Grave Apparel (18 page)

Linda
Sue’s
perkiness might
eventually
get on her
nerves,
Lacey
thought,
but
with
Vic
standing
protectively
by
her
side,
Lacey
was
feeling
just
fine.
And
it
was
always
amusing
to
see
Tony’s
personality
change
into
Tony
Terrific,
the
smooth
seducer.
“And
where is my poor sweater
now?”
Felicity
asked,
lean
ing
against
Wiedemeyer
for
support.

“It
probably
went
into
the
ambulance
with
Cassandra,”
Lacey
said.
“That’s
the last time
I
saw
it. She
was
still wearing
it.”

“Or it could be headed for the
evidence
locker
by
now,”
Vic
suggested.

“She
was
actually
wearing
my sweater? When she
was
at
tacked?
It
was
right
on
her?” Felicity
wailed
as if Cassandra had infected it with the plague or
worse,
cooties.
Sometimes,
Lacey
thought,
we
never
grow
up
and leave
the
schoolyard.

“Don’t
worry
Felicity,
we’ll
get
you
another
sweater,”
Wiedemeyer
consoled
her.

“I
don’t
want
another
sweater.”
Something occurred to her and the color drained from her face.
“You
don’t
understand,
Harlan!
If
she’s
wearing
my
sweater,
people
are
going
to
think—”

“They’ll
think you
attacked
Cassandra,”
Lacey
said.
“That’s
what
you’re
thinking.”
The thought had crossed
Lacey’s
mind,
but
she’d
discounted it. As irritating as Felicity could be, she
was
a
fellow
reporter,
and reporters fought the
world,
not each
other.
Maybe that theory
would
be tested tonight.

“That’s
just crazy
talk.”
Wiedemeyer
patted
Felicity’s
hand.
“I
wouldn’t
hurt
anyone,”
she
moaned.
“Not
even
Cassandra.”
“But
you
did
fight
with
her,”
Trujillo
said.
“We
were
all
there in the
office.”

“Those were just
words,”
Felicity said. “Nothing
happened.”
“Felicity,
where were you today?”
Lacey
asked.
“I
didn’t
see you much this afternoon.
How
did you lose the sweater?” Fe
licity
looked
confused.
“Think.
Where
did
you
last
see
the
sweater?”

“It
was
in
the
office.”
Felicity
took
her
hand
back
from
Wiedemeyer
and
rubbed
it.
“I
hung
it
on
the
back
of
my
chair,
but
I
was
running
around.
When
I
came
back
to
get
ready
for
the
party,
it
was
gone.
I
looked
all
over
for
it, then
I
went
home.”

“Home?”
Wiedemeyer
said.
“No
wonder
I
couldn’t
find
you.”
“Why did you go home?”
Trujillo
asked.

“To
see if there
was
another sweater I could
wear,
but
noth ing
worked
with this dress, with this red!” Felicity rubbed her
exposed
arms.
“Everyone
has seen all my other sweaters. This one
was
brandnew.
It
was
special.”

“Where did you go after
work,
Harlan?”
You
and
your
giant
candy
cane?
Lacey
reached for
Vic’s
hand.

“Krispy
Kreme, of
course.”
Harlan
Wiedemeyer
turned to
ward
Lacey,
his antlers bobbing. “I
was
a little
nervous
about the
party.
Being
nervous
always
makes
me
hungry.
So after I put my
tuxedo
on, I decided to get a bite and check out their special seasonal doughnuts. Red and green
sprinkles.”
He in spected his
tuxedo
as if for stray sprinkles.
“Say,
I’m getting a little hungry
now.
How
about that
buffet
line, Felicity?
They
have
shrimp.
You
love
shrimp. Shrimp will cheer you
up.”

“They
have
shrimp?”
Felicity
gazed
into
his
eyes.
“I
don’t
know,
I
don’t
think I’m
hungry.”

“Of course you are, my little scallop.
You
don’t
need that old
sweater,
Felicity.
I’ll
buy
you
the
gaudiest
damn
Broadway
mu
sical of a Christmas sweater
money
can
buy.”
He took her hand and led the
way
to the long food line.

Vic
wrapped his arms around
Lacey
and pulled her
away
into a
darker
corner.
“Alone
at
last.”
He tipped her
face
up. He
was
about to kiss
her.
Oh
yeah,
Lacey
thought,
this
is
what
I
got
all
dressed
up
for tonight!

“Yeah,
man, alone at
last,”
Tony
said.
“Now
we can
talk.”
Trujillo
had
followed
them for a
debriefing,
with Linda Sue in
tow.
“You
didn’t
think you could get
away
without spilling the whole
story,
did you?”

“We
had hoped.
Yes,”
Lacey
said.

“Oh no, we
want
to hang with the cool
kids,”
Linda Sue said with a selfmocking smile that made
Lacey
like
her more.
“And
Tony
says
y’all’re
the
coolest.”

“It’s
weird, man, an attack on a journalist, right in our
own
back
alley,”
Tony
said.
“You
don’t
think Felicity did it, do you,
Lacey?”

“I hope
not.”
Lacey
thought
Tony
was
thinking about Felic
ity’s
cookies more than
Felicity.

“Who’s
the cop on the case?”

“I
talked
to a
Detective
Sam Charleston.
You
know
him?”
“Nope.”
Tony
shook his head. “Heard the name. So who do you think got to her?
You
get a description? And what
was
the weapon?”

“I
wasn’t
a
witness.”
Lacey
didn’t
want
to sound
like
a fool. “Something big and hard, he said. Perhaps a giant candy
cane.”
“That’s
helpful,”
Tony
grumbled.
“Couldn’t
the kid do
any
better than that?
Didn’t
he see the actual attack?”

The ambient party noise
was
growing
deafening. The four
found
themselves
huddling
as
if
on
a
football
field.
“The
sweater looks bad for
Felicity,”
Lacey
suggested. “From her de scription
there’s
really no question
it’s
her
sweater.”
She
re
flected that if Felicity were to attack someone it
would
be with food, not with a blunt instrument.
But
wait,
she thought,
candy canes
are
food.

“Is Cassandra the one who wrote that mean little thing on Christmas sweaters?” Linda Sue
asked.
Lacey
nodded.

“I thought you said a man
attacked
her,”
Tony
said.

“The little shepherd said the ‘Santa Dude’ did
it,”
Lacey said.

“I’m
lost,”
Linda Sue said.
“Who’s
the Santa Dude?” “Felicity is big enough to be a Santa
Dude,”
Tony
said, and
Linda
Sue
laughed.
She
told
him
she
needed
a
drink.
They headed
toward
the
bar.
“We’ll
be
back,”
he
warned.

“The sweater
strikes
me as pretty
clumsy,”
Vic
said to
Lacey
once
they
were alone.
“A
neon sign pointing to your pal Felic
ity.
But
it’s
a
nice
obvious
clue
for
someone
who’s
got
too
much
work
to do to look for the little
things.”

“You
mean the cops?”

“Cops are pretty
overworked
in this
town,”
he said.
“And
the candy cane?”

“That’s
just
showing
off,”
Vic
said. “Unless it
was
just the only thing at hand. If in
fact
the weapon
was
a candy cane. Who
knows.”

“Felicity’s
never
been my
favorite person,”
Lacey
said,
“but
I
find
it hard to
believe
she did
this.”

“Oh, really?”

“If she tried to kill Cassandra,
wouldn’t
Felicity be
worried
about her being
unexpectedly
alive
and talking? She
didn’t
even
ask about
Cassandra.”

“Could be
taken
a couple of
ways,
and neither one looks good for
Felicity.”
Vic
took a swig of his beer and
eyed
the par tygoers swirling around them. “Either she
knows
what condi tion Cassandra is in and thinks
she’ll
die, or
she’s
a completely unfeeling witch who
couldn’t
care less. And that might
make
her a pretty good suspect
too.”