Murder With All the Trimmings (10 page)

The red-haired clerk was a tiny woman wearing a green elf suit. Even in a green belled cap, she was barely five feet tall. Josie wondered if the faux elf was Elsie herself or some poor saleswoman forced to wear a silly costume.

The things we do for money, she thought.

“Oh, look,” Alyce said. “They have a crème brûlée torch on sale. Nice price, too.” Alyce was addicted to arcane kitchen instruments, including citrus trumpets and herb mills.

“You should buy it,” Josie said.

“I’ve sworn off single-use gadgets,” Alyce said. “I can heat the topping under the broiler just fine.”

But she looked longingly at the tiny blowtorch. Josie vowed she’d go back and buy it for Alyce for Christmas, along with the butane inserts.

“That was fun,” Alyce said as they left Elsie’s.

“Brace yourself for the next shop,” Josie said. “Naughty or Nice is going to be nasty.”

“Oh, Josie, how can anyone be unhappy at Christmastime?”

“You haven’t met Doreen,” Josie said. “That woman can start a fight in an empty room. Look at the picketers she’s stirred up.”

The two women threaded their way through the church picketers circling the steep-roofed building with the wooden icicles and the winking Mrs. Claus. Either the protest had grown since the TV report or more people were available on Sundays. Women in sensible wool coats and knit hats carried condemnatory signs and chanted “Naughty or Nice makes Baby Jesus cry.” “Naughty or Nice is nasty.”

“Stay away from this godless cesspool, women! Your souls are in peril,” commanded a skinny scarecrow with bristling black eyebrows. The preacher who’d been on TV Friday night looked even scarier in person.

Alyce ducked her head and tried to make herself invisible. Josie lifted her chin and brushed past the vitriolic man of God.

Bells jingled and they were inside the store. Josie’s heart sank when she saw Heather behind the counter. The last hope that Naughty or Nice could survive a mystery-shopping test was dead. Heather was alone in the store, with the chanting churchgoers circling outside. What kind of mother left her daughter in the middle of an ugly controversy?

A bad one, Josie decided.

Alyce examined a shelf of porcelain figurines. Josie pasted a smile on her face and said, “Hi, Heather. I’m Josie, remember?”

“Yeah. You’re fucking my father,” Heather said.

Alyce nearly dropped a china Christmas angel.

“Is your mother here?” Josie asked.

“No, she left me by myself to sell to the pervs,” Heather said.

Josie almost felt sorry for the unpleasant girl. “Is the adult section still hidden behind the DEFINITELY NAUGHTY banner?”

“You get off on that porn crap?” Heather said. Her scorn could have melted the Christmas candles.

Josie moved the banner aside and signaled to Alyce, who slipped into the nook and stood face-to-face with the South Pole elf.

“Eeuww,” Alyce whispered. “That’s disgusting.”

“I have to buy one,” Josie said. “It’s my job.”

“Better you than me,” Alyce said. “You’re right. This store is nasty.” She stepped away from the South Pole ornament as if it were a tiny demon. Alongside it were curvy topless female figurines wearing Santa hats, fishnet stockings, red heels, and tiny, strategic holly leaves. A hand-lettered sign said, SANTA’S HO, HO, HOS.

Josie put the South Pole ornament by the register. “I’ll take this and a slice of warm gingerbread,” she said.

“It’s your money,” Heather said, and shrugged.

“Alyce, would you like some gingerbread or cider?” Josie asked.

“No, thanks,” Alyce said.

Heather plopped a greasy hunk of cake on a paper plate. Josie bit into the gingerbread. It was stale.

Alyce was staring at Josie’s cake as if she’d never seen gingerbread before. “Josie, what’s that in your cake?”

“A chopped raisin,” Heather said.

“Raisins don’t have legs,” Alyce said.

Josie nearly gagged. Half a cockroach was hanging out of her cake. She threw a paper napkin over it and said, “I’d better go. Please ring up the ornament.”

“Does Mike know you buy that shit?” Heather asked. She didn’t apologize for the roach.

“Ring it up, please,” Josie said.

“Twenty dollars,” Heather said.

Josie realized the girl had charged her for the insect-infested cake and the ornament.

Heather threw the ornament in a bag, not bothering to wrap it in tissue. The girl started to toss the cake slice in the trash, but Josie grabbed it. “I’ll take that with me,” she said.

“Why?” Heather said.

“I paid for it,” Josie said.

The two shoppers tottered out of the store. Josie breathed in the fresh, clean air and prayed she wouldn’t throw up in the parking lot. Once inside her car, Josie tucked the cake in a zip-top bag.

“I don’t think I’ll ever eat gingerbread again,” Alyce said. “If I do, it won’t have raisins in it.”

“That was awful,” Josie said. “I nearly barfed in the store.”

“Why are you keeping it?” Alyce asked.

“It’s exhibit A if Doreen raises a fuss. And trust me, she will.”

“Should we call the health department?” Alyce asked.

“No,” Josie said. “This place will be closed before Christmas. Between the picketers, Doreen, and that surly child behind the counter, there won’t be any customers.”

“Josie, I’m no prude, but those ornaments are disgusting. How can anyone defile Christmas? It’s a children’s holiday.”

“You missed the edible crotchless panties marked A SPECIAL TREAT FOR SANTA. The panties were peppermint flavored. The spearmint of Christmas.”

“No, please,” Alyce said. “No jokes. This is sad.”

“I agree,” Josie said, “and I’m burned out on Christmas. I’ve looked at holiday decorations since Labor Day. I’ll have to give this store low marks and take the flack when it closes.”

“You’re joking. People will cheer when that store closes.”

“Not Mike,” Josie said. “He’s an investor.”

“Your Mike? The plumber? He’s too classy for that,” Alyce said.

“He sank twenty thousand dollars into that loser to help Doreen.”

“Do you really think it will hurt your relationship?” Alyce asked.

“Mike will try to take the high road. But he invested in this store so Doreen could make enough to send their daughter to college. When it closes, it will hurt him—and us.”

“Can you tell Mike now and prepare him?”

“I’m not allowed to discuss assignments with people who have a financial interest in them. I tried to get out of mystery-shopping this store, but Harry the Horrible said I had to do it—or lose my job.”

“Mike will understand,” Alyce said.

“I hope so,” Josie said, but she’d never felt more hopeless. “I need a favor from your husband, Jake.”

“Anything,” Alyce said. “He owes you. We both owe you.”

“Nate reappeared suddenly. My ex. He wants custody of Amelia, and I need an expert in international family law.”

“Jake will find you someone, Josie, but your problem has no easy answer. International law is tricky when it comes to child custody. Nate could just take Amelia and run.”

“I know that. He has enough money to disappear anywhere. I can’t believe I loved him,” Josie said. “What was wrong with me?”

“Nothing. You were twenty years old. We all fall for at least one jerk. If we’re lucky, we don’t marry him. You made the right decision to break up with Nate.”

“But now he’s back. Too bad I didn’t get the custody issue worked out first, while he was in jail.” Josie couldn’t believe she was having this surreal conversation.

“Josie, he could still have come back and stolen Amelia, no matter what he signed. At least this way you have some warning. If you’re really worried, bring Amelia and stay with us until Nate goes home to Canada.”

“If he goes home. Alyce, he’s changed so much, it’s like he’s another man. The only things I recognize from the Nate I knew are his recklessness and his stubbornness. I don’t know when he became an alcoholic. He wasn’t a drunk when I dated him.”

“People change,” Alyce said. “Adults rarely change for the better. I had a crush on a guy in high school that was so bad I thought I’d die of love. He was the funniest boy in our class. A friend married him and then divorced him three years later. She got tired of his jokes and his irresponsibility. Whenever she suggested he grow up and go to work, he ran home to his mother, who spoiled him. He was still the same boy I loved, but my priorities changed. Yours did, too.”

Josie was carefully navigating the traffic lanes around the construction at the turnoff for her house. “I can’t believe Highway 40 is going to be closed for another year.”

“The work is long overdue,” Alyce said. “It will be good for the city. People who work downtown will move into those wonderful new loft apartments along Washington Avenue.”

“I know. I shouldn’t whine,” Josie said. “But St. Louis has always been such a convenient city.”

“Josie, it still is. What St. Louisans call ‘traffic’ makes people in other cities laugh.”

“But I got used to the easy living.” Josie pulled her car into Phelan Street. Her two-family flat looked handsome in the fall light. Her mother had planted ornamental purple cabbages in the garden and set pots of yellow mums on the porch.

“Mom better take in those mums tonight,” Josie said. “There’s supposed to be serious ice by morning.”

Mrs. Mueller was raking the last fall leaves on her lawn. She wore a red jacket and an old-fashioned house-dress. Her hair was so firmly sprayed into place, it could have repelled bullets.

“Oh, heck,” Josie said. “Look at that red car.”

“What’s wrong with it?”

“I think that’s Nate’s rental. I bet Amelia let him in against my orders—while her grandmother was at church.”

“You shouldn’t confront him alone, Josie. Not if he’s drinking. I’ll go in with you,” Alyce said.

The two women marched up the front walk in battle mode. Mrs. Mueller leaned on her rake, watching them. The old bat knows there’s going to be trouble, Josie thought. She can smell it.

Josie opened her door and found Nate lounging on her couch, talking to Amelia. Josie’s daughter had a big, happy smile. It died when she saw her mother.

“We’re catching up,” Nate announced.

Josie glared at her daughter.

“I want to take my little girl skating at Steinberg Rink in Forest Park,” Nate said. “It’s a St. Louis tradition.”

“Please, Mom,” Amelia said.

Josie was reluctant to let her daughter go out with Nate, especially since he drank.

“Go to your room, Amelia, while I talk to your father.”

“All right,” Amelia said, dragging the words out. She flounced out of the room and slammed her door. Josie wondered if she’d have to listen to slamming doors until her child went off to college.

Nate patted the seat cushion beside him. “Sit down, Josie, and let’s talk.”

“I can’t,” Josie said. “I have to work. I want to talk to you, Nate, but you can’t keep dropping in like this. Please give me a call and we can make an appointment to discuss things.”

“Our daughter is not a thing,” Nate said loftily. Josie thought she caught a whiff of alcohol on his breath. Alyce stood uncomfortably by the door, looking like she wanted to bolt outside.

Nate give Alyce a flirtatious smile. She gave him a stony look. “Is this the famous Alyce my little girl was telling me about? You’ve got a pretty face, darlin’, but you need to do something about that fat ass.”

Josie boiled with fury. How dare he insult a friend in her home? And talk about fat asses—Nate had a beer gut and a wide bottom.

“I’ll take care of it now,” Josie said. “Out!”

Nate looked around the room, as if she were ordering someone else to leave.

“I mean you, Nate,” Josie said.

“But I only said the truth. Your friend does have a pretty face but a fat—”

Before Nate could finish, Josie grabbed him by his jacket collar and nearly ripped it off. He stood up, looking confused. Josie pushed him hard toward the door, using both hands.

“Out,” she said. “Out of my home this minute.”

She threw open the door and shoved Nate outside. He stumbled and fell on the porch, landing on all fours.

“I’ll get my daughter,” Nate cried, slowly standing up.

“If it’s the last thing I do.”

“Keep this up and it will be,” Josie shouted through the locked door.

Mrs. Mueller stared openmouthed at the spectacle. This show was better than she’d hoped. Josie’s mother would be mortified that her daughter was once more the topic of neighborhood gossip.

Josie slammed her door and locked it.

“Josie, honey, let me in,” Nate said. “I’m sorry.”

“You’re damn right you’re sorry,” Josie shouted through the door. “You’re going to be sorrier. Go away or I’ll call the cops.”

Nate went quietly. Soon Josie heard the sound of a car starting. Nate drove off in a squeal of tires.

“Amazing how quickly you can get rid of a fat ass,” Josie said.

Chapter 11