Murder With All the Trimmings (9 page)

She’d had no idea he was a drug dealer back then. He never used or sold drugs around her. He always had cash for their outrageous adventures, but she’d never asked where the money came from. Were you dating Santa Claus? she asked herself. Did it ever occur to you to ask Nate where he got the money?

I was stupid, she thought. I knew nothing about this man. Nothing. I jumped into bed with him and had a child. Now he wants her back. Over my dead body, she thought. No, over
your
dead body, Nate.

Josie did know one thing for sure: Nate had a daredevil streak. He could kidnap Amelia and disappear into Canada and Josie would never find them.

Worse, Amelia might help her father. Right now, a new father who bought expensive gifts was more fun than a working mom who made her clean up her room. Amelia was too young to feel threatened by living with a drunk’s uncertainties.

Go home, Josie told herself. Calm down. Fix some coffee and consider your options. You need a plan. Anger is an indulgence you can’t afford. She marched into her home and nearly tripped over that blasted backpack. It was still plopped by the door.

“Amelia!” she called.

No answer.

Josie felt a flash of panic, then remembered her daughter was upstairs with Jane. She dialed her mother’s phone.

“She’s right here,” Jane said. “We’re making brownies.”

“Oh,” Josie said.

“You sound subdued,” her mother said. “Is there a problem?”

“A big one,” Josie said. “Nate has threatened to take Amelia away from me.”

“Then we’ll have to watch her extra carefully,” Jane said. “One of us will always be there to pick her up and take her to school.”

“What about if she’s home alone while I’m at work?” Josie didn’t trust her daughter to obey her “don’t answer the doorbell” command if Nate was on the porch with presents.

“Then I’ll watch her,” Jane said. “I’ll ask Mrs. Mueller for help, too.”

“If anyone has the talent for this assignment, it’s Mrs. M,” Josie said. “She’s a first-rate snoop.”

“Josie, that’s not nice,” Jane said. “You know she’s my friend.”

Josie could never understand why her mother worshiped Mrs. Mueller. The iron-haired woman ruled the neighborhood’s major organizations. Mrs. M appointed her friends to choice assignments and banished her enemies to dreary workhorse committees. But Josie had to force her to give Jane her fair share of the good slots.

Mrs. M had made Josie’s teenage years a misery. She’d caught young Josie smoking cigarettes back by the garage and ratted her out to Jane. Josie was grounded for a month. She had retaliated by leaving a burning bag of dog doo on Mrs. Mueller’s porch. Mrs. M had stomped the smoking bag with a sturdy shoe, and Josie had been grounded for what seemed like the rest of her teenage life.

Mrs. M still regarded Josie as a juvenile delinquent. Josie thought the old woman was a witch with a capital
C
.

The kitchen coffeemaker had erupted into “just finished” gurgles when Josie’s cell phone rang. She checked the display. Her boss, Harry the Horrible, was calling on a Saturday. This was not good news.

“Josie, I need you to work this weekend,” Harry said.

Josie could hear slurping noises and a football game in the background. She was afraid to ask what Harry was eating. Harry claimed to be on the Atkins diet, but that was mainly an excuse to chomp big chunks of meat. He lost the same three pounds over and over.

Sloop! Slurp!
Josie imagined Harry gnawing a mastodon rib. He’d have grease spots on his shirt and clumps of chest hair peeping out between the buttons like baby birds. In the background, Josie could hear a crowd cheering. Josie hoped the cheers were for the TV team, not Harry’s eating capacity.

“This is a seasonal job and it has to be done fast,” Harry said. “I need you to mystery-shop two Christmas store franchises this weekend.”

“Which ones?” Josie asked cautiously. She was sure she’d have to doom Doreen’s enterprise.

“Elsie’s Elf House,” Harry said.

Josie breathed a sigh of relief. “No problem-o,” she said, sounding like Amelia.

“And that ditz with the dirty ornaments. I can’t think of the store name. Wait a minute, let me look it up.”

There was a hollow clattering sound, as if Harry had dropped a large bone, followed by the rustle of paper. Josie’s heart pounded while he searched. Please don’t let it be Doreen, she prayed.

“Here it is,” Harry said. “Naughty or Nice. The franchisers want to know just how naughty the store is. It could be in violation of their agreement. They may have to shut down the store if it’s offending the Christian community.”

“I can’t mystery-shop that store,” Josie said. “I know Doreen.”

“How well?” Harry said. “You neighbors? Eat over at her house three nights a week? Are you godmother to her kids? Is she a relative?” His questions were punctuated with smacking sounds and an ugly bone crack.

“No, nothing like that,” Josie said. “I’ve never been inside her house.”

“Then you’re okay.”

“No, I’m not,” Josie said. “My boyfriend used to date her.”

“He still going out with her?” Harry said.

“No. But they have a kid.”

“I don’t see what the problem is,” Harry said. “In this town lots of people know each other.”

“Harry, I can’t do that assignment,” Josie said. “It’s a conflict of interest.”

“I’ll rule on conflicts. I don’t see one.”

“But—” Josie said.

“Butt is right. Get your cute little butt over there this weekend if you want to keep your job. I’ll fax you the questionnaire.”

“Harry, I don’t think—”

“You’re not paid to think,” Harry said. “That’s my job. You asked for extra hours, so I gave them to you. For some reason, headquarters likes you. But if you’re not available, there are other mystery shoppers looking for work during the holidays, even members of my own family.”

That was a dig at Josie. She’d reported a sales clerk for rude behavior at a store she’d mystery-shopped. The clerk was fired. She was also Harry’s niece. Rudeness ran in the family.

“My niece is working at Wal-Mart these days, no thanks to you.” Josie heard a chomp and a distant cheer as her awful boss slammed down the phone.

My cute little butt, indeed, she thought. If I’d had my tape recorder on, I’d sue his double-wide rear and retire. She giggled at the idea of his haughty niece working at a humble Wal-Mart. She wondered how long this retail mismatch would last.

Josie was not about to shop alone at Doreen’s store. She needed a witness. Her best friend, Alyce, didn’t like phone calls when her husband was at home. Saturday and Sunday were Alyce’s family time. But this was a shopping emergency. Josie dialed Alyce’s number.

“What’s wrong, Josie?” Alyce asked. “Why are you calling on a Saturday?”

“Harry’s making me shop Doreen’s store. She’s Mike’s ex.”

“That rat,” Alyce said. “I mean Harry, not Mike.”

“I’ll lose my job if I don’t go,” Josie said. “For this assignment, I want a witness. It doesn’t take a crystal ball to know that store probably won’t pass.”

“I can’t do it today,” Alyce said. “How about tomorrow if I can find a sitter? I’ll drive to your house about one o’clock.”

“Fine with me,” Josie said. “We can go for tea at the Kerry Cottage. They have Irish soda bread. My treat.”

“Thanks,” Alyce said. “But I’ve been baking all day. I don’t need more temptation. If I can’t get a sitter, I’ll call. Otherwise, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

For once, Josie was relieved when Mike didn’t call. She couldn’t tell him she was mystery-shopping Doreen’s store. He’d know it would never survive a professional evaluation.

Josie was going to send back the pink hoodie Nate gave Amelia. Her daughter was not wearing clothes bought with drug money. She found the precious hoodie tossed on Amelia’s unmade bed. Josie carefully packed it away in her own closet, along with the new cell phone.

She heard a rattling sound on the windows. The promised sleet storm had started. The sky was the color of old iron.

Amelia came downstairs an hour later with a plate of warm brownies sprinkled with powdered sugar. “Have one, Mom,” she said.

Josie bit into the brownie and said, “Yum. Nice and moist. You have your grandmother’s gift for cooking.”

Josie reached for a second brownie, but Amelia pulled the plate away. “That’s all,” she said. “I’m saving the rest for Daddy.”

Daddy, Josie thought resentfully. Never mind that I fed and clothed you for nine years. Now it’s Daddy. Josie smothered her jealousy. Besides, she didn’t need the calories.

“Have you seen my hoodie?” Amelia asked.

“I’ve put it away,” Josie said.

“Where?” Amelia asked.

“Where I can send it back,” Josie said.

Amelia turned purple with fury. “You can’t do that,” she said. “It’s mine.”

“Your father didn’t ask my permission to give you that hoodie,” Josie said.

“He doesn’t have to get your permission. He’s my father.” Tears leaked out of Amelia’s eyes. Amelia’s fists were clenched and her jaw had that stubborn bulldog look she got from her grandmother. “You’re just jealous because Daddy has money and you don’t.”

Her words were a knife in Josie’s heart. Was she jealous? Maybe. A little. Okay, a lot. “Amelia, I know you’re happy that your father came to see you, but he doesn’t get his money from a regular job. He sells drugs. The same drugs that killed your friend Zoe’s sister.”

“Liar,” Amelia said. “He’d never do that. He’s not dead and you said he was. Now you say he’s a drug dealer. Daddy would never sell drugs.”

“He has. He does. Until he gets an honest job, you can’t have his money.”

“Liar! Liar! You’re just saying that because you’re jealous.” Amelia marched into her room and slammed her door so hard the house shook. Josie followed her down the hall. Somehow, she’d lost all moral advantage over her daughter. Josie was a liar and Amelia knew it. Worse, Amelia rubbed Josie’s nose in her lies.

“Open this door, young lady.”

“Go to hell,” Amelia cried. “That’s where liars go.”

Josie rattled the handle. The door wasn’t locked. She threw open the door so hard, the handle buried itself in the plaster wall behind the door.

Amelia sat cross-legged on her bed, biting her lips to keep from smiling.

“Say something,” Josie said.

“You broke the wall, Mom,” Amelia said.

Josie walked out of the room, closing the door behind her. She was too afraid to answer.

Chapter 10

Each year, Alyce waited for Christmas with a child’s delight. She decked the halls, the walls, and the lawn. She unpacked her mother’s antique ornaments and brought out her own Christmas china. Mistletoe hung in the doorway. Artfully arranged holly, pinecones, and poinsettias brightened tables. Swags of evergreen draped the stair railings.

Alyce had every kind of ornament—except Doreen’s pornaments.

Alyce’s house smelled like cinnamon for the entire month of December. She made cookies, fruitcakes, and pomander balls out of cloves, oranges, and green velvet ribbons. Christmas morning was a feast, with cranberry bread, spicy gingerbread logs, fruit stollen, shirred eggs with red and green peppers, and a spiral-sliced ham. Dinner included a crown roast and a flaming plum pudding. Just hearing about Alyce’s holiday plans made Josie feel like she’d walked into a
Gourmet
magazine spread.

“I love Christmas stores,” Alyce said. “Maybe I can pick up some new ornaments.”

“Where are you going to hang them?” Josie asked. “Every inch of your tree is covered already.”

“There’s always room for new ornaments,” Alyce said. “Justin is at the grab-and-chew stage. I can’t put any of my mother’s handblown glass ornaments on the lower branches where he can reach them. Oh, this place is so cute.”

Elsie’s Elf House looked like a fairy-tale cottage, right down to the thatched roof.

“Are those real kittens peeking out of that thatch?” Alyce asked.

Josie stood on tiptoe for a closer look. “They’re plastic, just like the thatch,” she said.

Josie opened the holly-wreathed door. Bells jingled merrily, and they could hear the tinkling wind-chime sound of hundreds of ornaments twirling on their gold ribbons. “White Christmas” oozed out of the speakers, sweet and smooth as eggnog.

“This is lovely,” Alyce said, her eyes as wide as a child’s on Christmas Day. Even in the cramped store, Alyce managed her odd floaty walk. Her silky white-blond hair shone in the soft light.

She browsed the ornaments and bought simple stuffed cotton ones for the lower branches of her tree. They were pretty, practical, and not destined for heirloom status. Justin could grab and chew them all he wanted.

Josie asked the clerk to take down six different ornaments from the displays, as her mystery-shopping instructions required, before she bought an iridescent glass ball. Josie planned to keep that one.