Murder With All The Trimmings Part 7

"Like my father left you?" Josie said.

Jane slapped her daughter.

"I'm young and I want to have fun," Josie had screamed at her mother. "What's wrong with that?"

"Josie?" Nate said. "Did you hear me? I said I'm talking to a lawyer about Amelia. I want to know why you didn't contact me when you had her."

"Because you were in jail," Josie said, raising her voice.

The old man sleeping on the barstool woke up, blinking.

"Don't be angry, baby. It wasn't my fault," Nate said.

It's never your fault, Josie thought, but she didn't say it. "You were arrested for drug dealing," Josie said, lowering her voice.

"But my lawyer got me out. I'm innocent." He batted his eyes. He looked guilty as all get-out.

"Nate, yesterday you said you got your money selling drugs. How did you get out of jail?"

"Medical marijuana is legal now in Canada. They even have a marijuana spray called Sativex. One of my clients had multiple sclerosis and took marijuana for the pain. I gave her the weed free. She testified that I helped her feel better."

"Really?" Josie said. "So you weren't selling drugs. You were doing charity work."

"I did help people," Nate said. Again his voice had that nasty edge. "I don't know how my lawyer did it, but I'm free. I contacted my old friends in St. Louis. They told me I had a daughter. I didn't hear that from you. Amelia's a cutie. She has my hair and nose. No need for any DNA tests."

His nose? Not anymore, Josie thought. She tried not to stare at his drink-ruined nose. She prayed that Amelia's elegant nose would never look like her father's tumorous honker.

"Why this sudden interest in your daughter?" Josie said. "Haven't you been out of prison a year?"

"Two years," Nate said. "I was serious about someone, and she didn't want children. So I had a vasectomy. Now the urologist isn't sure it can be reversed, and my father wants grandchildren."

Hot anger flared through Josie. Nate didn't love Amelia. He was trying to avoid surgery with a ready-made child. Typical drunk's selfishness. She tried to remember her mother's advice to be nice to him for Amelia's sake.

Nate produced a box wrapped in Christmas paper from his leather jacket. "Here's another present for my girls," he said. "Waitress, another beer."

The waitress brought it before Josie gingerly unwrapped the box. Inside was a stack of U.S. currency. Josie looked at the hefty denominations and did some quick calculating. She thought there was nearly ten thousand dollars cash in the box. The money smelled slightly moldy.

While she examined the cash, Nate pounded down his third beer and ordered a fourth. The waitress brought it without comment.

"Where did you get this money?" Josie demanded.

"I had it around," he said.

"That's what you kept in that storage unit by the airport," Josie said. "Cash and drugs. Look at the dates on this money. It's ten years old at least. You didn't come back to see me or your daughter. You came to pick up your drug money. You have to pay your lawyer." She stopped herself before she added, so you can steal my daughter.

"Josie, how can you say that?" Nate said. He gulped the fourth beer like it was cold water on a hot afternoon.

"Because you are a drunk and a liar," Josie said.

"That's harsh," Nate said. His voice wavered as if he were about to cry.

"Here you go, hon." The waitress put two plates of burgers and fries in front of them. "Anything else I can get you?"

"Ketchup," Josie said.

"Another beer," Nate said. His voice was slightly slurred.

That made five beers in less than fifteen minutes. Josie was seething. Nate was starting another binge. She waited until the waitress left, then said, "You're still selling drugs, aren't you?"

"Why would you say that?" Nate asked. He didn't deny her charge.

"You're throwing money around," Josie said. "Ten thousand dollars on a necklace for me. Ten thousand in cash. Dealers never believe drug money is real. You think the supply is endless."

She handed him back the money with regret. She still had feelings for the young man she'd loved. She missed his wildness, his unpredictability. Now her life revolved around her work and Amelia's school. There was no time to rush off to Manhattan for dinner.

"Josie, think of everything you could give Amelia with this," Nate said. "And yourself. Your home could use some sprucing up. You could buy a decent used car. Your daughter is embarra.s.sed she doesn't have as much money as the other girls in her school."

"My car is fine," Josie said. "We're fine. Amelia will survive without a sixty-dollar hoodie. She needs a sober father with a decent job. The other kids' parents are lawyers, doctors, and business owners. They can say how they make their money. You can't. I won't let my daughter live on drug money."

"She's my daughter, too," Nate said. "My money spends like any other cash. Do you think those doctors and lawyers make only honest money? All money is dirty, Josie." He gulped down the fifth beer and signaled for a sixth.

"This cash has blood on it," Josie said.

"Whoa," Nate said. "Aren't we dramatic?" He fanned a stack of fifties. "See, no blood. Just a little dust. Let's go back to your place and be friends, huh? Get reacquainted?"

"No," Josie said. "It's over, Nate. I'm sorry it turned out like this, but we can't see each other anymore."

"Aw, come on, Josie. Don't be like this."

"I have to get back." Josie stood up, threw some money on the table, and began walking toward the door.

"Josie, don't do this," Nate said.

"Good-bye," she said. "I'm sorry, Nate."

"No, you're not," he said. "But you will be when I get through with you."

Josie tried to hold her head high as the bartender, the waitress, and the old man at the bar stared her out the door.

"Can I get you anything else?" the waitress asked.

"Another beer," Nate said defiantly. He was so loud, Josie could hear.

She nearly cried. Nate had made his choice.

Chapter 9.

Josie took the side streets home, stomping through the dry leaves in the gutter. She crushed sycamore leaves, big as dinner plates. Josie took a childish pleasure in their rustling crackle. A beer can blocked her way, and she gave it a swift kick into the street.

She wished she'd kicked Nate instead.

Josie argued with Nate in her head all the way home: Threaten me, will you, you worthless drunk? You'll be sorry. If you loved me so much, why didn't you call me ten years ago when you were arrested? You've been out of jail two years. You've had plenty of time to contact me. You could have called before you showed up drunk on my doorstep. But no, you just reappeared, after a decade. Now that you can't have a child, you want mine. You're ready to resume our romance as if nothing happened.

Mostly Josie was mad at herself. How could I have been so stupid? Why didn't I see a lawyer to ensure I had custody of Amelia? Now I could lose my little girl. My. She is no longer our daughter, Josie thought. Amelia was hers. Any memories of the tender lover she'd had ten years ago were burned away by her anger. She realized how little she knew about Nate. When did he become a hopeless drunk? Did he have an alcohol problem when they were dating? Josie didn't know.

She'd had no idea he was a drug dealer back then. He never used or sold drugs around her. He always had cash for their outrageous adventures, but she'd never asked where the money came from. Were you dating Santa Claus? she asked herself. Did it ever occur to you to ask Nate where he got the money?

I was stupid, she thought. I knew nothing about this man. Nothing. I jumped into bed with him and had a child. Now he wants her back. Over my dead body, she thought. No, over your dead body, Nate.

Josie did know one thing for sure: Nate had a daredevil streak. He could kidnap Amelia and disappear into Canada and Josie would never find them.

Worse, Amelia might help her father. Right now, a new father who bought expensive gifts was more fun than a working mom who made her clean up her room. Amelia was too young to feel threatened by living with a drunk's uncertainties.

Go home, Josie told herself. Calm down. Fix some coffee and consider your options. You need a plan. Anger is an indulgence you can't afford. She marched into her home and nearly tripped over that blasted backpack. It was still plopped by the door.

"Amelia!" she called.

No answer.

Josie felt a flash of panic, then remembered her daughter was upstairs with Jane. She dialed her mother's phone.

"She's right here," Jane said. "We're making brownies."

"Oh," Josie said.

"You sound subdued," her mother said. "Is there a problem?"

"A big one," Josie said. "Nate has threatened to take Amelia away from me."

"Then we'll have to watch her extra carefully," Jane said. "One of us will always be there to pick her up and take her to school."

"What about if she's home alone while I'm at work?" Josie didn't trust her daughter to obey her "don't answer the doorbell" command if Nate was on the porch with presents.

"Then I'll watch her," Jane said. "I'll ask Mrs. Mueller for help, too."

"If anyone has the talent for this a.s.signment, it's Mrs. M," Josie said. "She's a first-rate snoop."

"Josie, that's not nice," Jane said. "You know she's my friend."

Josie could never understand why her mother worshiped Mrs. Mueller. The iron-haired woman ruled the neighborhood's major organizations. Mrs. M appointed her friends to choice a.s.signments and banished her enemies to dreary workhorse committees. But Josie had to force her to give Jane her fair share of the good slots.

Mrs. M had made Josie's teenage years a misery. She'd caught young Josie smoking cigarettes back by the garage and ratted her out to Jane. Josie was grounded for a month. She had retaliated by leaving a burning bag of dog doo on Mrs. Mueller's porch. Mrs. M had stomped the smoking bag with a st.u.r.dy shoe, and Josie had been grounded for what seemed like the rest of her teenage life.

Mrs. M still regarded Josie as a juvenile delinquent. Josie thought the old woman was a witch with a capital C.

The kitchen coffeemaker had erupted into "just finished" gurgles when Josie's cell phone rang. She checked the display. Her boss, Harry the Horrible, was calling on a Sat.u.r.day. This was not good news.

"Josie, I need you to work this weekend," Harry said.

Josie could hear slurping noises and a football game in the background. She was afraid to ask what Harry was eating. Harry claimed to be on the Atkins diet, but that was mainly an excuse to chomp big chunks of meat. He lost the same three pounds over and over.

Sloop! Slurp! Josie imagined Harry gnawing a mastodon rib. He'd have grease spots on his shirt and clumps of chest hair peeping out between the b.u.t.tons like baby birds. In the background, Josie could hear a crowd cheering. Josie hoped the cheers were for the TV team, not Harry's eating capacity.

"This is a seasonal job and it has to be done fast," Harry said. "I need you to mystery-shop two Christmas store franchises this weekend."

"Which ones?" Josie asked cautiously. She was sure she'd have to doom Doreen's enterprise.

"Elsie's Elf House," Harry said.

Josie breathed a sigh of relief. "No problem-o," she said, sounding like Amelia.

"And that ditz with the dirty ornaments. I can't think of the store name. Wait a minute, let me look it up."

There was a hollow clattering sound, as if Harry had dropped a large bone, followed by the rustle of paper. Josie's heart pounded while he searched. Please don't let it be Doreen, she prayed.

"Here it is," Harry said. "Naughty or Nice. The franchisers want to know just how naughty the store is. It could be in violation of their agreement. They may have to shut down the store if it's offending the Christian community."

"I can't mystery-shop that store," Josie said. "I know Doreen."

"How well?" Harry said. "You neighbors? Eat over at her house three nights a week? Are you G.o.dmother to her kids? Is she a relative?" His questions were punctuated with smacking sounds and an ugly bone crack.

"No, nothing like that," Josie said. "I've never been inside her house."

"Then you're okay."

"No, I'm not," Josie said. "My boyfriend used to date her."

"He still going out with her?" Harry said.

"No. But they have a kid."

"I don't see what the problem is," Harry said. "In this town lots of people know each other."

"Harry, I can't do that a.s.signment," Josie said. "It's a conflict of interest."

"I'll rule on conflicts. I don't see one."

"But-" Josie said.

"b.u.t.t is right. Get your cute little b.u.t.t over there this weekend if you want to keep your job. I'll fax you the questionnaire."

"Harry, I don't think-"