Armed (22 page)

“Did he have any children?” I asked.

“Yes. A boy. No, wait. Maybe a girl. Oh, I’m not sure anymore,” Mom said waving her hand. “At any rate the child was very young and when Irwin divorced, and then married Elvira he tried to get custody but his ex in-laws wouldn’t hear of it. He wanted to have his ex-wife declared mentally incompetent but couldn’t find anyone willing to testify on his behalf. The family owned a business which employed a lot of people and no one wanted to risk losing their jobs. It might have been in lumber.”

Kendall interrupted our conversation asking how much longer to New York. I told her only about fifteen minutes and then she went back to playing Old Maid with her brother who now had on his Spiderman T-shirt
over
his sweater. He loved that thing.

“Now, where did I leave off? Oh yes. Elvira and Irwin stayed in the area for a few years but then decided to move.”

“That’s when they came here?”

“Yes.”

“What happened to Irwin’s child?”

“Elvira said he wrote letters for years but heard nothing. He always felt very guilty about that and the stress may have contributed to his heart attack at such a young age.”

“I didn’t know he died of a heart attack.”

“Cancer, but he had a heart attack many years before.”

The train pulled into the station.

My mother brushed a pine needle and a strand of tinsel from my coat. “There, that’s better.”

Tourists and shoppers filled the streets. But it all added to the atmosphere somehow and Christmas just wouldn’t be Christmas without a trip to the city.

We had lunch at our favorite deli and then spent a good deal of time at a big chain bookstore. Mom took the kids to look for something for their parents while I headed for the mystery section. Years ago I read romance novels but the father of a friend had given me a Dick Francis book and I never turned back. Buying books became an addiction. And then it hit me. Mystery books. Murder. No wonder Mrs. Scott’s death intrigued me so.

The kids decided on a beautiful picture book of Europe. Sam and Michael wanted to take a trip in the spring and Kendall at least thought a book might help them narrow down exactly where they wanted to go. Henry leaned toward getting them the latest Harry Potter but Grandma intervened. A couple of hours and several packages later, we sat in yet another café resting our feet and having a hot drink.

“I’m so glad we came,” my mother said, patting my hand. “It seems we never have time for a good chat anymore. Anything on the dating front?” My sister told Mom about the breakup with Peter.

I shrugged, my hands wrapped around my mug of tea. “I haven’t had any time.” I took a sip from my mug. In addition to buying books, tea was another guilty pleasure. I always had a cup not too far. M&M’s, books, and tea. Life didn’t get much better than that. “Maybe when things are settled down and this murder is solved I might give Internet dating another try.”

“Is it safe? You just never know who you’ll meet,” Mom asked with concern.

“True. Especially when you stop by the Mills Pond seniors’ home,” I teased.

Mom tossed her head back and gave a hearty laugh. “Your grandfather must have made quite a sight. I need to check on him more often. I forget the man is in his nineties and needs some looking after. But getting back to dating, the breakup with Peter happened for a reason, Alex.”

I smiled. “I know. It didn’t work. It would never have lasted long term.”

“Something better is out there for you. I’m sure you’ll meet the right person at the right time. These things have a way of happening when we least expect.”

I reached over and patted my mother’s hand, lightly touching the gnarled joints of her fingers. “I’m sure it will.”  I found myself thinking of a certain detective quite often lately and not always in connection with murder.

“Aunt Alex, do you think Santa will bring me a Barbie doll? I want the new one and all the summer clothes to go with it.”

I knew for a fact Santa got the doll with the new clothes and a few others I had picked out. Sam had them hidden in the front hall closet of the agency all wrapped up in Christmas paper.

“Did you write him a letter asking for a Barbie?” I asked, glad to be off the subject of men.

Kendall put her cup of hot chocolate down and licked her lips.

“Yes. And a few other things, too. And Henry wants a new sled. I think he should get my old one and I should get a new one. I’m the oldest.”

“I want a sled made out of wood with bright red runners.” Henry’s brown eyes lit up just thinking about it. The olive skin of our Italian heritage had come out in Henry. He looked the total opposite of his blond, light-eyed sister. “And I want a magician’s kit,” he said, as he stood next to me, his little hand resting on my arm.

My dad had been busy re-varnishing the sleds Sam and I used as children. He had sanded the old paint off the runners and reapplied several coats of wagon red. They wouldn’t exactly be new or have the latest look, but both children would get one and the thought of using the same sleds their mother and aunt had used would hopefully be amusing to both of them. One hundred percent.

Mom stood up and handed Kendall and Henry their coats.

“Well, I think we should get going. We still have a couple more stops. What do you say we get pizza tonight?”

My niece and nephew bundled themselves up again. If I didn’t see them as often as I did, my life would feel empty. I wondered how Irwin Scott had been able to leave California never knowing what had happened to his son.

A gust of wind off the roof sent a veil of snow swirling smack into my face and burned my cheeks. I tucked my head down inside my jacket and made it to the back door of my parents’ house before another assault. I love winter, but sometimes it just isn’t as much fun as you remembered from your childhood.

Entering the house immediately engulfed me in the smells of my childhood: cinnamon from my father’s breakfast of cinnamon toast, the rich aroma of coffee, and the unmistakable scent of evergreen from the tree in the living room. This was my safe harbor—along with Meme’s—and more than ever I thanked my lucky stars I still lived in the same town as my parents.

I took my coat off and tossed it over the back of a kitchen chair, my fingers gently brushing the worn wood of the captain’s chair where my father sat every night at dinner. The kitchen walls remained yellow though new coats of paint got slapped on every few years. The counter tops shined with updated granite, but other than that, it looked the same. A door on the far wall led to a laundry room that also served as a storage area for Mom’s recyclables. My mother saved every scrap of wrapping paper for re-use, pieces of aluminum foil to wrap around another potato, and a horde of plastic bags she couldn’t part with.

“Hi, Dad,” I said, as my father came into the kitchen and then I stopped dead in my tracks. “That’s not funny.” I reached over and snapped the bowtie around his neck as a smile spread across my face. “Well, okay, it is.”

“Sorry, Alex. I couldn’t resist.”

Harry Harris was like my mother, tall. Both my parents had thick hair and neither had thought about passing it on to me. My dad also had sapphire blue eyes that hadn’t lost any of their luster. Dad worked as an insurance agent. Semi-retired now, he still managed to keep himself busy with a few clients who would have nothing to do with anyone but him. He also arranged for all insurance matters for Sam and me and our business.

“Aunt Alex, you’re here! Can we go now?” Henry came into the kitchen, his hat and coat already on, a pair of ice skates in his hands.

“Not yet, Sweetie, we’re waiting for your mom and dad.”

“They keep us young, those two. What have you done to your hair?” Mom asked, coming up behind her grandson and turning me around and admiring it.

“I highlighted it this morning. What do you think?”

“I like it,” Mom nodded. “The color suits your skin tone. Very nice.”

Mom moved over to the counter and began placing rolls into a container. “I just made a batch of cinnamon rolls to take with us. I’ve got a big thermos of hot, spiced apple juice and your sister’s bringing another one. We haven’t gone skating for ages, Alex. What made you think of it?”

“I saw a few skaters on the pond and thought it would be nice to take the kids. Besides, we could all use, I mean
I could use
, a nice diversion.”

I reached for a bun and Mom playfully slapped my hand.

“They’re for later. You’re just like Henry. He stuck his finger in the icing the moment I put it down.”

“I like licking the bowl. You know the greatest thing about being a grownup and living on my own?”

“I have a good idea.” Mom eyed me.

“Being able to lick the bowl all by myself and not having to share it with a bossy older sister.”

Mom raised her eyebrows. “Speak of the devil. I think they’re here.”

We went out to the living room and I immediately grabbed Sam. “Don’t mention anything about Friday night. I haven’t told Mom and Dad. No need to worry them.”

Sam looked at my hair and gave me the thumbs up sign and then we all piled into her mini-van and drove to the center of Indian Cove.

Five minutes later we arrived at a pond crowded with skaters. As with all good ideas, unfortunately we weren’t the only ones to have it. Everyone had skates except Mom who sat beside another grandmother.

The ice shone like a highly polished piece of glass, smooth and devoid of any pits.

“Why don’t we do this more often?” Dad asked, holding onto the small hands of Kendall and Henry.

“Look, Grandpa, I’m doing it all by myself,” Kendall said as she broke away.

We watched as she skated toward the center of the pond.

“Alex, how’s it going over at Poupée? William said the police haven’t arrested anyone yet. What’s going on?”

Henry squiggled out of my dad’s grasp and skated off after his sister, grabbing onto her scarf and pulling her down where they tumbled around on the ice while their parents shamelessly showed off on the other side of the pond.

I shrugged and started to skate slowly. “I don’t know, Dad. I’ve talked with a lot of the employees but I haven’t come up with a theory yet. At least not one I consider sufficient enough to lead to murder.”

“Did your mother tell you she won again on Friday night? We’ve got enough wine in our cellar to make a Frenchman envious. I didn’t do too badly on one of the games. I used all my letters on my first turn including an X to make SARDONYX.”

“Sardonyx?”

Dad shook his head. “It’s a variety of quartz. Don’t ask me how the heck I knew that one, but it put me in the lead, for a while anyway. Oh, and Alex,” Dad placed his hand on my arm. “Thank you for going over to the center.”

“It’s okay, Dad. I hope Grandpa will be okay.”

“They’re treating him. I’ll keep a better eye on him. I’m going over this afternoon to take him some of your mother’s homemade soup. He always loved it.”

“He’ll be fine.” I eyed my sister and brother-in-law on the opposite side of the pond. “Come on. Let’s give those two over there a look at what real skaters can do.”

Dad grabbed my hand and whirled me across the ice. “Ta-da! What about that? Didn’t think your old man still had it in him, did you?”

“Harry, exactly what do you call that little swirly thing you managed to pull off over there?” my brother-in-law Michael asked.

Sam’s husband is a dentist and a good guy. I love him dearly but he loves to talk about teeth. Putting my fingers in someone else’s mouth all day is not what I would want to do for a living.

“It’s called pensioners pirouette and can only be executed by men over sixty, so don’t even think about trying it,” Dad said with a chuckle.

“Anybody ready for a cinnamon roll and a hot drink?” Mom called from the sidelines.

“I am!”

“Me, too!” Kendall and Henry skated off.

“Guess who is heading this way and proving to be quite a good little skater?” Sam asked as she grabbed my arm.

“I don’t know?” I tried to wiggle free from her grasp.

“Good afternoon, Ms. Harris, Mrs. Daniels.”

I recognized the voice and turned to see Detective Van der Burg.

“If you’ll excuse me, I need a warm drink. Would you like to join us, Detective?” Sam asked in mock innocence.

“Thank you. Maybe in a bit.”

Sam skated off but not before I gave her a murderous scowl.

“Are you following me, Detective Van der Burg?”

“John.”

“What?”

“John. That’s my name. Detective Van der Burg takes too long to say.”

“Okay. John. Are you following me?”

“No. I’m just out for a bit of fresh air. I noticed the skaters the other day and thought what a good idea.”

“Shouldn’t you be out catching a killer?”

“Why are you always so hostile toward me, Alex? I can call you Alex?”

“Yes. I don’t think I’m being hostile.” I paused and looked down at my skates for a moment. I looked back up at him and managed a small smile “Well, okay, maybe I’m getting back at you for the shovel. I’m sorry. I just want this thing finished.” We skated slowly around the pond. “Have you come up with anything concrete yet?”

“We have a few theories.”

“Anything you’d care to share?”

“Not for the moment.”

“Well, does it have anything to do with Jerry Gagliano?”

John laughed. “You’re really hooked on him being the killer. We’re checking him out. We’re checking everybody out. He has an alibi as I mentioned. No one saw him come home, but a few neighbors did see him out about ten walking his dog. Has a little poodle. I wouldn’t think of him as a poodle man.

“These same neighbors say he yelled a lot before his wife left. They hadn’t been married all that long, but he’s lived in the house for years. Before he married he had a whole string of women. None ever lasted very long.

“Anyway.” John shrugged. “We know he took a walk at ten, which gives us nothing. He claims he went to the grocery store right after he left the factory. No receipt. Says he left it on the checkout counter. I never pick mine up either so he could be telling the truth. Oh, and we talked to Mrs. Scott’s doctor and to Mr. Poupée. The doctor said she didn’t have MS and Mr. Poupée said she never said anything about being sick.”