Santa Puppy

by Lynn Cahoon

  Greg hurried over to me and gave me a kiss. “You didn’t have to wait outside.”

  “It was a pretty day. Then this guy comes up and he calls me by my name.” I tried to peer into the dining room. “He was at the shelter Saturday.”

  “Ellen probably told him all our names.” He took my arm in his. “But if you want me to beat him up, I’ll be the macho boyfriend.”

  “Yeah, that would go over well. A cop beating up an old man.” I leaned my head into his arm. “I’m just glad you’re here. I’m probably making too much out of this. Ellen probably did tell him my name.”

  As we walked into the dining room, I glanced around the nearly empty room. The man wasn’t here. Maybe he’d gone to the restroom. I paused by the hostess station where Lille scowled at me. “Where’s the old man who just came in here?”

  “Who are you talking about? Harrold? It’s not very nice to point out someone’s age.” Lille glared at me.

  “No, not Harrold. This guy was in a suit, with a red shirt?”

  “Look, no one has come in for the last ten minutes. Are you here to eat or argue with me?” She held up two menus like a shield of a knight who was going into battle.

  Greg stepped between the two of us. “Two for lunch, please.”

  He took my arm, and when I started to say something, squeezed it. After we were seated and Lille was back at the hostess station, I glared at him. “What was that?”

  “As you and I both know, our diner owner has a habit of kicking out people who make trouble. You, my dear, were making trouble. I could see it on Lille’s face. She thought you were messing with her.” He studied the menu.

  “Greg, I’m telling you that guy came into the restaurant right before you got here.” I studied the occupied tables around us. “And now he’s gone. Poof, he’s vanished.”

  “People don’t vanish, Jill. What book are you reading now?” He set the menu down. “Maybe you need to cut back on the horror genre.”

  Carrie came up to the table with two iced teas. “Uh, oh. What are you two fighting about? No one’s died recently, so it can’t be Jill’s investigation habit.”

  “We’re not fighting.” Greg’s calm tone seemed to ease Carrie’s concerns. “I’m going with the hot turkey sandwich. What about you, Jill?”

  “Turkey club. But can I get mashed potatoes instead of fries?”

  After Carrie left, I scanned the room again.

  Greg put his hand over mine. “You’re certain this guy came inside? Maybe he just went into the foyer, then snuck out when you weren’t looking? Who is he?”

  “I don’t know. But he’s getting under my skin.” I shook my shoulders. “Anyway, I’m done thinking about him. I’m glad you could do lunch.”

  “I wanted to show you something.” Greg opened the backpack I hadn’t noticed him carrying in. Some investigator I was, but I have to admit, I was distracted by the old man.

  He set a journal, an old envelope, and a ring box, the type you got when you bought from a real jewelry store, down on the table between us. “This is what was in the safe-deposit box. Baby’s owner’s name is Thomas Raleigh. I’ve already sent that over to the Bakerstown guys to run through their systems. But it looks like he’s been off the grid for a while. The bank manager said the guy came in once a year, paid for his box and spent some time with the contents.”

  I held a hand over the envelope. “May I?”

  “Of course.” He sipped his iced tea as I picked up the fragile paper. “There was one more thing in the box.”

  I was opening the envelope and pulling out a letter. Absently, I asked, “What else was in the box?”

  He touched my hand and I looked up at him.

  “Fifty-eight thousand dollars.”

  CHAPTER 5

  Sasha set the letter down and grabbed a tissue. “That is the sweetest thing I’ve ever read.”

  She’d come into the shop this morning, even though Toby was working the midday shift, to make sure all the prep work was done for the party. At least that had been her story. And I was glad to pay her the hours, but my gut said she was still hoping that the good-looking barista slash South Cove deputy would look her way again. They’d had one date this summer, before Toby’s relationship with another woman had taken off. I had to give it to her, she’d taken the news well. But I could still see the hope in her eyes when she looked at him.

  Men. They make our lives wonderful and miserable at the same time. The letter and journal were a prime example. “It gets worse. The journal talks about a house he’d been planning on buying so they could start a family. He’d get the money to buy, and the price would go up, or it would sell. Finally, he ran into a brick wall as the current owner has lived there for over twenty years.”

  “And he wouldn’t ask her to marry him until he had made his way.” Sasha shook her head. “Men are hard to understand. They don’t get that when you go into a relationship, it’s the two of you—it’s not just his job to make it work.”

  “It’s an old-fashioned concept, that’s for sure.” I picked up the letter again. Or actually, a copy of the letter. Greg had followed me to the shop yesterday after lunch, watched me copy the letter and the journal, then left to take the items back to the station for safekeeping. It wasn’t often he asked for my opinion on a case, so when he did, I went in full force. Even if it meant doing a little secretarial work. “I’ve worked since I got out of college. In or out of a relationship, I had money coming in. My aunt always worked, even when she was married to Uncle Ted. But my mom, she felt like she had to depend on her man to make the money. Which sometimes didn’t work out so well.”

  “I guess I’m just a bit of a control freak. I’ve been almost out-on-the-street poor and I didn’t like it. Giving up that power to anyone, including someone I loved, it would be hard.” Sasha glanced at the door for the third time that I’d noticed. “Anyway, who do you think this Lizzie is?”

  “I’m not sure. We’re probably looking for an Elizabeth, but Greg says the guy was at least in his late sixties, so maybe she’s already passed on to greener pastures.” I pulled out a notebook. “Do you want to help me brainstorm this?”

  “I’d love to. If there isn’t anything you need me to do for the shop. I am on your dime, so to speak.” Sasha grinned, and I saw the determined woman who had blossomed right under our noses.

  “You are working. You’re keeping me in check. Greg might say that’s a full-time job, all on its own.” I nodded to the coffee bar. “If you want to do something while we work on this, would you pour me some more coffee? I’ve got to make cookies tonight and I need the boost.”

  “Sure.” Sasha headed to the coffee bar and poured two cups, bringing them back over to the table. Then, instead of sitting down, she went back to the counter and grabbed two chocolate chip cookies. “We need sugar to get the brain working harder.”

  “Well played.” I bit into the cookie. I started writing down things on the sheet. “So we know his name. He was homeless at the time of death. I wonder where he lived before that?”

  “Greg can probably run background now that he knows his name.” Sasha nodded to the sheet. “You should ask him if he’s done that.”

  “Good idea, but I think he can only see arrests and things.” I tapped the pen on the paper. “But maybe Ms. Google can help us out.”

  Sasha giggled as I opened my laptop and keyed in Thomas’s name and South Cove, California. When a list of sites appeared, I leaned forward, encouraged by the search engine results. Except, they weren’t about our Thomas Raleigh. “That was a bust.”

  Sasha scrolled down the list. “Not so fast. There was a Thomas Raleigh interviewed at the Veterans Center in Bakerstown a few years ago.” She clicked and scanned the article. “He was on the streets for at least five years? That’s really sad.”

  I leaned over and looked at the picture. All you could
see was the guy’s rumpled clothes and his arms as he held a small dog up to the camera. The dog was baring his teeth. Apparently, he didn’t like the reporter or the camera. “That’s Baby. This is definitely our Thomas. When was that article?”

  Sasha read off the date and all of the people who were named in the article. I wrote them all down on the paper. My phone rang as I was finishing. “Hello?”

  “Where are you? I’ve been playing ball with Emma for ten minutes waiting for you to get home.” Greg’s baritone echoed through the speaker.

  I glanced up at the clock. “Still at work. Toby hasn’t shown up yet.”

  Sasha shook her head. “I’m here. I’ll cover until Toby gets here and then I’ll take off since the party stuff is in hand.”

  “That sounds like a plan,” Greg said.

  I picked up the phone and took it off speaker. “Hold on a second, will you?”

  Sasha shrugged. “What? I’m here, I’m on the clock. I told you to make use of me.”

  “Okay, but I don’t want to hear that Toby talked you into covering his shift so he could have the day off.” I closed the notebook and stuffed it and the laptop into my tote. “I’ll talk to you tomorrow at the cookie exchange?”

  “Most definitely. Granny and Olivia are making up dough now. And as soon as I get home, we’ll be decorating. I may have to make ten dozen just to get enough good ones to bring. Olivia likes decorating, she’s just not very good at it.” Sasha nodded to the couple who’d just walked into the shop. “You go have fun. I think it’s cute Greg’s helping you bake.”

  “You and everyone else.” I slipped my tote over my shoulder. “Remember, don’t work late.”

  “I promise. Toby Killian isn’t going to woo this girl into working any longer than she has to.” A wicked smile came over her face. “At least not today.”

  I power walked home, but it still took me a good ten minutes to get there. Luckily, Greg kept me company on the phone as I walked, telling me all about his day. The one thing he didn’t mention was doing any investigating on Thomas. I decided to let it pass until I got home. Then I’d grill him for what he’d found out. In the most gentle and loving way, that is.

  Greg and Emma were still in the backyard when I arrived home. He had a key, but typically he waited outside on one of the porches for me to get home. Today, he must have used his key to let Emma out. Sometimes, I found my fridge had been filled with groceries and drinks when I got home. He may not be making himself at home like I’d expected, but he was taking care of me and my dog.

  I hung up on him as I walked around the house. “Hey, stranger. Ready for some wicked baking?”

  “Making Christmas cookies isn’t wicked. It’s the opposite.” He kissed me and threw Emma’s ball one more time. “Have you decided what we’re making?”

  I nodded, watching my dog fly after the tennis ball. She could run hard when she wanted to. We’d missed our run today as I didn’t get out of bed early enough to run and take a shower. I chose the shower. “Russian tea cakes. My mother used to make them every Christmas. I’d get powdered sugar all over, but I loved them. I never could sneak one, though. Somehow she always knew.”

  “Maybe it was the powdered sugar?” Greg held the screen door open as I unlocked the door.

  “Probably.” I grinned. “Did you eat lunch? I could do some grilled hamburgers if you’re hungry.”

  “I’m starving. I was going to stop at Lille’s and bring some chicken, but I forgot and came straight here. Do you want me to go back?”

  I shook my head. “No need, we can cook something. Let’s just start getting things out that we’re going to use. I have the recipe over there.”

  As we looked for the ingredients, Emma ran out of the kitchen and into the living room. The front door opened, and my aunt called out, “You two better be decent. I don’t think my heart could take the shock.”

  Harrold’s deep laugh followed my aunt’s announcement. As they came into the kitchen, I smelled the fried chicken before he held up the bags. “We come bearing food. So we can make more food and take it other places and say, we come bearing food.”

  “And that is the paradox of life. We eat to have the strength to make food so we can eat.” Greg took one of the bags and set it on the table. Then he slapped Harrold on the back. “Thanks for bringing the grub. It’s nice to see you.”

  “And you as well.” Harrold set the second bag on the table, then stepped over and kissed me on the cheek. “Thanks for inviting us over for this holiday tradition. My late wife and I used to make sugar cookies every Christmas. She loved decorating them.”

  “No problem.” I glanced at Greg, who grinned. I gave Harrold a quick hug. “Sasha and Olivia are bringing those. We’re making Russian tea cakes.”

  “Those are lovely too.” He stepped next to my aunt and started taking out the food.

  Aunt Jackie smiled up at him. It was a look I’d rarely seen on her face since my uncle had died years ago. She looked happy. Then she saw me watching her and her eyes narrowed. “I’ve arranged for Toby to cover the last part of my shift tomorrow so I can attend this party with you. Now, why don’t you get us some plates and utensils. Greg, pour some iced tea. We need to get to eating before this chicken gets cold.”

  Following Aunt Jackie’s instructions, we were sitting down to lunch in less than five minutes. I glanced at Greg. “Did you learn more about Thomas today?”

  “A little, but not much. He was never arrested or charged with anything.” Greg picked up a chicken leg. “I guess he kept himself out of trouble.”

  “Who’s Thomas?” Aunt Jackie cut a slice of the chicken breast on her plate with a fork and knife. The rest of us were using our fingers.

  I explained about finding the key at the animal shelter and then Greg opening the safe-deposit box and what he’d found.

  “Thomas? Thomas Raleigh?” Harrold stared at us. “He’s dead?”

  “Wait, did you know him?” Greg wiped his hands with a paper napkin.

  “Sure. He used to come into the shop, looking for work. He helped me with a lot of the miniature South Cove train display. I’d wondered why I hadn’t seen him lately.” Harrold laid down his fork and took a sip of tea. “The guy was intelligent, and once you got him talking, you couldn’t get him to shut up. I always took him into Lille’s for a meal on days he worked for me. Just to make sure he was eating enough.”

  “I’m so sorry for your loss. Are you all right?” Aunt Jackie covered Harrold’s hand with her own.

  He smiled at her, which made my heart squeeze just a bit. The smile was filled with such emotion.

  “Yes, Jackie. This isn’t about me. Thomas was a good man.” Harrold leaned back in his chair. “Then that dog in the pound was Baby? I thought he looked familiar, but I never thought Thomas would be gone.”

  “So did he tell you who Lizzie was?”

  Harrold smiled at her. “She was the love of his life. He was trying so hard to fix everything so she’d come back. He was a little obsessed by the idea. I don’t think he knew if she was still alive or even in the area anymore.”

  “His journal talked about how they’d planned on buying a house near the beach just outside Bakerstown. But he’d lost touch with her when he was in the army and when he came home, the house had already sold.” I looked over at Greg. “That was what the money was for, to buy the house when he got back home.”

  “He was devastated. I guess her folks moved up to someplace in Oregon and he tried to send letters, but they were all returned as the forwarding address had expired.” Harrold shook his head. “Even the last time I saw him, which must have been forty years after he’d gotten back—it was clear he never gave up.”

  Aunt Jackie started cleaning up the plates from the table. “Such a sad end to a life. Things that are meant to be, happen, but only if you’re open to them. Maybe he could have had a
full life filled with love and family if he’d just opened his heart to someone else.”

  Harrold pulled her close to his chair and hugged her. “Thomas wasn’t as lucky as we’ve been.”

  The air in the room seemed to stop as I watched my aunt and her new boyfriend. Harrold was good for her. She seemed so happy now. They were meant for each other. But it got me wondering. Aunt Jackie had been meant for my uncle, too. And from what I knew, Harrold was happy with his first wife. Maybe there was more than just one soul mate for each of us. We just had to find the next.

  Greg broke the tension in the room. “Let’s get baking cookies. Do you want me to turn on the Christmas station?”

  One of our radio stations played Christmas carols from the first of November to New Year’s Day. It was a solid stream of “Jingle Bells” and other carols sung by a string of different artists, including the barking dogs.

  Harrold pulled a few CDs from his jacket pocket. “I’ve got something better. Mannheim Steamroller. I picked these up last week when Jackie and I attended their concert in the city.”

  “Perfect.” Greg reached out his hand for the CDs. “Come and see the new speaker setup I just installed in the house. We have speakers all through the downstairs and even out on the back porch.”

  “I’d like to see that.” Harrold stood and followed Greg out of the kitchen and toward my study where we’d set up the master system.

  “And we’re left with the dishes.” I finished cleaning off the table, shoving the paper plates and empty containers into a trash bag. “Anything else need to go in here? I’m going to take this right out to the outdoor trash can so Emma doesn’t get any ideas about the leftover bones. Of course, that doesn’t stop the raccoons from getting them.”

  Aunt Jackie handed me a bag. “I put the leftover coleslaw and chicken into new containers and they are in your fridge. You should have enough for dinner.”