Oh Holy Fright (Pecan Bayou Book 8)

by Teresa Trent

  “You know, I’ve set up plenty of tables in my time, and I can tell you that you need to put the tablecloth on first and then the garland.”

  He looked at the garland in his hands as if it were an alien creature. He blushed.

  “I guess I was so excited to hang the garland that I forgot about the tablecloth.”

  He looked so young to me.

  “Let me give you a hand,” I offered.

  His grin revealed beautifully straight white teeth. This man’s little business venture had turned our town upside down. He didn’t look much older than Tyler.

  “That would be great. I’m here all by myself.”

  Maybe this wasn’t actually Eddie. Maybe this was an hourly worker who would be manning the store. “Is your boss coming by later?”

  “No. It’s only me, Ed Bennett. I’m still setting up my store. Maybe you’ve seen it?”

  Had I ever. I had seen it and heard about it non-stop ever since that flyer fell out of the paper. If he only knew—but then again, maybe he did.

  “Yes. My boys can’t stop talking about your Christmas Eve sale. They really want to get their hands on one of your PlayStations.”

  He raised his eyebrows and then moved forward in a conspiratorial fashion. “The merchandise your boys are interested in … well, they’re going to have to move fast. We have limited stock. That’s why we decided to set up this lottery for places in line.”

  “I was told you had ads in other newspapers outside of town.”

  “Yes. Not too many, but we did expand our advertising to three other papers. This is a tough time to have a blowout sale, so we decided to make sure we sold as much merchandise as possible. Our goal is to start the new year in the black.”

  I smoothed the white plastic tablecloth and picked up the string of garland. Eddie handed me the tape, and I draped the garland across the table. After the final piece of tape was applied, I reached into my pocket for the twenty. “I need to get one of those tickets. I’m hoping my boys will be able to stand in line and then rush to the town service for Christmas Eve. Their little sister is an angel. I would hate for them to have to miss that.”

  Eddie reached into a cardboard box behind the table and pulled out a stack of slips. “Fill this out. We like to get the names and addresses of everybody who stands in line. Also, state whether you’ll be home on Christmas Eve in case things get really crazy and we have to make a late delivery of additional stock. We do have a few pieces that will be coming in to fill the demand. I’m guessing that PlayStation will be one of them.” I quickly filled out my name and address. We had Number 38, which didn’t seem too bad to me. Hopefully, that meant the boys would be finished in time to attend the service. I handed it back to him.

  “Thank you so much. The boys will be so excited.”

  He nodded. “No problem. Now, do you know anything about hanging Christmas lights?”

  I extended my hand. “I’d be glad to help.”

  After getting Crazy Eddie set up, I walked back to the Gazette booth, where Rocky was still tinkering with the TV.

  “I saw you over there helping that Crazy Eddie.”

  I took a seat in the folding chair behind the booth window. “I’m amazed how young he is. I thought he’d be some old pot-bellied guy with a cigar in his mouth.”

  “That, Betsy, is a sure sign you’re getting older. After a while, everyone seems too young for their job.” He peered out at Crazy Eddie’s table surrounded by the flimsy curtains. “From the looks of that so-called booth, I hope it doesn’t rain. You couldn’t keep a squirrel dry in there.”

  He was right. Eddie had done nothing to prepare for the temperamental December Texas weather. “Not everybody can have a beautifully constructed booth like you have.”

  “All you have to do is lay out some cash. This booth is going to last me for the next twenty years.”

  He was right. Karen had done a wonderful job. I wondered what Rocky knew about Karen’s daughter. Surely, he had at least covered her in the crime blotter. “Does Karen Baldwin ever get to see her daughter anymore?”

  “No. I don’t think she’s seen her in years. When Karen was helping me set up this booth, she admitted she hoped her daughter didn’t miss Christmas again. She said it would be the third year in a row. Kind of sad, really. She was at least hoping to get a Christmas card from her, but with Joe Nelson stealing all the mail, that won’t be happening. From what I heard, most of that mail was junk mail anyway.”

  “And the whole town thinks my aunt shot him.”

  “Very true.” He put down his screwdriver and pulled a chair up next to me. Lowering his voice, he said, “I also heard something else. Did you know Nelson had been losing his hearing? Once I heard that, it explained a few things to me. I called him about his subscription and could barely get him to understand me over the phone. Another theory is maybe he was stowing that mail because dementia was setting in. Who knows? I guess that’s one for your father and all the suits I’ve seen rolling into town. Still, our Karen over there is not too happy with Joe.”

  Between the gun safe I had seen in Karen Baldwin’s garage and the biceps she’d earned from handling wood, maybe she was a more formidable woman than I’d thought. Could she be responsible? Was Karen an angry mail recipient out of control?

  Rocky picked up on my mood. “Penny for your thoughts?”

  I glanced up at the static on the screen then down to the video player. “Why don’t you try pushing play?”

  Rocky cursed under his breath. He pushed the button, and a picture of downtown Pecan Bayou from the turn of the century came on the screen. “Yep. That’s why you make the big bucks.”

  Chapter 11

  Crazy Eddie had a steady crowd of people eager to get a chance at his rock-bottom prices. The Gazette booth had less than half that traffic, and passersby were not as enthusiastic about the historic pictures Rocky had collected over the years. The smell of paint drifted over to my booth now and again from where Karen was working on more wooden toys. I decided to take just a minute to tell Karen the bread she ordered would not be delivered until sometime in January.

  “Hey, Karen, I needed to tell you there's been a change in the delivery date of the bread. It's not coming in until after the holidays. I hope that's not a problem.”

  “Oh, no problem. I’m sorry I was short with you the other day. I guess when you talk about my daughter, I get a little emotional. Especially this time of year.”

  “I understand. I have one of my own.”

  “And,” she said with pride in her voice, “I wanted to let you know that after we talked that day, I put the sign back on Wildflower Lane. I’m going to start building my first house over there.”

  “That’s great,” I said. There is nothing better than a woman with a plan.

  A few minutes later, Rocky had returned to the Gazette office, and I was pecking away at my laptop, working on future columns. Considering how quiet it was, it was turning out to be a wonderful day at the office for me. I loved my children, but they would not be interrupting me today.

  “Hey there, Betsy,” Lester Jibbets stood outside the booth in his red-and-green barbershop quartet vest. “How is your aunt doing? I tried to call her, but she didn’t return any of my messages.”

  I was pretty sure that Aunt Maggie was avoiding Lester Jibbets and his thinly veiled amorous advances right now. She was avoiding almost everybody, and the last thing she needed was the king of the porta potties offering to help.

  “That’s nice of you to ask. She’s doing okay considering all that’s going on.”

  “A terrible thing, I tell you. If she needs a character witness, will you tell her that I’m there for her? She would never shoot anybody, let alone Joe.” He leaned closer, taking a glance in either direction and then whispered, “I think she’s been framed. Maybe—and you didn’t hear this from me—they should check for powder burns on Enid Sanford’s hands. Enid would’ve done anything for that solo. Hell hath no fury like an a
ngry soprano.”

  It was amazing to me that a man we thought might be the Christmas Creeper a few days ago was now standing up for my aunt. That is not to say that the creepy element had vanished.

  “That’s very kind of you to say. I’ll be sure to pass your good wishes on to my aunt.”

  He placed a hand over his heart and nodded solemnly. “We’re all thinking of her.”

  “Lester,” Mayor Obermeyer called in the distance. The mayor had on a matching red-and-green-striped barbershop quartet vest, but his was several sizes larger. “We need to warm up.”

  “The demands of a performer,” Lester stated simply.

  After Aunt Maggie’s greatest admirer left, I returned to working on my column. Because Coco couldn’t read yet, I came up with the idea of putting everyone’s pictures on the packages so she could help pass them out. I was just typing this idea into my column when the clouds above us started turning an ominous blackish-gray. Karen Baldwin came over and leaned on the counter of my booth.

  “Betsy, your dad works at City Hall. See if you can make sense of this?”

  Karen Baldwin stood with a notice typed on official government paper in her hand. She waved it around, her anger mounting.

  “What?”

  “It’s happening again. Just like before, I cannot get any permits. The City of Pecan Bayou denies development of this piece of land.”

  “Can they do that?”

  “According to them, they can.”

  “Let me take a look at that.”

  Printed on City of Pecan Bayou letterhead was a simple denial that had just put the stops on Karen’s dream. “Looks legit to me. You know, I know Doogie over at the city office, and I have never seen him turn away a chance for the city to make money. That seems strange. Does he cite a reason?”

  Karen blew out a sigh, clearly frustrated by the expediency of this. It seemed strange to me that the city would move that fast. Sometimes it took thirty days to get a permit. She had just plopped the sign on the lot. What was so wrong with that land?

  “Well, I think you should march right down to City Hall, slap it on the counter, and tell them you want to appeal.”

  Karen’s shoulder’s slumped, and she suddenly looked very tired. “You’re right. That’s exactly what I should do. But, you know, I might just have to table this for a while. I have so much going on right now that one more rejection is more than I can take. It’s like I can’t get a break around here. You know what they say? If you keep getting obstacles in your way then maybe it was never meant to be. Sometimes it’s karma.”

  “I think you should speak your mind. Let them know you won’t put up with such a generic denial of your right to build. I don’t know what Doogie has against you, but it’s high time you found out.”

  A young family with two small children walked up to Karen’s booth. “Can I help you?” she said to them, clearly cutting off our conversation.

  It was true. Karen Baldwin had experienced her share of knocks this Christmas. She laid the letter on the counter and began showing the family some of the simple toys she had produced.

  A few minutes later, Karen returned to the Gazette booth and leaned over the counter. “Hey, think I’m going to try to run in and use the restroom before the storm hits. Could you watch my booth?”

  My eyes darted to the clouds. “Sure. No problem. But we have another couple of hours before this rain sets in.”

  Karen patted the counter with her hand and smiled. “It’s a good thing you write helpful hints and not the weather. Thanks. Be right back.”

  She hadn’t even crossed the street when the first raindrops hit. In the next minute, the light rain turned into a downpour. Many of Karen’s toys on display were getting wet. After moving the newspapers off my counter, I rushed over to pull her beautiful handiwork inside her booth. The wind had come up, and I tried to close the shutter doors, but they flapped away from my grasp. Crazy Eddie ran from his makeshift tent to Karen’s booth and handed me one of the doors from the outside, which I gratefully pulled shut. He handed me the other door, and I put the bolt lock on them from the inside. As I placed the toys in the corner of the booth, a tiny electric lantern highlighted a small table where Karen had been writing a letter to the U.S. mail service. Even though I shouldn’t have, I began to read the letter.

  The letter that I am requesting is urgent. My daughter might need my help, and as a mother, I have to get to her. I would do anything, and I stress anything to be back in contact with her. Please do not make the mistake of trifling with me.

  “What’s that? Eddie said from the door as he took the paper off a piece of bright-pink rubbery bubble gum.

  “Nothing really. I don’t know if you heard about our mailman, but he was sitting on tons of mail in his garage.”

  “Yes. I did hear something about that. So, Mrs. Baldwin thinks the mailman has her mail? What’s the big deal about that? Most of that stuff is junk anyway.”

  “She’s missing a letter from her daughter. I guess she hasn’t seen her in a while and was hoping that maybe she’d get a Christmas card or something.”

  “Why doesn’t she just call her?”

  “I don’t think she has her number. Maybe the mail was her last option. She and her daughter were … well … distant from each other. “

  “Man, that’s really sad. Counting on snail mail to hear from your kid. Sad. Sad. Sad.”

  “What are you doing in here?” Karen Baldwin stood behind Eddie with her hands on her hips. I tried to unobtrusively stash the letter where I had found it.

  “We were just pulling your toys in out of the rain so they wouldn’t get wet.”

  She pushed past Eddie and picked up the paper.

  “Thank you, but it was entirely unnecessary. I would appreciate it if you would leave. I think your TV is getting wet.”

  I had been in such a hurry to get her toys in that I forgot to cover Rocky’s television. Luckily, when I returned to the booth, the TV was far enough back that it had not received too much gusting rain. I pulled our doors shut and glanced over at Eddie’s tent, now sodden with rain and beginning to slope in the middle. “Looks like you’re in trouble.”

  He surveyed the mess and then smiled. “All I had was those slips of paper in a metal cashbox anyway. I’ll just shake everything out.”

  “I don’t know if you drink coffee, but I have a thermos in here. I also have some of my aunt’s cookies.”

  “That sounds wonderful. I’d love a cup. I guess I should’ve thought about putting the roof on my booth.” We settled in to sit out the thunderstorm.

  “So, tell me a little bit about yourself,” I said as the rain pounded around us.

  “Not much to tell. I’m a wanderer.”

  I tried a couple of other questions, but he gave a series of one-word answers. Crazy Eddie was not crazy enough to tell me about his life.

  After I finished my shift at the Gazette booth, I decided to make one more attempt to tell my father about the angry letter we had just found from Karen Baldwin.

  “So, what you’re saying is I should check out Karen Baldwin’s alibi?” my father asked as his partner, Boyle, blew out a frustrated sigh. Detective Boyle did not have a lot of trust in me as a useful resource in solving a crime. I had also been told to lay off crime-solving because the Feds were running all over town like cockroaches.

  “We found a nasty note she was writing to Joe because she felt like he was holding mail from her daughter.”

  “The drug addict?” Dad asked.

  Boyle was quick to pick up on this. “I didn’t know her daughter had a drug problem. Would she kill him if she thought he had money? Did Joe have money in savings?”

  I hadn’t even thought of the daughter as a suspect, but it was a possibility. I still had to wonder about Karen. If I couldn’t get in touch with one of my kids, it would kill me.

  “How would you feel if you didn’t have any contact with me? You might be a little crazy too. “

  M
y father took a sip of coffee. “And there are days when I feel like I’m crazy because I am in contact with you.”

  I gave him a sideways glance and a smile. “Just check out her alibi.”

  Boyle shrugged and put his thumbs underneath the suspenders that ornamented his pressed white shirt. “It may surprise you to find this out, but we’re not all bumbling fools here at the police department. We already checked out Karen Baldwin’s alibi. You’re barking up the wrong tree, sister. She was at the hospital giving out some of her toys to the kiddies. Why don’t you go on back home and write a delightful little column on some household thing? You know, my vacuum cleaner has an annoying smell. Do you think you could give me a tip on that?”

  Just like the real affliction, Boyle was beginning to get under my skin. I had to rethink how Karen might have done it.

  “How long was she at the hospital?”

  Boyle gave me a nod as if he was proud I could take time away from removing stains to think of the next step in establishing her alibi. “Well, wouldn’t you know it? They had a visitor log. She logged in at 7:00 p.m. and logged out at 9:00.”

  “But Joe was shot at around ten, right? Plenty of time to drive over there.”

  Joe smiled. “Except she went from the hospital to the Super Walley to buy more paint. It will probably take us about a day to get the surveillance tapes. Anything else you want to question about our investigative techniques?”

  “Thanks, anyway,” Dad said. “Knowing about the letter could be important.”

  “So, little lady, you got your question answered. Karen Baldwin has an alibi, and we are investigating other avenues.”

  “Don’t you need to get the kids, Betsy?” Dad asked as his eyes went from me to Boyle.

  “Yes. It’s been a long day.” I stretched my arms out and yawned.

  Dad raised his coffee cup, bidding me farewell, and Boyle smirked. What a loveable guy.