Grave Apparel (21 page)

“You’ll
keep me busy?” She arched one
eyebrow
at
him.
“You
must
have
a lot more time on your hands these
days.”

“We
hired
more
investigators
to
help
handle
the
load.
Be
sides,
I’ve
got
better
things
to
do
at
night
than
pull
surveillance.”

“Such as?”

“Keeping
you
warm.
I’m hoping for a really chilly
winter.”
Lacey
was
glad the lights were
low.
She suspected she
was
blushing.
Even
though
she’d
been dying to
show
Donovan
off
tonight, she felt the glare of attention from
every
side.
Lacey
had been
enjoying
the winks and nudges from her friends at the
paper,
and when
they
caught sight of the handsome
Vic
Dono
van,
they
were gratifyingly impressed. He
looked
particularly alluring when that dark curl fell
over
his forehead and his green
eyes
were focused only on
her.

“So what do you think of my plan for the holidays?”

“I
approve.
And
Vic,
I’m
really
not
getting
involved
this
time, onl
y.
.
.”

“Only what?”

“I’m
worried
about my little shepherd
boy.
Do you think he could be a
target
of this nutcase who
cracked
Cassandra
over
the head?”

“Not if he
takes
off
the
shepherd’s
robe.”
Vic
stroked
her neck.
“He’s
only a
target
as long as
he’s
identifiable.
Without
the robe
he’s
just another kid. He didn’t
know
the
assailant,
right? And from what you told me, the assailant probably
didn’t
get a good look at him.
Too
busy.”

“So you think the kid is not in
any
danger?”

“Probably not. The kid goes to his Christmas pageant
or
whatever
it is, he comes home, he
takes
off
the costume. It goes back in the church basement till
next
year.
End of
story,
end of trouble.
For
him. Maybe not for Cassandra,
though.”

“You’re
right. Of
course,”
Lacey said. “Unless this
shep
herd’s
robe thing is a
new
fashion
trend. Crèche couture?”

“Look on the bright side,
honey.
At least
it’s
not
another
Christmas
sweater.”
Vic’s
eyes
were caught by something be hind
Lacey’s
back.
“And
don’t
look
now,
but
I see cops at this
party.”

“Where?” She spun around.

“There. Plainclothes.
You
can
always
tell.”

She
saw
Felicity being braced by
two
men, one black, one white.
They
were wearing sport coats, not
tuxedos,
not Santa caps. And
Vic
was
right, the trained
eye
of a cop, or a
reporter,
could tell at a glance
they
were plainclothes
detectives.
A dis tressed Harlan
Wiedemeyer
sprinted
toward
Lacey
and
Vic.
He
was
sweating and his hair stuck out from his head where his antlers had
fallen
off
in the rush.

“They’ve
got
Felicity,”
he spluttered. “The cops!
They
want
to
ask
her
some
questions.
They’ve
got
my
sugar
cookie!
Heart
less bastards!”

“That’s
what
they
do,”
Vic
said, steadying
Wiedemeyer
with a
hand
on
his
shoulder.
“Just
like
reporters.
Your
sugar
cookie
has nothing to
worry
about. Does she?”

“It’s
too
obvious,”
Lacey
said,
dropping
her
keys
on
Aunt
Mimi’s
trunk in front of her blue
velvet
sofa.
“The Christmas sweater thing is just too
obvious.”
And
why
are
we
still
talking
about
this?
Lacey wondered.
I am
not
getting involved!

“Cops
like
obvious,”
Vic
said.
“They
like
things that
fit.
And people do stupid
obvious
things.
They’ll
like
the sweater con nection to
Pickles.”

Vic
removed
his
jacket
and took
off
his tie.
“You
look
cute,”
Lacey
said.

“Cute, you say?”

She hung up his coat and stared at him.
“Yeah,
very
cute.”
“Not handsome, thoughtful,
brave,
clean? Heroic?”
“Yeah,
that
too,”
she admitted.
“And
cute.”

“Well,
I am cute. Just so
we’re
clear,”
he said. The red light on her phone
was
blinking. “Uhoh. Are you going to answer
that?”

Lacey
sighed
and
pushed
the
PLAY
button.
“It’s
probably
just
my
mother.”

“Lacey,
honey,
are you there?” It
was
her
mother.
“Are
you sure you
can’t
come home for Christmas? This is your mother
calling.”

She rolled her
eyes
at
Vic.
“Told
you.”

“I could call that boss of
yours,”
her mother continued on tape. “That nice
Mr.
Jones. If that
would
help. Do you think that
would
help?”

“Oh yeah, that would really
help,”
Lacey muttered
under
Vic’s
laughter.

Rose Smithsonian had been trying for weeks to entice her daughter to join the
family
at home for the holidays. She
hadn’t
come right out and said that
Lacey
was
ruining Christmas for
them,
but
the
subtext
was
crystal
clear.
“Well,”
her
mother
sighed, “maybe you could come for
New
Year’s
then. Call
me.”
She hung up.

“That
was
fun.”
Lacey
waited
for the
next
message to
play,
expecting
part
two
of
Mom’s
message. “She probably
forgot
something. Another scenic detour on the guilt
trip.”

They
were both surprised when the caller turned out not to be her
mother.

“Lacey,
it’s
Jeffrey.
Remember,
Jeffrey
Bentley
Holmes?
It’s
been a while, I
know,
but
I’ll
be in
Washington
next
week for a
fundraiser,
and well, if
you’re
free,
I’d
love
you to be my
date.”

“Jeffrey
Bentley
Holmes?”
Vic’s
face was
quizzical.

“But we can talk about that
later,”
the message continued.
“Among
other
things.”

“Other things?”
Vic
inquired.

“I
have
no
idea.”
Lacey
shrugged her shoulders.

“I
know
we
have
lots of things to talk
about,”
Jeffrey
went on, “and
you’re
probably surprised to hear from me. So
let’s
go to lunch. I’m on the road,
I’ll
be hard to reach, so
I’ll
call you at
work
Monday.
Looking
forward
to seeing you.
Bye.”

Vic
was
wearing
his
dark
sardonic
look.
“Something
I should
know,
Lacey?”

“Vic,
you
know
the last time I heard from
Jeffrey
he
was
in a
monastery.
Getting his head
together.”

“Not becoming a priest?
That’s
too
bad.”
“He
was
on
retreat.”

“Doesn’t
sound
like
he’s
on retreat
now.
More
like
he’s
on the
advance.”
Vic
put his arms around
Lacey.
“And
he’s
advanc
ing on the state of
Virginia,
moving
in on
you.”

“Jeffrey
was
a friend to me,
that’s
all.”
“The
way
I heard it, he
wants
a
date.”

“He
doesn’t
know
that
we’re
a couple.
I’ll
just
have
to let him
know
I’m
taken.”

“On your date?”

“No
silly,
at
lunch.”
She kissed him. “I think
it’s
so cute that
you’re
so
jealous.”

He kissed her back. “I’m not jealous,
but
they
say he is rich and
handsome.”
It
was
true.
Jeffrey
Bentley
Holmes
was
rich and handsome.

“But
you’re
rich,
Vic.
And I
didn’t
even
know
it. I thought you were just a goodlooking
excop
on a
salary.
You’re
rich and
cute.”

“I’m
‘comfortable,’
Lacey.
Bentley
is
rich.”

She laughed.
“And
I
didn’t
even
know
how
comfortable.
We
could talk about
how
jealous you are, or you could
make
your self
useful.”

“Useful,
huh?
So
just
being
rich
isn’t
enough
for
you
anymore?”

Vic
moved
into the small passthrough kitchen. He took out a pan, grabbed the milk from the refrigerator, chocolate
and
sugar
from
the
cupboard.
“And
by
the
way,
I’m
not
jealous.
Just
curious. And cute, remember?” He made hot chocolate for them while
Lacey
slipped out of her shoes.