The Christmas Tree Caper

by Melodie March

  “That awful Harry Lavine is coming in here. Don’t make eye contact. He’s going to try and flirt with us again and it took me days to get his creepy voice out of my head.”

  I did what she asked and kept my eyes on my cocoa, even when I was hit by the blast of cold air that signaled Harry had walked in. I was stealing a bite of Gladys’s brownie when she made a weird noise, so I looked up. She kept gesturing in the direction of the register, but since she had literally just told me to look away from the door, I was confused.

  “For heaven’s sake, Gladys! Use your words!” I whisper shouted at her. That got me a kick in the shin under the table that hurt bad enough, I had to bite my lip to keep from yelling at her. Rather than apologize, Gladys covered half her face and gestured toward the register again.

  “Will you just look, you old fool?” she snapped in frustration. When I finally relented to see just what had gotten her so worked up, it wasn’t hard to see why she kicked me. Harry Lavine was standing at the counter, flirting with a clearly uninterested Molly and ordering a black coffee with his senior citizen discount. But his order wasn’t what Gladys wanted me to notice…

  It was his cane.

  Harry was leaning on a quad cane, a cane with four short legs. The cane had one bright, shiny new tennis ball on one leg, and the other three? They were old, dirty, and covered in red glitter.

  “Just like Daisy’s feet!” Gladys said just a little too loudly. I flinched, hoping that Harry wouldn’t look over at us. Molly seemed to be distracting him well enough, which was good for all of us. Gladys was already jumping to her feet to charge at Harry and wag her finger of accusation in Harry’s direction and I was barely able to stop her.

  “Gladys, stop! If you accuse him without proof, he will just say we’re quacks and disappear. If we’re going to try and get him to confess, we have to approach him with foolproof evidence. And we need to get Ross to believe us this time. We’ll take Will with us if we have to. But if you charge over there sticking your angry finger in his face, we’re going to lose that star forever.”

  Gladys huffed and crossed her arms over her chest. “So, we’re supposed to just let him walk out of here on his cane of proof? What if he changes all those tennis balls before we get to him?”

  I quickly snapped a few pictures of his cane with my phone, while pretending to send a text. Then I did actually send them to Will along with the message,

  Me: What do you know about Harry Lavine?

  It only took a second for Will to answer, which was one of the many things I could count on him for.

  Will Slater: And a good evening to you, too, Meggie Harrison. I don’t know much. He lives in that dilapidated old farmhouse on the border of Wintervale and Hadleigh. Never joined us for poker. Why?

  I tapped my fingers on the table and started recalling what we knew about Mr. Lavine. His was another family that came and went from Wintervale, and like Murray Middleton, he was the only one of them left in town. As far as we knew, anyway…

  Me: Does he have any family in the area?

  “Are you doing that thing where you text Will a bunch of businesslike questions without admitting you want to text him little heart emojis?” Gladys asked as she wiggled her eyebrows at me.

  “Gladys McGowan, one of these days, you’re going to have to find someone else to go see those buff men in exploding cars movies with you because I’ll say no. And you remember what it was like the last time you went alone.”

  She shivered. “So much staring. You’d think I was committing a crime! I can like buff men in exploding cars movies, too!”

  I couldn’t help but laugh. It was lucky for her, then, that Will texted me back.

  Will Slater: I may be old but I’m not the town historian, Meggie. Why don’t you just ask Harry?

  It wasn’t the wrong answer; it just wasn’t the answer I wanted. The idea of talking to Harry with no backup didn’t seem smart, so I knew there was no way we were doing anything tonight.

  “I think we need to talk to Kit again before we make any big decisions. Let’s go over to the shop tomorrow morning before the stores open and see what else she knows about Harry Lavine. Will may not fancy himself the town historian but if there is anything else to get out of this case that we can take to Ross, Kit and Steve may have it. And they may not even know.”

  Gladys harumphed again and shoved the rest of her brownie into her mouth in one big bite. Once she was finally done chewing she glowered at me with disappointment.

  “I still think you should have let me knock that cane out from under him,” she grumbled.

  “You still may get your chance, Glady. You still may get your chance.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  It was a sunny, freezing morning when Gladys and I met up in front of Meow & Then. The coldest days in Wintervale were always the brightest, so it felt like the universe giving and taking away at the same time. But I thought if the cold was the price we had to pay for living in the most perfect town in Vermont, then it was worth it. Gladys, on the other hand, was from California…

  And she was bundled up so tight inside of her coat, hat, and scarves, I could only see her eyes. Gladys never had gotten used to the winters in Vermont. When she got out of her car, she said something to me, but I had no idea what it was.

  “Jeez, Glady, I can’t understand a word you’re saying through all of those scarves. Will you uncover your mouth?”

  She begrudgingly slid one down just enough that I could hear her.

  “I called Kit last night and she said they’d be there early so we can go over whenever we want. Can we go now before I get hypothermia?”

  I rolled my eyes at her as we crossed Pine Street to Golden Oldies, which finally had the window replaced the day before. The curtains were up again so you couldn’t see the display, though, so we didn’t know if they had stayed with the original concept or not. I had a feeling that losing Ruthie’s star really put a damper on their holiday spirit. When we walked through the front door of Golden Oldies, I heard Kit shouting at someone in the back of the store and I wondered if she lost more than her Christmas spirit.

  We found Steve sitting behind the register and instead of worried, he looked positively content. Since Gladys had to take a minute to unwrap her eight layers of scarves, I stepped in to figure out what was going on.

  “Is everything okay here, Steve? Kit sounds a little… worked up,” I asked tentatively. Steve turned and looked into the office with a grin, then turned his attention back to us.

  “I haven’t been able to entirely sort out the conversation, but she got a call from Roberto Marino, the man who owns that snooty antique shop in Hadleigh. What’s it called?”

  “Memory Lane,” Gladys answered a little too quickly now that her scarves were off. Steve and I were staring at her intently enough that she finally said, “What? We went on a few dates last year. He’s a nice guy!”

  Steve raised a curious eyebrow at her and shook his head with a grin.

  “Anyway. He called this morning and wanted to let us know something about the star. Then he said something I couldn’t hear and the next thing I know, Kit was back to being that feisty girl I met in Perth. She’s been shouting for the last ten minutes,” he said proudly.

  Gladys was horrified.

  “At Roberto? He didn’t take the star, did he?”

  “No, ma’am,” Steve said confidently. “She seems to be yelling in general but not at him.”

  When she hung up and it finally got quiet, we all stiffened up to prepare for Hurricane Kit to come storming out of the office. And we weren’t disappointed.

  “That scoundrel! That… that… rotten! Of all the dirty, miserable louses! How could he do such a thing? What did we ever do to him, Steve! In all our lives, what have we ever done to anyone?”

  Kit went on for another five minutes until Steve reached over and patted her on the arm.

  “Take a breath dear.”

  She stopped shouting again and took five slo
w, deep breaths until she seemed to calm down.

  “Are you ready to tell us who the dirty miserable louse is?” Gladys asked quietly, as if she was afraid to set her off.

  Kit sat on the second stool behind the counter and her shoulders slumped in defeat.

  “Roberto from Memory Lane called this morning as a professional courtesy. Someone came into his store right before closing last night and tried to sell him Ruthie’s star. The old fool was willing to accept a fraction of what it was worth if Roberto paid him in cash. Roberto had a bad feeling about it, so he convinced the man to write down his information and give him a day to think about it. Then he called me first thing this morning.”

  Her cheeks were bright red with anger again but at least she wasn’t shouting anymore. Gladys and I were practically standing on our tip-toes and leaning over the counter, waiting for a name. But Steve was even more anxious than we were and burst out,

  “Well? Who was it!”

  Kit’s eyes focused like a predator about to devour its prey.

  “Harry Lavine. Can you imagine? What possible reason could…”

  “I TOLD YOU!” Gladys shouted in my face.

  “I never said you were wrong, Gladys,” I answered, refusing to match her tone. “I just said we needed more proof. And now we have it. Let’s go to Ross and tell him about Memory Lane.”

  “Hold on a second,” Steve said holding out his hand. “I’m not sure we should involve the authorities in this right away. He’s not a young guy and if he went to these lengths to take the star… Maybe we should know his reasons first. Meg, Gladys, will you go talk to him?”

  After our interaction with Harry at the hospital, I don’t think either of us were too keen on going to see him alone.

  “Do you mind if we have Will meet us there? We won’t call Ross yet, but it might be best to have law enforcement with us, even if he is retired,” I said, already digging my phone out of my pocket. “Better safe than sorry.”

  Gladys snort laughed.

  “What’s he going to do? Wag his cane at us?”

  I scrunched up my face and snatched one of her scarves before she could bundle up again, then wrapped it around my own neck.

  “Well, he smashed a store window with a cane. Do you want to risk it?”

  “Fair point,” Gladys said with a nod. You can call Will on the way there. I’ll drive.”

  Great, I thought. Gladys’s driving is almost as scary as the prospect of facing Harry Lavine alone.

  Chapter Sixteen

  The mountain roads leading up to Harry Lavine’s were treacherous and small, so I was grateful that I didn’t let Gladys drive. We would have ended up in a ditch or driving straight off the mountain like an accidental Thelma and Louise. When we finally go to Harry’s old farmhouse, Will was already waiting for us at the end of the driveway. We stopped behind his truck and I rolled down my window.

  “Why are you waiting down here?” I asked, shivering when a gust of cold hair smacked me in the face.

  “The drive up to his house is steep and I don’t think your car will make it. I waited here so we could drive up together,” he said, gesturing to his idling truck. “Plus, I figured you don’t want Harry to feel like we’re ganging up on him.”

  “Won’t he already feel that way when two old ladies start screaming at him and hitting him with pillows?” Gladys asked grumpily. I scowled at her as I unlocked the doors.

  “You’re going to have to behave yourself, Glady, or he’s not going to admit to having the star.”

  She grumbled as we got out of my car and climbed into Will’s truck; Gladys shoved me in first so I was forced to sit in the middle next to Will. I knew no one was ever going to let this idea of a romance between us go, but their tactics were getting a little obvious. Either way, Will pretended not to notice, shifted gears to compensate for the steep driveway, and started up the mountain for Harry Lavine’s house.

  We’d heard that Mr. Lavine’s house was rundown, but that was a serious understatement. The roof on a first-floor addition was completely caved in, most of the gray clapboard siding on the house had crumbled away, and the land surrounding it had grown up and overtaken everything. It looked like it may have been a really nice bit of property at one point but now? I couldn’t even believe someone lived inside the house. There were actual holes in the walls; I could see Harry’s kitchen through one of them.

  “This is a lot worse than I expected. Why is he allowed to stay here?” Gladys asked.

  “You’d have to ask Ross. I know they tried to condemn the property back when I was still on the force but he made enough improvements to get the city off his back. That was a lot of years ago, though,” Will said as he carefully helped Gladys and me up the rickety stairs. I knocked gently on the door, afraid if I hit it too hard, the whole front would just cave in. It took a while, but we could hear Harry Lavine’s voice, swearing and grumbling loudly as he stomped through the house. I couldn’t be sure but it looked like the house was actually shaking with every step he took.

  When the front door flew open, the initial look on Harry’s face was one of utter disdain. But when he saw Gladys and me, and then Will, his whole demeanor changed.

  “Ladies! Sheriff Slater! What brings you to my humble abode?” he asked with a wink that made my skin crawl.

  “Oh, come on now, Mr. Lavine. I haven’t been sheriff for some time now. My friends here were just hoping they could have a chat with you,” Will said, taking a protective step in front of us. “Do you have some time for a visit?”

  Harry turned his attention to us again but this time, it felt like he was glaring.

  “I guess you can come in. But watch where you step and don’t touch anything. We can sit in my living room.”

  I looked around the inside of Harry’s house while we followed him to his living room. Half the rooms on the first floor were barred shut, and anywhere else you looked, the furniture was almost as tattered as the walls and floor. When we walked into the living room, we found nothing but one ratty old arm chair, an ancient TV on a folding table, and one lamp that was on because the windows were all covered with a layer of plastic to keep out the cold. Harry sat down in the armchair and took a bite of toast.

  “I suppose you’re here about that star, aren’t ya?” he asked, his tone completely different now.

  “Are you admitting you have it, then?” Gladys growled.

  “You wouldn’t be here if you didn’t know already. That star belongs to me. My father bought it fair and square from Middleton’s stepfather, then the cops just show up and say even though it was stolen from us, we can’t have it back. They had no right.”

  “But to be fair, Mr. Lavine, the star was stolen from the Middleton family first. It hardly seems fair they should lose a family heirloom,” I said as I looked around, hoping I might catch sight of it somewhere. But the house was completely barren.

  “Your father was Bertram Norton? But…” Will pondered aloud.

  “My father was a con artist and a thief. After the Wintervale Museum closed and he ran off to Arizona, I took my mother’s maiden name.”

  “A con artist, eh?” Gladys mumbled. “Apple didn’t fall far from that tree.”

  “Alright, now. I may be old but my hearing is just fine. The only thing we had left after my father took off was this house so I’ve been taking care of it ever since. But I just know if he’d been able to keep that star… people would have come to the museum to see it. They would have. So, I took it back! And I was going to sell it to try and pay for the repairs on this house. Except it seems that fella in Hadleigh isn’t much for keeping secrets.”

  Will carefully knelt down on the floor next to Harry, just in case the wood planks gave way.

  “Harry, I’ve been doing some checking around and a friend who still works at the FBI found something for me.” Will reached into his pocket and retrieved a folded up piece of paper. “This is what’s called provenance. It traces the history of that star all the way back
to the man who created it. And it says right here that the star was made in Russia for Murray Middleton’s ancestors. It is a precious family heirloom, made even more precious because of its connection to Ruthie. Let’s give everyone a happy holiday.”

  Unlike Murray, Harry didn’t seem swayed by any emotional appeals. He mostly seemed swayed by the lights of Ross’s police car, which were now spinning in his front yard.

  “Called the fuzz on me did you? The 5-O? I guess I knew the law would catch up with me eventually,” Harry grumbled. He didn’t get up though; instead, he finished the last of his toast and sat there with his arms crossed petulantly over his chest. Gladys leaned over to me.

  “I thought we weren’t going to call the police?” she whispered.

  “I didn’t…” I said quietly.

  “I did,” Will answered. “I had a feeling Harry here was going to be a spot of trouble, so I thought we should have the real authorities here just in case. I’ll stay here with Harry and you go talk to Ross.”

  I raised my eyebrow at Will. He was ordering everyone around like he was still the sheriff. I decided to let it slide but he was going to hear about it later. When we got outside, Ross was leaning against the hood of the car in street clothes. It must have been his day off.

  “I guess I owe you ladies an apology?” he asked with a smile.

  “Just convince him to give Ruthie’s star back. That will be enough. But Ross, I don’t know if he should be living there. Have you seen…”

  Ross nodded.

  “I’m going to take him to the station and set him up in a cell for one night, just to help him see the error of his ways. And I already have a call into Bernadette up at Wintervale Glen to see if she can find some space for Harry there.”

  Gladys laughed so hard that, within a minute, she was practically slapping her knee.

  “What is so funny, Glady?” I asked.