Oh Holy Fright (Pecan Bayou Book 8)

by Teresa Trent

  Pastor Green went to the front of the church, and Ruby gave him a sisterly wave. Karen and her daughter, who was slightly fidgety, sat on the other side of the church. Now that we all knew what was in Joe’s will, it might have been appropriate for them to sit in the front row reserved for family. Sadly, that row was empty. Pastor Green said a few words then opened the floor for mourners who wanted to speak of their remembrances of our elderly mailman. Karen went to the front.

  “I was Joe’s neighbor for over twenty years, and we got to be very good friends. I could always count on him to make me laugh and to help me through …” she looked over at her daughter then resumed her speech, “challenging times. At the very end of Joe’s life, we had some problems, and now I wish I’d never said what I said to him,” her voice started to break. Michelle jumped up from the pew and put her arm around her mother.

  “Sorry, folks. Joe just meant a whole lot to us. Thank you.”

  My gaze drifted to my father’s face. I recognized that look. He was evaluating her as a suspect. Her movements were jerky, and she seemed a little nervous. Today, if I had to judge whether she was still using, I would have to say yes. It was also a little more than suspicious that she showed up right after it was published in the paper that her mother had been left a great deal of money. Newfound money was a sure way to stir up relatives who wanted their piece of the pie.

  Chapter 14

  The next day, the Christmas festival was in full swing. There was a parade down the middle of Pecan Bayou’s Main Street featuring the high school’s marching band and Miss Christie’s School of Dance doing routines in flashy elf costumes, followed by a gaily decorated horseback procession with jingle bells on all the horses. A few of the neighborhood businesses had floats, including the Pecan Bayou Gazette, which featured a giant decoupage newspaper and Rocky himself waving to the crowd. Mayor Obermeyer sat in the back of his 1961 red Thunderbird convertible giving his best reelection smile. Right behind him was NUTV, our local cable access station, featuring a giant pecan that seemed to be wobbling to the left. Finally, just like the big parades in New York City, Pecan Bayou had a Santa Claus sitting on an elegant golden throne bedazzled with glittery holly and candy canes. It was so beautiful you barely noticed he was sitting in the back of a pickup truck. The sides of the pickup were decorated to resemble a one horse open sleigh.

  Karen’s handiwork on the sleigh was incredible, with intricate scrollwork at the top and hand-painted winter scenes on the side panels in a deep mahogany brown. It was a replica of the one she had made for the Pecan Bayou Park. I had no doubt that sleigh would eventually end up in our town’s museum. Once again, Karen showed she was truly an artist. At first, it seemed unusual to me to find a woman who worked with cabinetry and woodwork, but why not? Carpentry had never been solely a man’s field. Women all over the world were sculptors. Why couldn’t we have a wood sculptor right here in our town? We were lucky to have her.

  I spotted Karen across the street, standing alone, looking at her sled. Of course, Santa was getting most of the attention on the parade route, but the old dude wouldn’t look half as good without that beautiful sleigh. The parade had moved at a quick pace up until this point. Luckily, Lester Jibbets, the driver of the pickup truck, slowed down as Benny—aka Santa—waved at every girl and boy, young and old. It was a first for our town to have an African American Santa, and it was about time. In past years, Joe Nelson had played this part, but Benny from Benny’s Barbecue had taken over the role. Benny not only provided the best barbecue in town, he was Zach’s scout leader, and he’d become a wonderful force in my son’s life. Benny was right up there with Joe in my book. A really nice guy.

  “Santa! That’s Santa!”

  Leo had placed Coco up on his shoulders so she could have the best view of the parade. He looked up at her and said, “That’s him, Coco. He only has time for a few more parades before he has to return to the North Pole.”

  Zach and Tyler were standing next to us, and I could see both boys rolling their eyes at their father. There was nothing sadder than a child who no longer believed in the magic of Christmas.

  Across the street, a man was now standing next to Karen. Funny, I had never seen him before. He seemed to be trying to talk to her, but she kept her focus firmly on the parade. She continued ignoring him. Unexpectedly, he took Karen by the shoulders and forced her to face him, talking to her all the while. Between the sound of the Christmas music, jingle bells, and the children shouting at Santa, I couldn’t make out what he was saying. Whatever it was he wanted, Karen did not respond to him. She pulled her arm out of his grip and started to walk away, but he followed her. Aunt Maggie and Danny were just behind us, and I reached back and pointed to the scene across the street.

  “Do you know who that is talking to Karen?”

  Maggie adjusted the glasses on her nose and squinted. “Well, that’s Karen. And, wait a minute, I think that’s her ex-husband, Sammy.”

  “How long has it been since you’ve seen him around here?”

  “Oh my, at least fifteen years. He up and left when that baby was just in elementary school. It was a crying shame. All he left her was a bunch of tools. You know he went on to become the head of Baldwin Buildings, a big homebuilder in Dallas. I heard he put in a couple of subdivisions over there. Of course, being the resilient woman she is, Karen made a life out of that toolbox.”

  I found it very interesting that now that Karen had inherited money from Joe Nelson, her daughter, a suspected drug addict, and the ex-husband who had abandoned her were coming back into her life. No wonder Karen was such a quiet individual. The people she loved were returning to take advantage of her. That was one Christmas homecoming I didn’t think they’d be writing any Hallmark movies about.

  The more contentious the scene across the street looked, the more people around them began to step back. It wasn’t long before my father and Boyle came over to ask what was going on. I touched Leo on the arm, and he nodded because he knew I couldn’t keep out of this. I quickly made my way across the street.

  “There’s nothing at all going on here, officer. Can’t a man talk to his wife on the street anymore, or is our government so very controlling that even that has been limited?” When Sammy Baldwin spoke, his eyes flashed, and there was a slight twitch over one jawbone. He was a handsome guy but a little too polished for my taste. For a guy who did construction, he didn’t look like he had been in the sun very much.

  “No.” Dad’s tone was slow and even. It was a method I’d grown up with: counteract crazy with calm. “I do believe it is still within the law for a man to talk to his wife, but I need to ask you a question. You haven’t been around here much. We had no idea that Karen was even married. We’re kind of like one big happy family in Pecan Bayou. And, frankly, we’re a little put out.” His glance slid to Karen. “Did you go and get married and not tell anybody?”

  Naturally, the next response should be congratulations, but I had the feeling my father wanted to say his condolences.

  Karen stammered slightly, clearly unnerved by the man standing next to her. “No, Judd. This is my ex-husband. Not my husband. I haven’t seen him in years.”

  Sammy fingered the edge of his lapel. His suit was dark blue, and it looked a little wrinkled. If I had to guess, he was probably the only man with a suit on at the parade.

  Boyle brought his chin down, giving Sammy Baldwin a skeptical look. Dad took his hat off and held it in his hands. “I see. What brings you to our little town so close to the holidays?” Once again, my father was practicing his calm demeanor, digging into whatever problem this man was about to present to Karen.

  “Like you said, it’s the holiday season. I just wanted to get together with my family. Is that such a crime? I haven’t seen my daughter in years.”

  All of that sounded perfectly nice except for the fact that his daughter hadn’t been around for years either. He didn’t seem to know that, and I could tell from the alertness in my father’s eyes that
he hadn’t missed it either.

  “What can I do for you, Sammy?” Karen asked, her patience short.

  “I always liked that about you, Karen. You go straight to the heart of the matter.”

  “Whatever. What do you need?” Her words were clipped and uncompromising.

  “I’ve actually been around for a couple of days. Staying out at that German bed and breakfast on the edge of town, which is convenient because … well, I’ll just say some business has popped up. I’ve picked up a new property around here. When I drove into town, I couldn’t help noticing a great big sign for the future home of Baldwin Properties down Wildflower Lane. I had no idea I was developing.”

  “First of all, you are Baldwin Building, not Baldwin Properties. And, second, it’s none of your business.”

  “When my name is on it, it is my business. You have a lot of nerve using my name on that development.”

  “You know, you’re absolutely right. I have no idea why I kept the name of such a disreputable person. I should have changed it. Maybe I still will.”

  “You put that name on the sign then you should expect to give me the profits.”

  “Sir, we are just a bunch of families enjoying the parade. I think there might be a better time and place for this conversation,” Dad said, looking around at the crowd that seemed to be giving more attention to this discussion than the Pecan Bayou marching band.

  “You’re probably right. But I have to protect my intellectual property.”

  Karen harrumphed as if the word intellectual had nothing to do with Sammy Baldwin.

  “Do you stay in contact with your daughter?” I asked, even though I hadn’t been invited to join the conversation.

  Boyle bristled at my interference.

  Sammy Baldwin turned to me, clearly confused as to my part in this questioning.

  “Oh, I know Karen,” I assured him. “We’re old friends. It’s just that she hasn’t been in contact with her daughter very much. I was wondering if you had?”

  Once I let that out, he seemed a little confused, which only confirmed he assumed his daughter had been with her mother all these years. He probably didn’t even know about his daughter’s problems. He was in for a big chunk of coal in his stocking.

  “Sure. What kind of dad would I be if I didn’t stay in contact with my own daughter?”

  I looked across the street where, to my surprise, Michelle was watching the parade standing next to Crazy Eddie. I touched Sammy Baldwin on the arm. “There she is. Why don’t you go over and say hello to her?”

  He looked pleased right up until the point he realized she was standing among a group of young people. He didn’t know his daughter well enough to pick her out of the crowd, and it was obvious.

  He stammered. “Oh, I’ll have to talk to her later. She seems like she’s really enjoying the parade.”

  My father stroked his chin. “Aha.”

  Karen still looked panicked, so I stepped closer. “You seem to have a house full of people here this Christmas, Karen. I don’t think I can ever remember you having family for Christmas. I wonder what has changed about you?”

  Karen’s face turned red, and I could tell she didn’t appreciate my comment. I wasn’t trying to hurt her feelings. I was just trying to pinpoint the fact that many people’s relatives seem to come out of the woodwork when they suddenly receive a large inheritance. She did not take it that way, unfortunately.

  Karen bristled. “Just what are you trying to say?”

  “Nothing really, it’s just that you’ve always been such a quiet person, and now after Mr. Nelson dies, you’re in the paper and your long-lost family shows up.”

  Sammy perked up at Joe’s name. “So, what was going on with you and that guy? Were you playing house or just a real good neighbor?” He was making it very easy for me to understand why Karen had filed for divorce. The bawdy look in his eye as he described what he thought had been going on between Karen and Joe made my skin crawl.

  “And that is none of your business. Joe and I were neighbors, and that was it. We were good friends, and there were times that he was there for me. Maybe too much so if he chose to hold back mail from our daughter to me.” As she became more agitated, her voice grew louder. “You should know by now that you can cross me in all kinds of ways, but do not mess with me and my daughter. You pull a disappearing act and have the nerve to show up when I come into some cash?”

  “If I remember right, I was the one who introduced you to old Joe. Remember that, sweetie? We had just moved in, and he came by to introduce himself. Seems to me that I knew Joe first and that he wanted to welcome us both to the neighborhood. The way I see it, Joe Nelson would have wanted that cash to go to the both of us. Don’t you agree?”

  “Agree? I don’t agree! Get the hell out of here … you … vulture!”

  As Karen finished, most of the attention had gone from the parade to the little scene playing out before us. The old saying “still waters run deep” was definitely at play here with the town’s carpenter. I had never seen her so angry. It was clear that when it came to her daughter she could have mustered enough rage to kill Joe over a missing letter.

  “Mrs. Baldwin, we would be glad to escort your ex to the police station for you,” Boyle offered.

  “Thank you,” Karen said.

  But as Boyle took Sammy by the elbow, he pulled away. “This isn’t over,” he shouted then made his way through the crowd.

  “Unbelievable, thinking he can home in on my Baldwin Properties. The guy’s got a lot of nerve.”

  “By the way,” I mentioned, “I checked with Doogie Burton at the city about that letter you received.”

  “You did? Why did you do that?” Karen asked. I began to worry that I had overstepped my boundaries with her. Maybe I should have asked first, but I was right there.

  “I don’t know why I did it. I was visiting my dad at the police station. And, well, Doogie is just a few doors down. I hope you don’t mind.”

  She was clearly uncomfortable with my interference. She’d been flying solo for so long she was not used to someone taking up her cause, except for maybe Joe. I was sure that if Joe had known about this he would have been sitting in Doogie’s office within the hour. So maybe my meddling was just my way of channeling Joe, I rationalized.

  “What did he say? I would sure like to know the reason we were rejected so quickly.”

  “He didn’t say anything yet. He was working on a presentation for the city council, but he did say he would look into it. If I were to guess, just from looking at Doogie, he didn’t know what I was talking about.”

  Doogie and just a few other people had been running the city for years. With a city as small as ours, he didn’t need a large staff, and Doogie had happily done his job as the city clerk and real estate assessor.

  “Well, I can’t say I’m comfortable with what you did, but I do appreciate your efforts. You really got me thinking maybe I could do this thing. Is that crazy?” Karen’s soft brown eyes reached mine, seeking reassurance.

  “Not crazy at all. Sometimes you have to believe in what you think is impossible to create the possible.”

  Chapter 15

  “Betsy, I am so happy you decided to help me out with this today. You see, if I want to show the new choir director I should get the solo, I need to have my copy of the solo back.”

  It had been a mistake for Maggie to give her sheet music back to Joe the night she quit the choir. She was a fastidious notetaker, and if she was going to try to take down Enid, she would need her own music back. It was quite a surprise for her when Joe gave the solo to Enid. Now we knew that was because Joe could no longer hear people’s voices. Why he didn’t just choose the people he had chosen before, I’ll never know. All I could figure was that maybe his ears filtered out the nasty parts of Enid’s voice and he’d decided she was the best candidate. Nevertheless, my aunt was now angling once again for the coveted solo of the Christmas program.

  My father had agr
eed to come over and unlock Joe’s house for us. “Wouldn’t he have left this music at the church?”

  “Oh no. There’s no room for files at the church. He kept all the church’s music here at his house. Pastor Green barely has enough room to turn around.” Small-town churches tended to put most of their building dollars into worship space, not additional offices. It was a budget reality for tiny communities like Pecan Bayou.

  Once inside, we saw Joe’s house was very tidy. He might have been a lifelong bachelor, but that didn’t mean he lived like one. The beds were made, the floors were swept, and the dishes were done. He would’ve made somebody a wonderful wife.

  Maggie walked over to a cabinet that held three-ring notebooks carefully labeled for the different seasons of the church year. Down on the bottom shelf was a stack of thin black folders that Maggie immediately recognized. The top folder was hers.

  “There it is. I found it. It’s right there. See, I told you this wouldn’t take too long.”

  As I looked around the room, I noticed several beautiful hand-carved wooden pieces that no doubt had been given to Joe by Karen. Also, on his desk next to his computer was a handsomely framed picture of Karen and Joe together. Had the two of them ever been an item? He was years older than she was, and I had to think that even if they weren't romantically involved, he cared for this woman deeply. Joe had always been so gentle and kind. After meeting Karen’s husband, I saw it could be a good thing for her to have someone in her life who was so even-keeled.

  I held the picture up for my father’s inspection. “Did you see this?”

  His eyebrows drew together. “Oh, yes. We noticed it when we looked through his computer.”

  “They look so happy together.”

  Maggie stood with her hands on her hips, her music under her arm. “Well, from what I saw at the parade, she sure doesn’t have those feelings for her husband. That woman was burning mad.”