Ornamental Danger: a holiday short story (Working Stiff Mysteries) (5 page)

"Well, that would be all fine and good, honey, if not for one thing." Ms. Maimie reached her hand down in her bra.

I was more than a little afraid of what she was going to pull out. I shut my eyes for a second and then cracked open one tentatively.

"Check it out, Mandy," Ms. Lanier urged.

I leaned in toward Ms. Maimie's extended hand. Even in the dim light of the bathroom, I could see that it was an index-sized recipe card, and it appeared to be smeared with blood.

"Don't forget to spray paint them pine cones Winter White on your wreath. Any other color will just look totally fake."
—
Sundae Giddings' decorative advice

I swallowed hard. "Is that blood? Where did you get that?"

"We found it in Suzette's kitchen. While you were over there being mauled by those over-powdered prudes, we did a little snooping. As soon as we tasted that nog, we knew. We just knew." Ms. Maimie brought me up to speed.

"You shouldn't have messed with it. We need to call Ty. We need to get out of here. If she killed Ms. Strength for the recipe, she might notice it's missing." I reached for the door and opened it as I was talking. I needed to get Paget and get out of here. I wanted to get as far away from this mess as I could.

As I finished speaking and turned to lead the way out, I bumped right smack dab into Suzette Granger.

"That's good advice, sweetie. In fact, I've already noticed it missing, and you're not taking that card anywhere." She pushed her way into the now overcrowded room and shut the door behind her. That's when I noticed that she held a gun in her hand, covered by a fine, white cloth napkin.

I reached behind me and extracted my cell phone from my back pocket. I remembered that there was a record feature for dictating notes to yourself. If I could just push that button without looking, I could record whatever was about to happen. I wasn't sure what that was, but the gun wasn't a good sign.

"I've wanted that recipe for years," Suzette began.

I used my thumb to swipe across the screen and hoped that I'd unlocked the screensaver. I wasn't even sure I was holding it right, and I didn't dare look back at it.

"We all have, Suzette, but we wouldn't go so far as to kill old Verna for it," Ms. Maimie offered.

"Oh, shut up, Maimie." Suzette waved the gun at her, and Ms. Maimie sat down on the toilet but decided to remain quiet.

I stabbed at my phone and thought I heard something beep. I cleared my throat to cover the noise. I hoped it was recording.

"Yeah, I wasn't a fan of her either, but it wasn't worth knocking off the old bat," Ms. Lanier chimed in.

Suzette turned and pointed the gun at her. "You don't know what I offered her for it. I offered money—lots and lots of money. But she just wouldn't budge."

My phone was making some sort of noise now. I coughed and leaned back against the wall.

"What's that noise?" Suzette spun toward me.

"I just tasted the eggnog. I may be allergic to something in it. Does it have peanuts in it?"

Ms. Maimie looked down at the recipe card, and Suzette snatched it from her.

"Oh perfect. Just perfect. Let's tell everyone about the recipe. Let's run it in the newspaper. Then everyone will make it, and all of this will be for nothing."

My throat was feeling a little swollen. But I wasn't really allergic to peanuts. Maybe it was panic at the idea of being killed in a nineteenth century bathroom that was causing it to close up.

"Suzette, just tell us what happened," Ms. Maimie suggested from her porcelain perch.

Suzette shook her head, the gun wobbling a little. "I didn't mean to hurt her. I…I…I baked her some almond butter kisses and took them over. I wanted to wish her luck with the Mistletoe Smackdown. I gave up winning that years ago." She cut her eyes towards me, and I nodded sympathetically.

She removed the napkin from the top of the gun and dabbed her forehead with it. "I just wanted to try to ask her for the recipe one more time. I invited her to this party and offered to make her the guest of honor. But she refused. She yelled at me. She…called me names."

"What kind of names?" Ms. Lanier asked. I'd wondered what the names had been also but had decided that it was better not to ask at this precise moment.

Luckily, Suzette ignored the inquiry. "So, I…I went over to the book case, and I picked up the trophy. That precious trophy. It's all anyone can think about this time of year. It drives me nuts. I held it up and threatened to break it if she didn't give me the recipe. She jumped up and waved her hands. She seemed flustered. She agreed to give it to me. Told me it was hidden in one of her hundreds of books."

Suzette's voice broke a little at the recounting. "She snatched the trophy from me and…and turned to run. But she ran away from the bookcase and toward the kitchen. I yelled at her, and she looked back, but then she tripped. I swear. She tripped and fell. She landed on that trophy, and she didn't move."

Suzette leaned over the sink. I looked at Ms. Lanier, and she hadn't taken her eyes off that gun. I cleared my throat, and she focused in on me.

I waved the phone out from behind my back. Tried to convey
don't even think about trying anything
to her, but she gave me a small grin, and I knew something was about to go down.

"Then you did what? You finished off the job and stole the recipe anyway?" Ms. Maimie said, no mirth in her voice.

"No, I…I didn't hurt her. But I did find the recipe. It took two hours or more to flip through all those damned books. I finally found it, and I left. I didn't call for help. I just left." Suzette started crying, and then everything went downhill from there.

Ms. Lanier grabbed for the gun. Ms. Maimie plunged beneath the gun struggle and grabbed Suzette's legs, and I dipped low just in time before the gun went off—shooting a round into the wall just below the toilet tank. Water gushed out, soaking the three brawling women, and I jerked the door open.

A whole mob of women tumbled inside. The eavesdroppers had been leaning against the door to hear the whole thing. I lost my footing and fell backward into the tub.

That's when I heard a familiar voice yelling. It was Ty. The cavalry was here. But how?

I looked down at my phone as I sat up in the tub and rubbed the back of my sore head. I'd managed to press something on my phone, but it hadn't been my voice recorder. I'd simply managed to hit re-dial on the last number I'd called last night.

After a few moments, Ty managed to make his way into the room and secure the weapon and the suspect. Of course, he'd had to pull Ms. Lanier and Ms. Maimie off of Suzette who had been pinned to the floor by both of their bodies.

"All right. All right. Let's all go down to the station and get this sorted out. Bring that recipe card, Maimie." Ty herded the women out of the room.

"It has blood on it. I don't think she's telling the truth," Ms. Maimie offered as she pulled the now wet card out of her bra and waved it around.

"That's not blood, you idiot. I spilled vanilla on it when I made my batch for the party." Suzette hadn't lost all her fighting words in the takedown.

"Well, crap." Ms. Maimie examined the card again and then stuck her tongue out and touched it to the dark stain. Ty grimaced, and I smiled. "Wonders never cease, that
is
vanilla. I'll be darned."

I couldn't help but let out a laugh. Ty gave me a once over, and, apparently deciding that I'd survive, escorted Suzette Granger and her captors out of the bathroom.

I pulled myself out of the tub and headed back into the main party room where the atmosphere was full of mayhem and chaos. To my benefit, that left the food table totally unattended.

I made my way there, looking around for Paget in the process. This type of commotion may have set her off on one of her episodes. My heart began to race as I couldn't put eyes on her.

Then I saw her sitting quietly at a table. A smile upon her face, she seemed to be talking or singing to herself. She had one of the inn's housecats in her lap, and she was stroking its head gently and a sipping on a glass of eggnog.

I shifted my route from the food toward Paget. No wonder she was so calm. Little sister was drunk.

"We wish you a merry Christmas and a happy new beer."
—
A Millbrook Christmas Carol

"You really know how to ruin a costume." Allyson, the Hussy, Harlow stood behind me at the dressing table at the Millbrook Community Center and honored me with her version of a compliment. We both stared at my reflection in the large mirror.

I blew upward into my feather-covered tiara ensemble "I'm doing the best I can with what was provided to me, Allyson. I mean, you must have stretched out this get-up when you wore it last year." I couldn't resist the dig. Everyone knew that she had the biggest chest in three counties.

She grinned at me, and I returned the smile—managing to put a crease in the thick foundation that she'd caked on my face moments earlier. Why I'd agreed to allow her to apply my makeup I still couldn't fathom. But here we were. Old enemies acting as if we were new besties.

My face was actually in pain from the heavy coating. I wondered if it was possible to suffocate your pores to the point of skin poisoning.

Her high-pitched voice grated on my nerves as she let out a little giggle. "Hi, Ty. How nice of you to come by and wish our queen well. Doesn't she look just lovely?"

My breath caught in my throat as I saw Ty's large figure silhouetted in the door frame behind us.

"I think she looks terrific."

Allyson let out a disappointed sigh. I imagined that she was aggravated that Ty hadn't taken the bait on her fake compliment.

"Ladies, are we about ready to load up in the car and take a ride around town?" His voice was soft and smooth, and I berated myself for liking the sound of it. I'd promised myself that I wouldn't go there again. Ever.

"Well, this is as good as she gets." Allyson responded and then stuck the crystal-topped glitter wand into my hand with more force than was necessary.

"Ow." I switched the wand to my other hand and briefly considered clobbering her with it. But, she'd already sauntered over toward Ty and was making a big production of squeezing past him and out the door.

Good Lord.

"Ready, Mandy?"

"Uh. Yes. But, could you lead me to the right car? I'm having a little trouble seeing."

"Why is that?" He stepped toward me and held out a hand.

I turned to look at him. "I think she put too much glue on these fake lashes. My left eye is stuck shut."

Ty chuckled and I playfully smacked him with my wand.

*  *  *

"Well, you sure had one heck of a reign as Glitter Queen." Penny stated the obvious as we sat on the sofa in my den the next afternoon and watched Paget loop another strand of garland around the already over-decorated tree.

"Huh. You can say that again." I was still picking glitter and feathers out of my hair from that costume.

"You're the only Glitter Queen in the history of the Mistletoe Smackdown to award the trophy to someone who didn't even enter the contest," Penny cackled between sips of coffee.

"Well, I think the school had the best decorations. All the kids made little baby Jesus mangers out of walnut shells, and the older kids dressed as reindeers and stood in front of the school and performed a bell choir, and their tree full of aluminum foil snowflakes was awesome. It was beautiful, heartfelt, and simple. And that's what the trophy should be about."

I'd felt confident in my choice. Until the little trophy ceremony this morning.

"Yeah, well, I think that will also be the first time that on Christmas Eve, the Glitter Queen gives the school principal a trophy of two people having—adult relations." Her choice of words was for my sister's benefit. And her laughter was never-ending.

I sighed. I'd never live this down. Apparently, no one had bothered to check the replacement trophy before handing me the box to present. Instead of a couple innocently exchanging a kiss under the mistletoe, they had moved on to a more compromising position.

"Hey, I heard that. It wasn't my fault. Maimie ordered that over the phone. It's not my fault the old bat won't use her reading glasses and gave them the wrong item number," Ms. Lanier bellowed from the kitchen where she was whipping up some treats for us.

"My glasses don't allow folks to see the true beauty of my eyes," Ms. Maimie responded as she returned from her bathroom makeup touch-up down the hall.

I leaned back on the sofa and ran my hands through my hair for the millionth time. More glitter trickled down the front of my shirt.

"Are you sure you don't want me to get hold of your hair? I can get that out at the shop," Sundae offered from where she crouched on the floor—trying to find where a light bulb was missing in the strand of lights.

"No. I'm good. It will wash out eventually." I was not going back into Sundae's chair again. I loved her, but I was still trying to recover from my last visit.

A knock on the door rescued me from the onslaught of teasing and suggestions for my beauty regimen. I headed to the kitchen door and opened it to see Ty Dempsey standing there with Coach Mulder and a bottle of wine.

I did a double take. What was my grouchy tree farm boss doing here?

"Penny said you'd invited me over for dinner, and I hope you don't mind that I brought along Coach. He's all alone this year." His words explained things, but his eyes told the real tale. Coach Mulder had really loved Ms. Strength, and he was in pain this year.

His note had turned out to be a final plea for her love and not really a threat. Something to the effect of "if he couldn't have her in this life then maybe the next life," and while poorly worded, the fact remained that he'd lost her to unforeseen circumstances, and no one deserved to be alone at Christmas.

"Sure, come on in." I gestured to the men, and Ty mouthed the words
thank you
to me as he handed me the wine.

"Hey, coach, we could use some help in here with these lights," Sundae called, and soon Coach was in there coaching the girls about the best way to decorate.

Pickles took up his place at Ty's thigh and got his favorite ear-rub. I opened the bottle of wine.

"Now, none of that for young Paget, okay?" Ty teased from nearby.

My face heated. Yet another thing I'd never live down. Letting my sister get into the potent General Lee's Eggnog while I'd tried to solve the case and diffuse the Suzette situation in the bathroom—well I wasn't trying to solve it so much as to survive the Hoot's investigative methods.

"Yeah, yeah. It's been a wild few days. But now that the contest is over, were you ever able to confirm that my unwelcome visitor was, in fact, harmless? Who left the tree note on my bed?"

Ty stuffed a piece of turkey in his mouth that he'd swiped from the serving tray. He answered around it, "Yep, it was just another misunderstanding. It wasn't left there by Parker, the church treasurer, as Ms. Lanier had predicted."

"Who left it, then?" My curiosity was killing me.

"Believe it or not, it was left by Ms. Strength's niece." Ty reached for another piece of turkey but pulled his hand back when Ms. Lanier raised her kitchen towel to give him a pop.

"Who is Ms. Strength's niece, and why would she threaten me?"

He shrugged. "Her name is Macy Deats. She showed up this morning to claim Ms. Strength's body. She admitted to leaving you the tree and said to apologize. She'd just wanted Ms. Strength to win the trophy one last time. And she wasn't threatening to hurt you. She claimed that she was letting you know that if Ms. Strength could be killed over a trophy, who knew what would happen to you if you chose wrong. She apologized and asked me to pass this along to you. Said she saw you at the Nog party and tried to tell you but wasn't able to chat with you there."

An image of a young woman with dark brown eyes danced through my mind. She'd been trying to speak with me when Suzette was dragging me across the room. And she'd looked familiar because she favored her aunt.

"I told her I'd ask if you wanted to press charges for trespassing. I don't know if I can swing a breaking and entering charge because you left the house unlocked." He gave me a stern you-know-better-than-that look.

I looked over at Paget and Sundae decorating the tree and Coach Mulder on the floor working with the lights. I looked at Penny and Ms. Maimie clinking their wine glasses together on the sofa and Ms. Lanier pouring herself a glass as she joined them in the den.

I shook my head. "No. No. Let her off. She's lost her aunt, and the whole thing was senseless. How much trouble is Suzette Granger in anyway?"

Ty leaned back against the counter and watched the scene in the den with me.

"I doubt the prosecutor will press charges. She didn't actually lay a hand on her. It really was just an accident. Dr. C. confirms that the death was due to a heart attack and not the fall. Although, Suzette will always have to wonder if her threat instigated the heart attack. I'm sure she'll always blame herself."

"How sad. All of that over a trophy and a recipe." I saw the happiness in Paget's face as she hugged Sundae, and I knew that family was really the recipe for true happiness. But…

"Whatever happened to that eggnog recipe?" I asked, not sure that I ever wanted to see that stuff again. But, then again, it had had a certain special aftertaste that was addictive.

"Well, we have the index card down at the station—it is technically evidence—but I heard that there was a copy of it posted on the front page of The Mainstreet Mile this morning."

"You don't say…" I said, as I turned to Ty with a smile on my face. "I guess some things are just too good not to be shared."

"Oh, I totally agree with that…" He reached into his shirt pocket and pulled out something that looked a lot like a twig of mistletoe. He held it up over his head and stepped toward me.

Fa la la la lah…