Murder With All The Trimmings Part 30

"We already have the killer, miss," Detective Gray said. "Your plumber friend confessed. We have him in custody."

"He didn't do it!" Josie said.

"Ms. Marcus, I know you want to save your boyfriend, but we have a confession and a receipt. He bought a lot of antifreeze. The case is closed."

"I have a receipt, too," Josie said. "Doreen, Mike's ex-girlfriend and the mother of his daughter, bought two gallons of antifreeze right before the murders."

"It's wintertime, miss. As your attorney said, everybody buys antifreeze this time of year."

"Doreen drives an old Volkswagen. She doesn't use antifreeze. She also poisoned the next-door neighbor's dog. She killed that poor animal with antifreeze-laced hamburger. Get the dog's body and check. After the dog died, Doreen put the antifreeze in a sports drink bottle, took it to Elsie's Elf House, and poured it into the chocolate sauce when Elsie was distracted by customers. She was in the store that morning. Elsie has the proof."

"Is that right?" the detective said. Josie could tell he didn't believe her.

"I have the drink bottle," Josie said. "I found it in Doreen's trash. It was in the Dumpster behind her store."

"So you're a Dumpster diver, as well as a mystery shopper. How do I know you didn't plant that bottle there?"

"Take a closer look at her teenage daughter, Heather. She pushed the snow off the store roof with a shovel and nearly killed that picketer."

"No witnesses saw her do that, miss," he said.

"They saw Santa Claus up on that roof. Everyone thought that old woman was senile, but she was telling the truth. Heather took a Santa suit from her mother's store. She's a big, strong girl. It would be easy to mistake her for a man in that Santa suit. Heather still has it, rolled up in the bottom of her closet. Did you take casts of the footprints in the snow around that ladder?"

"Are you telling me how to do my job?" The detective sounded angry.

"No, but if you check those casts against the shoes in Heather's closet, you'll have a match."

"And why should I do that, when the case is closed? I already have a confession," he said.

"Because it's a false confession. Mike confessed to save his daughter. I bet he didn't tell you how he managed to get the antifreeze into the store."

"The plumber said he sneaked inside when the place was quiet."

"Check the register transactions and credit-card receipts," Josie said. "Elsie was busy nearly every minute that day. That's what made Doreen crazy. Elsie's place was a success. Doreen's shop was a failure. She wanted to ruin Elsie's business, and she succeeded."

"Uh-huh." He was humoring her. "You don't like Doreen, do you?"

"No," Josie said.

"But you've got a thing for Mike. Your life would be a lot better if Doreen was out of the way and you had the plumber to yourself. You two women are fighting over him."

"No!" Josie said. "Have a vet check out the dead dog. I bet it's buried in the backyard next door. Then call me. I'll keep the bottle."

"I sure do appreciate getting orders from a civilian, miss," he said, and hung up on Josie.

Josie drove right through a stoplight and was rewarded with an angry blast from a horn. She knew she was too upset to be driving.

When she got home, Jane was waiting at the door. "I thought you were going to the supermarket," she said. "Where are the bags?"

"They were out of what I needed," Josie said. "Thanks for watching Amelia."

"I'm going upstairs," Jane said. "I've made chicken and dumplings. They're simmering on the stove. Although why I bother, I don't know."

"Thanks, Mom," Josie said. "GBH."

That was the family code for "Great Big Hug." Josie folded her mother in her arms. "I appreciate all you do, Mom. I couldn't get along without you. Have I told you that recently?"

"No," Jane said, still stiff with anger. "You haven't done anything but complain, criticize, and cause trouble. I'll have to cancel the Christmas party after that fight you had with that plumber on the front porch. Now he's in jail. It's too embarra.s.sing. I can't face the neighbors."

"I'm sorry, Mom, but he only confessed to save his daughter. Did you move the beer and wine coolers in my refrigerator?"

"They're hidden in the bas.e.m.e.nt, where Amelia can't reach them. Mike and Stan helped me. And now, if you don't mind, I want to go upstairs and start calling people to cancel my party."

Jane marched out, back straight, head high. Josie could hear the television news. "A thirty-five-year-old plumber confessed to a double homicide today," the announcer said. Mike's photo flashed on the screen.

Josie turned off the TV. She couldn't take any more bad news.

Chapter 35.

"I can't believe Mike killed those people." Alyce was so upset, she was shouting into her phone.

"He didn't," Josie said.

"Then why did he confess?" Alyce said. "It was all over the TV this morning."

"He wants to save his daughter."

"Oh, Josie, what's wrong with that man?"

"He's being n.o.ble," Josie said. "Mike blames himself for the way Heather turned out. He thinks by confessing to two murders he didn't commit, he'll save her. But Heather killed Nate and that poor woman-or her mother did. I fished a bottle of what I think is antifreeze out of the store's Dumpster."

"I'm sorry Mike is doing this," Alyce said.

"So am I," Josie said. "That kid's not worth it."

"Did I hear you right?" Alyce asked. "You searched the store's trash?"

"Searched it? I stole two bags and put them in my car."

"Good thing it's a cold day," Alyce said.

"Amelia complained about the stink this morning on the way to school. I moved the trash bags into the garage and put a note on them so Mom won't throw them out. Remember that police detective, the older, gray-haired one?"

"Sure, the smart one. You kept calling him Detective Gray."

"That's the guy. I told him Heather confessed to pushing the snow off the roof and her mother poisoned the neighbor's poor dog. I offered to give Detective Gray the bottle with the antifreeze. He turned me down."

"What a mess," Alyce said. "How's Amelia feeling?"

"Better, thanks. She went to school today," Josie said. "She's hounding me to buy her a real Christmas tree. We're going shopping tonight."

"Are you getting your tree at Ted Drewes's lot?"

St. Louisans flocked to Ted's frozen custard stand in the summer. In the winter they bought their Christmas trees off the lot there. They'd stand outside and drink hot chocolate and eat ice cream, even if it was two below zero. Ted's was a city tradition.

"I have to use the church lot or Mom will have a fit," Josie said. "The sales benefit St. Philomena's. They have good trees."

"Are you working today?" Alyce asked.

"Harry the Horrible hasn't called me yet. I'm hauling Christmas decorations out of the closet."

"Then I'd better let you go," Alyce said. "I still have cookies to bake."

Josie spent a nostalgic day going through boxes of ornaments. She had one ornament with the date on it for each year with Amelia, starting with her baby's first Christmas in 1999. She had china cherubs, tiny teddy bears, handblown gla.s.s globes, and dusty plastic poinsettias that clipped to the branches.

When Amelia was old enough to go to school, she made Josie ornaments that said I LOVE YOU, MOMMY in green and red crayon. Amelia was embarra.s.sed by them now, but Josie still hung them on the tree.

Mixed in with the newer ornaments were old European gla.s.s ornaments that had belonged to Josie's grandparents-silver bells, blue gla.s.s fiddles, frosty snowmen, and Old World angels. Each came with a memory. Each was carefully packed away in cotton at the end of the holidays.

Josie unpacked loops of colorful gla.s.s beads to drape on the branches. The Christmas lights were stuffed in a box in a monster tangle. Every holiday, Josie swore she'd pack her lights more neatly, and the next Christmas she'd spend an hour or more unraveling them.

Josie didn't like the plain white twinkle lights. She preferred the fat colorful ones. She didn't have color-themed Christmas trees with the ornaments and ribbons all one tasteful shade of white, pink, or red. Josie's trees glittered with tinsel, bright lights, and offbeat ornaments.

When the tree was decorated, she'd wrap a sheet around the bottom for "snow" and put up the manger. Josie's manger had a camel, a cow, a horse, and a plastic dog. The dog was added when Amelia was five. She insisted that Baby Jesus wanted a puppy, and the dog had stayed next to the camel ever since. Baby Jesus had a chipped nose after Amelia dropped him one Christmas. Josie put a bit of straw over his face to cover that flaw.

The unpacked ornaments and sale boxes of tinsel were laid out on the couch and coffee table. The couch was moved to make room for the tree.

Josie's phone rang at two that afternoon, as she was finishing. It was Harry.

"Josie, I got some good news," her horrible boss said. "The lawsuit is canceled. That Doreen woman's lawyer called me. They dropped it, called it off, whatever they do when they decide not to sue."

"Harry! That's wonderful! I got my Christmas present early!"

"Yeah, yeah," Harry said. He sounded bored at her enthusiasm. Or maybe he was disappointed she wasn't in hot water. "Gotta run."

Josie called Alyce with the news while she put on a pot of chili for a quick cold-weather supper. She was arranging her Santa eggnog mugs on the mantel when she checked the clock. Time to pick up Amelia.

Josie pulled into the driveway at the Barrington School and gave the other moms a nod and a forced smile. They gave her fake smiles back. Most of them would never a.s.sociate with her. Josie wasn't married, she worked for a living, and she waxed her floors, not her legs.

Ten minutes later, Amelia's name was called and she came running out, dragging her backpack. She slung it in the back, then hopped into the front seat. She sniffed the car.

"Smells better than it did this morning," Amelia said.

"I sprayed it with lemon air freshener. How are you feeling?"

"Fine. We're still going to the tree lot, right?"

"Right," Josie said. "After dinner."

"Can't we go now?"

"It's more fun after dinner," Josie said. "I like the smell of a Christmas tree lot after dark."

"You're weird," Amelia said.

"You should know that by now."

Amelia, eager to pick out a tree, put her backpack away instead of dropping it by the door. Then she set the table for dinner. Josie cooked macaroni so Amelia could have chili mac. She spooned the macaroni into a soup bowl, ladled chili on top of it, and put out shredded cheese and oyster crackers.

"Can we get a big tree this year?" Amelia asked.

"We can spend about forty dollars," Josie said. "That should get us a nice six-footer. Don't shovel your food in so fast. You'll get sick."

Amelia slowed down a notch. Dinner was finished and the dishes were cleared away by six p.m. "Can we go now, please?" Amelia asked. "It's dark."

"I've tormented you enough," Josie said. "Let's go."

"Yay!" Amelia said, and bounced around the house.

"Get your coat and scarf and wear a hat," Josie said. "It's cold out."

When Amelia was bundled up, Josie grabbed her coat, an old blanket, and some bungee cords to tie the tree to her car's roof. Amelia raced ahead and was already seated in the car when Josie slid in on the driver's side.

St. Philomena's trees were under a big white tent, with a giant inflatable Santa outside. Two men in puffy winter coats sat around a barrel burning newspapers and wood. The trees were propped on racks. Bare light-bulbs were strung overhead. Needles crunched underfoot. The lot was just the way Josie remembered from her childhood.

"Breathe in," Josie said, and took a deep breath of the pine-scented air. "It's delicious."

"I don't want a tree with fat needles," Amelia said.

"You mean a Scotch pine?" Josie said.

"Yeah, one of those. They're not real Christmas trees."

"How about a blue spruce?" Josie asked.

"I don't want a blue tree, either," Amelia said.

Josie began singing, "I'm dreaming of a blue Christmas . . ." until Amelia howled, "Mo-om!" The kid looked embarra.s.sed. Josie stopped singing.

"How about a Douglas fir?" Josie asked. "Does that fit your exacting standards?"

"That's a real Christmas tree," Amelia said.