Wolfe, She Cried

by Addison, Bliss

  The phone rang.

  “Damn, I forgot number two — lock the doors and unplug the phones.” She reached across him and answered the phone. “Oh, hi, Tallulah. He’s right here.”

  Simon put the receiver to his ear. “Hello.” He listened. “What’s his number?” Evie handed him a pen and paper from the bedside table. “Okay, got it.”

  She replaced the receiver. “What was that about?”

  He sat up, pulled the towel from his head and wrapped it around his waist. “Gormley called. Said it was important.”

  “Another murder?”

  “Or maybe he got a lead.” He punched in Gormley’s telephone number. “Detective Joshua Gormley, please. Simon Wolfe returning his call. Thanks. I’ll hold.” A moment passed, then another. “He’s taking his good ol—Detective Gormley, Simon Wolfe. You called?…Same MO?…Uh-huh…Any leads?…What’s the name of the detective on the case?” He scribbled on the pad. “Thanks for the call.”

  “There’s been another murder.” Evie wrapped the sash tighter around her waist.

  Simon stood. “Yes, and it looks like the same killer.”

  “Where?”

  “Chesley.”

  “When?”

  “Friday night, sometime around six.”

  “Chesley, Friday night,” she said more to herself than Simon. “Seems our killer is moving up through the state.”

  “Leaving murder in her wake.” She stood and held out her wrists.

  He looked at her. “What are you doing?”

  “Don’t you want to arrest me?” she asked seriously, but with humor in her heart and knowing he would take the ribbing like the good natured man he was.

  He grinned. “And I suppose you flew there in your reindeer-drawn sleigh?”

  “Yep.” She crossed her arms against her chest, unable to control the smile that formed.

  He hugged her against him so tightly she could barely breathe. He kissed her long and slow. “I’m so sorry for thinking you murdered those men, for thinking you’re capable of murder.”

  She latched onto his buttocks and hauled him close. “I need more convincing.”

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Hand in hand and in the breath of a faint pong of cows from the farm across the road, Evie and Simon strolled down the snow-blown path in the Wolfe’s backyard toward the barn.

  Here, the air was fresh with the scent of snow, spruce and the ashy odor of a wood fire.

  Overhead a full moon and a star-lit sky shone down on them. A white-tail deer, browsing amidst a cluster of trees, perked his head and watched them with sharp, nut brown eyes. The howl of a coyote, a high, quavering cry, followed by a series of short, high-pitched yips pierced the silence. The stag, as though experiencing danger, scampered off into a copse of trees.

  “I can’t believe it’s Christmas Eve already,” Evie said, raising their entwined hands in the air. “The month of December just flew by.”

  In the weeks following their engagement, she had spent every waking moment, it seemed, on wedding preparations. The big day couldn’t come fast enough for her, or for Keertana and Dan, for that matter. To say they anxiously awaited their nuptials would be an understatement to be sure. New Year’s Eve, when they would finally declare their love before God, before Father McDougall, before their families and friends, was six happy days away. As much as Dan and Keertana loved her, she had expected either or both of them to issue a warning never to hurt or break their son’s heart again. There’d been none of that, which went to show how much they loved her, how much they trusted her. She would never let them down again.

  “Are you ready?” Simon asked, his lips curving in a half-smile.

  She inhaled deeply and nodded. He yanked open the barn doors.

  “Here they are,” Dan yelled.

  Nothing could have prepared her for the reception they received.

  A swarm of sixty-something-aged women, ladies she recognized as either Dan and Keertana’s friends or as members of the Woman’s Auxillary, rushed at them like a herd of two-legged gazelles, all wearing wide smiles and shouting congratulations.

  Dan maneuvered through the gaggle.

  Simon wasted no time accepting his father’s rescue. He plopped a kiss to the top of her head and gave her shoulders a quick squeeze. “They’re all yours, sweetheart.”

  Dan whisked Simon off to a group of men standing in the middle of the barn.

  She watched him amble off, wishing someone would come to her aid.

  After being nearly hugged to death, she showed off her ring. “Ooohs” and “ahs” rang from the lips of the women. She had to agree, it was a beautiful ring. The women fired off questions like a submachine gun: “How did he propose? Did he ask on bended knee? Was it romantic? Did he already have the ring? Did he bring you flowers? Where did he propose? Where are you going on your honeymoon?”

  Breathless, she did her best to answer all their questions: “With two words: Marry me. No. Everything Simon does is romantic. No. No. In my kitchen. Unfortunately, we aren’t going on a honeymoon. Simon can’t leave the station for any length of time. There’s no one experienced enough in police work to cover for him.”

  Keertana, wearing a long midnight blue velvet gown and her black mane flowing to her waist, rescued her. “Ladies, I am going to steal Little Leaf for a few minutes. We need to discuss a few last minute arrangements for the wedding.”

  When they were out of earshot of the women, Evie moped her brow and turned to Keertana. “Thank you. I was getting dizzy.”

  She laughed, a melodic sound that never failed to make Evie smile. “They can be a bit over-powering, can they not? Will you be all right? I have things I must attend to.”

  Evie smiled. “I’ll be fine.” She looked at Simon standing in a circle of men across the floor from her and sighed. He looked so handsome in navy dress pants, navy shirt, sleeves rolled at the cuffs and black cowboy boots, not that she didn’t think him handsome in his police attire of blue jeans, blue chambray shirt and scuffed cowboy boots.

  A little girl, wearing an emerald green dress and white tights, ran up to him and tugged at his pant leg. He leaned toward her and listened intently. He reached behind her ear and came out with a candy cane. She giggled and skipped off to a bale of hay, unwrapping the the sweet treat.

  The scent of freshly brewed Hazelnut coffee, sautéed onions, cinnamon and sugar and pinecones brought back sweet, sweet memories of Evie’s childhood. She smiled and looked around the barn, admiring the decorations. Huge shimmering bells in green and gold hung from streamers attached to lighted garland spanning the roof rafters. Balloons in red and green adorned supporting cedar posts. A ten-foot spruce tree festively dressed in colored mini-lights and handmade ornaments graced one corner.

  As accustomed, Dan and Keertana’s Christmas Eve celebration was open house. Everyone brought food and helped with the preparation. It was always this way on the island.

  Walls filled with laughter and floors that whispered the long gone patter of her little bare feet, she experienced an overwhelming feeling of welcomeness, warmth and comfort. She belonged here, with Simon, with Dan and Keertana, in Honeydale; of that she had no doubt.

  Women mulled around her, dressing makeshift tables and placing mincemeat pies and dishes of salads in every form imaginable while their male counterparts huddled in corners, catching up on old times, or just catching up, each taking nips from the silver flask Dan passed around.

  She hefted a bowl of punch that Dan had suitably spiked onto the center of a table. Her diamond ring sparkled on her finger. She’d changed her mind about a big diamond, deciding instead on a half-carat surrounded by ruby chips. Extravagance didn’t measure love. Simon told her how much she meant to him in so many ways—in his eyes, in his touch, in his tenderness, in his kindness. How had she gotten so lucky for this second chance? Thinking that in six short days, they would be married, she hugged herself, barely able to contain her delight. No one had ever loved her like Simon loved
her. Sometimes it scared her. He would happily throw himself in front of a moving bus if it meant saving her. She hoped he would never be faced with such a situation. If given the choice, she’d rather take her chances with the bus. Life without Simon would not be worth living.

  Placing a hand against her tummy, she wondered if they’d conceived Cooper or Amelia. Wouldn’t Simon be thrilled? It would please her, too, but it would please her more knowing how much it would make him happy.

  Her parents still hadn’t arrived. Walking to a corner next to the nativity scene, she pulled her cell from the pocket of her pants and hit three on redial. Felicia answered on the second ring.

  “Mom, aren’t you coming? We’re about ready to eat.”

  “You’re father and I changed our minds,” her mother said in that perfectly modulated voice of hers.

  Asking why would only give Felicia an in to tell her once again how marrying Simon, the half-breed, would be the-biggest-mistake-of-her-life rant and she would say, in her head, of course, no, the biggest mistake of my life was when I walked away from him six years ago.

  “Sure you won’t change your mind? Everyone’s here and they’re asking where you and Dad are.”

  “Have you changed your mind about marrying Simon?”

  Evie wouldn’t let how her mother spat his name bother her. “No, I haven’t.” She inhaled and let the deep breath out slow. “Mom, I wish you and Dad could be happy for me. This is what I want. Simon makes me happy, happier than I have a right to be.”

  “I’m sorry, Eve. We can’t.”

  Evie was sorry, also. “Will you and Dad be alone tomorrow?”

  “No. The Smythes are coming to dinner. You remember them, don’t you, dear? Their son is a partner with a high profile law firm in Concord.”

  How could she forget? Since she told Felicia about her engagement, she constantly brought him to her attention. “Yes, I remember.” She sighed. “I’ll be by in the morning for awhile.” Felicia didn’t answer, letting Evie know how ticked off she was. She might never get over her defying her wishes. Didn’t her mother remember what happened to her when she thought her life might be better without Simon?

  Before her mother could fly into another of her rants, Evie said hastily, “Mom, I’m sorry you and Dad can’t make it. We’ll miss you.” She flipped the phone closed, unable to quell her disappointment.

  For just once, she wished Felicia and Harrison would share in her joy.

  Simon looked over his shoulder at her as though sensing her distress.

  She smiled wanly.

  He excused himself and walked toward her.

  A woman Evie didn’t know, wearing a red silk blouse, a sleek black leather skirt and stiletto black leather boots intercepted him. Her hand curved around his arm, cardinal- colored acrylic nails holding him in place. She said something and smiled at him, her ample bosom brushing his forearm. Simon laughed, extricated his arm from her hold and continued to Evie.

  “Everything okay?” he asked, his eyes searching her face.

  “My parents aren’t coming.” She couldn’t keep the regret from her voice.

  “That’s too bad.”

  At their backs, amongst bales of hay, Felix Guthrie on the violin, Homer Parsons on the banjo and Clinton David on the washboard strummed Grandma Got Run Over by a Reindeer.

  “They’re missing a great party.” She crossed her arms against her chest, stared at her feet shifting invisible pebbles around on the plank floor.

  “Someone needs a hug.” He swooped her into his arms and twirled in a circle.

  Her feet lifted into the air. She glanced around the barn. “Put me down, Simon. Everyone’s looking at us.” She slapped his shoulder but couldn’t help smiling. He always knew what she needed and when.

  “They are?” He set her down, placed his hand at the pit of her back and tilted her. A devilish smile formed on his lips before he captured her mouth in a sizzling kiss.

  Whistles and catcalls sounded through the barn.

  The kiss ended, but he didn’t release her. “Whadda say? Want to take this upstairs to the hayloft?”

  She straightened. “You’re bad, so bad.”

  “But adorable.”

  She giggled. “But adorable.”

  “Chief,” Judge Harrigan said, “if you can tear yourself away from your beautiful fiancé for a minute, can you settle a dispute about the best handgun for protection?”

  “Great,” Simon said in her ear. “The residents are arming themselves.” He nuzzled her earlobe. “No one will be safe in town now.”

  She watched him trot off, his tight buns fevering her flesh. Maybe she should have taken him up on his offer.

  Simon returned to her side a moment later. “All settled.”

  “What did you tell them?”

  “I—”

  The barn doors opened.

  A gust of wind and puffs of snow blew in with a man wearing a long, brown robe tied at the waist with a length of coarse looking rope and Jesus sandals.

  Evie didn’t recognize him. “Who’s he?”

  Without taking his eye off the man, Simon said, “I think he’s our Christmas stranger. The man who no one knows.”

  For as long as she could remember a stranger crashed the Wolfes Christmas Eve party. It had become so usual, it wasn’t unusual. Tradition, if anything. “He looks like a monk.” The closest monastery was in Rogers, some two hundred miles away.

  “He does.”

  “Don’t you find it strange?”

  “Why?”

  “Yes, why would you?” Why would she? She thought back to her childhood to these very nights. “I used to think these strangers were God’s emissaries sent to us to share in the excitement of the anniversary of His birth. What did the stranger look like last year?”

  He thought a moment, then smiled. “He wore scruffy dungarees, a flannel work shirt and steel-toed work boots.”

  She shrugged. “That’s not so strange.”

  “No, but the walking staff he carried was.”

  “Walking staff? Like the Three Wise Men?”

  “Uh-huh. Hand-crafted from hickory and carved with religious engravings. It looked old. Really old.”

  “Geez.” Maybe God did send these strangers to them.

  Dan and Keertana welcomed him with warm smiles and obvious joy in their hearts.

  He said nary a word as monks wont to do, but allowed Keertana to guide him to the place of honor— the head of the table.

  Keertana stepped aside and rang the dinner bell, a metal triangle with a metal wand. “Dinner is served.”

  Chattering gaily and smiling widely, everyone gathered round.

  Evie sat between Dan and Keertana and across from Simon and the other guests took seats around the twenty-foot rectangular table.

  Keertana bowed her head and clasped her hands in front of her. “Kepmite ‘lmanej tat’n teluisit Wekwisit Niskam, aqq Ewujit Niskam, aqq usjiwli Niskam. Sa ‘q me’j nantem wa ‘so’k tl-kepmite’lmanej. Na Tliaj.”

  “Glory be.” Dan turned to Evie.

  “Would you say grace, dear?”

  “I’d be honored.” Bowing her head, she said, “Bless us, O Lord, and these Your gifts which we are about to receive from Your bounty, through Christ our Lord. Amen.”

  “Amen,” rang through the barn.

  Dan looked across the table at Simon.

  “Son?” Simon lowered his head. “Father in Heaven, we praise You for giving us Your son to be our Savior and Lord. Bless us all as we gather here tonight and let us live happily in Your love. Hear our prayer, loving Father, for we ask this in the name of Jesus. Amen.”

  A chorus of “Amens” followed.

  Keertana raised her glass of wine. “Eat hearty, but let us not forget the less fortunate.”

  Simon’s cell phone rang.

  Chapter Thirty

  Simon stood. “Excuse me.” He strode to a corner of the barn.

  “Chief Wolfe,” he said, answering his phone.
Never removing his gaze from Evie’s face, he listened. “Ten minutes.”

  Evie placed her napkin on the table, excused herself and walked over to Simon just as he flipped the phone closed. “Who was it?”

  “My snitch. He says he has something for me on Miller’s murder.”

  “Oh, Simon, it’s Christmas Eve. Can’t it wait?”

  “I won’t be gone long.” She knew how much this unsolved murder bothered him and because of that put up no more fuss. “Be careful.” Standing on tiptoes, she kissed him on the lips. “I love you.”

  “As I love you.”

  Simon eased the four-by-four against the curb on Main Street across from Bennett’s Pharmacy. He stepped from the vehicle, walked across the street and into the alley. The sound of Evie’s chuckle filled his ears. It popped up in his mind at the most unlikely of times, like a welcome stranger.

  Standing in the darkened and narrow passageway between two brick buildings, he blew into his hands and closed his mind to the putrid smell of garbage and urine. When, after ten minutes of waiting with no sign of his snitch, footsteps sounded from behind him. He turned and watched a lanky man, dressed in a well-worn parka, jeans and mukluks swagger toward him from the opposite end of the alley. He seemed vaguely familiar to Simon, but he couldn’t place him.

  “So, we meet again, Mr. Big Chief of Police. I’ve waited a long time for this. Four years, in fact.”

  Now Simon placed him. Billy-Bob Parker, a scumbag with an arm’s length of arrests. Simon was detrimental in sending him away for rape.

  “What do you want?”

  He laughed and pulled a gun from the waistband of his jeans. “What do you think I want? Payback.”

  Simon wagged a finger. “Tsk-tsk. An Irishman bringing a gun to a fistfight.” His temper burned hot with the thought of being set-up. Payback would be a bitch for Parker, and wait until he got his hands on his snitch. Ignoring the Beretta, he hunched his shoulders and hurled himself through the air and rammed his head into Parker’s stomach, knocking him backward. Parker struggled to raise his hand that held the gun. Simon grabbed him by the wrist and turned it inward. The gun went off. Simon cried out.