“I did no such thing.”
“Me thinks the lady doth protest too much,” Robert replied smugly.
“I hate to break up this touching family moment here,” I said, interrupting them, “but I fail to see where a baggie with two joints is connected to the Christmas Bandits.”
“Where’s he getting the money to pay for his drug habit?” she asked me, then turned to face her son. “Care to tell us that?”
“I make ten dollars an hour at the McDonald’s in Goodville,” he told me. “I’m a recreational user, so I don’t spend a lot. Anyway, Captain, they caught me crawling into my window after I had a joint. I’m not your Christmas Bandit.”
“It’s a pathway drug, Robert.”
“Gateway, Matilda, and that’s debatable.”
Then the two of them began to argue back and forth about respecting each other and their spaces. Robert was pissed that Matilda searched his room and turned him in. She burst into tears and claimed she failed him as a mother.
“Excuse me,” I said, raising my voice to be heard. “I’m going to confiscate the weed—”
“Hey!”
“Do you have a prescription, Robert?”
“No,” he said, slumping in his chair.
“I’m confiscating the weed, as it is still an illegal substance in the state of Ohio.”
“You’ll probably smoke it yourself after I leave.”
Ignoring his remark, I said, “You’re free to go.”
“Wait! You’re not going to arrest him?”
“For what? Two joints? No, I’m not going to arrest him.” I took a calming breath before I continued. “You don’t have any evidence to connect him to the burglaries and acts of vandalism, so there’s nothing I can do on that front either.”
“Fine,” Matilda said, as she rose to her feet. “I might as well turn over the rest of his drug tools.”
“Paraphernalia,” Robert corrected. “And I don’t have any.”
“Oh, yes you do! I did another sweep of your room while you were in the shower this morning and found some things we overlooked last night.” She reached back into her purse and pulled out a plastic tube and dropped it onto my desk with a thunk. “Here’s his pipe.”
“Oh my God,” Robert whined. I never knew a person’s face could turn that shade of red. I feared he would combust at any second. “I can’t believe you, Matilda!”
“I’m doing this for your own good, Robert. No more pipe or joints.”
The red faded from his cheeks and an ornery gleam sparked in his light eyes. “That’s not a pipe, Matilda.”
“Sure it is.” She nodded at me, expecting that I would back her up.
“It’s not a pipe,” I told her.
“Then what is it?” She picked it up and looked down one end of it. She eased a finger inside it. “It’s made from a weird, fleshy rubber.”
Robert smiled wickedly, and I could see him mentally counting down for the big moment. Three, two, one… “It’s a Fleshlight, Matilda. I use it to masturbate.”
“What?” She screeched then dropped it back onto my desk. “When did using your hand go out of style?”
“That’s so nineties, Matilda.”
“Well,” she said huffily. “We’ve wasted enough of the chief’s—um, captain’s—time. Let’s go home, Robert.”
“Take this with you,” I said, gesturing to the masturbation device on my desk. “Here, you can carry it out in this.” I pulled one of the plastic bags I use to line my trash can from the bottom drawer of my desk. Robert grabbed the bag from me and put his Fleshlight in it. “Don’t even think about it,” I said when he looked longingly at his confiscated joints.
“You’re totally going to smoke my weed,” Robert tossed over his shoulder on the way out of my door.
Adrian popped his head in as soon as they left. “Is that what I think it is?” he asked when he spotted the baggie on my desk.
“Yep,” I told him. “Mind logging that into the evidence room?”
“No problem,” my former partner said. “So, what happened?”
“You wouldn’t believe me. Hell, at one point, I thought about calling you in here so you could witness it for yourself.”
“Oh, come on, Gabe. It can’t be that good.”
“Sit down.”
I told him the entire story from start to finish, making sure to mimic the tones they used. Of course, I saved the best part for last.
“Fleshlight!” Adrian said, clutching his stomach from laughing so hard.
“Yep! She thought it was his Sara Jane pipe.”
“Shut up!” Adrian said through his laughter. “Oh my God.”
“You ready to head out and start knocking on some doors?” I asked after he stopped laughing and wiped the tears from his eyes.
“Sure, but your day is going to be a complete downer from here on out.”
In relation to the case, I thought he could be right, but I knew there was a very bright spot awaiting me that night. My Sunshine. I wouldn’t allow myself to think about that or I’d lose my focus.
I saw O’Malley barreling toward us as soon as we stepped out of my office. “Captain, a Channel Eleven news van just pulled in.”
“What?”
“They must’ve picked up the story on the AP wire, or…” O’Malley’s words trailed off, but I knew what he was going to say.
Josh! There’s no way he would’ve called his producer and asked them to interview me. No fucking way! Just in case, I called him. “Tell me you didn’t do this,” I said when he answered.
“Do what?” he asked. He was confused, not playing coy.
“Never mind,” I said as the crime beat reporter got out of the van and started walking toward the police station. “I’ll tell you all about it—” I heard Josh’s muffled voice as he covered the phone to talk to someone.
“Oh my God! Channel Eleven is there?”
“How’d you know that? They just got here.”
“My client got a call from her neighbor whose daughter saw the van pull into the station parking lot.”
“She called her mom, who called your client, who told you all before the reporter could get inside the building?”
“You’ve lived here long enough that you shouldn’t still be surprised by the speed of gossip.”
“Faster than light,” I jokingly said.
“News travels fast, bad news travels faster,” Josh added.
“Jessica Stanley just walked in, Sunshine. Gotta go. I’ll call you later.”
“Captain Roman-Wyatt,” she said cheerfully as she approached me. “It’s been a while. How are you?”
I hadn’t talked to Jessica, other than at the corporate events I attended with Josh, since the Broadman case. “I’m doing great, Ms. Stanley. What brings you to town?” I asked like I didn’t already know.
“The Christmas Bandits, of course.”
“Is crime down that much in Cincinnati?” I asked.
“Hardly, but this story impacts one of our own, so we wanted to do a piece while Josh’s show is on hiatus for the holidays.”
“It can’t hurt,” Adrian said from beside me.
“It’s good to see you again also, Detective Goode.”
“Likewise, ma’am.”
“Well, where would you like to do the interview?”
“Do we really have to do this?” I whined.
“Yep, with or without you. Come with me and you drive the narrative, stay behind and there’s no telling what I’ll do.”
“Let’s see if we can interview a few of the people impacted by the bandits and perhaps talk to the local businesses who are putting up the reward money.”
“Sounds perfect. Maybe we can bait your bandits and catch them in the act.”
“Yeah, okay, Daphne. Let’s go gather up the rest of Mystery, Inc and get this show on the road.”
“JUST A LITTLE MORE to the right, baby,” I urged Gabe.
“Here?” he asked, moving his body to th
e right.
“That’s too far.”
“Here?”
“Oh yeah! Right there.”
Gabe turned away from the ginormous inflatable snowman he was trying to tether to stakes in the semi-frozen ground. His glare let me know just how much I had irritated him. You damn-fucking-well know that I didn’t want that thing in my yard, but it was part of Gabe’s sting operation. What punk-ass bandit could resist that big fucker in the police captain’s yard? It practically screamed, “Come and get me, fucknugget!” Anyway, if that thing was going in my front yard, then it had to be placed perfectly.
“You’re getting even with me, aren’t you?” Gabe asked.
“Baby, I have much more creative ways to punish you than have you keep scooting that thing all around the yard.”
“No, you don’t,” Gabe returned quickly. “Your methods encourage bad behavior. Pretty sure we recently discussed this.”
“Do you wish to see my dark side, Gabriel?” I asked, crossing my arms over my chest.
“Hell yeah!”
“You’re too eager.”
Gabe shrugged. “Hey, you set the precedent, not me.”
“It just so happens, I do plan to pay you back for involving our sanctuary in your little scheme.”
Gabe crossed the yard and hauled me to his body. “I’m ready right now.”
“Follow me.”
Gabe didn’t do what I said. Instead, he tossed me over his shoulder and bolted into the house, taking the stairs two at a time.
“Be quiet or you’ll wake everyone up. They’re resting for the big party tonight.” Our Ugly Christmas Sweater parties were legendary.
“We have a little time to play around then?”
“How do you have energy to get it up?” I asked. We had taken turns in the swing the past two nights, working through his frustration over the elusive bandits. I was deliciously exhausted and sore in all the right places.
“I’m breathing, aren’t I?” The lust in Gabe’s eyes sparked need in the pit of my stomach, but I knew we wouldn’t have much time before the munchkins woke from their nap.
“Shut the door anyway, because I don’t want anyone to hear you shouting,” I said, as he carried me into our bedroom.
“Allll right.”
“This is not a sexy punishment, Gabe. Your screams won’t be from pleasure.”
“Oh, you’ve got me intrigued now.”
“Put me down then sit on the edge of the bed.” Once he did as instructed, I said, “Now close your eyes and don’t open them until I say.”
“Yes, Bad Daddy,” Gabe purred.
Damn him! “No peeking,” I reminded him as I removed my t-shirt and pulled part one of his surprise over my head. I walked to stand in front of him with part two of his surprise in my hand. I held up my arms so his gift was at eye level and tried my best to hold my laughter inside me. “Okay, open them.”
“No. I think I’ll stay up here tonight.”
“What? No!”
“I heard the laughter in your voice and the rustle of you changing clothes in the closet.” He reached out and blindly felt around with his hands until he touched his gift. “I fucking knew it was going to be a hideous sweater.”
“Duh, it’s called an Ugly Christmas Sweater party. Now open your eyes so you can appreciate my genius. We match!”
“No.” Gabe lay back on the bed, hiding his eyes behind his forearm. “Nothing you can do will make me acknowledge whatever is in your hands or wear it.” He cupped his crotch with his free hand and said, “Well, maybe you could find some way to entice me.”
“How old are you?” I demanded to know. I would not take his bait. I would not take his bait. I would… Damn him. “Don’t get your spunk on my sweater.”
“Don’t dribble,” Gabe suggested, “or, better yet, take the ugly-ass thing off.”
“You haven’t seen it,” I protested.
“Don’t need to; I know you.”
I was starting to rethink my decision to fall on his cock at the snap of his finger or thinly-veiled challenge. I teased his hard-on through his jeans, as I debated whether I should bring him to his knees with my skillful mouth, or play harder to get. Yeah right. I snorted and reached for his top button, but the angry cries coming through the monitor altered my plans.
Gabe groaned in frustration.
“Oh now,” I said, climbing off the bed. “It’s probably a good thing because you’ll want to save your spunk for tonight’s gift.”
“What time will this party be over?” he groused.
“When the last person leaves.” I stopped at the door and looked back at him over my shoulder. “Voluntarily,” I amended. “Make sure you’re downstairs with your sweater on in an hour.”
“Bossy.”
“Whiny.”
“Horny.”
“I’m not touching that one, Gabe.”
“You were about to touch it until our precious little angels woke up.” I suspected he wanted to use a different noun to describe our children right then, but he was no dumbass.
I left him alone to pout and headed toward the nursery. It sounded like the cries got angrier as I approached. By the time I opened the door, both Destiny and Dylan were wailing at the top of their lungs. I ran to their crib with my heart in my throat, but my fear turned to sadness when I realized what was going on.
“What’s wrong?” Gabe asked, rushing into the room. “Uh oh!”
Dylan and Destiny each used one hand to tug a stuffed rabbit between them while they yanked each other’s hair with their other hand.
“It’s their first fight,” Gabe said as we separated the little scrappers. “Do you think it’s a sign that they need their own space now?”
“I think so,” I replied soberly. The thought of it pained my chest. They were growing up too fast. We were only a few weeks away from their first birthday.
We bounced them against our chests and soothed them, but I was pretty sure that Gabe and I needed to hold them more than they needed to be held. I glanced over at Gabe and saw that he’d already put on his ugly sweater.
“Aww, we’re going to look so cute,” I said, looking to distract myself from sad thoughts.
“It’s not as tacky as I feared.”
He looked down at his sweater that had a replica of our home sewn onto it, complete with Christmas lights. I jazzed it up with yard deer, snow globes, and a huge ginormous inflatable snowman that we didn’t own. Well, all but one. I didn’t know it was a freaking premonition when I made the damn things. Wait! Did I curse us?
“What do these little lights do?” Gabe asked.
“Light up, of course.”
“Get out of here.”
“Amateur,” I said, rolling my eyes.
“How?”
I pushed a hidden button in the center of the wreath on the front door of our sweater. The lights I worked around the house, trees, deer, and inside the snow globe and snowman lit up.
“This is pure genius!” Gabe exclaimed. He reached over and pushed my button so that I lit up too.
Our babies looked at us with wide, wondrous eyes and I worried that they might damage their retinas if they stared too long. At least they forgot to be mad at each other.
“What did you make for them?” Gabe asked.
“Nothing that lights up,” I assured him. “That didn’t sound very safe for kids.”
“Smart thinking.” He grabbed Dylan from my arms and held the little screaming demons close together. The twins stared each other down for a few minutes, and I worried that we were on the cusp of another fight, but then they smiled at one another. “Show me.”
“They’re more cute than ugly.”
“Quit stalling.”
“I’m a little nervous,” I said, walking to their dresser drawers. “This idea came to me when you started acting like Clark W. Griswold with your quest for a perfect holiday.”
“Just show me.”
“I have a backup plan.”
&
nbsp; “I’ve never seen you so nervous, not even on our wedding day.”
“Here goes,” I said, pulling one out and holding it up for him to see.
Gabe’s eyes widened then he tilted his head back and laughed. “Oh my God! Oh, Sunshine! That’s perfect.”
I smiled as I looked at the gems I found online. They were white knit sweaters with green and red lights strung across the top and bottom with “Jolliest Bunch of Assholes This Side Of The Nuthouse” stitched in the middle. It looked like something my mom would’ve cross-stitched back in the day.
“We’re going to kick ugly sweater a… butt.”
“I can’t wait!”
“You sure know how to throw a party, Joshy,” my mom said to me a few hours later as we restocked the food on the buffet tables I set out.
I looked around the room at the people I loved most in the world and smiled at their creativity. The ugly sweaters ranged from just gaudy print to reindeer taking a dump in the woods. Some of them were bedazzled with twinkling lights while others played out scenes in movies. There were ridiculous sweaters with Santa smoking a cigar while playing poker and ones adorned with fuzzy white pom-poms to look like snowballs. Our guests were laughing, eating food, and having a great time. It was exactly what the holidays were about to me, and I loved every second of it.
“Thanks, Mama. I get my flair from you.”
“You think so?”
We looked down at her sweater that looked like it was knitted with silver and gold tinsel instead of thread. Then we looked over at my dad who wore a sweatshirt with a snowman sewn on the front.
“Yeah, okay,” my mom agreed. “I’ll take credit for that.” She looped her arm around my shoulder and leaned into me. “I never would’ve thought to give the pets Christmas sweaters too though. That’s all you.”
“I couldn’t let my fur babies feel left out. Diva didn’t want any part of her shiny, bling-y sweater, and I have the claw marks to prove it. She sure as hell looks regal in it though.”
Buddy seemed to love his reindeer-themed sweater and was as docile as could be when I put the reindeer antlers on his head. Jazzy was too nervous to join a loud crowd, but my furry ferret rocked a snowman sweater in his little sanctuary. The crowning glory were the birds though. Savage rocked his knit sweater that read: Yippee-ki-yay, motherfuckers. Sassy’s sweater said: Merry Christmas, you filthy animals. Gabe even taught them a few songs to sing for our guests. Somehow, Savage found a way to put his own twisted spin on things.
A Dye Hard Holiday (Curl Up and Dye Mysteries, #5) Page 15