Fran Rizer - Callie Parrish 06 - A Corpse Under the Christmas Tree (32 page)

“What porch?” Jane sobbed. “I didn’t talk to you on the porch, and I never even knew your son.”

Miss Lettie seized Jane by the shoulders and spit in her face. She squeezed her arms around Jane as I struggled to pull them apart.

Hate spilled from Miss Lettie’s mouth—still slow and particular. “I’m going to kill you, Amber Clark. You couldn’t hide from me when you came out your door with that Santa Claus disguise. I knew who you were even before I snatched off your beard and hat. You’re the slut who made my Jeffrey Junior so unhappy that he moved away from me.”

She managed to hold Jane with one arm while she reached for the braid. “You thought you’d get me when you snatched that string of lights loose from over your door, threatening to tie me up and call the cops, but I fooled you when I took that cord from you. I might be old, but farm work all those years made me strong. You’ve come back after I choked you with those Christmas lights around your neck, but now I’m going to strangle you to death forever.”

I struggled with Miss Lettie, but I couldn’t pull her away from Jane. Hair! I grasped a handful of gray hair and yanked as hard as I could. Miss Lettie released her hold on Jane and shoved me across the room like a rag doll. I thrust my arms out and cushioned myself with my hands. No telling what might have happened if my head had hit the wall. Breathless—I couldn’t move.

Miss Lettie gripped Jane and wrapped the braid around her throat again. She pulled it tighter and tighter. Jane’s face went from bright red to bluish. Miss Lettie released the pigtail and let it drop. Jane collapsed into a limp pile on the floor beside it.

“I howled with laughter when I saw that giant Christmas tree.” Miss Lettie’s speech changed again—now fast and loud. “I was taking you to Jeffrey Junior at the cemetery, but I couldn’t resist leaving you at that house. Nobody was around, so I carried you to the porch. Under the Christmas tree—the perfect place to leave a dead Santa Claus.”

She broke into a long peal of maniacal laughter.

“You were just pretending then,” she persisted, “but I’ve killed you for good this time, and now I’m going to stab your friend.”

She grabbed the scissors once more and charged me.

The door opened.

Nurses rushed in.

But they weren’t at the front of the line.

Daddy was.

“Have a holly, jolly Christmas.” Daddy’s voice rang out so loud I could hear him before I went inside and headed toward the delicious smells of the kitchen.

He stood at the table, sounding like Burl Ives and looking like a gray-haired Larry the Cable Guy wearing his bright red “Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer” apron over jeans and a flannel shirt. Years ago, when John gave him the apron, Rudolph’s nose lit up, but no one had replaced the battery since it burned out a few years ago.

“Christmas is over,” I said as I pulled off my jacket and draped it on the coat rack by the back door.

“It doesn’t have to be,” Daddy answered. He’d arranged a carton of jumbo brown eggs, a bag of granulated sugar, a quart of whole milk, one of heavy cream, a little bottle of genuine vanilla extract, and a small brown nut in a line beside the large punch bowl that had always been at our house. As a little girl, I’d wondered if that bowl had belonged to my mother.

I simply stood and watched him as silent as that proverbial creature, the mouse who wasn’t stirring in “The Night Before Christmas.” He placed two medium mixing bowls beside the egg carton and carefully cracked one egg at a time. He visually examined each of them and held it up to his nose, sniffed, then separated the white from the yolk into the two dishes.

“What’cha making?” I asked.

Daddy looked up with a puzzled expression. “What does it look like I’m making? Eggnog, of course.”

“Where’s the rum? I’ve never known you to make eggnog without rum.”

“I sent Mike to the red dot store to get a liter of spiced rum.” He put the bowl of egg whites on the mixer stand, flipped the switch, and beat them to stiff peaks.

“You don’t usually make eggnog except at Christmas. What happened? You just didn’t get enough of it then?” I looked around for the bowl of peanuts he usually has in the kitchen, but it was gone. There was, however, a dish of Christmas hard candy.

“No, the truth is that the last dozen days have been terrible. I’m gonna start over—have a new twelve days of Christmas—and I’m beginning with today, which is my new Christmas Day.”

He measured one and a half cups of sugar into the punch bowl, then stopped and looked me over, head to toe. “Aside from those black eyes and that hairdo, you look pretty good, considering all things.” My new hairstyle could have been called whacked off. I’d tried to trim it, but I hadn’t improved it much.

Daddy poured the egg yolks into the sugar and beat them together with a wire whisk. “Where’s Frankie? Didn’t he come in with you?” he asked.

“He and Jane are outside, talking on the porch. He’s so relieved that Jane had fainted and wasn’t dead like you thought when you came in the hospital room that he’s making all kinds of promises to get a job and rent his own place. I was surprised you sent Frankie to pick us up, knowing how he and Jane have been lately, but he says he’s going to prove himself to her.” Words poured out of me, but I wasn’t thinking about anything except the holly-shaped bowl of hard Christmas candy on the counter. It looked mighty tempting.

“Frankie was out of his mind when he learned what happened yesterday,” Daddy said. “He insisted on picking you girls up from the hospital when you called while ago and said you’d been dismissed.”

“You could have sent Mike for us.”

“I told you. I sent him for rum, and he’s gone to get Ellen. She’s mighty upset over Miss Lettie’s meltdown.” He added the milk and heavy cream to the punch bowl, then slowly stirred it into the yolk and sugar mixture with a whisk.

“Meltdown? It’s a whole lot more than that. I keep thinking what a waste it is for Amber Buchanan to be dead. She worked so hard to help lots of women, and from what I understand, she didn’t dump Jeff Morgan in high school. He dropped her for someone else.” I popped a piece of hard candy into my mouth. “Last night I lay in bed thinking about everything and wondering if maybe Patsy Corley was Amber’s replacement, but I don’t guess we’ll ever know that.”

“Finding out is as easy as calling your brother John or even asking Wayne. Those three knew everything about each other back then.” Daddy measured a tablespoon of vanilla into the bowl, stirred again, and then reached below the cabinet for a tiny metal grater. The nut that had been lying beside the ingredients was exactly what I’d thought it was—nutmeg. The scent of it wafted over the other appetizing aromas as he grated a tiny bit directly into the punch bowl and stirred again. He folded the beaten egg whites into the concoction gently with a spatula.

“Did you know the sheriff learned the rings you found in Amber Buchanan’s house were fake? Not even high-quality imitations. They were what we used to call dime store jewelry, but she valued them because they’d belonged to her mother. Amber must have been afraid someone might steal them.”

“Wayne hadn’t told me that. Amber was probably afraid her husband would take them,” I said before adding, “Are you going to add cinnamon?”

“No, I’ll put some beside the bowl. Ellen doesn’t care for cinnamon.”

He dipped a ladle into the punch bowl, spooned some eggnog into a cup, and handed it to me. I took a sip.

“Delicious,” I said, “and it will be even better when you add the rum.”

“You know I don’t like you drinking alcohol. That stuff’s smooth and creamy just as it is.” I didn’t argue with him. I knew, and he probably did too, that I’d sneak more of it after Mike came back.

“I owe you a great big thank-you, Daddy.” I stepped forward and hugged him. My daddy isn’t very demonstrative and sometimes kind of shrugs out of hugs, but he hugged me back. A big, tight hug.

“You don’t owe me anything, Calamine. When I heard you scream, I just about knocked the nurses down rushing to your room. My heart almost stopped when I saw what was happening. I don’t know what I would do if I lost you. I might even turn out as crazy as Miss Lettie did.”

He poured himself a small cup of eggnog and drank it down like a shooter. “I know I was more frightened than you were.” He smiled.

“What makes you think that?” I asked. “I was terrified.” I held my cup out for more.

“You didn’t throw up like you’ve always done when you’re scared.” He filled both of our cups. Good thing it didn’t have the rum in it yet.

I took another sip and explained, “I was about to upchuck all over when you came through the door, and then I knew I’d be safe.”

“I always swore I’d never hit a female,” he said after he swallowed, “and that’s the first and only time in my life I ever struck a woman, but I’d a’ killed her to save you.”

“I know it was hard on you, Daddy. You were kind of sweet on Miss Lettie, weren’t you? It seemed like that to me when you were so disappointed she didn’t come for New Year’s dinner.”

“Miss Lettie? You thought I was interested in Miss Lettie?” He guffawed. “It’s not Miss Lettie that attracts me. It’s her friend, Ellen. That sweet little woman is kind and thoughtful and everything I like in a female. Besides, she’s about the only woman I’ve talked to since your mama died who didn’t seem jealous. I told her I’d be making my first wife’s Sunday cake today. Know what she said? She smiled and said she’d look forward to it.”

“Did you say
first
wife?” I asked.

“Oh, you know what I mean. You never can tell, but I’ve invited Ellen over for dinner tonight because she’s so distraught about her friend. She agreed to stay for music, too. She likes both country and bluegrass.”

That’s about all Daddy plays, though he’ll throw in a folk tune once in a while, and sometimes he shuts himself up in his room and listens to old jazz records on his turntable.

“At least Miss Lettie’s not in jail. Maybe they really can help her in that mental hospital.” I couldn’t resist another piece of candy. This one tasted strawberry.

“Let’s hope so. Meanwhile, I’ve got to get busy cooking up some treats to go with this eggnog tonight and finishing up dinner.”

“I’m sorry it all turned out like it did anyway.”

“Why should you be unhappy that you closed another case?”

“I didn’t solve it. I’d realized that Miss Lettie was unstable, and I may have put it all together in time if she hadn’t attacked Jane again when she did, but I hadn’t realized how disturbed she was until she chopped off Jane’s hair.”

“You weren’t thinking straight after Lettie cracked that tree over your head. It’s sad that Amber Buchanan died, but did you know Otis and Odell are donating a casket and service for her, and Safe Sister is contributing a grave site?”

“No, I didn’t know that. I can understand Safe Sister, but why the Middletons? They didn’t know her before.”

“Otis said it had something to do with you being worried that Amber Buchanan would be like some carnival man in North Carolina. Is he talking about that fellow you met at the fair?”

I chuckled. “No, he’s talking about a body that was kept for years because no one paid for services.”

“I’m just glad Lettie will get the help she’s probably needed for years.” Daddy filled his cup again. His turn to chuckle. “How’s Jane dealing with having that long hair she’s grown for years chopped off?”

“I shaped it for her. She actually looks cute, kind of pixieish. You act like Miss Lettie getting help solves everything, but there’s still a baby missing.”

“No, there isn’t. After they arrested Miss Lettie, the sheriff got a search warrant for her house to look for evidence. They found the Bledsoe infant in a crib in Lettie’s basement.”

He lifted the lid off a pot on the stove and stirred the butter beans.

“Was the little boy all right?”

“She hadn’t hurt him, but she’d neglected him and finally forgot he was there. The pediatrician says he’ll be fine, but much more time alone and neglected would have been bad, really bad.”

Whew!
The word gusted out of my mouth like a hurricane wind. “I’d hate for anything to happen to that little fellow. I was there when he was born.”

“I know. Pork Chop told us all about it. His wife’s so proud of him that she says she’ll start feeding him breakfast again.”