Murder With All the Trimmings (13 page)

Josie crunched her way across the parking lot to Elsie’s Elf House. She checked Naughty or Nice carefully, hoping she wouldn’t see the awful Doreen peering out the windows. The last thing she needed was that crazy woman screaming at her.

Josie wanted a peaceful shopping moment before she picked up Amelia at school. She was going to buy Alyce’s Christmas present. If that upset Doreen, too bad.

The picketers were still circling Doreen’s store and chanting, despite the cold. Some carried the wounded woman’s picture, with the slogan, NEARLY KILLED IN A CHRISTIAN CAUSE. Another said, MILDRED SPRIKE—CHRISTIAN MARTYR.

She’s not dead yet, Josie thought. But the injured woman had a saintly look with her halo of light hair and high-necked blouse.

A sign in Elsie’s window proclaimed: TRY OUR FAMOUS CHOCOLATE SNOWMAN—A SPECIAL YULETIDE TREAT.

The bells jingled merrily on Elsie’s door.Josie breathed in the air, richly scented with pine and cinnamon.

“Get out of my way,” said a woman. She rudely elbowed herself past Josie, hitting her arm with an empty plastic bottle.

“And Merry Christmas to you, too,” Josie said.

It was only after the door slammed shut that Josie realized she’d been elbowed by Doreen.

The little woman in the elf hat was at Josie’s side, looking concerned. “I’m terribly sorry,” she said. “She’s not a regular customer.”

“I know. That’s Doreen. She owns the shop next door,” Josie said. “You’re stuck with a real doozy for a neighbor.”

The elf-hat woman sighed and said, “She’s a very unhappy person. Do you know she came over here yesterday and accused me of letting roaches loose in her store? In front of my customers. Doreen screamed that I shoved the disgusting creatures under her back door. People were staring at me like I actually did it. One woman canceled her order for my snowman cake and walked out.”

The elf woman had short red hair, a sharp pointed chin, and eyebrows that looked like triangles. Josie tried to see her ears through the hair, in case they were pointed, too.

“That Doreen is mentally ill,” the elf woman said. “I told her if she spread that false story, I’d sue her for slander. She left. Today she tried to make amends by bringing me this poinsettia.”

A bushy pot of pink-red flowers bloomed on the counter.

“Lovely color,” Josie said.

“Doreen is trying,” the elf woman said.

“Very trying,” Josie said.

The woman laughed. “The peace offering didn’t work. I was so distracted by a sudden rush of customers, we didn’t get a chance to talk. Doreen saw all those people in my store, when her own shop was empty, and it made her angry all over again. She stomped out just as you came in. I’m sorry you caught her bad temper. I’m Elsie, by the way.”

“I guessed that,” Josie said. “Nice to meet you.”

“May I give you one of my chocolate snowmen? On the house, to sweeten your day? They make them at Christmas All Year Round, but I think mine are better.”

“Thanks, but I’ll take a rain check,” Josie said. Her jeans were a little snug. “Do you have a toy soldier lawn ornament? Mine was damaged.”

“Yes, I do,” Elsie said. “It’s about five feet tall and made of twinkle lights. Let me show you.” Elsie hauled the soldier out of the back room.

“It’s perfect,” Josie said. “He could be the brother of the one I lost.”

“I can let you have him for fifty percent off,” Elsie said.

“Deal,” Josie said, “but I really came for something else.”

“You’ve come back for that crème brûlée torch for your friend, haven’t you? She really wanted it. I’m getting a steady run of customers. I have two crème brûlée torches left. This one even has a childproof switch, if your friend has children.”

“A little boy,” Josie said. “Justin is at the grab-and-chew stage. Alyce will appreciate that feature.”

Josie mentally crossed one gift off her Christmas list, and carefully stowed the toy soldier in her car’s backeat. Her mother and Amelia would be happy. Certainly happier than Josie was today. She’d spent a sleepless night wondering why Mike didn’t call. Her mood swung between anger and hurt. Was he upset about her damning mystery-shopper report? Mike would understand, wouldn’t he?

Last night Josie had tossed and turned until four in the morning before she finally decided to heck with him. I was just fine before I met Mike, she told herself. I’ll be fine now. I’ll survive. She almost made herself believe it.

She sang “I Will Survive,” the anthem of furious females, as she drove. She had a voice like a scalded cat. After yowling a few verses, she nearly convinced herself she didn’t care about Mike. She added Eliza Doolittle’s angry tirade against Henry Higgins and felt better.

If they can live without you, ducky, so can I, Josie thought. Yeah. Right. So why was she still thinking about him?

When her cell phone rang and she saw Mike’s number on the display, Josie pulled into a parking lot and scrambled to answer it, hoping she didn’t sound too breathless.

“Mike!” she said.

“Hi, Josie.” Mike’s voice sounded flat. “I’m sorry I didn’t call sooner. It seemed like all the plumbing in St. Louis went haywire yesterday.”

“How’s Heather?” Josie asked.

“Scared, but I stayed with her while the police questioned her. Her mother is still convinced Elsie set the roaches loose in her store.”

“Are you?” Josie said.

“No way,” Mike said. “Elsie’s store is successful. Doreen’s business is failing. She’s just not cut out for retail.”

“Do you know about my mystery report on Doreen’s shop?” Josie asked.

“I haven’t heard about anything else since headquarters called Doreen with the news yesterday. Her franchise is in danger of being canceled.”

“I’m sorry about your investment,” Josie said.

“Yeah, well, I knew better. I knew better from the moment I fell into bed with Doreen. But some things you just can’t fix. You have to live with your mistakes.”

“Doreen said I planted a dead roach in the gingerbread I bought at her store,” Josie said.

“She told me that, too. But I know you too well. You’d never lie on a report. You did what you had to do.”

Josie couldn’t tell if Mike was angry or resigned. “Anyway, Josie, I’d like to go out with you tonight, but I have to work.”

“I understand,” Josie said. “Besides, I have a date.”

“With Nate?” Mike asked.

“I’d rather not say,” Josie said.

She’d rather not say it was her monthly Girl’s Night Out with Amelia. Once a month, Josie and her daughter went to the Barnes & Noble in Ladue. Amelia got ten dollars to spend on a book. Josie read a magazine and drank coffee in the café. Amelia might still be too angry to go out tonight, but Josie was hoping for the best.

“Gotta run,” Mike said. “Catch you later. Enjoy your date.”

He didn’t sound upset that Josie might be going out with someone else. He also didn’t say he loved her. Is our romance over, she wondered, or doesn’t he care anymore? Josie’s brain raced in circles, like a hamster on a wheel, until she was exhausted. She didn’t know. She couldn’t know. She didn’t care. She didn’t
want
to care. She set up the new lawn ornament, then picked up her daughter at the Barrington School.

Josie and Amelia rode home in a thorny silence until her daughter saw the toy soldier on the lawn.

“You found him,” Amelia said.

“His brother, I think,” Josie said.

“You can’t tell the difference, except his colors are brighter,” Amelia said.

“Glad you like him.”

Josie had made a pot of beef stew, which she thought was perfect for the cold weather. Amelia carefully picked out the carrots.

“Are we going to the bookstore tonight?” she said.

“Sure,” Josie said.

“Good. I need book five of The Spiderwick Chronicles.”

She needs a book, Josie thought. How many moms get to hear their daughters say that?

After dinner, Amelia and Josie washed the dishes together, and then Josie put on her best blue sweater, jeans, and black boots. She studied her reflection in the mirror.

Not bad, she decided, for a mom with a nine-year-old.

Amelia looked older than nine. Her hair was getting longer and she had budding curves. She could almost pass for a teenager. She certainly acted like one.

The vast bookstore was crowded on a cold night. Josie headed for the café, but then stopped abruptly behind the greeting cards. Amelia ran into her back.

“Is that Mike?” Amelia asked in a voice that Josie was sure could be heard around the store.

“Shh,” Josie said, dropping her voice to a whisper.

“Who’s that woman at the table with Mike?” Amelia asked.

“Quiet,” Josie pleaded.

Mike was sitting with a blonde. A beautiful thin blonde with perfect teeth, salon-styled hair, and a soft cashmere outfit. She was drinking bottled water. Mike was eating a cookie the size of a hubcap.

Josie tried to hide behind a bookshelf, but Amelia ran right up to the table and said, “Hi, Mike.”

Mike stood up, as if Amelia were a grown woman. “Amelia, how are you?”

“Fine. Is this your new girlfriend?” Amelia asked.

Josie prayed that the greeting card display would fall on her, but it stayed in place.

“Mr. Wheeler would be very unhappy if that were true,” Mike said. “Mrs. Wheeler and I were discussing business.”

Right, Josie thought. Mrs. Wheeler looks like business to me. I’d put her on the cover of
Fortune
magazine.

“Are you here with your mother?” Mike asked.

“Yes,” Amelia said. Please lie, Josie prayed for the first time in her life. Please don’t tell the truth.

“She’s hiding over there behind the greeting cards,” Amelia said. “It’s our date night.”

Josie’s shame was complete.

Chapter 14

“Josie,” he moaned. “Josie, why don’t you love me?”

Josie could hear the man’s voice in her bedroom with the door closed. Nate. It had to be Nate. She tiptoed into the living room and peeked out the miniblinds.

Nate was on her front porch, weepy drunk. The skin on his face was so baggy, it looked like a red rubber mask. His clothes were rumpled and stained. He looked like he’d slept under a bridge.

Josie left the security chain on the door and opened it wide enough to say, “Nate! Please be quiet.”

“Quiet?” Nate said. “You didn’t used to care if I was quiet. Remember that time in my apartment when we were going at it and I yelled so loud the lady downstairs nearly called the police? She thought you were murdering me.”

Josie’s face burned at the memory.

“Nate, leave this instant or I will call the police,” Josie said.

She looked up and saw Mrs. Mueller pretending to shovel Josie’s sidewalk. The woman’s right ear practically stuck out of her head like a satellite dish, she was eavesdropping so hard. The nosy old cat, Josie thought. She’s listening to our conversation.

Nate raised his voice another notch. “There was a time when you used to yell, too, Josie. Remember that night with the hundred candles? I’ve never forgotten it. Was that when we made Amelia?”

Mrs. Mueller dropped her snow shovel. It hit the cold concrete with a clang. Nate didn’t notice.

But Josie blushed as Nate broadcast the intimate details of their romance to the neighborhood’s biggest gossip.

“Nate, please,” Josie begged. “Quiet, before the whole neighborhood hears you.”

Where’s Jane with her broom when I need her? Josie thought. The toy soldier was firmly planted in the lawn, too far out of reach to clobber Nate.

“Josie,” Nate said, his voice soggy with alcohol, “I got a present for my li’l girl. A chocolate snowman from Elsie’s Elf House.” He held up a holiday bag. “Extra chock-lit sauce, just the way she likes it. Wanna give her some. Wanna give you some, too, but not chocolate.” He wiggled his hips. “You used to think it was sweet, Josie. What happened?”

“Nate, we can’t talk about this on my front porch.”

“Then lemme in,” Nate said, swaying slightly and slurring his words. “Lemme in so I can see my li’l girl.”

“Go away,” Josie said. “You don’t want your daughter to see you like that.”

“Like what?” Nate said, raising his voice again. “You mean happy? Don’t you ever get happy anymore, Josie? You don’t laugh, Josie. I love my li’l girl. I like to see her smile. I got a present for her. Lemme give Amelia her present.” He belched.

“Sober up, Nate,” Josie said. “Then you can see your daughter, and she’ll be proud of you.”

“What’s wrong with me?” Nate asked, his voice suddenly angry. “What’s wrong with poor old Nate?” He was crying again. Fat tears ran through the stubble on his unshaven cheeks.

“You’re a drug dealer,” Josie said.

“But I’m legal. I don’t sell coke any more. Mari—Mari—Pot is legal in Canada for medicinal purposes. I’m not a dealer. I’m as good as Shoppers Drug Mart.”