Cole in My Stocking (12 page)

I covered the baking dishes with foil. “Yeah, well, Tooley says he won’t leave until someone goes up there to look for the will.”

“You’re kidding, right? Please say you’re kidding. It’s Christmas Eve.”

“Want me to call the, uh, cops?”

A heavy sigh. “No. And don’t let Officer Plankitt do anything he’ll get in trouble for. I’ll be over. Give me twenty minutes.”

“Sorry.”

“Not your fault. I’m going to give Tooley a piece of my mind when I get there.”

“Don’t be too hard on him. He’s being nasty, but I get that he just lost his friend.”

“Mandy, you just lost your father. For a grown man to act like this much of a selfish child on the day of Gripper’s funeral and for you to stick up for him, even a little—that’s so backwards it’s not even funny. You sit tight. I’ll be there.”
Click.

I turned the oven on warm, set the grub inside and went out to tell Cole Max was on his way.

He grunted in response. My Oakley-wearing caveman.

Time for a shower. Maybe by the time I got out, Max would be here, Tooley would have his precious will in hand, and Cole and I could have a peaceful meal together.

A girl could wish for a Christmas miracle.

* * * *

No one could find the will.

After my shower, I’d gone up to the shop to find Cole, Tooley, and Tooley’s pal Gonzo pawing through Dad’s stuff. Max played chaperone to make sure no one stole a gun or whipped a forged will out of a vest pocket. Gonzo, a heavy-set, bearded biker, had also been friends with my dad and had supposedly been one of the witnesses to sign off on the will naming Tooley as beneficiary to the business. The other had been Brock, who had also been a good friend of Dad’s and owned the property next door that the county leased for the dump.

I’d noticed Gonzo and Brock at the funeral, but other than Brock shaking my hand in the reception line, I hadn’t spoken to either of them. Gonzo hadn’t bothered approaching me at all. In fact, there had been quite a few of my dad’s friends who hadn’t approached me, most of them Newburgh cops. Some of them made eye contact, though, and the scowling looks they gave me had seemed out of proportion to the reputation I had in this town. Maybe they were mad at me for not helping Dad when he’d been sick. I wished someone would give them the memo that Dad hadn’t told me he was sick. At least Tooley was the only one to confront me at the funeral. I bet more of them might have said something to me if Cole hadn’t been hovering.

He was hovering now too. When I arrived up in the shop, he gave up the search and came to stand near me and Max while Tooley helped himself to the gun safe. Tooley worked the combination and opened the door like he’d done it a dozen times before.

Cole whispered in my ear, “You know he had the combination?”

I shook my head.

Max was watching us. He sidled over. “When Gripper got sick, I suggested he share the combination with someone. He’d refused to write it down, but he promised me he’d make sure Randall knew it.”

Offense flared and fizzled in my gut. Dad had always been highly protective of his combos and passwords. He’d made me memorize the combo for the house safe because we used it for both our personal records and I occasionally had need of it. But he’d never shared the combination to the shop safe with me. It hurt that he’d shared it with Tooley. But then he would have, wouldn’t he, if he’d been planning to leave the business to him?

Tooley gave up on the safe, not finding anything but guns and ammo inside. He and Gonzo parked their butts in front of the computer. I felt a mild sense of violation as Tooley entered the password without missing a beat and they began searching Dad’s files. I didn’t care how close Dad and Tooley had been, it felt like an invasion of his privacy for someone to be combing through his business records and personal documents.

I laid a hand on Max’s arm. “I don’t like them being on Dad’s computer.”

He nodded, and said, “I’m calling it, gentlemen. We’ve given it a good hour. It’s Christmas Eve. Let’s let Mandy have some peace tonight.”

“Here it is!” Tooley jumped up and pointed at the screen. “Told you, goddammit. Here it is. Thought I was BS-ing you, huh? Well here’s the will. I told you he named me.” He proceeded to read the line in the will where Dad had bequeathed the business to him, pumping his fist in victory as he finished.

My heart sank to know Dad really had left the only thing he’d had of value to someone other than me, but it’s not like I deserved it. If it felt like a betrayal, that was only because my expectations had been faulty.

“Doesn’t matter,” Cole said. “To enter probate, you need a physical copy with signatures. You know the New Hampshire law as well as I do, Tooley. A last will and testament is considered revoked by the testator if it’s last seen in the testator’s possession and can’t be found after his death.”

Tooley threw his hands in the air as he rose from the computer. He came at Max with his arms spread, imploring. “My hand to God, I watched Gripper print out his Last Will and Testament right there at his desk. He signed it. Brock signed it. Gonzo signed it. Tell them.” He motioned to his buddy.

Gonzo nodded. He looked me right in the eye and said, “The man does not lie. I put my John Hancock on it just a few weeks ago. Watched Gripper file it right there in that drawer.”

“Be that as it may,” Max said, palms up. “It’s gone now. Cole is correct. The law interprets a missing will to mean the testator himself must have destroyed it. The only way the digital copy means anything at all is if the physical copy with signatures is present but damaged such that it cannot be read.”

“This is bullshit,” Tooley spat, his face purple. “Grip left me his business, dammit. All this is mine. I took care of him right up to the end. Took sick time off of work to be there for my brother. Took him to appointments, cooked him meals. He recognized the sacrifices I made and wanted to show his thanks. She meant nothing to him. Not since she booked it out of here the second she could and never looked back.” He pointed at me. “You know what happened to that will? I’ll tell you what happened. Soon as
she
got home, she came up here and destroyed it. She should be arrested for tampering with—” His words were cut off with a yelp when Cole grabbed him by the back of his jacket and walked him straight out the door.

“You so much as
think
about accusing Mandy of wrongdoing, I will end you—” Cole’s words were cut off by the slamming of the door so hard it rattled Dad’s sharp-shooting plaques on the wall.

Max, Gonzo, and I stood staring while Cole and Tooley’s footsteps pounded down the stairs outside.

I looked at Max. He shrugged.

I didn’t know Gonzo well, but I’d seen him around plenty. I faced him. “You can’t seriously think I’d destroy Dad’s will.”

“How would I know?” he said, unsmiling. “I knew you as a kid, but you weren’t exactly on the straight-and-narrow. Then you left. Knew your dad, and he was a good man. I’m sorry for your loss. But I don’t know you. Don’t know what you’re capable of.”

“Take it easy,” Max said. I wasn’t sure if he was talking to me or Gonzo. He was looking at Gonzo, but he put a hand on my shoulder.

I appreciated the contact. I chose to interpret it as support.

I’d left town to escape an undeserved reputation. Apparently, doing so had only enhanced that reputation. Now I was not only Gripper’s wild child but the ungrateful heir that had abandoned him in his hour of need.

“Go on,” Max told Gonzo. “Make sure Cole doesn’t break Tooley’s nose again.”

Yeesh. Even Max knew about the broken nose. Did all of Newburgh know Cole had punched his chief in the face?

Cole’s words from this morning came back to me.

You really don’t know, do you?

Know what?

Later, honey. I’ll tell you later.

In the truck with Cole, I’d felt something weighty swelling between us, needing to pop. When I remembered his cryptic words, that something swelled even more.

Was that why I hadn’t seen either man again after they left the main room of Newburgh PD that night? Had they gotten in a fight? Over me?

Had Cole thrown away his career with the Newburgh PD because of me?

“I think we both know there’s no reason to mention Officer Plankitt was up here yesterday.” Max’s voice dragged me back to the shop. Gonzo had left. It was just me and Dad’s lawyer.

I blinked at him, taking too long to process what he was saying. “Right,” I said once I got what he was implying, that suspicion might fall on Cole if anyone but us knew he’d come up here yesterday. “Of course not. Cole was just making sure no one had broken in. He didn’t even know about the will then.”

“That’s right,” Max said, but the distracted look on his face said he wasn’t so sure. Then he turned around and left me alone in the shop.

Chapter 10

I don’t know how long I stood staring at the rubber-mat flooring, thinking about what Max had said, but when I finally locked up and headed for the house, I found the driveway empty except for the beast.

Everyone had left. Even Cole.

A pulse of hurt twisted my stomach.

A few hours ago, I’d told him I wanted to be alone, and I’d been this close to meaning it. But now, I definitely did not want to be alone. I had a million questions for him, but mostly, I wanted to enjoy Lucky Dragon with the man who had come to my rescue more times than I could count since I’d been back home.

I missed him, but I couldn’t blame him. After all, it was Christmas Eve. He probably had plans. I’d had plans too, to celebrate the holidays with my friends. All of that had gone on hold when Dad died. Fact of life. Or death, I guess.

When I got in the house, the microwave clock said it was a little after four. If I were back in Philly, I’d be slipping into the holiday-red dress I’d found at a thrift store and putting a bottle of champagne into a gift bag right about now. My friend Heather held an annual Christmas party at her loft apartment in Philly’s charming Fairmont neighborhood. There would be wine and hors d’oeuvres, striking sculptures on loan from her artsy friends, witty conversation, and cute guys I wouldn’t have the courage to talk to but would be happy to ogle.

Instead, I was pulling reheated Chinese food out of the oven to eat alone in front of the TV. A glamorous New Hampshire Christmas Eve.

It wasn’t all moping and mooning, however. I chose to focus on the positive, mainly that the food was delicious and had been provided by a hot cop. I just hoped I’d see him again before too long so I could thank him.

While I cleaned up after dinner, using every piece of Tupperware in Dad’s trailer to store the leftovers, I called Heather and wished her a Merry Christmas. We talked for half an hour while she got ready for her party. Afterwards, the trailer seemed darker and less festive than ever. Neither Dad nor I had ever decorated for Christmas. No lights, no tree, not even the lazy-man’s nod to Christmas, a wreath on the front door.

I had a sudden urge to put a wreath on the door.

But where could I get a wreath on Christmas Eve? Would the tree places be open this close to the big day?

Figuring I could use a drive, even if I came home empty-handed, I grabbed my keys and started up the beast. Twelve minutes later, I was cruising the main strip through Plaistow, amazed at the amount of traffic. Not only were the stores and restaurants all open, but Plaistow was as hopping and festive as I had ever seen it. The parking lots were full. Holiday lights lit up everything from storefronts to streetlamps. There were shoppers everywhere. Guess I wasn’t the only one in need of a little last-minute holiday cheer.

At the 24-hour Wal-Mart, I picked up two wreaths, one for the storm door and one for Dad’s shop. A few little odds and ends made it into the cart beside the wreaths: a bag of Sam’s Club peanut butter cups, some packing tape to aid my boxing up of anything I wanted to keep from Dad’s place, trash bags, fuzzy socks in Christmas colors for padding around the house, a poinsettia. I saw lots of cutesy things that reminded me of my friends back in Philly, but I’d already done the whole gift-exchange thing with everyone I cared about, so I exercised restraint. Still, a snow globe featuring a platform high-heeled pump would be a perfect souvenir for Heather. I picked it up even though I’d already given her a pair of earrings.

After loading my bags in the car, I crossed Route 125 and parked at a sporting goods store that looked every bit as busy as Wal-Mart had been. My left knee was aching enough after my long run that I decided to pick up a knee brace for tomorrow’s run. After grabbing the cheapest brace I could find, I ended up wandering through the hunting and fishing section. Thoughts of Dad made a fist around my heart. The store didn’t have any guns, but there was a decent selection of compound bows and a glass case filled with hunting knives like the ones Dad collected.

He would never buy hunting equipment again. I would never again see him get that excited light in his eyes when he would tell me about a twelve-point buck he brought down after stalking it for half a day. He would never cook me another venison burger and try to convince me the gamey flavor was an acquired taste.

God. I missed my dad.

I swallowed hard and headed for the register to pay for my knee brace, but when I walked past a display case of Oakleys, my feet fused to the floor. A sick pair of black sunglasses with orange-tinted polarized lenses and a big orange Oakley
O
on the trademark head-hugging temples screamed,
Buy me! Buy me!
They were two hundred and twenty dollars. I’d never paid more than twenty for a pair of sunglasses. But I had to have these. Not for me.

There was someone I owed a big thank you to.

For dinner, for support, for Dad’s funeral. For everything good I’d experienced the last few days.

Maybe it was extravagant. Maybe it was stupid. Maybe I would chicken out and never give these to Cole, but I bought them along with a padded case and had them gift-wrapped for an extra three dollars. As I drove home, I figured, if nothing else, the glasses would give me an excuse to invite Cole over if he had a free minute tomorrow. After all, he’d spent a small fortune on Lucky Dragon and hadn’t even gotten to enjoy it with me.