by Amy Vansant
Frank made a sweeping motion with his arm and Charlotte’s eye followed. The gingerbread man, elf and fire ash had captured her attention—she’d almost missed the insanity of the room’s décor. Christmas decorations hung, sat or leaned against every inch.
“Kind of a live by the sword, die by the sword sort of thing,” she said, counting the room’s thirteenth Rudolph the red-nosed reindeer trinket.
Frank grunted. “What’s that?”
“Lived for Christmas, died by elf.”
“Hm. Poetic.”
Charlotte squat to poke at the ash on the ground. Near the back of the tree one of the packages had only partially burned. Using a half-melted candy cane she hooked it and pulled it towards her. The side crumbled revealing the smooth bottom of an empty cardboard box.
“The gifts are empty.”
Frank hung his thumbs in his belt. “They’re burned.”
“No, this one back here is only a bit burned. It was empty.” Charlotte stood and pointed at the pile of ash. “There aren’t any lumps that might have been gifts here. They were all empty boxes.”
“So? They were there for show.”
“I suppose, but...that’s weird.”
“Why?”
“Well, think about it. When Darla trots out all her decorations, does she set fake packages under the tree?”
“No. She puts all the crap she bought with my hard-earned money around it, until she gets a chance to give them out to a bunch of people who aren’t me.”
“Exactly. If you’re not a store, why would you stage your Christmas tree? It doesn’t look like he has anyone to gift—” she glanced at Kris Rudolph and then looked away, feeling as if the elf in his mouth had caught her peeking. “Can we put his head back on?”
Frank reached for the gingerbread man head and slipped it over Kristopher’s. “No problem. That’s why it was back on in the first place. Daniel couldn’t stop laughing. Tried to take a picture for his instant graham cracker.”
“Instagram.”
“Whatever. Look—” Frank’s gaze pinballed around the room as if he feared someone could overhear them. “I know I called you down here because you asked me to share this stuff, but that wasn’t the only reason I called you.”
“No?”
“No. I’m under a lot of pressure with this one and I’m surrounded by morons with the maturity level of five year-olds—”
“You mean Deputy Daniel.”
“Of course I mean Deputy Daniel. Bottom line is, I need someone I can trust. Someone with a good mind for this stuff. Daniel’s brain is pre-occupied with online gaming and his doll collection.”
“He collects action figures.”
“Dolls in tights. Same thing.”
Charlotte pursed her lips to keep from smiling.
He trusts me. He thinks I’m good at this.
She wanted to crow. She wanted to hug Frank for trusting her, and even more so, for admitting he trusted her. Frank guarded his affections like a national treasure.
Be calm.
She cleared her throat. “But what makes this investigation special?”
“Harlan is going to want answers.”
“The mayor?”
Frank nodded and motioned to the gingerbread man. “This guy was a big deal.”
“How so?”
“He was doing all sorts of things for the city. He arranged the parade, ran the holiday raffle, organized Christmas sales with the merchants downtown... It was all supposed to be a big shot in the arm for Charity. He was going to turn us into some sort of Christmas City U.S.A.”
“That’s why he was here? He was a Christmas consultant?”
“From what I understand. I’m going to have to speak to Harlan tomorrow and get more details.”
“Pudding!”
Charlotte turned and spotted Aggie Mae Davis in a shiny purple robe with gold trim, her arms outstretched as she waddled toward the now frenzied terrier. The dog’s barking increased until Aggie Mae unclipped it from the leash tethering it to the lamppost. Pudding wriggled into her waiting arms, all once again set right with his world.
Charlotte turned back to Frank. “I meant to ask, what was Pudding doing out there?”
Frank scratched at his cheek. “That’s another thing. Damn dog was tied out front when the fire trucks got here. Nothing about this whole mess makes much sense.”
“Someone choked a man dressed like a gingerbread man with an elf, tried to set his tree ablaze, and then tied a missing dog to the post in his front yard on the way out?”
“Near as I can tell.”
“Totally weird.” She couldn’t help but take a moment to re-appreciate Frank’s robe and gun look. “Though not half as weird as that getup you’ve got on.”
Frank glanced down and then fought a failing battle to hide his own amusement. He tucked the robe a little tighter around his chest. “Help me out with this one Charlotte. Is it the Internet?”
“Is what the Internet?”
Frank raised his hands, palms pointed to the ceiling. “Everything weird has something to do with the Internet. Did Kris meet someone on that Greg’s Place? Is the costume some sort of kinky sex thing?”
Charlotte laughed. “Craig’s List. Does Kris even have a computer?”
Frank nodded. “Yes. It’s been bagged.”
“So the techs will find things on that if they exist, right?”
Frank huffed. “I dunno. I don’t know anything anymore. People dressing up like cookies—” He devolved into muttering.
“And no one saw anything?”
“No one’s come forward. It’s late. Everyone was in bed, but I have doofus out there asking around and doing door-to-doors.”
“How’d you get the call about the body?”
“The fire. A neighbor smelled smoke and thought they saw a glow in here. They called the fire department and the CFD called us. According to the fire guys, the dog was already outside barking. You can thank me we have any evidence left at all. I got here just in time to keep the fire guys from blasting all the evidence down the storm drains. You know how they like to overdo things, just to be safe.”
“Hello?” Aggie Mae peered through the screened porch door and into the house. “Charlotte? Is that you?”
“Hi, Aggie Mae.”
Charlotte walked to the screened front porch, where Aggie Mae promptly threw her arms around her, pushing the dog tucked against her chest so tightly between her enormous breasts Charlotte worried Pudding might suffocate.
“You found him,” whispered Aggie Mae in her ear.
Charlotte couldn’t help but smile. No matter how many murders she solved, she doubted anything could feel as good as returning a beloved pet to their owner. Even if she didn’t deserve credit.
“See? I told you not to worry.”
Aggie Mae rocked Charlotte side-to-side, until Charlotte realized she was trying to maneuver a better view inside Kristopher’s house.
“Whatcha got goin’ on in there?” Aggie Mae asked as Charlotte pulled from her death grip.
“Little fire. Bit of a crime scene though, so we need to get you and Pudding out of here.”
“Crime scene? You sayin’ someone robbed the place?”
“No, I don’t think so.” Charlotte heard Sheriff Frank shut the front door and stopped bobbing in her attempts to block Aggie Mae’s view.
Aggie Mae pointed over Charlotte’s shoulder. “Is that a giant gingerbread man in there? Sittin’ in a chair?”
Charlotte put a hand on the woman’s arm to ease her away from the house. “The important part is you have Pudding back, right?”
Aggie raised the dog to press his head against her violet lips, but her gaze never left the house.
“Sure...sure... Ain’t that Kris Rudolph’s house?”
Charlotte succeeded in guiding Aggie Mae away from the house. She spotted Deputy Daniel leaning against his patrol car, staring at his phone. She’d grown up with Daniel, and also knew him as the depu
ty her pawnshop-owner boyfriend, Declan, paid to let him know about deaths in the area. As unfortunate as it was, most of Declan’s inventory came from the deceased and it helped to know when people died.
“Daniel, can I talk to you?”
She patted Aggie Mae on the back to keep her moving into the crowd and walked to the officer.
“This crowd’s getting a little thick, don’t you think?” she asked.
Daniel glanced around him and then back to Charlotte, his eyes as empty and unassuming as a bovine’s.
She tried again. “I’m saying you should back them up or try to disperse them. Don’t you think?”
Daniel scowled. “Why? They aren’t hurting anybody.”
“But they’re too close. If one of them sees a little piece of the picture, and then another one spots another piece—by the time all the stories are swapped around in the pool tomorrow they might have a pretty good view of the whole painting.”
Daniel’s brow knit. “What painting?”
Charlotte sighed. Aggie Mae and Kris’s immediate neighbors already knew too much. Soon the machine would lurch into action. People would call friends who knew friends in the fire department and emergency services to find out more. By the next morning, all of Pineapple Port would know what happened. Or, at least, they’d think they did. Not knowing the full story never stopped anyone from sharing it.
“Our potential witnesses’ memories will be compromised if people start sharing what they saw through the windows. Not to mention, sometimes the best way to catch a bad guy is to withhold details of a crime from the press and public. If a suspect lets slip something only the real killer could know—” She paused. “Do you get where I’m going with this, Daniel?”
A smile curled the right side of the Deputy’s mouth. “You must have watched a lot of detective shows when you were little to know all this stuff.”
Charlotte sighed. She was in the middle of rephrasing her concerns when Frank’s voice erupted behind her at full volume.
“Sweet baby peas, Daniel. She’s telling you you need to get rid of these people now. Can you hear me?”
Startled, Daniel fumbled his phone into the air. It danced on his fingertips until he managed to snatch it and shove it into his pocket.
“Yes, sir. Gotcha.”
Daniel ran around the other side of his vehicle to flip the sirens on and off. The crowd lurched in time with the burst of noise and then fell silent as Daniel held up his arms and addressed the crowd.
“I need all of you to go home now...”
Frank dropped his head into his hands and peeked up at Charlotte. “He could have killed half the neighborhood flipping on the siren like that.”
Charlotte giggled.
Frank dropped his hands and stretched his back. “So you’re going to help me with this case?”
She nodded. “Of course I will. I don’t have anyone paying me to do anything else at the moment—”
“I’ll pay you.”
She gasped. “What? Really?”
“I’ll make it official. I didn’t expect you to work for free. I’ll deputize you.”
“What?” Charlotte’s volume increased and she bounced on her toes. She hadn’t been this excited since Mariska bought her a ten-speed bike for Christmas as a kid. “You’re going to make me a deputy?”
Frank waggled a finger at her. “Just for this case.”
“Will I get a badge?”
“Sure. I’ll give you a badge.”
“Will I get a hat? The uniform’s not particularly attractive, but I’ll take a hat.”
Frank cocked a hip, sending his shiny robe swaying. “You’re saying this uniform isn’t attractive?”
Charlotte laughed. “Okay, you got me. That outfit is gorgeous. I mean the usual uniforms don’t do much for me.”
“Oh. Well, you still don’t get a hat.”
She pouted. “Shoot. You’re no fun.”
Frank shrugged. “Fine. I’ll keep the badge...”
“No, I’m good. No hat but I still get the badge. Deal?”
“Deal.”
“Deal. Will I outrank Daniel?”
They turned and looked at the deputy, who had fallen into an argument with one of the local ladies about exactly how close she could stand to the house and still be far enough away.
Frank sighed. “Definitely.”
Chapter Four
“Whatcha doing?” Darla wandered up Mariska’s driveway with Turbo, her miniature Dachshund, in tow. The dog strained at the end of his leash, running circles around her.
Mariska looked up from her place on her knees, her flashlight pointed through the crawlspace grate beneath her house. She wiped her brow and watched the dog gallop around Darla.
“You look like the Earth, with Turbo a little hot dog moon circling you.”
Darla frowned. “Thanks for mentioning that. I just finished a huge piece of leftover lasagna and I feel like a planet. What are you doing on your knees?”
“I’m looking for Scratchy.”
“Scratchy?”
“He’s a possum. I think.”
“Ah. And he told you his name was Scratchy?”
“No, but he’s under the house scratching around all night when I’m trying to get to sleep, so that’s what I named him.”
Darla nodded. “Makes sense.”
“I’m going to put some poison out for him.”
“You don’t want to do that.”
“Why not? He’s just a giant rat. Maybe uglier than a rat.”
“If you poison him, he’ll die under there and your whole house will smell to high heaven.”
Mariska sat back on her heels. “I never thought of that.”
“You need to hire a trapper.”
“There’s no money in the budget for critter trappers. We just had the roof replaced. And with Bob’s ears, he doesn’t hear a darn thing so he doesn’t care. If I told him I wanted to spend money catching a possum he’d lose his mind.”
Darla pointed at her. “Ooh, you know who had a possum? Layla. Her husband bought a trap. I bet she’d let us borrow it.”
“What am I going to do with a possum if I trap it?”
“We’ll take it somewhere and let it go.”
Mariska struggled to get to her feet and Darla moved forward to help. Once on her feet, Mariska put her hands on her hips and stared at the grate.
“Fine. I’ll try and trap it if you promise to help.”
“I’ll help. We’ll put some food in the cage and catch him. Easy-peasy.”
“Catch her.”
“It’s a girl?”
Mariska nodded. “I just decided. She sounds like a girl. What do possums eat?”
Charlotte walked up the driveway and the women turned before Darla could answer.
“Hey, what are you ladies up to?” she asked.
“What do possums eat?” asked Mariska.
Charlotte pursed her lips. “I want to say fish for some reason. I think I saw it on some critter trapper show. Why? Did you get a pet possum?”
“Not on purpose,” grumbled Mariska, turning off her flashlight.
“We’ll Google it,” said Darla. “Let’s go inside. It’s hot out here and I smell bacon.”
The three ladies went inside Mariska’s house. Charlotte had a smile on her lips she couldn’t seem to squelch and she saw Mariska spot it.
“What’s up with you, Missy? You look like you have a secret.”
Charlotte grinned. “Can you keep a secret?”
“You know we can’t,” said Darla. “But tell us anyway.”
Charlotte nodded. “Okay. You’ll find out from Frank anyway.”
Darla scoffed. “Frank doesn’t tell me anything.”
Mariska tapped Darla’s arm. “Let her say what it is.”
Charlotte clapped her hands together and then held them out to her sides. “Frank wants me to help with an investigation and he deputized me.”
Mariska gasped. “Oh that’s wond
erful. What does that mean?”
“He made me a deputy. He says he’s going to give me a badge. Can you believe it? It’s like wild west stuff.”
Darla slid a piece of bacon from Mariska’s communal plate and waved it at Charlotte like a wand. “Doesn’t the deputized posse usually end up dead in those movies?”
Charlotte froze, mid-happy dance. “Do they?” She shrugged and resumed shaking her hips. “You know what? I don’t even care. Now I’m a licensed private detective and a deputy. I’m, like, practically a super hero.”
“I know about fifteen women who would love to sew you a costume,” said Darla.
“I want to see the badge,” said Mariska.
“I have to go talk to Frank later today. He said he’d give it to me if I swung by his office.”
Mariska slapped Darla’s hand as she reached for another strip of bacon. “Make a plate. Stop eating the bacon like an animal.”
Darla flashed puppy-eyes. “Be kind to me. My husband deputized another woman. He never deputized me.”
Charlotte laughed. “Because you’d go mad with power.”
Darla snatched another strip of bacon and dodged a swipe of Mariska’s spatula. “It’s true.”
Chapter Five
“Your honor, I’d like to call Danielle Arneau to the stand.”
Stephanie Moriarty turned to watch her witness rise from her seat. The girl with scraggily hair pulled at her shirt, though no amount of tugging would ever get it to cover her pierced navel. She stooped to retrieve a pack of cigarettes that fell from her purse and then straightened.
Stephanie smiled in the most soothing way she could muster.
Okay Danielle. Just remember what we practiced.
The girl’s gaze met her own and then shot away.
Oh no.
Stephanie felt the acid from her morning coffee rise in her throat.
Danielle’s focus slid to the right and she stared at the back of opposing counsel’s head. Her hand fluttered to her throat to tug at a large necklace there. It took Stephanie a moment to read between the girl’s fingers.
Danielle. The necklace said Danielle in large, scripty gold letters.
Not exactly Tiffany’s, but still, it took a lot of gold to spell Danielle—