Murder With All the Trimmings (31 page)

Such an unlovely child, Josie thought. I wonder how Heather would look if I took her to a good stylist for a makeover and bought her decent clothes?

This is no time for mom fantasies, she told herself angrily. It’s over. Heather is never going to like you or Amelia, no matter what you do. Mike is in jail. Heather won’t appreciate her father’s sacrifice.

And the real killer is free.

Josie waited for the VW to drive away, then sat in her car for another ten minutes, in case the two came back. She was so cold she could see her breath. She warmed her cold nose with her woolen gloves.

At last Josie turned on her car engine, grateful for the burst of warm air from the heater. She drove over to Doreen’s Dumpster and threw the top two trash bags into the back of her car. She bought two
City Gazette
s from a nearby box and spread the newspapers on the floor and the backseat of her car. Then she opened the trash bags.

Soon Josie’s car stank of garbage. Doreen must have saved her most disgusting trash for these bags—moldy takeout cartons, rotting salad containers leaking oily dressing, and a small smelly grocery bag tightly tied at the top. Josie pried open the knot and screamed. Inside were four dead mice. The shriveled little creatures rested next to a pile of gigantic roaches and the water bottle.

Got it!

Stuck to the bottle was a credit-card receipt, stained with fluids Josie didn’t want to think about. The receipt was from the Racers Edge car store, dated two days before Nate was poisoned at Elsie’s Elf House.

“Yes!” Josie said, and pumped her fist in the air.

Doreen’s name was on the receipt. She’d bought two gallon jugs of antifreeze, totaling $21.90.

Wearing her gloves, Josie opened the water bottle and carefully sniffed the greenish liquid at the bottom. That definitely wasn’t lemon-lime Gatorade. She was sure it was antifreeze.

This was it. Proof that Doreen was the killer. Why was Doreen buying antifreeze? She didn’t use it. She drove an old air-cooled Volkswagen.

Josie photographed her find, then searched her purse for the card of the homicide detective, the smart one she’d nicknamed Detective Gray. He wasn’t at his office, but he did answer his cell phone.

“This is Josie Marcus,” she said. “You interviewed me the day of Nate Weekler’s memorial service.”

“I remember you, Ms. Marcus,” the detective said. “You had a lawyer with you.”

“Yes, I did,” Josie said. “You said to call if I remembered anything. Well, I did. I mean, I found the killer.”

“We already have the killer, miss,” Detective Gray said. “Your plumber friend confessed. We have him in custody.”

“He didn’t do it!” Josie said.

“Ms. Marcus, I know you want to save your boyfriend, but we have a confession and a receipt. He bought a lot of antifreeze. The case is closed.”

“I have a receipt, too,” Josie said. “Doreen, Mike’s ex-girlfriend and the mother of his daughter, bought two gallons of antifreeze right before the murders.”

“It’s wintertime, miss. As your attorney said, everybody buys antifreeze this time of year.”

“Doreen drives an old Volkswagen. She doesn’t use antifreeze. She also poisoned the next-door neighbor’s dog. She killed that poor animal with antifreeze-laced hamburger. Get the dog’s body and check. After the dog died, Doreen put the antifreeze in a sports drink bottle, took it to Elsie’s Elf House, and poured it into the chocolate sauce when Elsie was distracted by customers. She was in the store that morning. Elsie has the proof.”

“Is that right?” the detective said. Josie could tell he didn’t believe her.

“I have the drink bottle,” Josie said. “I found it in Doreen’s trash. It was in the Dumpster behind her store.”

“So you’re a Dumpster diver, as well as a mystery shopper. How do I know you didn’t plant that bottle there?”

“Take a closer look at her teenage daughter, Heather. She pushed the snow off the store roof with a shovel and nearly killed that picketer.”

“No witnesses saw her do that, miss,” he said.

“They saw Santa Claus up on that roof. Everyone thought that old woman was senile, but she was telling the truth. Heather took a Santa suit from her mother’s store. She’s a big, strong girl. It would be easy to mistake her for a man in that Santa suit. Heather still has it, rolled up in the bottom of her closet. Did you take casts of the footprints in the snow around that ladder?”

“Are you telling me how to do my job?” The detective sounded angry.

“No, but if you check those casts against the shoes in Heather’s closet, you’ll have a match.”

“And why should I do that, when the case is closed? I already have a confession,” he said.

“Because it’s a false confession. Mike confessed to save his daughter. I bet he didn’t tell you how he managed to get the antifreeze into the store.”

“The plumber said he sneaked inside when the place was quiet.”

“Check the register transactions and credit-card receipts,” Josie said. “Elsie was busy nearly every minute that day. That’s what made Doreen crazy. Elsie’s place was a success. Doreen’s shop was a failure. She wanted to ruin Elsie’s business, and she succeeded.”

“Uh-huh.” He was humoring her. “You don’t like Doreen, do you?”

“No,” Josie said.

“But you’ve got a thing for Mike. Your life would be a lot better if Doreen was out of the way and you had the plumber to yourself. You two women are fighting over him.”

“No!” Josie said. “Have a vet check out the dead dog. I bet it’s buried in the backyard next door. Then call me. I’ll keep the bottle.”

“I sure do appreciate getting orders from a civilian, miss,” he said, and hung up on Josie.

Josie drove right through a stoplight and was rewarded with an angry blast from a horn. She knew she was too upset to be driving.

When she got home, Jane was waiting at the door. “I thought you were going to the supermarket,” she said. “Where are the bags?”

“They were out of what I needed,” Josie said. “Thanks for watching Amelia.”

“I’m going upstairs,” Jane said. “I’ve made chicken and dumplings. They’re simmering on the stove. Although why I bother, I don’t know.”

“Thanks, Mom,” Josie said. “GBH.”

That was the family code for “Great Big Hug.” Josie folded her mother in her arms. “I appreciate all you do, Mom. I couldn’t get along without you. Have I told you that recently?”

“No,” Jane said, still stiff with anger. “You haven’t done anything but complain, criticize, and cause trouble. I’ll have to cancel the Christmas party after that fight you had with that plumber on the front porch. Now he’s in jail. It’s too embarrassing. I can’t face the neighbors.”

“I’m sorry, Mom, but he only confessed to save his daughter. Did you move the beer and wine coolers in my refrigerator?”

“They’re hidden in the basement, where Amelia can’t reach them. Mike and Stan helped me. And now, if you don’t mind, I want to go upstairs and start calling people to cancel my party.”

Jane marched out, back straight, head high. Josie could hear the television news. “A thirty-five-year-old plumber confessed to a double homicide today,” the announcer said. Mike’s photo flashed on the screen.

Josie turned off the TV. She couldn’t take any more bad news.

Chapter 35

“I can’t believe Mike killed those people.” Alyce was so upset, she was shouting into her phone.

“He didn’t,” Josie said.

“Then why did he confess?” Alyce said. “It was all over the TV this morning.”

“He wants to save his daughter.”

“Oh, Josie, what’s wrong with that man?”

“He’s being noble,” Josie said. “Mike blames himself for the way Heather turned out. He thinks by confessing to two murders he didn’t commit, he’ll save her. But Heather killed Nate and that poor woman—or her mother did. I fished a bottle of what I think is antifreeze out of the store’s Dumpster.”

“I’m sorry Mike is doing this,” Alyce said.

“So am I,” Josie said. “That kid’s not worth it.”

“Did I hear you right?” Alyce asked. “You searched the store’s trash?”

“Searched it? I stole two bags and put them in my car.”

“Good thing it’s a cold day,” Alyce said.

“Amelia complained about the stink this morning on the way to school. I moved the trash bags into the garage and put a note on them so Mom won’t throw them out. Remember that police detective, the older, gray-haired one?”

“Sure, the smart one. You kept calling him Detective Gray.”

“That’s the guy. I told him Heather confessed to pushing the snow off the roof and her mother poisoned the neighbor’s poor dog. I offered to give Detective Gray the bottle with the antifreeze. He turned me down.”

“What a mess,” Alyce said. “How’s Amelia feeling?”

“Better, thanks. She went to school today,” Josie said. “She’s hounding me to buy her a real Christmas tree. We’re going shopping tonight.”

“Are you getting your tree at Ted Drewes’s lot?”

St. Louisans flocked to Ted’s frozen custard stand in the summer. In the winter they bought their Christmas trees off the lot there. They’d stand outside and drink hot chocolate and eat ice cream, even if it was two below zero. Ted’s was a city tradition.

“I have to use the church lot or Mom will have a fit,” Josie said. “The sales benefit St. Philomena’s. They have good trees.”

“Are you working today?” Alyce asked.

“Harry the Horrible hasn’t called me yet. I’m hauling Christmas decorations out of the closet.”

“Then I’d better let you go,” Alyce said. “I still have cookies to bake.”

Josie spent a nostalgic day going through boxes of ornaments. She had one ornament with the date on it for each year with Amelia, starting with her baby’s first Christmas in 1999. She had china cherubs, tiny teddy bears, handblown glass globes, and dusty plastic poinsettias that clipped to the branches.

When Amelia was old enough to go to school, she made Josie ornaments that said I LOVE YOU, MOMMY in green and red crayon. Amelia was embarrassed by them now, but Josie still hung them on the tree.

Mixed in with the newer ornaments were old European glass ornaments that had belonged to Josie’s grandparents—silver bells, blue glass fiddles, frosty snowmen, and Old World angels. Each came with a memory. Each was carefully packed away in cotton at the end of the holidays.

Josie unpacked loops of colorful glass beads to drape on the branches. The Christmas lights were stuffed in a box in a monster tangle. Every holiday, Josie swore she’d pack her lights more neatly, and the next Christmas she’d spend an hour or more unraveling them.

Josie didn’t like the plain white twinkle lights. She preferred the fat colorful ones. She didn’t have color-themed Christmas trees with the ornaments and ribbons all one tasteful shade of white, pink, or red. Josie’s trees glittered with tinsel, bright lights, and offbeat ornaments.

When the tree was decorated, she’d wrap a sheet around the bottom for “snow” and put up the manger. Josie’s manger had a camel, a cow, a horse, and a plastic dog. The dog was added when Amelia was five. She insisted that Baby Jesus wanted a puppy, and the dog had stayed next to the camel ever since. Baby Jesus had a chipped nose after Amelia dropped him one Christmas. Josie put a bit of straw over his face to cover that flaw.

The unpacked ornaments and sale boxes of tinsel were laid out on the couch and coffee table. The couch was moved to make room for the tree.

Josie’s phone rang at two that afternoon, as she was finishing. It was Harry.

“Josie, I got some good news,” her horrible boss said. “The lawsuit is canceled. That Doreen woman’s lawyer called me. They dropped it, called it off, whatever they do when they decide not to sue.”

“Harry! That’s wonderful! I got my Christmas present early!”

“Yeah, yeah,” Harry said. He sounded bored at her enthusiasm. Or maybe he was disappointed she wasn’t in hot water. “Gotta run.”

Josie called Alyce with the news while she put on a pot of chili for a quick cold-weather supper. She was arranging her Santa eggnog mugs on the mantel when she checked the clock. Time to pick up Amelia.

Josie pulled into the driveway at the Barrington School and gave the other moms a nod and a forced smile. They gave her fake smiles back. Most of them would never associate with her. Josie wasn’t married, she worked for a living, and she waxed her floors, not her legs.

Ten minutes later, Amelia’s name was called and she came running out, dragging her backpack. She slung it in the back, then hopped into the front seat. She sniffed the car.

“Smells better than it did this morning,” Amelia said.

“I sprayed it with lemon air freshener. How are you feeling?”

“Fine. We’re still going to the tree lot, right?”

“Right,” Josie said. “After dinner.”

“Can’t we go now?”

“It’s more fun after dinner,” Josie said. “I like the smell of a Christmas tree lot after dark.”