5 Mischief in Christmas River (7 page)

Daniel placed a hand on the councilman’s back

“C’mon, Pete,” he said. “Let’s get you out of here.”

Chapter 17

We stood outside the bar, watching the cab pull Pete Burgess away into the lonely frosty night.

“Poor guy,” I muttered.

“Yeah,” Daniel said. “The man’s whole life fell apart inside of a month. I wasn’t ever exactly a fan of his, but I tell you, I don’t like seeing him end up like this.”

“Well, at least we got him out of the bar,” I said. “Saved him a few more regrets maybe.”

“Yeah, maybe,” he said, tilting his head back, looking up at the stars above that twinkled like a thousand tambourines in the black night.

He breathed in deeply. The pine-scented air was so crisp and clean this time of year, it was almost surreal.

“You feel like leaving the car here overnight and walking home, Mrs. Brightman?” he said.

It was cold out, but nothing like it could be up here in the mountains this time of year. Home was only about a mile and a half away – hardly any distance really. The whiskey had warmed me up nice, and besides, I had good company for the duration of the walk.

“I’m your gal,” I said.

I took his arm, and we strolled along the snowy streets of downtown, dodging in and out of the light from the streetlamps. The snow was leftover from the Thanksgiving storm, and the chilly temperatures had kept the white stuff hard enough so that it was easy to walk in.

“Seems like a lot of dogs have gone missing lately,” I said as we crossed Main Street and took a left on Ornament Road.

“You mean with Billy losing Shasta?” he said.

“Yeah.That, and I saw that Julianne Redding lost her dog too. There was a missing flyer for Harley on Tinsel Street.”

He nearly stopped in his tracks.

“Really?” 

I nodded.

“Hmm,” he muttered, stroking his chin.

“You think there’s a connection between all of them?”

He stared off into the dark night, deep in thought for a moment. Then he glanced back down at me.

“My little conspiracy theorist,” he said, grinning.    

I punched him in the shoulder playfully.

“I’ll have you know that many a theory of mine has proven to be true,” I said. “I’m thinking that really, you ought to be paying me some commission on these cases of yours, Sheriff Brightman. You know, like you might pay one of them psychics who helps you find the bodies?”

Daniel started chuckling.

“You’ve been watching too much TV, Cin,” he said.

“Naw, I think I know what I oughta be paid,” I said. “And thus far, your department has been getting me for a steal. But that’s all changing in the New Year, let me tell you, Sheriff. Prices are going up everywhere, including the private investigator business.”

“Then I guess I better get in on the deal while I can,” he said.

“I guess you better,” I said.

Suddenly, as we came up upon one of the streetlamps, Daniel stopped. He grabbed me, picking me up off my feet, and throwing me over his shoulder.

“Daniel Brightman!” I shouted. “What are you doing!?”

“Getting in on the deal while I still can,” he said, picking up the pace.

I swung at his arms, trying in vain to get him to put me down, but it was no use. We both started laughing uncontrollably. A few moments later, he had collapsed onto a patch of snow next to the sidewalk. We were both on the ground, the sound of our mad laughter echoing around the empty street.

“Too much whiskey, Daniel Brightman,” I said, tackling him after the laughing had died down.

“Naw,” he said, pulling me closer. “I think it was just the right amount.”

I rested on his chest and he kissed me tenderly on the lips. I pulled away a moment, glancing around, wondering if we were actually alone, or if we were on display for the whole neighborhood to see.

“Let them talk, Cin,” he said, kissing me again, those whiskey kisses of his lighting up a roaring fire in me so that I didn’t feel the cold, the snow, or the flakes that had started falling from the sky around us.

After a moment, he wrapped his arm around me and I rested my head on his shoulder. We just lay there like that on the patch of snow, watching the soft flakes drift down.

In the pale light of the streetlamp, I could see that he still had just the faintest of tans from our Maui honeymoon the month before. And when I leaned in close, it was almost as if I could smell just a trace of coconut and saltwater on his skin.

He rubbed my shoulder, letting out a long frosty breath up into the night.

“So how’s Kara doing with all the wedding stuff?” he asked.

I smiled.

“The woman’s out of her mind,” I said. “Do you know what she told me the other day? She said she’s planning to wood burn the entirety of her vows onto a slab of juniper, which she’s going to hold up there at the altar. Do you know how long it took her to burn just one name the other day when she was doing the place cards? Eight minutes.”

“How long are her vows?”

“Last I saw, they were ten pages long.”

Daniel chuckled, his chest reverberating beneath me.

“I’d expect nothing less from Kara,” he said.

“Me neither,” I said. “The wedding’s going to be beautiful, there’s no doubt about that. But I’m just worried that she won’t have much of her mind left when all is said and done.”

“How’s she doing with all the baby stuff in the meantime?”

“Good, I think,” I said. “I think she’s a little nervous, but I can tell that she’s really excited to be a mom.”

“Yeah?”

I nodded.

“I guess those two are in for some big changes ahead,” he said.

“That they are,” I said, pulling him closer and breathing in deeply.

He looked down at me then.

“A lot of diapers and headaches, probably,” he said.

“Probably,” I agreed, looking up at him. 

“A lot of bedtime stories and sleepless nights.”

“Most likely.”

“But maybe something else too,” he said.  

He searched my eyes. I felt my heart skip a few beats, then flutter wildly.

“Something on your mind?” I whispered.

He held me tight, pausing for a few moments.

“Something for another time,” he said, kissing me lightly on the nose. “Something for when the whiskey wears off.”

I smiled.

After a few moments like that, we finally got back up on our feet. We strolled the rest of the way home through the feather-light snowflakes, swirling around.

The wind blew cold, and the air bit at my cheeks with a chilly ferocity, but I didn’t feel any of it.

Because inside, my heart was glowing brighter than a warm summer sun.

Chapter 18

It had been a long, long time since I’d come to work with a hangover.

It wasn’t as if I even had a lot to drink the night before. But the truth of it was that I wasn’t as young as I used to be. And sometimes even just one whiskey after 7 p.m. would just hit wrong, making for a sluggish morning that involved knocking back Advil and sipping on soda.

Still, I didn’t mind suffering the after effects of too much drinking all that much. Very rarely were hangovers worth the nights that caused them, but in the case of last night, the headache and shaky stomach were every bit worth the magical evening I’d had with Daniel.

It was still like that, even after being together for almost three years. When I was with him, it was as if the rest of the world, its problems, difficulties, and competing pie shops… all of it just fell away. And it was just the two of us. Just us and our hopes and dreams for the future.

I spent the morning in a bit of a daze, making a couple batches of Whiskey Apple pies, and Cranberry Pear Walnuts. The front of the house was once again less crowded than usual, the way it had been since
Pepper’s Pies
had opened across the street. But I tried not to let it bother me too much. I tried to remember what Daniel had said. About the town being full of the second kind of folks: the downhome, blue-collared, black coffee and pie folks. And that those people would eventually find their way back home to my shop.

Just after lunch, I took my usual break. I headed over to the shelter to pick up Chadwick. 

I figured that today, though, instead of our usual route down Tinsel Street, we’d change it up and go somewhere else for our daily walk.

The way I saw it, maybe there was something I could do to help Billy and the department, beyond just checking in with the Humane Society.

Chapter 19

I walked along the path on the BrightStar Trail, a woodsy, winding area that was on the north side of Christmas River. The area was known for its expansive dog park, its twisty biking trails, and its lovely views of the Cascade Mountains on clear days.  

Chadwick trotted out in front of me on the path, his short legs sinking into the powder that had fallen the night before. The mild storm had frosted the forest in a layer of fluffy, buttercream snow. It had also seemed to bring a stillness with it. The birds were silent, and the sound of our footsteps seemed to echo endlessly through the trees.  

The fresh air and pretty scenery all went quite a ways to dispelling my hangover.

I didn’t know exactly what I expected to find out here, at the place where Shasta and Julianne Redding’s dog, Harley, had disappeared. I guess in some sort of fantasy land, I was half hoping that Shasta would come bounding up from one of the paths, and that the department’s reputation would be saved. But as I walked into the silent woods, it seemed as if that little scenario would stay exactly where it started: in my imagination.

It had worried me some, the way Daniel had talked about the responsibility of losing Shasta getting laid at his feet. Billy may have lost the dog, but Daniel was the one who was going to take most of the heat for it. I imagined once the news caught wind of the story, they’d go to town on it.
Pohly Sheriff’s Office loses $20,000 K-9
. It was the kind of thing folks would like to make fun of. And even worse, something that might make some of those tax payers angry. Something that would no doubt be brought up in future Sheriff’s elections.

I shook my head.

Billy really should have been paying more attention to Shasta that night.

Chadwick stopped walking, the way he did when he was about to collapse and stay put. I started tugging on the leash, trying to avoid an all-out battle by stopping him before his legs gave out. But then something caught his attention in the distance, and he stood straight up.

I followed his gaze.

Somebody was walking along the path up ahead. I squinted, and it took me a moment to figure out in which direction the person was walking.

Chadwick started wagging his tail and barking.

I firmly held onto the leash as the woman came into focus. She was in her mid-forties, and was wearing a green fleece jacket, dark jeans, and rubber boots. She had closely cropped red hair and pale skin. She was carrying a stack of something in one of her arms.

A few moments later, I recognized who it was.

“Hi, Julianne,” I said as she approached.

She was looking down, as if in a state of deep concentration. She didn’t respond or acknowledge me.

“
Hi, Julianne
,” I said again, this time louder.

She glanced up, looking as if she’d just been awoken from a dark dream. She stared at me for a second as if she didn’t know who I was. But then, a look of recognition swept across her face.

“Oh, hi,” she said, shaking her head. “Jeez, I’m sorry. I was miles away just now.”

“It’s okay,” I said. “These woods have that effect sometimes.”

She looked down at Chadwick, who I was having a devil of a time keeping from jumping all over her. The pooch didn’t weigh much, but he had a lot of strength and was more hardheaded than a bighorn sheep when he wanted to do something.

“Cute dog,” Julianne said glumly. “What’s his name?”

“Chadwick,” I said.

She smiled sadly.

I looked at what she was carrying in her hands. It was a stack of flyers that I recognized as being the same missing posters that I’d seen stapled to the telephone pole on Tinsel Street the other day.

“I’m so sorry to hear about Harley,” I said.

She nodded, taking in a sharp breath.

“I’m just beside myself, Cinnamon,” she said. “Beside myself.”

“How did it happen, if you don’t mind me asking?” I said.

She sighed.

“Well, I was walking him out here in these woods about a week ago. I never put Harley on a leash, ‘cuz he’s such a good dog that there’s no reason to. But when we were out here, Harley suddenly stops walking, and his ears prick up. Next thing I know, Harley takes off like a bat out of hell. I went after him, but he was too fast for me. He disappeared somewhere over the hill there, and I started calling after him. And then…”

She gulped back hard.

“Then there was just silence. Just a dreadful silence.”

She placed a leather-clad hand up to her face, and shook her head.

“I’ve plastered the whole town with missing posters, but nobody’s seen Harley. I’ve come here to this trail every day since then, looking for him. But it’s as if he just vanished into the woods.”

I bit my lip.

Her story sounded awfully familiar.

“I’m really sorry, Julianne,” I said.

She sighed, then handed me one of the flyers.

“Just let me know if you see my baby,” she said. “He’s a nice dog. If you whistle three times, he’ll come.”

I nodded.

“See you at the Junction?” I asked.

“The what?” she said, confused.

“The Gingerbread Junction,” I said. “You’re still judging this year, aren’t you?”

“Oh, of course,” she said, pressing her hand up to her forehead. “I’ll be there, as always.”

She took one last look at Chadwick, sighed, and then went on her way, dragging a whole train of gloom behind her.

I looked at the poster in my hands again, peering at Harley’s sweet face.