Ornamental Danger: a holiday short story (Working Stiff Mysteries) (2 page)

"Just go get some Walmart gift cards and be done with it."
—
Penny Dempsey's Advice on gift giving

Being the Glitter Queen of the annual Christmas Eve Festival was not nearly as glamorous as it may have sounded to an outsider. That's why there was no pageant held, and you'd certainly never find a volunteer list hanging up at the community bulletin board in the tag and title office. Simply put, being the Glitter Queen meant making decisions that no one else wanted to make and wearing an awful costume that looked something like Big Bird if he were to turn pink, bathe in glitter, and go through a significant amount of molting.

In other words, it was torture. And, since my high school nemesis, who'd made it her mission to try to drive me back out of town since I'd driven my 1963 Buick Skylark back across county lines, was heading up the committee this year—I was given the great honor of serving as this year's queen. The sole judge of this year's home decorations contest. The sole victim of the townsfolk's bribery and potential scorn. And the sole loser who would be paraded around town in faux-honor.

I parked my car at the house and slammed the door behind me. "Don't worry, Stella, I won't let them decorate you and embarrass you on Main Street. They'll just have to use another convertible to carry me around the city in shame." I ran my hand along the sleek red hood of the car that my father had affectionately named all those many years ago.

I entered the house from the side door that opened into the kitchen. I closed it behind me and shut my eyes for a moment as I leaned against the wall. Enjoying the silence for just a beat or two until a loud yawn combined with a growl announced the arrival of Pickles, my sister's gigantic dog.

I cracked open one eye and observed him in a full two paw stretch in front of me, a large string of drool hanging from his thick tongue and nearly reaching the floor. "Did you have a nice day, boy?"

He whined a little and then gave a glance over his shoulder as if to remind me that his food bowl was waiting.

"Hungry, huh?"

He whined again and then padded over to me and nuzzled my kneecap with his snout. Obviously, I wasn't moving fast enough.

"Okay. I get it." I left my backdoor back support and dropped my purse on the table. I bent down to reach inside the pantry and extracted a large container of dry dog food and a can of something moist and smelly—his favorite. I mixed the two together and filled his bowl. To his delight, he set to work vacuuming the bowl at record speed. Eating was the only thing he did quickly.

"Hey, Mand!" My sibling's voice startled me. I spun around to see my sixteen-year-old sister behind me. She was wearing white denim cut off shorts and a University of Alabama T-shirt. Her long hair was split into two braids.

"What are you doing here, Paget?" I knew that she was supposed to be with Ms. Lanier and suddenly became concerned that something may have happened to our neighbor-turned-cat-door-breacher. After our morning find at Ms. Strength's house, there was a new fear in my heart.

"Oh, Sundae came over to do my hair. Isn't it scrumptious?"

I smiled and then stepped forward to run my fingers down one tightly wound braid. Paget grinned widely. She was happy. It was a hit and miss thing with her. After being diagnosed at an early age with a high-functioning form of autism, there was no sure way to know whether you'd find her happy, sad, frustrated, or even missing from day to day.

Of course, the disappearance episodes had become fewer and farther between since she'd been on a new schedule over the past few months. I'd worked hard to get her on this schedule, and with friends to help me, we were taking things one successful day to the next.

"It is scrumptious, Paget. Where is Sundae?"

"Oh, she's in the bathroom. She'll be right out." Paget smiled at me again and then turned and twirled down the hallway and back to her room.

The sound of feet clickity-clacking down the hardwood flooring of our hallway alerted me to the arrival of Sundae Giddings—my new friend and favorite haphazard hairdresser. She gave me a dimpled-smiled greeting as she sailed into the kitchen.

"Don't say it." I precluded her comments about the current state of my hair.

She dropped her smile and seemed to consider her words carefully. "I wasn't going to say anything about
that
."

I turned my head to the side in cautious disbelief.

"I was simply going to tell you that I was sorry to hear about the Glitter Queen thing."

Now I was the one not smiling. "Ugh. I was not prepared for that news at all."

"Yeah, I had to do it two years ago. Frankly, we are running out of people to saddle with it."

I sighed and then turned to investigate the fridge for possible mood-lifting snacks.

"Well, thanks for nothing. To have Allyson Harlow come out to the What's-Worth and deliver the news was a nice touch."

Sundae sat at the table and propped her elbows on it, pressing her chin into her hands. "That wasn't my idea. She insisted. She's such a
you know what.
"

I giggled internally. Sundae was big on the "not using bad words" thing after her mother had named her after the holiest day of the week. Well, that's what she told people anyway. I'd always thought she'd been named after a certain delicious sugary ice cream snack but didn't want to argue the semantics.

I extracted a tomato, the mayonnaise, some lettuce, and a package of bacon and set to work making a mid-afternoon snack.

"You want one?" I gestured to my ingredients.

"No thanks. I'm on a diet." Sundae sat up straighter, as if the mention of a diet required that she suck in her stomach and practice good posture.

"I don't know why. You look awesome as you are." I said it, and I meant it. Sundae was adorable.

"Ha. Thanks but no thanks. I have to fit into my formal dress for the Festival. All the past Queens have to come up on stage when you award the trophy, and I plan to wear the one that I wore three years ago. There is no way this belly pooch is going to keep me from getting into it."

I nodded and set to work heating up a frying pan for my bacon. Changing the subject, I asked, "So, how is that you are watching Paget this afternoon?"

"Oh, Ms. Lanier said she had an appointment down at the police station. Something about finding poor Ms. Strength. That is terribly sad news. She was a pillow of the community."

I bit my lower lip. "I think you mean, pillar of the community."

Sundae seemed to consider my words. "Well, I never understood the saying anyway. It is just something I've heard at funerals and all. Anyway, it is always a blast to hang out with Paget. She goes on and on about that Adam Owens kid. You know—his mother is in the running for that Mistletoe trophy this year. I'm sure she'll be bringing by some bribery sweets for you any minute."

As if on cue, the doorbell rang.

We both turned to look in the direction of the front door. No one ever used the front door. Anyone in town who knew my Aunt Patty knew that we always use the side door through the kitchen.

I rubbed my hands on the worn yellow towel by the sink and turned down the sizzling bacon before I made my way to the door.

Opening it, I was greeted by an enormous flower arrangement. And by enormous, I mean…

"Good Lord, I've never seen anything that big outside of a graveside service!" Sundae's comment from behind me said it all.

The large, but rather hideous display of white and pink carnations buried the slender teen who was struggling to keep it upright.

"These are for Mandy Murrin…" his muffled voice reached me a moment later.

"Well, why don't you just set those down on the porch?" I reached forward and helped him to lower the arrangement to the ground.

He looked relieved as he fished into his back pocket for a small pad of paper. "Thank you ma'am. Can I just get you to sign for these?"

"Who are these from?" I asked as I reached for the pad of paper and studied the sender's column.

He seemed out of breath and extracted an inhaler from his front pocket.

"Are you okay?" I reached for his arm to steady him as he began to wheeze.

He took two puffs from the inhaler, and then the color seemed to return to his face. "Sorry, allergies act up from time to time."

"If you have allergies and asthma, you probably shouldn't be delivering flowers." The doctor inside of me couldn't help but come out from time to time.

He gave me a small smile. "Sometimes we have to take jobs we don't really want. Ya know?"

"Oh, I know. Believe me." I smiled back.

Convinced that he was going to live for the moment, I went back to the task at hand.

"This says that the flowers are from Doris Millcomb. Who in the world is Doris Millcomb?"

He shrugged, and I shrugged in turn.

Sundae let out a whoop from the doorway. "Oh, honey. Let the games begin. Doris Millcomb has arrived. Only a dozen or so more gifts to come."

I signed the delivery slip, and the young man saluted me as he backed down the stairs and headed on his way.

I turned to see Sundae doubled over, her face red with laughter.

"I don't get it." I tossed one more look at the ridiculously over-the-top arrangement and decided to leave it on the front porch for now.

Closing the door behind me, I watched my friend struggled for breath.

"What is so dang funny?"

She finally managed to get the words out. "Oh queen, my queen…you're being courted."

And then the laughter continued.

"Silver bells, shotgun shells…it's Christmas time in the country."
—
A Millbrook Christmas Carol

Three pies, two cobblers, and a Christmas wreath later, Sundae headed home, and I tempted Paget out of her room with the promise of dinner at Ms. Lanier's, followed by dessert at Front Porch Café before I had to head back for another night shift at the tree farm.

As we crossed the lawn, Paget grabbed my arm and halted our forward progress. A car was tooling up the driveway. We stopped to watch the driver exit with a large bag of something with a homemade ribbon bow on it.

Oh, no. More bribes.

"Mandy, is that you dear?" A woman in her early sixties with pristine make-up and hair, dressed in a June Cleaver style dress, pearls, and heels made her way to where we stood.

"Yes. It's me. And you are?"

"Why, I'm Suzette Granger dear. And I just brought you some goodies for the holidays. There's a little invitation on there to take a look at when you get a moment. I do hope you'll come." Her smile was well over sixty watts even in the twilight sun.

"Okay, then. Thanks for stopping by." I simply couldn't take another chat with a local about the Christmas lights judging. I was just burnt out on bulb talk.

"All righty. You have a nice evening now. But don't forget the party. It will be the best ever. No need to let that terrible discovery from this morning bring down the holidays. Right?"

I knew she was referring to the death of Ms. Strength, but something about the way she threw it in there with her party invitation just seemed a little cold. I smiled and waved as she trotted back to her car and backed down the driveway.

"I don't like her." Paget startled me.

"Now, Page, that's not very nice." I corrected my sister, but I didn't exactly disagree with her. There was something about Ms. Granger that didn't sit well with me.

When I turned to look at Paget, she was facing me with a loving look of concern on her face, and I warmed.

"Mandy, you're not leaving me, right?"

I rubbed her bare arm and wondered about the sudden change in topic. She'd obviously heard about Ms. Strength's death. "We've discussed this, Paget. I'm here to stay."

She seemed to search my eyes as if not totally convinced.

"What's brought this up, Page?" She turned to look back at our house. Aunt Patty's house. When our aunt had passed away during the early part of summer, it had left Paget without a caretaker and had forced me out of medical school. I'd had a tough time adjusting to life back in my home town after years away at college. But, in the end, I'd decided that I had to stay and be the new constant in my sister's life. She needed me, and come to find out…I sorta needed her too.

"I just wondered why you had to work two jobs? I mean, now that I'm out of school for the holiday break, I wanted to spend more time with you." She looked down at her feet sheepishly.

I tugged on one of her new braids. "I told you that this second job is just temporary. I'll be done with it in a few more days. Remember? I took it so that I could make a little more money to buy you some nice things for Christmas. I just don't make enough at the wrecker company."

She lifted up the corner of her mouth with an inkling of a smile. "Do you think I can get a real tiara?"

I laughed. "We'll just have to see, won't we?"

She gave me a quick hug and then ran ahead to Ms. Lanier's screen door and entered the house without knocking. I followed suit—totally unprepared for what I would find on the other side of the door.

*  *  *

"What is all this?" I stared at the kitchen table covered end to end with a full blown holiday meal. There was steaming roast beef covered in potatoes, carrots, and onions. There was corn on the cob and green bean casserole. There was a pumpkin pie, a pecan pie, and a Chess cake. I was in hog heaven, but I was afraid. Very afraid.

"This is great. I'm starved," Paget said in a sing-song voice and then started loading up a plate, moving down the table in serving line fashion.

"Ms. Lanier, you're not bribing me, are you?" The thought entered my mind and zipped out of my mouth before I could stop myself.

"Who? Me?" She touched her chest with a small, wrinkled hand and looked aghast.

A "tsk-tsk" sound erupted from the living room, and I turned to see my aunt's oldest and most stylish friend, Ms. Maimie Rogers, standing next to a gigantic white, dry erase board.

"Mandy, don't be silly. She's not trying to win your vote for the decorating competition—we decided to stop competing the year that Verna Strength won her third consecutive trophy and we discovered that she'd been sleeping with the church commissioner. There is just no competing with that kind of bribery. Have you
seen
the commish?"

A small gagging sound erupted from Ms. Lanier's throat, but I couldn't take my eyes off the large board with hand written names that were incidentally the exact names of the people who'd just been gracing my front porch with gifts and foods over the last couple of hours.

"But what is all this about? Why are all these people written on this board, and what are ya'll up to?"

Ms. Lanier popped my backside with her rolled up kitchen towel, and I jumped.

"Get in there and fix a plate, Mandy. We've got to get through this list tonight, and we've got no time to waste. The displays start tomorrow, and your judging forms are due in by tomorrow night."

My stomach grumbled at the mention of eating. That tiny snack of a BLT sandwich was long gone by now, and Ms. Lanier knew that there was only one way to truly get me moving, and that was through a truly great home cooked meal.

I did as she instructed but still wasn't quite sure what these two had planned.

"Are you going to help me judge the houses? And why is this enormous board set up?" I asked as I snagged a puffy yeast roll and slathered it with butter.

I didn't miss the exchange of eye contact between the two. I stopped and watched them. They were definitely up to something. I just couldn't quite figure it out.

"Might as well tell her, Maimie."

Ms. Maimie nodded and then slipped on her cat-eye shaped reading glasses and began reading the names off the list.

"The three that I believe we really have to focus on are Jenson Davies, Parker Caldwell, and Coach Mulder, but we can't rule out any of these others just yet."

I envisioned my temporary boss Coach Mulder and could almost hear his spitting sound as he sent yet another stream of disgusting tobacco juice to the ground in his wake. I grimaced at the image. It was almost enough to put me off my appetite.
Almost
.

I took a huge bite of corn on the cob and then licked the excess butter off my lips. "So are those the folks who have the best lights to look at?"

Ms. Lanier let out a bark of laughter. "Honey, those are the three who wanted Verna Strength dead."