Murder With All The Trimmings Part 8

"You're not paid to think," Harry said. "That's my job. You asked for extra hours, so I gave them to you. For some reason, headquarters likes you. But if you're not available, there are other mystery shoppers looking for work during the holidays, even members of my own family."

That was a dig at Josie. She'd reported a sales clerk for rude behavior at a store she'd mystery-shopped. The clerk was fired. She was also Harry's niece. Rudeness ran in the family.

"My niece is working at Wal-Mart these days, no thanks to you." Josie heard a chomp and a distant cheer as her awful boss slammed down the phone.

My cute little b.u.t.t, indeed, she thought. If I'd had my tape recorder on, I'd sue his double-wide rear and retire. She giggled at the idea of his haughty niece working at a humble Wal-Mart. She wondered how long this retail mismatch would last.

Josie was not about to shop alone at Doreen's store. She needed a witness. Her best friend, Alyce, didn't like phone calls when her husband was at home. Sat.u.r.day and Sunday were Alyce's family time. But this was a shopping emergency. Josie dialed Alyce's number.

"What's wrong, Josie?" Alyce asked. "Why are you calling on a Sat.u.r.day?"

"Harry's making me shop Doreen's store. She's Mike's ex."

"That rat," Alyce said. "I mean Harry, not Mike."

"I'll lose my job if I don't go," Josie said. "For this a.s.signment, I want a witness. It doesn't take a crystal ball to know that store probably won't pa.s.s."

"I can't do it today," Alyce said. "How about tomorrow if I can find a sitter? I'll drive to your house about one o'clock."

"Fine with me," Josie said. "We can go for tea at the Kerry Cottage. They have Irish soda bread. My treat."

"Thanks," Alyce said. "But I've been baking all day. I don't need more temptation. If I can't get a sitter, I'll call. Otherwise, I'll see you tomorrow."

For once, Josie was relieved when Mike didn't call. She couldn't tell him she was mystery-shopping Doreen's store. He'd know it would never survive a professional evaluation.

Josie was going to send back the pink hoodie Nate gave Amelia. Her daughter was not wearing clothes bought with drug money. She found the precious hoodie tossed on Amelia's unmade bed. Josie carefully packed it away in her own closet, along with the new cell phone.

She heard a rattling sound on the windows. The promised sleet storm had started. The sky was the color of old iron.

Amelia came downstairs an hour later with a plate of warm brownies sprinkled with powdered sugar. "Have one, Mom," she said.

Josie bit into the brownie and said, "Yum. Nice and moist. You have your grandmother's gift for cooking."

Josie reached for a second brownie, but Amelia pulled the plate away. "That's all," she said. "I'm saving the rest for Daddy."

Daddy, Josie thought resentfully. Never mind that I fed and clothed you for nine years. Now it's Daddy. Josie smothered her jealousy. Besides, she didn't need the calories.

"Have you seen my hoodie?" Amelia asked.

"I've put it away," Josie said.

"Where?" Amelia asked.

"Where I can send it back," Josie said.

Amelia turned purple with fury. "You can't do that," she said. "It's mine."

"Your father didn't ask my permission to give you that hoodie," Josie said.

"He doesn't have to get your permission. He's my father." Tears leaked out of Amelia's eyes. Amelia's fists were clenched and her jaw had that stubborn bulldog look she got from her grandmother. "You're just jealous because Daddy has money and you don't."

Her words were a knife in Josie's heart. Was she jealous? Maybe. A little. Okay, a lot. "Amelia, I know you're happy that your father came to see you, but he doesn't get his money from a regular job. He sells drugs. The same drugs that killed your friend Zoe's sister."

"Liar," Amelia said. "He'd never do that. He's not dead and you said he was. Now you say he's a drug dealer. Daddy would never sell drugs."

"He has. He does. Until he gets an honest job, you can't have his money."

"Liar! Liar! You're just saying that because you're jealous." Amelia marched into her room and slammed her door so hard the house shook. Josie followed her down the hall. Somehow, she'd lost all moral advantage over her daughter. Josie was a liar and Amelia knew it. Worse, Amelia rubbed Josie's nose in her lies.

"Open this door, young lady."

"Go to h.e.l.l," Amelia cried. "That's where liars go."

Josie rattled the handle. The door wasn't locked. She threw open the door so hard, the handle buried itself in the plaster wall behind the door.

Amelia sat cross-legged on her bed, biting her lips to keep from smiling.

"Say something," Josie said.

"You broke the wall, Mom," Amelia said.

Josie walked out of the room, closing the door behind her. She was too afraid to answer.

Chapter 10.

Each year, Alyce waited for Christmas with a child's delight. She decked the halls, the walls, and the lawn. She unpacked her mother's antique ornaments and brought out her own Christmas china. Mistletoe hung in the doorway. Artfully arranged holly, pinecones, and poinsettias brightened tables. Swags of evergreen draped the stair railings.

Alyce had every kind of ornament-except Doreen's p.o.r.naments.

Alyce's house smelled like cinnamon for the entire month of December. She made cookies, fruitcakes, and pomander b.a.l.l.s out of cloves, oranges, and green velvet ribbons. Christmas morning was a feast, with cranberry bread, spicy gingerbread logs, fruit stollen, shirred eggs with red and green peppers, and a spiral-sliced ham. Dinner included a crown roast and a flaming plum pudding. Just hearing about Alyce's holiday plans made Josie feel like she'd walked into a Gourmet magazine spread.

"I love Christmas stores," Alyce said. "Maybe I can pick up some new ornaments."

"Where are you going to hang them?" Josie asked. "Every inch of your tree is covered already."

"There's always room for new ornaments," Alyce said. "Justin is at the grab-and-chew stage. I can't put any of my mother's handblown gla.s.s ornaments on the lower branches where he can reach them. Oh, this place is so cute."

Elsie's Elf House looked like a fairy-tale cottage, right down to the thatched roof.

"Are those real kittens peeking out of that thatch?" Alyce asked.

Josie stood on tiptoe for a closer look. "They're plastic, just like the thatch," she said.

Josie opened the holly-wreathed door. Bells jingled merrily, and they could hear the tinkling wind-chime sound of hundreds of ornaments twirling on their gold ribbons. "White Christmas" oozed out of the speakers, sweet and smooth as eggnog.

"This is lovely," Alyce said, her eyes as wide as a child's on Christmas Day. Even in the cramped store, Alyce managed her odd floaty walk. Her silky white-blond hair shone in the soft light.

She browsed the ornaments and bought simple stuffed cotton ones for the lower branches of her tree. They were pretty, practical, and not destined for heirloom status. Justin could grab and chew them all he wanted.

Josie asked the clerk to take down six different ornaments from the displays, as her mystery-shopping instructions required, before she bought an iridescent gla.s.s ball. Josie planned to keep that one.

The red-haired clerk was a tiny woman wearing a green elf suit. Even in a green belled cap, she was barely five feet tall. Josie wondered if the faux elf was Elsie herself or some poor saleswoman forced to wear a silly costume.

The things we do for money, she thought.

"Oh, look," Alyce said. "They have a creme brulee torch on sale. Nice price, too." Alyce was addicted to arcane kitchen instruments, including citrus trumpets and herb mills.

"You should buy it," Josie said.

"I've sworn off single-use gadgets," Alyce said. "I can heat the topping under the broiler just fine."

But she looked longingly at the tiny blowtorch. Josie vowed she'd go back and buy it for Alyce for Christmas, along with the butane inserts.

"That was fun," Alyce said as they left Elsie's.

"Brace yourself for the next shop," Josie said. "Naughty or Nice is going to be nasty."

"Oh, Josie, how can anyone be unhappy at Christmastime?"

"You haven't met Doreen," Josie said. "That woman can start a fight in an empty room. Look at the picketers she's stirred up."

The two women threaded their way through the church picketers circling the steep-roofed building with the wooden icicles and the winking Mrs. Claus. Either the protest had grown since the TV report or more people were available on Sundays. Women in sensible wool coats and knit hats carried condemnatory signs and chanted "Naughty or Nice makes Baby Jesus cry." "Naughty or Nice is nasty."

"Stay away from this G.o.dless cesspool, women! Your souls are in peril," commanded a skinny scarecrow with bristling black eyebrows. The preacher who'd been on TV Friday night looked even scarier in person.

Alyce ducked her head and tried to make herself invisible. Josie lifted her chin and brushed past the vitriolic man of G.o.d.

Bells jingled and they were inside the store. Josie's heart sank when she saw Heather behind the counter. The last hope that Naughty or Nice could survive a mystery-shopping test was dead. Heather was alone in the store, with the chanting churchgoers circling outside. What kind of mother left her daughter in the middle of an ugly controversy?

A bad one, Josie decided.

Alyce examined a shelf of porcelain figurines. Josie pasted a smile on her face and said, "Hi, Heather. I'm Josie, remember?"

"Yeah. You're f.u.c.king my father," Heather said.

Alyce nearly dropped a china Christmas angel.

"Is your mother here?" Josie asked.

"No, she left me by myself to sell to the pervs," Heather said.

Josie almost felt sorry for the unpleasant girl. "Is the adult section still hidden behind the DEFINITELY NAUGHTY banner?"

"You get off on that p.o.r.n c.r.a.p?" Heather said. Her scorn could have melted the Christmas candles.

Josie moved the banner aside and signaled to Alyce, who slipped into the nook and stood face-to-face with the South Pole elf.

"Eeuww," Alyce whispered. "That's disgusting."

"I have to buy one," Josie said. "It's my job."

"Better you than me," Alyce said. "You're right. This store is nasty." She stepped away from the South Pole ornament as if it were a tiny demon. Alongside it were curvy topless female figurines wearing Santa hats, fishnet stockings, red heels, and tiny, strategic holly leaves. A hand-lettered sign said, SANTA'S HO, HO, HOS.

Josie put the South Pole ornament by the register. "I'll take this and a slice of warm gingerbread," she said.

"It's your money," Heather said, and shrugged.

"Alyce, would you like some gingerbread or cider?" Josie asked.

"No, thanks," Alyce said.

Heather plopped a greasy hunk of cake on a paper plate. Josie bit into the gingerbread. It was stale.

Alyce was staring at Josie's cake as if she'd never seen gingerbread before. "Josie, what's that in your cake?"

"A chopped raisin," Heather said.

"Raisins don't have legs," Alyce said.

Josie nearly gagged. Half a c.o.c.kroach was hanging out of her cake. She threw a paper napkin over it and said, "I'd better go. Please ring up the ornament."

"Does Mike know you buy that s.h.i.t?" Heather asked. She didn't apologize for the roach.

"Ring it up, please," Josie said.

"Twenty dollars," Heather said.

Josie realized the girl had charged her for the insect-infested cake and the ornament.

Heather threw the ornament in a bag, not bothering to wrap it in tissue. The girl started to toss the cake slice in the trash, but Josie grabbed it. "I'll take that with me," she said.

"Why?" Heather said.

"I paid for it," Josie said.

The two shoppers tottered out of the store. Josie breathed in the fresh, clean air and prayed she wouldn't throw up in the parking lot. Once inside her car, Josie tucked the cake in a zip-top bag.

"I don't think I'll ever eat gingerbread again," Alyce said. "If I do, it won't have raisins in it."

"That was awful," Josie said. "I nearly barfed in the store."

"Why are you keeping it?" Alyce asked.