsessed with her; maybe that’s why she broke it off.
“It was Flavio who went to the house after the girls ran off. We don’t know if Nicole let him in, or if the girls left a door unlocked. He must have had a knife with him, they argued and he killed her.”
“Why would he try and kidnap the kids?” Mom asked.
“He must have thought they saw or knew something.” I shuddered. “Which means he probably intended to kill them.”
“I’m calling Wisniewski,” Tyler said. “Now!”
Twenty Five
We were a huge success. I think all of Mallowapple showed up for the Open House, along with bunches of people from neighboring towns. We’d handed donation envelopes out as folk arrived, and most of them had been handed back with something in them. The baked goods had sold so fast that Mom grabbed some backup gingerbread and cookie dough from the freezer, and we rushed to get more goodies on the table.
Compliments were flowing, laughter was in the air, kids were having a blast, and Flavio was safely out of the way. Sheriff Wisniewski had taken him in for questioning and I was sure he’d get a confession. All in all, I was definitely feeling the Christmas spirit.
“Ladies and gentlemen. Your attention please. The Christmas pageant is about to begin.”
That was Tyler’s voice. He was on the makeshift stage, and visitors were beginning to form a semi-circle around it as he continued his announcement.
“The residents of Welcome Home are proud to present…The Story of Jesus.”
I scooted back to the front porch to get a be
tter view as three of the guys, dressed as the Wise Men, stepped on to the stage singing We Three Kings. A couple of them had really good voices. Who knew?
Tucked in the back I noted Rooster was handling audio. Tyler seemed to be in charge of props, holding a star on the end of a pole high over the kings, and a tarpaulin was being used as a screen behind which the players waited their turns on-stage.
The Kings exited the stage, their voices fading, and Batt Vargus stepped out to narrate, closely followed by Linda and a resident named Fozzie - a Chief Warrant Officer, U. S. Army - in the guise of Mary and Joseph. Playing the part of the baby Jesus was Fozzie’s really cute Jack Russell mix, Dandy, which brought cries of “Awww,” and “How sweet,” from the audience.
As the show went on we were introduced to the shepherds, and to Sophie and Ammi as angels, while Rooster jumped on to do a stint as the innkeeper. Batt’s dog Patches, along with Frank, were supposed to be cattle in the stable and Vinny and Coco looked perfect as little white sheep. Problem was, none of the dogs had their parts down very well. Dandy just didn’t want to stay in the manger, which worked out well because Patches sat his large frame down and leaned against it, sending manger and baby off the stage. Vinny kept trying to climb on Mary’s lap, Frank was utterly bored; only Coco was quite happy to be held in a shepherd’s arms.
Still, the onlookers clapped and cheered, and when Batt invited them to join in singing Christmas carols at the end, people linked arms, swayed from side to side and lifted their voices in joy.
Someone tapped my shoulder. I looked behind me. “Sheriff. I didn’t expect to see you here.”
“I wanted to tell you in person. We had to let him go.”
I frowned my confusion.
“Flavio. It’s not him.”
“But...but it has to be!” I could hardly believe what I was hearing. “The bracelet, the inscription; he and Nicole…”
Wisniewski shook his head. “He admits the affair but insists there was no break-up. In fact, according to him Nicole was going to get a divorce and they were going to run the yoga studio together. He says they even had plans to expand.”
“So the bracelet…?”
“He admits to leaving the bracelet on the doorstep and that A V O stands for love conquers all. Apparently Nicole was nervous about breaking up her marriage and Flavio claims the bracelet was to give her courage.”
“Then who was outside Nicole’s house the night before she was killed?”
“Flavio insists he was with Nicole at the studio that evening, and he has alibis for the time of the murder and for the kidnapping attempt on Amalie.”
My heart thudded in my chest. “Then Amalie and Sophie are still in danger.”
I looked over at the stage. There was Sophie singing Joy to the World. But where was Ammi?
“I don’t see Ammi.” I clutched at the Sheriff’s arm. “She should be on the stage.”
“Alright,” Wisniewski started scanning the crowd. “What’s she wearing?”
“A white angel costume.”
He nodded. “You go and check with Rooster; I’ll round up some people and we’ll start looking.”
I raced toward the stage and tugged on Rooster’s shirt to get his attention. “Where’s Ammi?”
He gave me a startled look. “She had to go to the bathroom.”
We’d set up a couple of porta-potties; would she go there or in the house? In the house, I decided and was about to take off when someone firmly gripped my arm. “What the heck is going on?” Rooster hissed.
“Flavio is not the killer. The Sheriff is here, he just told me.”
Rooster understood immediately. “Where are you going to look?”
“In the house.”
“I’ll get Tyler; we’ll check the parking area and make sure nobody leaves.
Twenty Six
I hurtled through the front door and went straight for the bathroom. The door was locked so I began pounding on it, yelling, “Open up!”
Moments later the door swung wide and Mom was there in her wheelchair. “Really, Polly, you can’t be that desperate.”
“We’ve got to find Ammi. The killer could be here; it’s not Flavio.”
Mom has such a cool head, she didn’t flinch, merely said, “Do we know who it is?”
I shook my head miserably.
“Then you check upstairs; leave me to look down here.”
I took the stairs three at a time, calling “Ammi, Ammi,” as I went. I threw open the first door – nothing. The second and the third – still nothing. The fourth, and I stopped in complete shock. I took in the arm pinning Ammi close, the knife held against her neck, the look of complete terror on her face, and the dragon tattoo on the neck of her assailant. How had it not registered before?
“Just let her go, Dalia,” I said to Flavio’s assistant from the yoga studio. “How can she possibly be a threat to you?”
“She saw me. Her and her sister, when I was trying to get in the house. I didn’t think the brats would be there. I was going to wait for Nicole inside and get her when she came back from her Wednesday evening lover’s tryst.”
Her face contorted as she spoke Nicole’s name. “You were in love with Flavio,” I said.
Dalia started waving the knife around. “I helped him start the business; I helped him make it a success. I even put up with his womanizing because he promised we’d always be together. Then She came along and suddenly it was, ‘I can’t come over tonight, Dalia,’ ‘You have so much potential Dalia, you should be in a big city,’ ‘I think we need some fresh blood in the business.’ He wanted me to leave so that witch could take my place.”
“I get that, I really do, and I sympathize,” Lord, what are you supposed to say in situations like this? “but it’s nothing to do with Ammi, she can’t hurt you. Please just let her go.”
“What, so you can try and stop me? Here’s what’s going to happen. You’re going to help me get out of here, and if you try any funny business, the kid gets cut.”
My heart was hammering so hard I was afraid I might hyperventilate. I drew in a deep breath. Think of something, Polly.
It was then a miracle happened. A fluffy little white and tan miracle named Dopey. She darted from under the bed and clawed her way up Dalia’s leg. As those needle sharp nails dug into Dalia’s flesh she gasped in pain and dropped the knife. Instinctively I pulled Ammi from her grasp and ran from the room and down the stairs, screaming for help at the top of my lungs.
As I reached the bottom the Sheriff, followed by a couple of men, rushed upwards.
Hours later, Dalia was in custody and we were slumped in the living room, exhausted, but reluctant to part and go to our separate rooms.
The girls were curled up on either side of Linda, Dopey on her lap. Mom was in her favorite easy chair with Rooster opposite, and Tyler and I were sharing the oversized armchair.
Dalia had been caught trying to escape through the window. “I can’t believe I missed it so completely,” I said for perhaps the twentieth time.
“Stop beating yourself up,” said Tyler.
“But the dragon tattoo was so unusual. I noticed it but was distracted by Flavio “Casanova,” and it never so much as registered when Ammi said the kidnapper at the food truck was a dragon.”
“That’s because you don’t have children,” Mom gave me and Tyler one of those looks. “When you do, you’ll begin to understand how their minds work.”
Tyler coughed and changed the subject. “The whole thing came down to simple jealousy.”
“Son,” Rooster looked over with hooded eyes, “there’s nothing simple about jealousy. A woman lost her life and two children were terrorized and nearly killed, all because of jealousy.”
We lapsed into silence again, probably thinking the same thought, that we were going to try really hard to make Christmas day special for the girls, and wondering what had happened to their father.
“We should do something special for Dopey,” I was watching
the rhythmic rising and falling of her chest as she lay, one paw over her nose, the other holding her tail. “She’s the real hero here, even if she was just doing what kittens often do.” I’d been a climbing post for many a kitten over the years, and I can tell you, it really does hurt.
“I wonder what made her do that at just the right time,” Linda said.
“I think it was the knife.” Everyone looked at me in surprise. “It was catching the Christmas lights from outside as she waved it around. And as we’ve said before: cats and bright shiny things. I think Dopey was climbing after the glittery object the way she did on the Christmas tree.”
“Well, we’re all very thankful she did.” Mom stretched her arms above her head. “And now I think we’ll all be thankful for a good night’s sleep.”
Twenty Seven
“Can I tell you something?” We’d just finished opening the presents and Ammi was next to me, cradling Dopey in her arms. I nodded. “This would be the best Christmas ever if my daddy was here.”
What do you say? I put my arms around the little girl and hugged her, careful not to crush the kitten. She sniffled a bit then pulled away. “Could I have a sugar cookie?”
“Of course you can.”
“I think Angel wants one as well.”
I looked over at my mutt, currently enjoying the attention of my brother Seb. “Angel doesn’t eat sugar cookies, sweetie.”
“Not that Angel,” Ammi sniffed. “My Angel.” And when I still didn’t know what to say she held up Dopey and firmly stated, “Angel.”
“Oh, you changed her name.”
“Of course.”
I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. “And why did you do that?”
“Because Linda said she’s like my guardian angel. And anyway, it’s prettier than Dopey.” Amen to that.