Christmas Cloches and Corpses

by Leeson, Gayle

  Grandpa shook his head slightly, and I realized they weren’t really playing checkers.

  “Babe Ruth,” Dwight said.

  Grandpa stacked two black checkers in one square and then placed single red checkers in the five squares to the right of the black ones.

  Were they using the game to communicate the current auction bids for the strongbox collectibles? And, if so, was the Babe Ruth autographed card currently at two-hundred-thousand dollars?

  I knew the auctions were scheduled to run for a week and that Monica expected the bids to increase significantly near the end of the auctions. But if that one item—granted, the most valuable item—was already at two-hundred-thousand dollars, how much more would the collectibles bring?

  If anyone knew about the strongbox, they’d have no problem thinking I might have slipped Dwight a Mickey Finn, as Max put it. I felt certain people had been knocked out—and worse—for a lot less.

  When we got back to Grandpa’s house, we made spaghetti.

  Still flabbergasted by the amount of money already bid on the collectibles, I asked, “Did you speak to Dwight before I got into the room about leaving the nursing home? With the kind of money he’ll be getting, he could do almost anything he wanted.”

  “I mentioned that, but Dwight is of the opinion that the money earned from the sale of the collectibles isn’t real until the auctions are over and the money is in his account or a trust or whatever he decides to do with it,” Grandpa said. “And he’s right.”

  “But Dwight isn’t safe there. He needs to leave.” I put the pasta in the boiling water. “Last night is proof of that.”

  “I realize that, Pup.” He pre-heated the oven for the frozen meatballs. “But Dwight is being extra careful right now.”

  “I know, but I’m still worried. And Max is too.”

  He shrugged. “Unfortunately, there’s not much we can do, and Dwight won’t act until he knows that money is a done deal.”

  My cell phone rang, and I took it from my pocket to look at the screen. It was Deputy Hall. I answered and put him on speaker.

  “Hi, Deputy Hall.”

  “Hey, Amanda. Please call me Ryan. I wanted to let you know I went to see Cousin Dwight earlier today while I was still in uniform. Jason told me what happened last night, and I thought letting the nursing home staff see that Dwight has a family member who can and will arrest them might be beneficial.”

  “Good thinking,” I said.

  “Also, there is a common thread among the recently-deceased residents of the nursing home—they all had Type 2 diabetes and were taking insulin.”

  “But Dwight isn’t diabetic.”

  “Right,” Ryan said. “I think maybe the killer felt you were getting too close to the truth and needed to get either you or Dwight out of the way. That’s why the sedative was put into the cake you brought.”

  “So, you do believe the residents were murdered? That their deaths weren’t coincidental?” I asked.

  “My beliefs are irrelevant until I can prove it, but yes, there’s definitely something shady going on at that nursing home.”

  “Hello, deputy. Dave Tucker here with Amanda. Regarding the woman whose dad’s insulin was missing, could the killer be eliminating residents in order to steal their insulin? Maybe the murderer is diabetic and needs the medication.”

  “I checked on that, sir. He was the only patient whose insulin was reported missing.”

  “Then there has to be another connection,” I said. “There has to be something we’re not seeing yet.”

  “I’ll keep digging,” Ryan said.

  “So will we.”

  He groaned. “I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that.”

  On Friday morning, I drove to the Down South Café and bought a box of doughnuts before going to work. I was still the first person there, so I slipped the notes under everyone’s door except for Connie’s and Ms. Oakes’, of course. I added the note, “Fresh doughnuts in the kitchen.”

  Frank and Ella were the first to respond. When they entered the shop through the workroom door, Frank had a cup of coffee in one hand and a doughnut in the other.

  “What an angel!” Frank said. “Fresh doughnuts and a pot of coffee. We should make this an every-Friday occurrence.”

  I laughed. “I’m glad you’re enjoying them.”

  Ella handed me a sealed envelope. “It’s not much, but it’s all we can do right now, what with it being so close to Christmas, the grandkids coming to visit, and all.”

  “Of course. Thank you for contributing—everything helps, and I merely wanted to be able to tell Ms. Oakes we all pitched in to give her such a nice surprise. It really bothered me that her daughter didn’t think she had any work friends.”

  “Well, she doesn’t,” Ella said. “Even though we’re all technically our own bosses, as the building manager, she’s in a supervisory role. It’s hard to be friends with a boss.” She lifted her thin shoulders. “Still, as a mother myself, I can’t stand the thought of Ms. Oakes and her daughter being apart, especially at this time of the year.”

  Frank nodded, his mouth full of doughnut. Finally, he swallowed and said, “Ella was miffed over this Secret Santa thing at first because we had to dip into the pot twice—Ms. Oakes had us both draw names, not draw as a couple. But my girl here has a bigger heart than she wants people to know.”

  Ella frowned at him and flicked him on the arm. “Oh, hush and eat your doughnut.”

  “Thank you both again,” I said.

  Ford and Sienna also popped in and gave me an envelope, and then Jason came downstairs and asked me how much I needed. I told him I didn’t need anything but that if he wanted to contribute, he was welcome to do so.

  I was relieved that asking the other merchants to chip in hadn’t been such a big deal. Besides, wouldn’t it be a good thing for all of us if our building manager was in a happier mood?

  By lunchtime I was concerned because I hadn’t seen Max yet. I muttered for the umpteenth time, “Max, I hope you’re all right.”

  She materialized—barely—to tell me, “I stayed with Dwight over video chat until the wee hours of the morning. I was too worried about him not to be there. Everything was fine, and he tried to get me to leave, but I wouldn’t.” She smiled slightly. “I think I sang him to sleep singing Bury Me Beneath the Willow. Dot and I used to listen to that all the time after the Carter Family recorded it at Bristol Sessions.”

  “Have you heard from Zoe?” I asked.

  Shaking her head, she said, “No, but Dwight told me she was coming to the nursing home to spend the day with him.”

  She had no more than gotten out the words than she disappeared again. But at least I knew she was all right. I went to the laptop and reached out to Dwight and Zoe on social media.

  “Hey, Amanda!” Zoe seemed delighted to hear from me. “What are you working on today?”

  “I’m almost finished with Marsha Billings’ dress.”

  “I’d love to see it,” she said. “But I’m glad Papaw blessed out Mr. Godfrey and made it to where you and Dave can come see him again.”

  “You should have seen him,” I told her, as Dwight plastered a smug grin on his face. “He was something else.”

  “That’s what he said.” She grinned. “Is Max there?”

  “No. She’s pooped and needed to rest for a while.”

  “No wonder.” Dwight chuckled. “She designated herself my guardian angel last night and wouldn’t leave until she started fading out. I have to say, I’m glad I’ve been able to get to know the woman I heard so many stories about growing up. I’d have never thought that would be possible this side of heaven.”

  “I won’t keep you,” I said. “You two have fun together and call me if you need anything.”

  “Will do,” Zoe said. “I wish Papaw could live with Mom and me and get out of this stupid place.”

  I looked at Dwight but didn’t dare comment.

  “Maybe I can sometime soon,” Dwight said.
“We never know what life has in store for us.”

  I was surprised when Sally Jane came into Designs on You that afternoon. She was timid and seemed to be overwhelmed as she walked around the shop.

  “You have so many beautiful things in here,” she said, reverently touching the sleeve of a dress in the ready-to-wear line.

  “Would you like to try that on?”

  “No.” She backed away as if she’d seen a spider on the garment. “Everything in here is way out of my price range. I only came by to show you something.” She took a bottle of over-the-counter allergy medication out of her coat pocket. “This fell out of Penelope’s purse this morning.”

  I took the pill bottle and read the label.

  “Although I’m not scheduled to be at the nursing home on Fridays, I promised you I’d help keep an eye on Dwight,” she said. “And I keep my promises. His granddaughter was with him when I was there, and he seemed fine.”

  “How did you get these pills without Penelope noticing?” I asked.

  “Oh, she spilled her purse, and stuff went everywhere.” She rolled her eyes. “It was chaos scrambling to pick up everything before one of the residents got hold of something. Anyway, I slipped these into my pocket when Penelope wasn’t looking.”

  I handed the bottle back to her.

  “I’d never outright accuse Penelope of anything,” Sally Jane continued, “but I happened to think she might’ve used these pills to knock out Dwight. Did I do the right thing in bringing them to you? Should I have given them to that handsome policeman who’s kin to Dwight instead?”

  “No, you did the right thing,” I said. “Hang onto the pills, and I’ll get in touch with Deputy Hall and let him know what you’ve discovered. Merely finding the pills doesn’t mean anything—it could be that Penelope suffers from allergies.”

  It was possible but given everything else happening at the nursing home and Penelope’s willingness—even eagerness—to sedate residents made me feel it was doubtful. Still, a bottle of allergy pills anyone could buy at any local pharmacy was hardly the smoking gun we needed.

  After Sally Jane left, I called Ryan and left him a message asking that he consider looking into Penelope’s background.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  G randpa came over on Friday evening to help me make the banana pudding I was taking to Jason’s potluck after work tomorrow afternoon.

  After pre-heating the oven, I got out a saucepan. “I thought that if you want to get started on the actual pudding, I’ll cut up the bananas and start layering them and the vanilla wafers in the casserole dish.”

  “You got it, Pup.” He raised his eyebrows. “You’re not going to learn a lot over there at the kitchen table, though.”

  “I’ll work at the counter so I can see what you’re doing.” I moved my bananas, box of wafers, and casserole dish to the counter.

  Grandpa measured a cup of packed brown sugar into the saucepan. “I haven’t made banana pudding in ages.”

  “I know, and you make the absolute best.” I placed the slices of banana in the bottom of the casserole dish. “Thank you for doing this.”

  “Why, you’re welcome. I’m glad to do it.”

  “I know. I love spending time with you. I hope Dwight gets to move in with Maggie and Zoe.” I rested my head against his shoulder for a second. “It would be great for them—at least, it would for Dwight and Zoe.”

  I’d always had Grandpa nearby, and I adored him. I couldn’t imagine life without him. I shook off the thought and put a layer of vanilla wafers atop my bananas.

  As I continued filling the dish with banana slices and wafers, I thought about Grandma Jodie and how she’d have been singing—loudly and offkey—had she been bustling around the kitchen with us. Mom would have told me something was wrong with how I was filling the casserole dish and would have taken over, not because I was really doing it wrong but because she enjoyed doing it herself. Dad would’ve been eating the vanilla wafers faster than I could get them into the dish.

  “You’re awfully quiet,” Grandpa said. “What’s on your mind?”

  “People who aren’t here.” I took a deep breath and started belting out Shine On, Harvest Moon.

  He laughed. “I miss her too, Pup. I miss her too—horrible singing and all.”

  Early Saturday morning, Ms. Oakes came sailing into Designs on You with Monica Miller in tow.

  “Good morning, Amanda. I’d like you to meet our newest merchant—oh, wait.” She put her hand to her chest and giggled. “Silly me, what am I talking about? You two already know each other.”

  “Hi, Amanda,” Monica said. “I don’t know you as well as I’d like, but I look forward to getting acquainted with everyone here.”

  “It’ll be nice getting to know you better too,” I said.

  “Monica, I’m terribly sorry you didn’t arrive in time to participate in the Secret Santa gift exchange,” Ms. Oakes said. “But I hope you’ll still join us for our party tomorrow.”

  “I have plans; but if they fall through, I’ll take you up on that generous offer—thanks.”

  “Hello, hello!” Marsha Billings breezed into the reception area as if someone had arrived ahead of her heralding her arrival.

  Thankfully, she closed the door behind her. Not only did that keep Jazzy inside, it gave me the opportunity to go ahead and make the proclamation she seemed to desire.

  “Monica, Ms. Oakes, I’d like you to meet Marsha Billings,” I said.

  Both women said it was nice to meet her, and Ms. Oakes jumped in to tell Marsha that Monica was getting ready to open an absolutely charming establishment upstairs and that she must stop in to admire it after the first of the year.

  “I’ll do that,” Marsha said. “But right now, I’m here for my Lady Mary gown. Wait until you get a load of that if you want to see something charming.”

  I got the dress for her and she went into the changing area to put it on. Between Marsha and Ms. Oakes, I was getting an overload of exuberance this morning. When I glanced at Monica and saw that she was pressing her lips together to suppress her laughter, I knew we were going to get along fine.

  Marsha sashayed out of the changing area as if she were getting ready to go into the Downton Abbey dining room to sit among her suitors. She did a turn and gave us a coquettish look over her shoulder. “Isn’t it extraordinary? I adore it!”

  “It certainly is gorgeous,” Monica said.

  “It’s made me breathless.” Marsha walked over to her purse, removed an inhaler, and administered a dose of albuterol. “Whew! I can’t be breathless—I’m singing at an event this afternoon.”

  “Is it challenging for you to sing when you’re asthmatic?” Ms. Oakes asked.

  “Oh, I’m not.” Marsha put the inhaler back into her purse before admiring herself in the mirror. “I’ve had a cold, so I picked up the inhaler at the drugstore to help open up my airways.” After one more appreciative glance, she said, “I’d better get changed. Amanda, dear, you have done even better than I’d hoped. I look even more beautiful than Lady Mary.”

  “Indeed, you do,” I told her. I remembered she’d initially told me she wanted the dress because the other women made her feel inferior. I had trouble believing that now.

  “Someone needs a confidence boost,” Ms. Oakes muttered under her breath when Marsha went to change.

  “Definitely.” I grinned.

  When Marsha came out, I bagged up her dress, she paid for it, and left, instructing us, “Look for me online! You can hear samples of my music there. It could be a beautiful, special gift to share with your loved ones.”

  Marsha left and we saw her sashaying down the sidewalk.

  “I need to be off as well,” Monica said. “Look for me upstairs after New Year’s Day! You can buy collectibles there. You might find a beautiful, special gift to share with your loved ones.”

  Ms. Oakes and I tittered. I thought maybe that was the first time I’d ever heard Ms. Oakes laugh.

  I
went to get a cup of coffee and saw Ford in the kitchen. “Good morning. Will Sienna be at the Secret Santa party tomorrow?”

  A pained expression briefly crossed his face. “I’ve been with her all week. I was looking forward to having the entire weekend off.”

  “Oh, but Ford, it’s a party. I mean, if she can’t be here, I understand, but I’m going shopping tonight and wanted to get her a little something.”

  “I’ll see what I can do.”

  I heard footsteps in the hallway before Jason leaned against the doorframe. “Morning.”

  Ford and I both greeted him.

  “Amanda, can I see you for a moment?” Jason asked.

  Wagging his head like a dog figurine on a dashboard, Ford said, “Somebody wants kisses.” He made kissing faces at us before he left the kitchen.

  I wrinkled my nose at Jason. “Sorry about that.”

  “Why? I don’t care.” He stepped into the room, and I saw he carried a wrapped package. “And I do want kisses.” He gave me a quick peck on the lips.

  After I’d gotten my coffee, we went into the workroom.

  “What’s that?” I asked.

  “It’s a gift I got you to let you know how much I care about and support you.”

  I took the package he handed me, and it was heavier than I’d expected it to be. “You’re not expecting this meeting to go well, are you?”

  “Of course, I am.” He nodded toward the gift. “Open it.”

  I opened it to find a thick, hardcover book on fashion. It contained illustrations and quotes from all the top designers.

  “Jason, I love it!”

  “I’m glad.” He drew me to him for a more thorough kiss. “I’m looking forward to all my family meeting you today.”

  I simply smiled. I wanted to say I was looking forward to meeting them too, but I had a serious case of butterflies in my stomach.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Jason’s grandparents had a beautiful home in Johnson City. I had him carry the banana pudding inside, so I didn’t drop it.