Armed (31 page)

“Is it true, Mommy? Was this your sled?” Kendall asked breaking away from her grandfather.

“It sure was. Santa brought these to Aunt Alex and me.”

Michael stood up. “Well, what are we waiting for? Go get your coats and let’s try these things out.”

Henry and Kendall ran to get their coats while Mom helped.

Michael put a hand on Dad’s shoulder. “Thanks. They look beautiful. I think they’re going to be the best gifts of the day—next to your trip, of course.”

I went to sit at the kitchen table with Mom and Samantha and watched the kids play outside. Michael stood at the bottom of the hill to catch any little body headed for a tree while Dad pushed from the top.

“That turkey sure smells good. How much longer before it’s done?”

“Several more hours,” Mom answered Sam. “So if you’re hungry, get the celery out of the refrigerator.”

Sam retrieved the plate, put it on the table and took a piece stuffed with cream cheese.

“I talked with Dolly the other day,” Mom said, as she stood at the counter laying a piece of wrapping paper flat and smoothing out the wrinkles with her forearm.

Sam and I exchanged looks.

The paper folded, Mom put a hard crease in it with the side of her hand. I recognized this particular piece from last year when it covered a couple of paperbacks. This year it adorned a set of lotions for Sam. We didn’t spend a lot of money on wrapping paper in this family.

“What were you two thinking? You could have been hurt. Trying to catch a murderer!” Mom’s arthritic hands shook and she eyed each of us in turn.

Sam leaned closer to me and whispered out of the corner of her mouth. “I bet she could use Joanne’s eye right about now.”

Mom turned back to the counter and started sorting through bows and ribbons rescuing ones that could be used another time. “You two are more and more like your grandmother. Two hoodlums. I shouldn’t have left you with her so much, but I had to work.” Mom threw bows into a plastic container. One of them looked pretty raggedy to me but Mom let it get by. I squirmed in my seat while Sam crunched another piece of celery. “Loaning money to people like Al Capone, for Christ sake.”

My mother swore using the Lord’s name in vain. This wasn’t good.

Sam pointed a piece of celery at Mom’s back. “I don’t think Meme’s quite in the same league as Al Capone, Mom. More like—”

Mom slammed the lid on the container and turned toward us. “Be quiet, Samantha. You’re the oldest. You should look out for your little sister.”

“Ah, Mom?” Sam raised her hand, “My little sister here is thirty-six years old and you had her at twenty-five so that would make you…” My sister never missed an opportunity to needle my mother.

“Never mind what it would make me. My age is none of your business. You should be protecting Alex.”

“We weren’t in any danger. We weren’t even trying to catch anyone,” Sam explained. “More like testing out a theory. Besides, Millie came up with the idea.”

“Samantha! How dare you blame Millie,” I chided my sister.

Sam pouted. “She got us all worked up with all that talk about drugs. I guess we should have been looking for diamonds.”

I closed my eyes and hung my head. “Jesus.”

Mom came to the table and took a seat. “I haven’t mentioned your little foray into felonious follies to your father.” After a moment’s hesitation intended to make me sweat, she added, “I don’t think I will.”

Foray into felonious follies? My mother did love her words. I guess that’s why she always won at Scrabble.

“Let the police do their work. I don’t want you girls mixed up with killers and diamond smugglers. I think you should stay away from Poupée until this whole thing is resolved. Dolly knew you wanted to help, but she had no idea to what extent.”

“You don’t have to worry about it anymore, Mom. I think the police will be making an arrest very shortly…if they haven’t already.” I smiled while visions of Jerry Gagliano being handcuffed danced in my head.

As the snow started to fall again, we women retreated to the kitchen to clean up after a huge dinner that always rendered the men useless.

“Why is it that we do all the cooking
and
cleaning?” Samantha asked.

“Because we do it better and quicker. If we left it to the men, number one, they would still be in here tomorrow morning, and number two, we would never be able to find a thing in the refrigerator. I’m not even sure the leftovers would make it that far. It would be more in your father’s style to throw everything out. ‘Less to do,’ he would say,” Mom sighed as she wrapped yet another plate piled high with turkey.

“I guess. But it doesn’t seem fair.” 

“There. Finished. Now if you girls don’t mind, I’m going to go and put my feet up.” Mom untied her apron and hung it in the pantry.

I decided a nap might be just what I needed and went in search of a comfortable spot.

“Harry, it’s going to revolutionize the dentistry profession. A root canal with absolutely no pain,” Michael said from the den, and I thought better of going in there. Once my brother-in-law got started on the newest technology in his field, he could go on forever. Bloody gauze and spit sinks would be the next topics.

Not wanting to go up to my room, I returned to the kitchen.

“Can an Eskimo be a vegetarian?”

“What?” I looked at my sister with total bewilderment, not for the first time in our lives.

“I said, can an Eskimo be a vegetarian? I thought they lived on seal blubber and stuff.”

“I haven’t a clue. Why are you asking such a thing?” I walked over and placed a hand on Samantha’s forehead just in case she had something contagious.

“No reason. I’m just looking at this geography book Santa brought Kendall and well, Alaska looks awfully...white, don’t you think?” She pointed to a picture of the state.

“I hope you never volunteer your services over at the grammar school when they’re studying the fifty states.”

“I’m not going to let this Eskimo thing go until I find out.”

Henry walked into the kitchen “Where do we live?” he asked, looking at the book and taking a chair between us.

I pulled the book over and started to flip past the various states. I stopped when I came to California.

“This isn’t Connecticut,” Henry said.

“I know. I’m just looking. I’d like to go to San Francisco.”

“We stopped off there and spent a few days on our way to Hawaii,” Sam said. “I liked going over the Golden Gate and looking out to the Pacific. I know we have the Atlantic right at our doorstep, but it looks different. It took my breath away to be there. I think I could live there except for all the brush fires, earthquakes, floods, and people.”

Henry tried to turn the page, but I pushed his little hand away gently. “Wait a second, Honey.” I bent my head closer to the book.

“What are you looking at?” Sam asked, popping another cookie into her mouth. “What am I doing? I’m not going to have any room for pie. Henry, put these cookies over there on the counter.” Sam handed her son the plate but not before she grabbed one more.

I sat back. “Do you know there’s a Redding in Northern California?”

“So?”

“Mrs. Scott came from Northern California.”

Sam threw up her hands and repeated her question.

“It’s just that I think someone over at Poupée comes from Redding, Connecticut.”

“Well, lots of states have cities named the same. Take Springfield for example. I think every state has one. And there’s even a Manhattan in Kansas, maybe it’s Missouri. I think you should change into the red pant suit Mom and Dad gave you.”

“Why should I change…and stop eating? I can’t believe you have any room left inside.”

“Isn’t John coming over?”

“Yes, he is. What I’m wearing is just fine. Though my new pantsuit is gorgeous.”

“I helped Mom pick it out,” Sam said proudly.

“I’m almost positive someone at Poupée is from Redding.”

“Well, so what? What does that have to do with anything?”

I stood up and walked over to the sink. I stood there looking out the window for several minutes. “There’s something there.” I shook my head. “I think we’ve been missing something.”

“Alex, give it a rest. It’s Christmas. Leave it up to the police. You heard Mom. We could have been hurt. Or arrested for breaking and entering. Though the sight of you with Christmas tree bits springing from between your legs was worth a night in the pokey.” Sam laughed.

“Mommmmmmmmm!”

“That’s Kendall.” Sam got up and left the kitchen.

“Aunt Alex, you never showed me where we live.”

I sat back down and turned to the pages for Connecticut. I found Indian Cove and put my finger on it, totally obscuring it from view.

“She doesn’t even
talk
like the rest of us,” I said, pronouncing it “tawk.”

“Who doesn’t talk like us?”

“No one, Honey. Look, I forgot to give my friend her Christmas present. I’m going to run over there right now and I’ll be back before anyone notices I’m gone so don’t say anything.” I took the phone book from under the counter and flipped through the pages. Everything fell into place.
Could it be MS?

“Where are you going?”

I pulled on my jacket. “To my friend’s. I’ll be back shortly.”

“What’s her name?”

“Monica Scott.”

I found the address in an older section of Indian Cove. I turned left onto the street and started to search for number 104. Number 104 belonged to a large house toward the end of the block, surrounded by a tall hedge with several large maples in front. I parked my car and walked over to the house thinking for a minute I’d made a terrible mistake. The huge house looked vacant. I assumed Monica lived with her parents and they had gone away for the holidays.

There were two mailboxes by the driveway. I went to check for the names. Nothing. But one box said 104 and the other, 104B indicating another house in the back. On the other side of the driveway a path led to the back of the property. Up and down the block, dark houses bordered this one but a party going on down at the corner seemed to be in full swing. The path curved behind the large main house.

A light glowed from one of the windows above the garage and, hesitating, I wondered how to handle this. My parents—not to mention John—were going to kill me. Our relationship would be over before it started, but I’d come this far; a few more questions couldn’t hurt. I climbed the outdoor staircase on the side of the garage, slipping a few times on the ice. Music came from inside. I knocked on the door as hard as I could. A few seconds later the music abruptly stopped. The door opened.

Monica stood there staring for a long moment not recognizing me. She had on dirty sweats and looked like she might be high on something.

“Monica, its Alex Harris from Poupée. Can I come in?”

“Why?”

“I’m sorry to bother you on Christmas. I know it sounds strange but I just had a thought and I wanted to ask you a few more questions.”

Monica stepped back and I entered, hitting a cast iron doorstop with the tip of my boot. The lamp on top of a table by the door shone, but other than that, the apartment was dark. No Christmas tree and no presents brightened the space. The room looked neat and clean but very plain. On the far wall cinder blocks and wood planks formed a set of shelves, and I suddenly had an image of my first apartment. A partially opened door in the back seemed to lead to a bedroom. To the right I spied a small kitchen with packaging from a frozen dinner on a table.

I stepped further into the room. Monica shut the door behind me. Then I heard something more—a click? On the cinder block shelves rested a picture of a very solemn looking child and two elderly, stern people. I stared at the picture and everything fell into place. All the puzzle pieces fit. A sound behind me made me jump and I turned to see Monica about a foot away. Monica, with the same eyes as Irwin Scott.

“You’re not from Redding,
Connecticut
, are you?”

“I never said I was.”

“That’s true. Those two people in that picture...” I pointed at the photo. “They’re your grandparents, aren’t they? Your mother’s parents.”

“Yes.”

“Your mother, where is she?”

“Dead.”

I looked into a face the same round shape of Irwin Scott but which held none of the warmth. Her eyes were cold and bitter, and something more—maniacal. But the eyes were almost exactly like Irwin’s. Why hadn’t Mrs. Scott noticed? Then I remembered something Ian Reiser had said—Monica had green eyes.

“Mrs. Scott was your stepmother and before she died you wore green contacts to change your eyes.”

Monica paused for a moment. “Stepmother? You’re certainly being kind to a woman who ruined my life. Ruined my family. Yes, I wore contacts,” she said with curiosity.

“You killed her, didn’t you?” The words came out before I could pull them back. I should have just excused myself and gone quickly down the steps, jumped in my car and locked it. But no, I had to ask.

“Yes.” Monica moved away from me and I saw my chance to go for the door but something kept me glued to the floor. “Yes, I killed her. I waited my whole life to kill her. Your precious Mrs. Scott. A bitch, you know, a whore.” Monica said the words so calmly I thought for a moment maybe I hadn’t just heard what I thought.

“You’ve been to her house.”

“Yes, I’ve been watching her. Waiting.”

“Waiting?” I asked. “For what?”

“The right time.”

The words sent a chill down my back. Even with my coat and gloves on, the cold spread through my body.

“Do you know, do you have any idea the kind of hell I lived through with them?” Monica asked reaching for the picture of her grandparents. She stared at it for a moment and suddenly threw it across the room, making me jump back.

“You gave Mrs. Scott the computer printout. She never asked for it.”

“Yep, that’s right, I did. You’re good at this, Alex. I noticed something odd when I entered all the data into the new system. I didn’t know what it meant.” She shrugged. “But I had a hunch someone was up to no good. I’ve been inputting data for a long time. You get a feeling when the figures don’t add up.”