Steeled for Murder (22 page)

“What time do you expect the kids?” I asked.

“Not until nine or so,” she said. “The stuff for the tree is in the attic. Want to help me get it?”

We went upstairs. Four good-sized bedrooms and a bathroom. The door to the attic was stuck; she had to pull hard to get it to budge.

Kelly passed several boxes to me, and I carried them downstairs.

“Tomato soup and grilled cheese sandwiches okay for supper?” Kelly asked.

I grinned. “Sounds good.” Could she have read my mind?

She went into the kitchen to fix it while I started to unpack the boxes of lights and ornaments.

“You want a beer? Or a drink?” she called.

“Nah. No sense violating parole for something like that.” The scare with the beer at Tiffany’s had cured me of taking that chance.

I attached the legs to the tree stand and tested a few strings of lights. Nineteen years of no Christmas trees and then two this year.

“Supper’s almost ready.”

I went into the kitchen and washed my hands at the kitchen sink. Warm smells of soup and grilling sandwiches had chased the chill from the air.

Kelly put a can of soda on the table for me. She took her empty glass, sloshed a healthy dose of Southern Comfort into it, and set the nearly full bottle on the drain board. She filled two bowls with soup. I carried them to the table while she put the hot sandwiches on plates. She’d gotten them golden brown with the melted cheese oozing out the sides. Perfect.

I bit into my sandwich. Even better than I’d remembered. I spooned some hot soup into my mouth. It was creamy and warmed my throat. She’d mixed the condensed soup with milk, not the water I would have used.

Kelly took a major swig from her glass. “The tree ought to be pretty much thawed out by the time we finish eating,” she said. “We can set it up then.”

I washed up the dishes while Kelly looked over the decorations. Then I went and fetched the tree from the bathroom. The ice had melted, but it was still pretty wet. I spent a few minutes shaking the water off it as best I could.

When I carried it into the living room, Kelly was sitting on the couch, the almost-empty glass in her hand. The bottle was now on the coffee table and the level was much lower. I frowned. How much was she drinking?

Not my business. I set the tree in the stand. “Can you hold this while I get down underneath and tighten the screws?” I asked.

Kelly heaved herself off the couch and stood a bit uncertainly. She stepped carefully over to the tree and held it straight. I lay on the floor on my stomach and adjusted the screws until the tree stood firm.

“Lights next.” I scrambled to my feet and grabbed a string of lights.

Kelly let go of the tree. “How about you put the decorations on while I go and wrap the presents?” She slurred her words slightly.

“Okay,” I said, untangling the lights.

She took her glass and headed for the stairs. Looking at how little was left in the glass, she came back and grabbed the bottle. I heard her heavy footsteps on the stairs.

I finished putting everything on the tree. I covered the whole tree, not just the bottom third. I plugged the lights in and stepped back to admire my handiwork. Not bad.

Kelly hadn’t reappeared. I turned off room lights so the tree glowed in the darkness.

Should I just leave? I’d pretty much finished what I’d come to do. Kelly’d fed me well. I wasn’t at all sure it would be a good idea for me to be here when the kids arrived. What would Kelly’s former sister-in-law have to say about a strange man in the house? It seemed rude, though, to just leave. The sleet had stopped, but I was in no hurry to tackle the long, cold walk home.

Chapter 13

I was sitting on the couch, doing nothing but gazing at the Christmas tree, when I heard a car door slam outside.

“Kelly?” I went over to the stairs and called up to her. “I think they’re here.”

The doorbell rang.

No response from Kelly. Hesitantly, I opened the door.

A boy and a slightly younger girl tumbled into the room. A short, burly, middle-aged woman followed them, carrying several shopping bags. She put the bags down and looked around.

“Where’s Kelly?” she asked.

“She’ll be down in a minute,” I said.

“Not drinking again, I hope,” the woman said, sniffing suspiciously.

I didn’t say anything.

She held out her hand. “Louise,” she said. “I’m the children’s aunt.”

I shook her hand. She had a firm, confident grip. “Jesse.” I was glad to see I remembered how this little social ritual went. “Pleased to meet you.”

The kids had gravitated to the Christmas tree. “It’s beautiful,” the girl whispered. She fingered a slightly crooked snowman. “Remember when we got this?”

“They’ve had a good dinner. And a bath. I made sure of that, at least.” She shook her head disapprovingly. “Their clothes should all be clean; I washed and ironed them this afternoon.” Louise straightened the collar of her heavy tweed coat. “Can you help me get the children’s things from the car?”

“Of course.” I didn’t know people still ironed clothes.

I accompanied her back to the aging sedan parked in front of the house. Louise took the backpacks, and I grabbed the suitcases. We carried them inside.

“Kiss your auntie good night,” Louise commanded.

Obediently, the kids tore themselves away from the tree and stood on tiptoe to kiss her cheek. Then they went right back to the tree.

“I feel for those kids. Fred and Kelly are both a little too fond of the bottle. I think they met in a bar.” She looked sharply at me. “Do you drink?”

“No, ma’am,” I said. “I’ve had one beer in the last couple of years, and I didn’t finish that.”

Louise shook her head sadly. “I try with those children, but I’m only their aunt. I have to take care of my mother. And I’m not getting any younger.”

The little girl turned around and asked, “Where’s Mom?”

I glanced toward the stairs. “Upstairs wrapping presents. She said she’d be down in a few minutes.”

Louise took a last look at the kids.

I walked her to the door and said, “Thank you,” although I wasn’t sure for what. I shut it behind her.

I turned to the kids. “What are your names?”

“My name is Brianna,” the younger child said. She took off her jacket and flung it on a chair. “That’s a nice Christmas tree.”

“Mom said she might not have a tree this year.” Her brother took his jacket off, too, and put it on the chair. “I’m Chris. Are you Mom’s new boyfriend? What’s your name?”

Kelly certainly knew my name. No point trying to keep it from these kids. “Jesse,” I said. “And no, I’m not your Mom’s new boyfriend. Just someone from work.”

“Mom needs a boyfriend,” Brianna said.

“Oh?”

“Dad’s got a girlfriend,” Chris said. “He says only losers don’t have girlfriends. Or boyfriends.”

“I guess that makes me a loser,” I said. Not really news to me.

“Did you get the Christmas tree?” Brianna asked.

“Your mom got it. I helped her bring it in and decorate it.”

“Why aren’t you Mom’s boyfriend? Don’t you like her?”

This interrogation was getting a little uncomfortable. Even if the interrogators were only in elementary school.

“Don’t you kids need to get ready for bed?” I asked. “It’s Christmas Eve.”

“Could we fix hot chocolate?” Chris asked. “We used to do that on Christmas Eve. Back when Dad lived here.”

“And could you read us ‘The Night Before Christmas’? Dad used to do that, too,” Brianna added.

“I suppose. If you know where everything is. But you need to bring your stuff upstairs and put on your pajamas first.” I was willing to bet that these kids had pajamas. Undoubtedly clean. Possibly ironed.

Odd. I’d stepped out of one situation taking care of kids and right into another. And at Christmas, the most family-oriented time of the year. Felt good. Conjured up memories of cold winter evenings spent helping the ever-changing array of kids in the Coleman household. Foster care might not be like living with real family, but a good foster home could go a long way toward comforting a scared kid.

I don’t think I’d felt this content since the last Christmas with the Colemans. Over twenty years ago. Made me feel like a regular person.

I went into the kitchen and found hot chocolate mix. I put two mugs of water in the microwave. After a few seconds, I added another mug for me, too.

The kids came downstairs. Just as I suspected, they had on spotless, warm pajamas. Bright red with candy canes embroidered on them. They looked like they’d stepped right out of a Christmas card. Probably exactly what Aunt Louise had intended.

“Mom’s asleep,” Brianna said. “She’s snoring real loud.”

“Don’t tell him that,” Chris said. “He might not want a girlfriend who snores.” He held up a book he was carrying. “The Night Before Christmas.” “We sit in the living room where we can see the tree,” he said solemnly.

“You need to put marshmallows in the hot chocolate.” Brianna pointed to a cabinet. “They’re up on the high shelf there.”

I got the marshmallows and plopped one in each mug. I carried them into the living room and put them on the coffee table.

When I sat on the couch, one kid snuggled up on either side of me. Chris opened the book.

We finished the book and sat drinking our hot chocolate, looking at the tree.

I thought how kids were so predisposed to trust. I’d probably been like that, once. How could adults do the horrible things they did to destroy that trust? Left a big empty hole in the gut.

“Do you suppose Santa Claus will come?” Brianna asked.

“Maybe not,” Chris answered doubtfully. “We got most of our stuff already at Grandma’s. You know there’s not really any such thing as Santa Claus.”

And the world is a sadder place for that.

Where were all these introspective, maudlin thoughts coming from? What was the matter with me? I stood up and gathered the empty mugs. Here I could barely handle my own life, and I was waxing philosophic about the state of the world. Nothing like overextending myself.

Plus, I was getting way too involved in other people’s lives. Yeah, it felt good after so many years of isolation, but I just had to deal with the lonesome reality of my own life. Not to mention it was wrong to be messing with kids’ heads. Two sets of kids, in fact.

“Bedtime,” I said. Once they were in bed, I should go, cold walk and all.

“You gonna come up and tuck us in?” Chris asked.

“And kiss us goodnight?” Brianna added.

We trooped upstairs. The kids had bedrooms at the top of the stairs. Down the hallway, light spilled out from an open door. I took a few steps and looked in.

Kelly was sprawled out on the bed, half undressed, with a flowered blue flannel nightgown clutched in her hand. Pillows were spread across the foot of the bed. The glass and the empty bottle lay on their sides next to the bed, along with her discarded work boots. Like Brianna had said, she was snoring.

I tore my eyes away from the smooth pale skin of her inner thigh.

Strewn all over the foot of the bed and the floor were the presents she’d been wrapping. Seemed like she’d pretty much finished; they were all wrapped and festooned with tags and bows, although the writing on the tags was pretty sloppy and some of the bows were crooked.

I went back to the kids’ rooms.

Clutching a pink teddy bear, Brianna climbed into her pink and white bed and snuggled down under the ruffled comforter. “Now you tuck in the sides so the covers don’t come off.”

I did so.

“Now you kiss me good night.”

Hesitantly, I leaned down and gave her a peck on the cheek.

She giggled. “Your whiskers scratch.”

Probably right about that. I needed a shave.

“Now kiss me on the other side.” She pointed to her other cheek.

Once again, a quick peck on the cheek.

“Now here.” She pointed to her forehead.

Quick peck on the forehead.

“Now you say, ‘‘Night, ‘night, sleep tight. Don’t let the bedbugs bite.’”

I laughed and repeated the phrase, adding, “Good night.”

She hugged the teddy, turned on her side, and closed her eyes. “Now you can turn out the light. But leave the door a little open and leave the hall light on.”

Next I went into Chris’s room and repeated a similar ritual, without the extra kisses. He clutched a soft, floppy, stuffed tiger.

What about Kelly? The house was chilly and would get chillier as the night wore on. Uncovered, she’d be awfully cold. I went into her bedroom.

Still clutching the nightgown, she had rolled over on her back. Her bra was unhooked and had ridden up. Her breasts were covered only by a transparent sweep of her hair. Her sensible cotton panties were half off her butt. For a moment, I stared at her like a teenage boy who’d just gotten hold of his first Playboy.