A Cold Christmas (7 page)

“Yeah. Except when he came back here.”

Caley took a breath. “Why did he come back here?”

“I forgot my gloves.”

“Was that in the afternoon?”

“Sure.”

Just about the time the man in the basement was getting himself shot?

7

Pauline Frankens pulled back one edge of the lace curtain that crisscrossed her front window and made sure that so-called police officer took himself off. Police officer! Look at him, Ollie.

The big longhaired cat, curled up on the sofa, opened one benevolent green eye and gazed at her.

“Does he look like a police officer to you? Looks like a leatherneck to me.” Pauline giggled at the awkward feel of the unfamiliar word in her mouth. “Oh dear, do you suppose we're watching too much television, Ollie?”

The cat stretched himself out to his full length, made a quick twist to his other side, and curled up again. He covered his nose with his plumy tail as though he would have no more to do with the subject.

“Well, he's not at all like that sweet Osey Pickett. We would have talked with him, wouldn't we, Ollie? Lord's sake, I went to school with his grandfather. Or was it his great-grandfather? Must have been great-grandfather. Makes no difference, at least we know who Osey is. And a good boy even if he did go and become a cop.” Pauline giggled again at using a word she wouldn't say to anyone but Ollie. “I always thought it was because he wanted to wear a uniform and impress the girls. Because, let's face it, Ollie, he isn't the most handsome of boys. Looks kind of like a scarecrow, when you get right down to it. And there he is wearing ordinary clothes again anyway.

“Maybe I should have told that man, Ollie. Do you think I did the wrong thing by not telling him what I saw? It's just that I'm sure there's a simple explanation. I'll discuss it with Ida Ruth. She'll know what to do.”

Letting the curtain fall back, Pauline picked up the cat, hugged him under her chin, and listened to him purr. When she placed him back on the afghan put there to protect the sofa from his hairs, he immediately curled up again. She limped to the wooden rocking chair, adjusted the cushions, and sat down. Taking the baby blanket she was knitting from the needlepoint bag at her feet, she peered at it critically.

All the activity at the old Ellendorfer house told her something had happened there again. Maybe she should have let that fierce-looking man in so she could find out what was going on. Except he wouldn't have told her anything.

Silly old fool, jabbering on to yourself. Would it have hurt your pride to let the man in? That's why you didn't. All this talk about leathernecks, just nonsense. Though he did look mean. It was all because her beautiful ceramic figures on the tables and shelves and the pictures across the piano had a little dust. And her lovely crewelwork pieces that gave her so much joy.

God bless this house

All those that dwell therein,

And every guest who comes

Its humble walls within.

She'd been lazy this morning, reading Dickens in bed instead of getting her breakfast and her work done. It had been so long since she'd read him, and her arthritis had been kicking up so bad lately she just hadn't wanted to get up. Now she had to wait to find out anything. “I'm getting slothful. It's a sin, Ollie. Don't let me do that anymore.”

Her fingers knitted away as she watched the house across the street. It had a curse on it. “Not that we believe that kind of nonsense, Ollie.” Tragedy fell on anyone foolish enough to live in it. Ellendorfer, who built it, hanged himself in the barn. Garage now. Then the Lewises bought it. He disappeared the day after he and his bride moved in and was never seen again. She lived in that big house and grew old all by herself. Until one day they hauled her away completely gaga. After that the Jolmans with all those children. They weren't there very long. The children kept getting hurt or sick and Mr. Jolman broke his leg and Mrs. Jolman ate some bad green beans and then the youngest child got diphtheria and liked to die. After that they moved. They said it just wasn't worth it. Then the Malleys. Just the two of them, there was. Lived in the place perfectly happily for years and folks thought the curse was finally broken until one day he up and shot her dead, then shot himself.

Pauline had tried to tell handsome young Mat James that it wasn't a suitable house for a family. He said he needed a large place and he could afford this one. Pauline had explained it was so cheap because nobody would live there. Caley and the three young ones moved in, but Pauline never saw Mat much. She knew the first time she met him he was one of
those
kind. Handsome doesn't make up for dependable. If she was any judge, and she was one who could tell just by looking, he was worth no more than yesterday's sunshine. She didn't think he even gave that poor girl money to feed and clothe the four of them.

Caley said she could take care of them, she didn't need him, but it must be hard. And such a sweet thing. She was always checking up to make sure Pauline was all right and getting things for her from the supermarket and sending the oldest boy over to help her.

All along, Pauline knew in her bones, something bad would happen and now here it had. She wished she knew what it was.

“Well, we can't sit here all day while work's to be done.” She stuck the knitting in the bag and struggled to her feet. “First, we'll have to get rid of this dust and then we'll have to vacuum the carpet.”

Ollie slid off the sofa and slunk from the room. He didn't like the vacuum cleaner and sheltered under the bed until it was safely back in the closet.

*   *   *

Susan left Osey in charge of the crime scene and headed back to the office, stopping at Pickett's service station for gas on the way.

“Anything going on?” she asked Hazel, who was eating vegetable soup at the computer.

“Nothing, thank the Lord. Can you watch this for a minute?”

“Sure.”

Hazel returned with another bowl of hot soup, which she gave to Susan. “Something besides junk food. The vegetables are from my garden. It'll help keep the flu away.”

Susan thanked her and took a sip. Mmm. Good. “Why on earth did you send Demarco to watch three kids?”

“He'd just come in. Looking a little wobbly, but he was here. Why? Did anything happen?”

“He whipped them into shape in no time. I think Caley James wants to hire him as a nanny. Anything from Parkhurst?”

“Not a peep.”

“Damn.”

“Demarco called to say he covered the entire south side of the street and got nothing. He'll turn in his reports at the end of his shift. There's an old woman directly across the street that he thinks you should see. She wouldn't talk to him.”

Susan took the soup to her office and ate while she went through the stacks of folders on her desk.

The phone rang and she picked it up.

“I just thought you'd like to know the mayor's on the way,” Hazel said.

Great. “Do you know what he wants?”

“He didn't say.”

“I'm out talking to a witness.” Susan hung up, slurped the last of the soup, and took off.

*   *   *

Pauline was just rewinding the cord on the vacuum when the doorbell rang.

“Police Ch—” Susan said.

“Of course you are,” Pauline said. “Come right in out of the wind.”

She was a small plump woman in her eighties with a cloud of white hair, a kind wrinkled face, and pale blue eyes. She wore a lavender sweat suit and striped black and lime green socks. She smiled a welcome.

Demarco probably hadn't used his charm, Susan thought sarcastically.

The room was exceedingly hot. A white afghan with brightly colored granny squares was spread across the sofa and an orange cat was spread across the afghan. It blinked at her. The room was made small by too much furniture. Tables and shelves were crowded with ceramic figures of Victorian girls, flowers, cats, and bunnies. Hanging by the front door was stitchwork that read:

A blessing upon your new home,

A blessing upon your new hearth,

Upon your newly kindled fire.

“My grandmother made that,” Pauline said. “I hung that up when I moved in as a young bride sixty years ago. If you don't like cats, just push him off,” she added.

The cat tightened its upper lip to reveal long sharp fangs. Susan decided she'd just sit down right here on the other end of the sofa.

“Another tragedy at the Ellendorfer place, I see,” Pauline said. “Who died? Not Caley, or one of the children? They're all right, aren't they?”

“They're fine. Why do you think someone died?”

Pauline looked exasperated. “I may be old, young lady. And I may totter, but I still have a brain. I saw the body being put in the ambulance. They aren't completely covered up unless they're no longer breathing.”

Susan smiled. “Yes, someone died.”

“Who?”

“His name was Tim Holiday. Did you know him?”

Pauline thought a moment, then shook her head. “No. Who is he?”

“He came to repair the furnace.”

“Oh, yes, he was there many times. I was beginning to think she was sweet on him. How did he die?”

“He was shot.” Susan kept the business with the burned face and hands to herself. “When did you see him?”

“Because it's so painful for me to get around I spend a lot of time right here in this chair.” She patted the arm of the rocker. “And I look out the window. You probably think I'm a nosy old lady.”

Susan loved nosy old ladies. They saw things nobody else noticed and were a font of information. “Of course not,” she said.

Pauline grinned. “Yes, you do, dear, but that's all right, it's true. At this stage in my life I feel it's my right to be nosy. I saw this young man five or six times, maybe more. I didn't count.”

“When?”

“Well, let me see. Two nights last week, I mean fairly late, after the lights were out for quite some time. That's why I thought young Caley was seeing him. I said to myself, I hope that ex-husband of hers isn't the jealous type. I know they were divorced, but it's one thing for a man to run away from his wife and another to let some other man have her. Not that I approve of affairs, but things are different now and I don't approve of that ex-husband of hers either. A good man stays with his wife and children and provides for them.”

“What nights did you see Tim Holiday?”

“Thursday and Friday for sure.”

“Did Mrs. James let him in?”

“I don't know about that. He went in and out the basement door. She's a nice young woman,” Pauline said, in case Susan should judge her harshly.

“I agree,” Susan said.

“She gave me this outfit.” Pauline looked down at her sweatshirt. “She said it was stunning and I did
not
look like a silly old lady. It would be just the thing to keep me warm. She's right about the warm part.”

Susan smiled, understanding why Pauline liked Caley James even though Caley might be carrying on with the furnace man. “What other times did you see this man?”

“Saturday afternoon, and I thought, Good, they're no longer being sly about it. Then he came back again Saturday evening.”

“What about yesterday?”

Pauline hesitated for the blink of an eyelid. “Sunday afternoon is the day I play bridge, so I wasn't watching between four and seven. Starting at four gives the others time to have Sunday dinner and get it cleared away. Of course, it doesn't matter with me because I no longer have a family to see to. There's just Ollie and me and he doesn't require a full Sunday dinner. Is that when he was killed?”

“Did you see him at all last night?”

Pauline frowned. “Here, you're not thinking she had anything to do with it, are you?”

“We need to check everything,” Susan said as though there were some tedious rule she had to follow. She gave Ollie a pat, rose to leave, and thanked Pauline, adding that if she had more questions she'd be back.

As Susan jogged across the street to the James house, she could feel Pauline's eyes on her back.

Pauline turned from the window and frowned at the cat. “Oh for goodness sakes, Ollie, I'm getting so forgetful. I did see something. I was so worried about that sweet Caley I didn't even give it a thought. Do you think I should tell that nice young policewoman?”

Ollie didn't have an opinion.

Pauline shook her head. “I'm sure it was nothing, just the door being opened to let him in, and anyway it was in the afternoon.”

Ollie vigorously washed a paw.

“Quite right, it's of no importance. I'll see what Ida Ruth thinks.”

*   *   *

Zach answered the door. In his black and silver boots, he was two inches taller than Susan.

“I need to see your mom,” she said.

“You were just here,” he said. “She's in bed. She's sick.”

“I'm sorry, but it's important.”

“Zach?” Caley called. “Who is it?”

“Police,” he said.

Caley, wrapped in a fleecy robe, came up behind him. Shivering, hair tangled, eyes unfocused.

“Only a few questions,” Susan said.

Caley nodded, told Zach to let her in, and padded in stockinged feet to the kitchen. “Coffee?” Caley asked.

“No thanks.” Susan sat down at the table.

Caley filled a mug from the carafe and, holding it in both hands, sat at the table. She looked like she wanted to put her head down and go to sleep. She took a sip and looked at Susan, struggling to keep her eyes open. “What now?” she asked wearily, and then went into a coughing fit.

Susan waited until it was over. “How many times was Tim Holiday here?”

“I told you. Twice. And he wouldn't have been here the second time if he'd done it right the first time.” She put her elbows on the table and propped her head in her hands.