by Amy Vansant
He frowned. “I’m not the public.”
“You are, technically. In the law’s eyes.”
He arched an eyebrow. “Did you just seriously say in the law’s eyes.”
She giggled and felt her face flush with embarrassment. “Sorry. Frank told me not to tell. I didn’t want to lose my badge. But to be honest I was going to tell you tonight anyway because—” Charlotte stopped, realizing now was definitely not the time to tell Declan the favor she needed from him. “I just was.”
“So Kristopher Rudolph was murdered? Definitely? Were there bullet holes or stab wounds or something?”
She bit her lip. “Not exactly.”
“How then?”
“Someone stuffed an elf down his throat.”
“What?”
“He suffocated on an elf.”
“On an elf?” Declan’s guffawed. “You’re serious?”
“Yes.”
He covered his mouth. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to laugh at the poor man’s murder. This is just so weird.” Declan ran a hand through his hair and stared across the parking lot. “And I’m sorry I let them go. But I doubt these guys had anything to do with Kris. They don’t seem like pros.”
Charlotte sighed. “Oh they were involved, alright.”
“How do you know?”
“Rudolph was wearing a gingerbread man suit when we found him.”
“He...like the ones they were wearing?”
“Exactly like those.”
“Oh.”
Declan picked up the gun from the ground, holding it gingerly in his fingertips. “We still have this. Maybe there are cookie prints on it.” He started chuckling again.
Charlotte sighed. “Oh well. We’ll just say you owe me.”
He put the gun on a sofa table, slipped his arms around her and pecked her on the forehead. “Okay. Fair enough. I owe you one.”
“And I know exactly how you’re going to pay me back,” she whispered in his ear as he rocked her back and forth.
“Backrub?”
“Nope.”
Declan released his hug and pushed back to hold her at arm’s length. “Why do I have the feeling you knew what you were going to ask me when you showed up?”
“Hm?”
He pointed at her. “Ah. That’s why you offered to bring me dinner. This has been a setup from the beginning. Did you pay those gingerbread men to come in here?”
She gasped, pretending to be offended. “No. Can’t I just be a sweet girlfriend and bring you dinner?”
He pressed his lips into a knot. “You could, but you’re not this time, are you?”
She looked away. “No.”
“So what’s the pre-planned mystery favor?”
Charlotte bit her lip. She glanced at the bureau and had an idea.
“I need you to not sell the bureau.”
Declan’s shoulders slumped. “I was afraid of that.”
She walked to the chest of drawers and rapped on it with her knuckles, smiling at him. “Hey, let’s find out what’s so interesting about this chest of drawers.”
Chapter Sixteen
Charlotte pulled a drawer from the ornate bureau. It slid out without resistance and she squatted to peer in the hole left behind. There were no tracks; the drawer was just a wooden box that slid into a wooden hole.
“I guess you emptied all of these?” she asked glancing into the drawer to be sure it was empty.
“Yep.”
“Did you see the underneath?”
“Of the drawer?”
“Of the whole bureau.”
Declan shook his head. “It was on its side for a bit but I don’t remember seeing the bottom, no. If I did, I wasn’t really looking.”
She stepped back. “Can you tip it?”
Declan stood behind the bureau and gave it a heave to tilt it towards him. Charlotte dropped to her knees to peer underneath. She saw nothing but the wooden underbelly.
“Nothing.”
She stood and he lowered it back down.
Charlotte pulled another drawer and peered in behind it.
Nothing.
She set the drawer on top of the bureau and paused before adjusting the drawer so the edge hung just over the front lip. She cocked her head.
The drawer was a good three inches shorter than the depth of the bureau.
“They’re short,” she said. She peered back into the slot where she’d removed the drawer. “I can see the back but there has to be unaccounted for space.”
“False back you think? Hold on.” Declan jogged to the back of the shop and returned with an open-top canvas toolbox full of shiny metal tools.
He eyeballed the back of the bureau. “It looks like I can pull off this backing, but I want to do it carefully in the off chance I ever do get the chance to deliver this to the lady in Tampa.”
The four corners of the plywood sheet covering the back were held tight by screws. Declan pulled a handheld drill with a Phillips head attachment from his bag and zipped them out, one after the next. Charlotte helped slide away the backing when he finished, leaning it against the store wall.
Like the front, the back of the chest had thirty one drawers, but instead of knobs, each had a shaped indentation carved into its face. Charlotte’s focus immediately dropped to number thirty one, where she found the indented shape of a pineapple.
“It’s the knobs,” she said, circling back to the front of the piece. She unscrewed the flat pineapple knob and brought it to the back to press it into the corresponding pineapple indentation. It fitted like a puzzle piece. She pushed it in and turned it.
Nothing happened.
Declan put his hands on his hips. “I thought for sure we’d hear the sound of grinding gears when you did that.”
“Oh, wait...” Charlotte realized that with the pineapple twisted and secured, unable to slip back out now that it had been turned, the shaft of the knob had become a knob of its own.
She pulled it towards her to reveal a short, shallow drawer.
A ring adorned with a large green stone encircled by smaller red gems sat inside.
She gasped. “It’s Jimmy the Jeweler’s ring. He gave it to Kris to use in the raffle.”
“This is like finding treasure.” Declan leaned around the chest of drawers to unscrew another knob.
One by one, they opened the hidden drawers, finding an item in each. Most were rings or other pieces of jewelry. One had a set of car keys. Charlotte pulled a pair of emerald earrings from the drawer that opened with the dove key.
“Looks like pretty high end stuff.”
“Why the elaborate chest? Was he afraid of being robbed?”
“Maybe. I think this chest was his retirement account.”
“And if the ring he was supposed to give away at the raffle is already in a drawer, and all the other drawers still have prizes in them—”
“Then Jimmy’s ring was never coming out of that drawer. Never being raffled to anyone.”
“Think it’s a coincidence our drawer’s symbol was a pineapple?”
“Probably not. Though if he built this chest all in one sweep, then he was planning on scamming us thirty one years ago, which seems unlikely.”
“Maybe he made the knobs as he went.”
“Or picked the cities based on the knobs.”
“So the one with the pigeon could signify Pigeon Cove, Kentucky.”
Charlotte’s brow knit. “Is that a real place?”
Declan grinned. “No, I made it up but you get the idea.”
“Oh. Right. Could be. We could use that logic to maybe locate the owners of all these items.”
“And whoever the cookies were, they knew about the hidden drawers.”
She nodded. “Knew or suspected. Yep. Maybe they’re working for Noelle. His wife could have known.”
“But she’s the one who sold me the chest of drawers. She wouldn’t have done that if she knew it was filled with valuable jewelry.”
Char
lotte frowned. “Good point. Shoot. Maybe Kris has family we don’t know about? Or buddies who knew about the bureau?”
“Hm.” He perked. “Hey, I think there’s a Pigeon Forge, Tennessee. Isn’t that where Dollywood is?”
Charlotte nodded. “I think so. Is your computer back there?”
“Next to the register.”
“Let me try something.”
She made her way to Declan’s counter and typed “emerald earrings stolen pigeon” into the search on his laptop. The third result, after one on a Christie’s auction featuring red ‘pigeon’s blood’ earrings, was an article about a set of emerald earrings stolen by a Christmas con man who’d come to town.
She beamed, giddy to have already located a victim. “I think I found one. He’s done this before in White Pigeon Michigan. It’s a tiny town. What drawer is the pigeon?”
“It was fifth from the end.”
“So that would be the same year these emerald earrings went missing.” She read a little further into the article and laughed. “Guess what the name of the con man was.”
“Kris Rudolph?”
“Try Rudy Dancer.”
Declan laughed. “Now, I don’t know if I’m more excited to research the places he robbed or find out the names he used doing it.”
“Give me another. Something recent.” Charlotte bounced on her toes. Finding the key to unraveling the mystery of the chest of drawers felt a little like winning the lottery.
“Okay, second-to-last looks like a Christmas tree ornament. Inside is a sapphire necklace. Nothing too fancy, but it looks real enough.”
“Penultimate,” said Charlotte as she typed.
“What?”
“Penultimate. It means second-to-last.”
Declan chuckled. “Whatever, nerd. Then I’ll pick the third to last. There can’t possibly be a word for that.”
“Antepenultimate,” she mumbled.
“Seriously?”
She tried a few different searches but couldn’t find anything. “I’m not finding any towns called Ornament, and just searching for a stolen sapphire necklace, even paired with Christmas, doesn’t narrow things down enough.”
Declan squinted at the knob. “It looks like there’s a little manger scene painted on the ornament, does that count?”
“Hm. Nothing with manger. Nativity? Wait, ah! Bethlehem, Ohio. They were hit as well. The guy’s name there was Nick Frost.”
“You’re kidding me, I love it.”
“And here’s something. A lady being interviewed in this article talks about how sweet Kris—in this case Nick—seemed. He found her dog when it went missing.”
“And you found Aggie Mae’s dog.”
“Exactly. Tied to Kris’s lamppost. There were scratch marks in the back of his bathroom door.”
“You think he stole Aggie Mae’s dog just so he could return it?”
“What better way to get a little free press and look like a small town hero?”
“This guy was a piece of work.”
Charlotte nodded. “I’m thinking whoever tried to cover up the murder by burning down the house, knew about the dog and tied him outside so he wouldn’t be trapped in the fire.”
“So the fire was deliberately set by the same person who choked him with an elf?”
“Probably.”
“But if the gingerbreads knew about the chest of drawers, why would they try and burn down the house with it still inside?”
“That’s a good question. But I don’t see how the gingerbread men could not be involved in Kris’s murder.”
Declan laughed. “Maybe they just really like Christmas furniture. They saw this in my window and lost their minds.”
“That woman who came in had to be with them. She wanted the chest and when she found out she couldn’t buy it—”
“She tried to steal it.” Declan pulled at his chin. “I don’t feel like any of the gingerbread men were girls, though.”
“I know what you mean. The third one never said anything but none of them moved like a girl.” She laughed. “I feel sexist saying that but we do move differently than you apes.”
“Thank goodness. The world could use a little grace. Even in a gingerbread man suit.”
“So that means we’re dealing with as many as four people involved in this pawn shop heist.”
“It’s a gang of cookies. But when we catch them, I’m gonna tell them Sorry, that’s just the way the cookie crumbles.”
Charlotte grinned. “And that makes anything that happens worth it.”
“Absolutely.”
Declan smirked. “But don’t be too mean to them. After all, could be their parents were thieves and they’re just chocolate chips off the old block.”
“Ooh. Nice. But they have to stop raisin hell.”
“Or their fortunes will change.”
Charlotte nodded. “That one was a bit of a stretch. But I’m sure this case will be a piece of cake.”
“Easy as pie.”
Their straight faces dissolved and they devolved into laughter.
Declan glanced down at the bureau. “Should we put all the drawers back together?”
“No. I’ll call Frank and get him to swing by and check it out. No sense closing it up until he takes an official inventory.”
He nodded and began to gather his tools. “So do you want to tell me what you really want?”
Charlotte felt her eyes widen.
How does he know I still want something?
She twirled a piece of her auburn hair around her finger and did her best to appear innocent. “Hm?”
“See? I knew it. My payback wasn’t not being able to sell the bureau. What’s the real favor?”
She walked towards him, snaking her hips from side-to-side and biting her bottom lip in a cartoonish rendition of a sex kitten. Upon reaching him, she placed a hand on his pec and he closed his eyes.
“Oh no. Not the fake seduction thing. It’s that bad?” he asked.
“What do you mean?” she murmured, kissing his neck.
“You want me to wrestle a lion for you, don’t you.”
She laughed. “No.”
“Rob a bank?”
“No. Nom nom nom…” She pretended to eat his neck, giggling.
He laughed and wiped his throat. “Just spit it out before I actually start to fall for your feminine willies.”
Charlotte grinned. “It’s feminine wiles.”
“Not when you’re being that silly. Then you give me the feminine willies.”
She laughed. “Fine.” She took a deep breath. “I need you to take a photo of a fingerprint and compare it to some photos of other fingerprints in a book for me.”
“Hm. That doesn’t sound so bad. Little boring, but why me?”
“Because the book in question is, uh...under the care of someone who only wants to work with you.”
“Who only wants...” Declan trailed off and his eyes grew wide. “Oh no. Not her?”
Charlotte nodded.
Declan hung his head and sighed. “What if I wrestled the lion instead?”
Chapter Seventeen
“Where’s your car?”
Mariska pointed the hose at her azaleas and glanced at Darla as her friend lumbered up the slanted driveway.
“Charlotte has it.”
“Have you checked the possum trap?”
Mariska grimaced. “No. I want Bob to deal with that creature if we catch it and he’s off helping Hank with something.”
“Helping him with his bourbon supply,” said Darla, chuckling.
“No, something’s wrong with Hank’s golf cart and Bob thinks he knows how to fix it.”
“Isn’t Bob the one who short-circuited your cart trying to add a spotlight to it for neighborhood watch?”
Mariska moved on to watering her enormous Christmas cactus. “Yep.”
Darla walked down the side of Mariska’s house and called back a moment later.
“I think I see some
thing moving in there.”
“Leave it for Bob.”
“Oh come on. Wouldn’t it be nice to do it ourselves?”
Mariska’s lip curled. “Not really.”
“We can’t just leave it in there overnight. Something might come and attack it.”
“It would serve it right.”
“Well if you thought it was noisy before, just wait until a panther is rolling its cage around trying to figure out how to get to the chewy center.”
“Oh for the love of—” Mariska put down the hose and tottered down the side of the house to join Darla. As she turned the corner, movement caught her eye. Something furry was definitely in the cage.
“That was fast,” said Mariska.
“It’s the tuna we put in there. Probably stunk to high heaven after ten minutes in this heat.”
The ladies crept towards the cage.
“At least it isn’t that big,” said Darla.
The creature’s round ears flicked and its head swiveled to face them, beady black eyes staring at them. The women froze. The mouth of the possum’s needle-sharp snout hung open as if it were panting, revealing rows of pointy teeth.
The standoff continued for another ten seconds, and then the possum’s eyes rolled back in its head and it stiffened, flopping on its side.
Mariska put her hand to her mouth. “I think we killed it.”
Darla blinked. “Think it had a heart attack?”
They moved in closer, eyes never leaving the animal. It remained on its side, unmoving, eyes closed.
Darla held up a hand. “Wait, I think I see it breathing.”
“Maybe it just passed out from fright,” suggested Mariska.
Darla patted her own ruffled coif. “It might have. I didn’t have time to do my hair this morning.”
Mariska gasped and slapped her friends arm. “Oh we’re such idiots. It’s playing possum.”
Darla’s expression expanded like a soaking sponge and she put her hands on her hips. “Oh, duh. You’d think I’d know that growing up in Tennessee. I think the possum is our state bird.”
“What do we do with it now? Can we ship it to Tennessee?”
“I don’t think we need to go that far. We need to get the critter in a car. We’ll take it ten miles away and let it out in the wild.”
“How are we going to do that? I don’t want to touch that cage with that thing in there. What if it wakes up and pounces?”