3 Claus of Death Page 2

  When she brought back our glasses of tea and put them down in front of us, Bobbie Jean parked one hand on her hip and said, “Sheriff Norville, I heard about Jackson Barnard. What an awful thing!”

  Coop nodded. “Yes, Bobbie. It is awful.”

  “I thought the world of Jackson,” she went on. “He used to come in here all the time before he lost his job.”

  “Why did he lose his job?” I asked. I hadn’t brought up the slain Santa—hey, that might be a good title, huh?—but now that someone else had, I wasn’t going to miss an opportunity to investigate a little bit.

  “Well, he worked over yonder at the gas plant, Ms. Crumb,” Bobbie Jean said. “Remember when they shut it down last year, and the owners took their business overseas somewhere?”

  I nodded. “I do remember reading about that now. That was a shame. They put nearly a hundred people out of work, didn’t they?”

  “They sure did, and Jackson was one of them. I’d seen him at the mall last weekend. He’d got that Santa job and was tickled to death with it. I doubt it paid much, but it gave him something to do. And now this….” She looked back at Cooper. “You don’t think he really did….” She looked all around before lowering her voice to a stage whisper. “Kill himself…do you?”

  Coop smiled tightly. “Bobbie Jean, I appreciate your concern; but I went off duty at four o’clock this afternoon, and I’m as hungry as a bear. And even if Jackson’s death had been in my jurisdiction—which it wasn’t—it’s still under investigation. So, let’s not talk shop anymore this evening, all right?” He gave her a little wink to offset the seriousness of his tone.

  She blushed. “Of course, Sheriff Norville. I’m sorry. What can I get y’all?”

  We placed our orders and poor Bobbie Jean rushed it back to the kitchen.

  “You don’t reckon I was too hard on her, do you?” Coop asked me.

  “Of course, not.” I patted his hand. “Who could blame you for not wanting to talk about such a depressing topic over dinner?” I sure wasn’t going to after he’d put the quietus on Bobbie Jean. “Have you and your daughters made plans for Christmas yet?”

  Cooper and his wife had been divorced for more than ten years, and she’d remarried. They had two daughters—one in college, and one grown, married, and with a baby on the way.

  “Not yet,” he said. “Miranda has been having a hard time with morning sickness—in fact, I think it’s more like all the time sickness—so we’re waiting until closer to Christmas to decide whether they’re coming up here or I’m going down there.”

  Miranda and her husband live in Knoxville. That’s about two hours from us.

  “What about Karen?” I asked. “When does winter break start?”

  “They get out next week,” he said. “She’s gonna spend part of it with me and part with her mother.”

  “That’s good.” I knew she’d try to spend the majority of her time at Coop’s house because she doesn’t like her step-father. “They’re sweet girls.”

  “How about you, Sunny, and Faye? Have y’all made plans yet?”

  “Nothing definite. Sunny and I will take one Saturday and have a Christmas movie night.” I grinned. “I always get us new pajamas, so we’re all snug and warm. And I make hot chocolate, and we order pizza. It’s a lot of fun.”

  “Can I come?” He laughed. “That sounds great. Why doesn’t Faye join you?”

  I shrugged. “I guess she thinks she’s too grown up for it.”

  “Nobody’s too grown up for that,” he said. “Maybe she just doesn’t want to be a fifth wheel.”

  “I’ll invite her this year, and see what she says.”

  He squeezed my hand. “I think you should.”

  “At least, I’ll have tried…right?” Of course, I had no idea at that time that our Christmas Movie Saturday would have to be moved to the Saturday after Christmas. But I’m getting ahead of myself.

  He didn’t have a chance to answer because Bobbie Jean brought our food out. We had a nice dinner. We talked about the holidays—past and present. And then he took me home and walked me to the door. And, yes, if you must know, he did kiss me goodnight. We didn’t stand there and slobber all over the porch or anything. It was just a nice, warm, respectable kiss…or two.

  Chapter Three

  First thing Saturday morning, I called Sunny to see if she wanted to go with me to the mall. I’d hoped it would just be the two of us, but when Sunny asked her mother for permission to go with me, Faye said she’d like to go too.

  Don’t get me wrong. I usually don’t mind spending time with Faye—in fact, when she’s in an agreeable mood, I love being with her. But she don’t like my detective work one iota. So her being with me and Sunny wasn’t going to make it easy on me to snoop around. I’d have to be creative…which is good, I reckoned…it’d keep me on my toes.

  I made sure Matlock had plenty of water and a chew bone, and then I kissed his head, and went out to the Buick. There wasn’t any frost on the windshield, but it was cold. I wished I’d let it warm up a few minutes before starting out. It didn’t start getting warm until I got to Faye’s and Sunny’s house.

  I didn’t want to cut the car off, so I just tooted the horn when I pulled into the driveway. Sunny had apparently been watching for me. She hit the front door wide open, blonde hair billowing out behind her as she ran to get into the car.

  “Shotgun!” she hollered, as she crawled into the passenger seat. She turned to grin at me. “Mornin’, Mimi.”

  “Mornin’, darlin’. Your mama might be ticked that you got the front seat.”

  She shrugged.

  I laughed. “Young ‘un, you won’t do.”

  “If she’s mad, she’ll get over it…or she’ll make me get in the back. She’s in a decent mood today, though, so maybe she’ll let me stay.”

  In a minute, Faye stepped out of the house. Even though she was in jeans, a white sweater, and a green wool jacket, she looked like she’d just stepped out of a bandbox. Her auburn hair brushed the collar of her jacket, and I could tell she’d taken the time to fix her face up pretty. There hasn’t been anybody serious in Faye’s life—as far as a man, I mean—since Sunny’s daddy Steve was killed in a car wreck when Sunny was little. I’d like for her to have somebody in her life again…somebody nice…somebody that’d be good to her and Sunny.

  She opened the back door of the Buick and slid into the car. “I see the front seat’s taken.” She arched a brow at Sunny.

  “Please can I sit in the front on the way over? Please?” she asked.

  “Yeah.” She shook her head in exasperation. “Hi, Mother.”

  “Hi, honey. You look awfully pretty.”

  “Thanks,” Faye said.

  I was looking at her through the rearview mirror, and I thought she looked a little sad…maybe a tad lonely…and my heart hurt for her. I knew she missed Steve. Heck, I still missed Crandall…although he hadn’t been gone as long as—and had had a longer life than—Steve. Crandall’s death had been tragic, too, though—a slow, wasting away from cancer.

  “Mother?” Faye asked. “Are you all right?”

  I nodded. “Just thinking about your daddy. He’d be awful proud of you, you know.”

  She smiled. “Thank you, Mother.”

  I backed out of the driveway.

  Sunny turned on the radio. It was already on the station she likes. She didn’t turn it up as loud as she usually did, but still, Faye wasn’t crazy about her having it on.

  “Crimson, do we really need to listen to that racket?” she asked.

  “Aw, it won’t hurt anything if she keeps it down low,” I said. “Once we get to the mall, we’re going to be hearing nonstop Christmas carols. Maybe this stuff will make them more tolerable.”

  “You’ve got a point,” Faye said.

  Sunny was right. Her mama was in a decent mood today.

  When we got inside the mall, I asked, “Who else is a little peckish?” I wasn’t all that hungry, but I wante
d to talk with the people at the Bagel Barn about Jackson Barnard.

  “I could eat something,” Sunny said. “I smell chocolate chip cookies.”

  “Well, you all hit the food court if you want to,” Faye said. “I’m going on to the shoe store. Call me when you’re done, and we’ll meet back up.”

  “All right,” I said.

  I took Sunny on over to the Cookie Cabin and got her a slice of chocolate chip cookie cake, and then we went over to the Bagel Barn. I ordered a cinnamon raisin bagel with honey butter. While I waited for my bagel to be toasted, I talked with one of the girls behind the counter.

  “Wasn’t that awful about Jackson Barnard?” I asked.

  “It sure was,” she said. “He seemed like an awfully nice man. And the kids loved him. You know, a lot of times kids seem creeped out by Santa Claus, but he had a way of putting them at ease.”

  “Were you the one working yesterday morning when he stopped by here to get his coffee?”

  She shook her head. “No. That was Mattie. We all liked him, though.”

  “Do you think he killed himself like the police are saying he did?” I asked.

  “No.” She leaned in closer. “He’d been hanging with a bunch of men during his lunch hour. The other men didn’t seem to be as nice as Mr. Barnard. It seemed like they were up to something.”

  “Did these men come by for lunch yesterday?”

  She nodded. “Yeah. They didn’t stay and eat, though. They took their bagels and left…huddled out there outside Santa Land for a few minutes, and then they went their separate ways.”

  “Do the men come in every day or just on the weekdays?” I asked.

  “They’re usually together in the food court about every day,” she said. “And they’re fairly quiet. Usually when a bunch of friends meet for lunch, they’re kinda loud. Not these guys. Even Mr. Barnard was different when he was with them.”

  “Huh. That’s worth lookin’ into.”

  “What?” she asked.

  “Nothin’.” I smiled.

  My bagel popped up out of the toaster, she spread honey butter on it, put it on a plate, and handed it to me. I paid the cashier and went back out to the food court to sit with Sunny.

  “Did you find out anything?” she asked.

  “Yeah. Jackson was meeting with a group of men every day at lunchtime. They talked to each other real quiet…like they had a secret or something. Yesterday, the men met but took their bagels and—after talking outside a minute—went their separate ways.”

  “And you think the men had something to do with Santa’s death,” Sunny said.

  “Yes, I do.”

  “Mimi, you’ve got that look. What’re you thinking?”

  I grinned. “I’m just thinking that somebody needs to look into this a little bit more…give the police something to work with so they don’t just dismiss this as a suicide without having all the facts.”

  She blew out a breath, but I could see she was trying to hide a smile. “You’re gonna get in trouble.”

  “Maybe. But not too much,” I said.

  “What’s your plan?” she asked.

  “After we eat, we’ll go over to the mall office and get me a part-time job,” I said.

  She raised her eyebrows.

  “What?” I asked. “I can work.”

  “I know you can, Mimi. I just didn’t think you wanted to anymore.”

  “I don’t particularly,” I said. “But I run up a lot of bills this time of year. I keep seeing all these things I want to get you…and your mama…and Matlock…and me. Heck, they show all these commercials where the women are so lovely and they tell you that if you buy their stuff, you can be lovely too. Trust me, the extra money will help.”

  “You don’t fall for that crap, do you?” she asked. “Not that you’re not lovely. You’re prettier than everybody else’s grandmother, but still….”

  “Well, I don’t really fall for it…. Okay, maybe a little. It gets in the back of your mind, you know? And then you go to the store, and they have that free gift with purchase. Or if you have to go to a department store cosmetic counter, they tell you how pretty this or that looks on you and that—for a limited time only…you know, like if you don’t get it right this minute, you’ll never have the chance again—you can get all these little free samples if you spend your next two Social Security checks, and so you say, ‘Well, all right.’ And before you know it, you’re having to scrimp and save plumb up into Valentine’s Day.”

  Sunny giggled. “Mimi, you’re a hoot.”

  “I’m just telling the truth, baby. Wait until you get money of your own, and you’ll see,” I said. “When your mama had her first job and lived on her own, she found out quick that she could either have some cute clothes or some groceries.”

  “So she had to learn to do without the clothes?” she asked.

  “Why, no, she didn’t do without the clothes! She did without the groceries! She knew I wouldn’t let her starve.”

  Sunny threw back her head and laughed. “Oh, I’m gonna hold that over her head for sure the next time she refuses to get me something I want.”

  I laughed too. “She eventually grew up a little bit and became more responsible, but there for a while, she wasn’t money wise at all.”

  We finished eating and went over to the mall office. A pinch-faced woman sitting at a desk asked us what we wanted.

  “I would like a part-time job,” I said.

  “Well, several of the stores have openings,” Pinchy said. “They need gift wrappers, additional sales staff, stockers….”

  “I’d like to do gift wrapping,” Sunny said. “How old do you have to be?”

  “You’re supposed to be sixteen,” Pinchy said. “How old are you?”

  “I’m nearly fifteen,” Sunny said.

  Pinchy sighed. “If your parents sign a release, you could work part-time on the weekends.”

  I frowned at Sunny. “Honey, why are you looking for work?”

  “I’d like to buy you and Mama Christmas presents with my own money,” she said.

  “You don’t need to do that,” I said.

  “I know. But I want to,” she said.

  Pinchy gave her an application. “Here. You can fill this out, and your mother can sign it if she gives you permission to work. Drop it back off here, and I’ll see if any of the retailers would care to hire you.”

  “I’d like an application too,” I said. “Not for gift wrapping…although, I’m pretty good at it…. I’d like to work in Santa Land. I know you just lost your Santa—and there’s no way I could do that, of course—but I was thinking that if you needed an elf or a Mrs. Claus…you know, somebody to be there to help with the young ‘uns…pave the way, so to speak….”

  Pinchy’s mouth turned down at the corners. “That isn’t a bad idea. Let me talk with my manager and see what he thinks.” She slid a piece of paper across the desk toward me. “Here. Write your name and phone number down, and I’ll give you a call once I’ve talked with Pete.”

  “All right. Thank you.”

  Sunny grinned at me. “Cool, Mimi! We might both be working at the mall.”

  Chapter Four

  After I dropped Sunny and Faye back off at their house, I went home and let Matlock out into the backyard. He seemed tickled to get to run and play for a little while.

  While Matlock was playing, I got washed up and commenced to baking cookies. If I was gonna get the kitchen messed up, I wanted to make it worth my while, so I made all my Christmas cookies: chocolate chip, potato chip cookies (they’re so good, I could just eat the dough), white chocolate chip macadamia cookies, chocolate and vanilla pinwheels, and shortbread cookies. I put a bunch of them in the freezer. I knew that if I didn’t, I’d wind up eating too many of them. I fixed up a box for Cooper, a box for Sunny and Faye, and I put a few in a bakery bag for Melvia. She loves homemade cookies and can’t bake worth squat, so I usually give her a few whenever I make some.

  I figu
red I’d take Cooper’s box to him before church tomorrow and invite Melvia to come get hers Monday morning. I didn’t dare take a bag of cookies into the church on a day there wasn’t an eatin’ afterward. The congregation would mob me. Plus, Tansie would want to know where her cookies were. As far as I was concerned, Tansie could make her own cookies.

  Me and Matlock had us a good night. We had a few of the cookies after dinner, watched a funny Christmas movie, and then we turned in.

  Well, you don’t know how glad I was that I didn’t take Melvia’s cookies to church. I took Cooper’s box by the police station before going to church, and I took Sunny’s and Faye’s box, but I left them in the car and they got them after the service. In fact, Sunny was doubly happy because—in addition to getting the cookies—her mama had agreed to sign the application to let her wrap presents at the mall on the weekends. Anyway, I went to invite Melvia over for coffee the next morning, and Tansie horned right in.

  “I hope you asked forgiveness this morning, Myrtle,” she said, sticking her nose up in the air like she was all high and mighty.

  “For what?” I asked her.

  “For making out on your front porch the other night like a teenager.” She glanced around to see who else might’ve heard and been shocked by her revelation.

  “Humph. I didn’t ask forgiveness for that because I didn’t do anything wrong,” I said. “I did sing some praises, though.” I nodded. “I did sing praises.” And then I walked off. Just like that. I left Tansie standing there with her mouth hanging open.

  In the parking lot, I spotted Hazel Hargrove. I remembered that she used to work at the gas plant where Jackson Barnard had worked.

  “Mornin’, Hazel!” I hollered, walking toward her.

  She turned around. “Howdy, Myrtle!” She met me halfway. “You ready for Christmas?”

  “Just about. I’m thinking of taking a part-time job over at the mall to help me pay for all this Christmas joy I’m spreading,” I said.

  She grinned. “I know the feeling…about the spending, I mean. I don’t reckon I’ll get a job, though. My old bones don’t take too kindly to getting up and getting out of the house in the winter anymore.”