White Colander Crime (4 page)

The window was down, and Shelby Fretter, a pretty blonde with a downturned dissatisfied mouth, leaned across the passenger seat as she lowered the window. “Mom, why are you talking about Cody? I told you to keep your nose out of my business.”

Lori looked uncertain and stared at her daughter, then looked back to Jaymie. “I wasn't doing anything,” she said, grabbing the car door and yanking it open. “But some people need to be told that others aren't angels, you know?” She slid into the passenger seat.

How Lori Wozny got from Jaymie's silence that she thought Cody was an angel, she did not know.

“Cody can jam a turnip up his butt, and his mom, too,” Shelby said. She leaned across her mother and glared out the window. “Why do
you
care?” she yelled at Jaymie.

“I don't,” Jaymie called out, feeling ridiculous but not wanting to engage by approaching the car. “It was just a misunderstanding!”

“Hey, I know who you are. Saw your picture in the paper last month,” Shelby said, staring at her. “You're the one who keeps getting mixed up in murder. You think you're some kind of PI?”

Jaymie just shrugged.

“I could investigate
rings
around you!” She rolled her window up.

Mabel Bloombury had come out on the porch and stood by Jaymie. “What's wrong?”

“I haven't a clue,” Jaymie said as Shelby gunned the heavy-sounding motor and sped down the lane, turning abruptly and skidding off down the road toward Queensville. “I have
no
idea. I'd better get going,” she said and gave Mabel a brief unplanned hug.

She headed home in a thoughtful frame of mind, wondering if Shelby would do what she ought and break it off with Cody Wainwright. And then she thought of how Cody had shouted at his mother that he was happy for the first time in his life. There was trouble ahead, but she hoped it wasn't for Nan.

Four

S
HE PARKED THE
van in the usual spot by her garage in the parking lane that ran behind the houses on her street and headed into the house. She always left the garage for guests, since her van was so old and decrepit it would go into shock if garaged.

The next few days were going to be busy. Tomorrow morning she had to be at the Emporium for a half day of work, and then there was the evening volunteering for the historic society. Her job, to hand out pamphlets for the historic manor, meant a lot of walking and a lot of talking to folks, dressed in one of the long cloaks the society had for its strolling singers. They were wool, and warm, but also heavy! It would be exhausting, but she was up for it, and looked forward to talking to folks about the historic house.

So her evening at Jakob's log home outside of town would be a pause before the craziness that was Dickens Days. With a mixture of nerves and hope she looked forward to it, but before that, she still had a few tasks. Once home, she got down to some household jobs. The house was chilly, so she turned up the thermostat and raced around organizing herself for the next few days. She brushed down her Victorian cloak and hung it on the hook on her bedroom door, then put together her bag to take with her the next morning for work. Hoppy raced around the house after her, barking his encouragement, while Denver insisted on going outside to sit under the holly bushes and grumble.

The day's light was fading when she finally looked at the clock; time to change her clothes and drive over to Jakob's. She was nervous and excited and her stomach felt faintly ill. Taking a deep breath she stared at herself in the bathroom mirror. Her plump cheeks were flushed with pink, and her brown hair hung in a silky sheet to her shoulders. She smoothed some moisturizer on her face and dabbed dusty rose lipstick on her lips; that was all the makeup she generally used, and tonight she wanted to be wholly herself. Jakob had seen her at her worst and at her best and seemed to like her just for who she was.

She turned from the mirror. Hoppy sat in the doorway looking up at her. Smiling, she waited one moment, then said the magic phrase, “Want to go for a car ride?”

Hoppy yapped and whirled, skittering in his wobbly manner down the stairs to the front hall, then back and through the kitchen, as Jaymie followed at a more sedate pace. She opened the back door, crossed the summer porch and opened the door. “Denver, come on in, sweetie,” she called.

Her crabby tabby turned his back and glared at the fence. She sighed. “I'm not leaving you outside. I may be late and it's getting cold.” She slipped on the shoes she kept by the back door, crossed the lawn and picked him up, cradling him in her arms. He glared up at her and started purring. He was getting fatter now that she had had his teeth fixed and fed him soft food. He wasn't a whole lot more friendly, but he had never once growled at her, even when he was in pain. And he purred now! Amazing.

“Jaymie, hellooo!”

She peered through the dusk toward Pam Driscoll's voice. Pam was looking after the bed-and-breakfast next door for her friends, Pam's cousin and cousin-in-law Anna and Clive Jones. “How are you, neighbor?” she said, approaching the fence between the two properties. She had thought Pam was going to be a nuisance when she first moved in to look after the place because she seemed kind of needy, but she had turned out to be a surprisingly efficient manager.

Pam stepped out of the doorway onto the deck, which overlooked the Leighton property. She stood close to the deck rail and wrapped her sweater around herself, shivering. “I'm good. Just got off the phone with Anna. The baby is almost due. She and Clive are anxiously awaiting! She's hoping it'll be a Christmas baby, because she's been telling Tabby that there is a special delivery coming! She said to tell you to call or email!”

Jaymie missed Anna and her little daughter, Tabitha, so much! “I'll email her, or maybe we can Skype! I miss her like crazy.”

“Me, too. Tell her to email you pics of Tabby in her new Christmas outfit. And of herself. She's enormous! Looks like she'll pop any minute.”

“Are your bookings up? I have some pamphlets of the Dickens Days festivities if you want to share them with your guests.”

“I'll take them. I'm still learning what there is to see and do around here. I'm fully booked for the weekend. Two are overflow guests from the inn! I guess they overbooked.”

“Awesome!” Jaymie paused. She knew some of Pam's history, enough to know that she had been abused in the past by a boyfriend and had escaped. Weighed down by the problems of Cody Wainwright and Shelby Fretter, and how it impacted Nan Goodenough, Jaymie wished she could talk to someone about it, but there was just no way to frame the question in her heart to Pam in such a casual conversation. She desperately wanted to know why a woman would stay with a man once she had been abused. Impossible to ask of her relatively new friend. Instead, she waved her one free hand and said, “I'd better get this cat inside and get moving. Talk to you soon, Pam!”

“One thing I miss about my life in Rochester, I used to have friends there! I'd love a visit. If you can help me move some furniture so I can clean, we can chat and have a coffee.”

“Sure, give me a call.”

Pam wrapped her sweater around her more closely, and retreated with a wave.

Jaymie took Denver inside and gently put him in his basket by the stove. He looked up at her, his green eyes wide, and blinked. She smiled. “I know, Denver kitty; you love me in your own way. That's what's important.”

She stuck the tub of brownies in a bag and set it by the back door, then pulled Hoppy's little specially knitted sweater, a gift from Mrs. Frump, over him, snapped it under his belly and clipped his leash to his collar. She turned out all the lights except the one over the sink in the kitchen, said good night to Denver and headed out, locking up securely after her. Hoppy wobbled out to the van and waited for Jaymie to pick him up, then settled himself in the passenger's seat, as usual. He didn't know where they were going, and didn't care. He'd be happy as long as he was with Jaymie. That was the wonderful thing about a rescued dog like Hoppy; he was all heart and grateful to be included.

She drove out of town to the highway, and headed to Jakob's place. It had only been a few weeks since the incident that had sent her to his door, but she thanked heaven every day. She had been in terrible trouble, and Jakob's home was the safest place she could have landed besides a police station. It was a twenty minute drive, with a few turns along the way. She tuned the radio to a Christmas station and sang along with “Jingle Bell Rock,” trying to settle her nerves.

What was she so anxious about anyway? She knew Jakob and liked him. They had met a couple of times for coffee in the last weeks, and once with Jocelyn. Each time Jaymie had been mildly nervous, and everything had gone beautifully. But still, this mattered to her in ways she hadn't anticipated. This was dinner at his home with Jocelyn and it felt important, somehow, like a turning point in their relationship.

“You are going to love Jocelyn, Hoppy. She's like you: smart, lovable and cute.”

Hoppy put his head to one side as he watched her, his dark eyes fastened on her mouth.

She glanced over at him, then back to the dark country road. “And I hope you like Jakob. I can't imagine you won't.”

She pulled into his lane and shut off the van in front of Jakob's log cabin. It was big enough to have a full second floor. There was a barn beyond it, looming dark in the gloomy fall evening twilight. A floodlit sign near the barn read
MÜLLER
CHRISTMAS
TR
EE
FARM
—
CUT
YOUR
OWN
CHRISTMAS
TREE
,
OR
L
ET
US
DO
IT
FOR
YOU
!
It gave the hours—they were done for the evening, which was why the dinner was a little later than the usual dinner with a family would be—and a phone number. This was just one of Jakob's businesses, worked up over the last fifteen years on a ten acre pocket of land in the corner of his family's farm. Like her, he had several responsibilities, because he also ran the store, The Junk Stops Here, from a former car parts factory on a country side road near town.

As she sat for a moment, collecting her thoughts, she caught a glimpse of Jakob in the window of his kitchen, which overlooked the deep porch that fronted the cabin. He was at the sink, tea towel over his shoulder, talking to Jocelyn. He turned, took something out of the oven and set it on the counter, then grabbed a ladle from a container of tools, ladling something out of the pan.

It was a deeply domestic scene. She couldn't picture Daniel or Zack, her last two love interests, cooking and sharing a home with a child. Daniel
said
he wanted children, but there was never a feeling from him that he would be the kind of dad she would want for a child: engaged, careful, loving and participatory. She had tried to explain to Daniel how children changed a woman's life in ways many men didn't understand, how wholly it became a focus, and how she wasn't sure she was ready for that, now that she was finding her way in life, late bloomer that she was.

But with Jakob, she could see it. Her scalp prickled and she swallowed hard. She was anxious and just a little fearful, but knew she was letting herself get ahead of the relationship. She didn't truly know how Jakob felt about her. She needed to just let it be what it was, and take one lovely day at a time.

He looked up at that moment and caught sight of her van and waved. She got out, setting Hoppy down on the frozen ground and grabbing the bag with the tub of brownies off the dashboard. He had the door open by the time she got to it, and opened his arms. She walked right into them, and was enveloped in a hug so warm and comforting she felt all her nerves and tension ease away into the night.

And then chaos erupted as little Jocie trotted to the door, Hoppy yapped a greeting and Jaymie let go of the leash. The two met in a joyful melee of cheerful pandemonium, and raced about for a half hour nonstop. The whole cabin had the fragrance of rosemary and thyme, with a dash of good strong coffee thrown in, and Jaymie pitched in, washing up dishes left over from cooking. Jakob set the kitchen table for dinner with a homely mismatched set of red earthenware dishes on a plaid tablecloth.

She had brought a baggie of Hoppy's food, but Jocie sneaked him bites of delicious homemade meatloaf under the table. Jakob had also cooked garlic mashed potatoes and roasted vegetables. While they ate, Jakob told her about starting his Christmas tree farm.

“I was home from college one summer and thinking of ways to make some money. Papa was thinking of selling off some of the farm, but I asked if I could work it instead.”

“Why would he sell part of the property?” Jaymie asked.

“He was thinking ahead to retirement,” he said. “For one thing, this part isn't arable for other crops, though it works just fine for conifers. It's hilly and rocky, with outcroppings of stone left from the glaciers, so it won't take a plough. My family has a lot of land, and at that point none of the other boys seemed to want to take over the farm.”

“How many of you are there?” Jaymie asked.

“We are five.”

Jaymie's eyes widened. “
Five
sons? How did your mother bear it?”

He shrugged and grinned. “She's German. She had no problem ruling us, let me tell you.”

“Oma says that they were all
mühseligste
,” Jocie said, with a giggle.

“What does that mean?”

Jakob rolled his eyes at his daughter. “That is when my mama is being polite. It means
most troublesome
.”

“How old are you all?”

“There was a first child, a girl, Berthe, who was stillborn,” he said, quietly. “Then there is Dieter, fifty-three. He moved back in with Mama and Papa because my father was in hospital for a while. Franz is fifty-one; he's married and has four kids. They live near Livonia. Helmut is forty-five, not married but living with a lovely woman he met on the Internet. Sonya has two children. I call her my sister-in-law anyway. Manfred is forty-one. He's the wanderer of the family and has been all over. Right now he's living in Papua, New Guinea. Then there's me!”