Death of a Russian Doll Page 24

  The mayor clapped my father on the shoulder. “He was my second choice. Thanks.” He winked at me on the way out. “Nice jammies.”

  Mark looked up from the desk and gave me a broad smile.

  I collapsed into a guest chair and self-consciously crossed my arms in front of my chest. “I was right about the safe, huh? Anything good inside?”

  Mark looked at my father. Dad looked at Mark. Finally, Dad said, “Up to you. She probably deserves it, considering.”

  “I agree,” Mark said. “Without going into specifics, Marya intercepted bids for a municipal contract.”

  “From Browning Construction?” I asked.

  Mark shook his head. “From their competitors. These bids were supposed to be sealed, but someone on the committee leaked the bids to Mrs. Browning. The Brownings could then submit a more competitive bid. It’s how they won so many contracts. It also gives us a reason to subpoena all of their financial records.”

  “Ian said she’d been the woman behind the man for thirty years,” I said. “That’s potentially a long history of corruption.”

  “Just keep it on the QT,” Dad said. “This is going to topple more than one prominent official.”

  “In East Aurora?” I asked.

  Mark shook his head. “In a number of communities in the area, but apparently he didn’t like to …” Mark stopped there, but I knew the colorful expression he’d been going for.

  “Pee on his own dumpster?” I offered instead.

  Dad laughed. “You got it.”

  “There’s also good news for Anechka in there. Apparently Marya did manage to acquire all her paperwork. She has a valid green card that’s up to date, so she’s not in the country illegally after all.”

  “That is good news,” I said, stifling a yawn.

  “Maybe you should get home and get some sleep,” Dad said. “Nothing keeping you here. Is someone minding the store?”

  “Cathy,” I said. “Although she’s going to want details when I get back. Only …” I pointed to my clothing. “I could use a ride, preferably to the back alley.”

  Dad winced. “They cordoned that off while they sweep it for evidence. It’ll have to be the front door.”

  “I guess I can make a run for it.”

  Mark stood up. “I’d be happy to drive you home.”

  Dad looked at Mark but raised no objections.

  I was failing to stifle more yawns in the car and also failed to keep up with the conversation.

  Mark laughed. “You have no idea what I just said, do you?”

  “Sorry.”

  “Look, maybe we should cancel tonight.”

  “No!” I said. “I just need a few hours sleep, then I’ll run to the grocery store.”

  “Tell you what. How about we alter the plans, then? You come over to my place, and I’ll cook for you.”

  “You cook?”

  “No gourmet, but I haven’t killed anyone yet,” he said, echoing my words. “Besides, it’ll be easier to tell you … that thing that I need to tell you.”

  I must have looked worried.

  “It’s not that bad. I think you’ll be okay with it.”

  “What time?” I said through another yawn.

  “I’ll text you that and the address. Okay?”

  I nodded and wiped my eyes.

  He leaned over and kissed me on the cheek. “Sweet dreams.”

  I put my hand on the car handle, waited a minute for foot traffic in front of the shop to clear, then made a run for it.

  * * *

  Cathy was busy with customers in the shop. And of course they did a double-take when someone wearing Batgirl jammies entered. I went to the backroom and waited for them to leave, which took about ten minutes. I stared at the coffeepot, but my stomach was already roiling.

  I started to tell her the story. I’d gotten to the part where Ian had pulled me out of the shop, then sentences stopped forming.

  “You need sleep,” she said. And then the shop bell rang. “And I need to get that.”

  “Tell you what.” I looked at the clock. “Give me five hours, then come up and wake me. I have to get ready for dinner with Mark by then, and I’ll tell you the rest.”

  Of course, the cats didn’t care how tired I was. They let me know, in no uncertain terms, that they were on the brink of starvation. I poured out two full cans of something. Not even sure what kind, but I figured it would hold them for a while.

  When I found my room, I quickly slipped into a fresh pair of pajamas and directly under the covers. In moments, the worries, cares, and stress of the past couple of weeks melted into a deep, dreamless sleep.

  When I awoke, Cathy was pushing garments around in my closet.

  I stretched out some of the stiffness and propped myself up. “What are you doing?”

  “I am your personal wardrobe consultant, and you have a date tonight, right?”

  “And I guess I have an upscale new wardrobe in the closet.”

  “Which will do us no good tonight,” she said. “I rather think Mark likes you just the way you are.” With that she turned back to the closet. “Something cheery and Christmassy, maybe.” She pulled out my warmest red sweater.

  I picked up my phone and checked the time—just a little before five. And four messages. There was one from Mark that said, “Six?” Followed by the address. I did the math, decided I should have plenty of time, and returned his text. I got a few emojis back.

  I laughed. “I swear, outside that man might be some high-powered FBI accountant, but on the inside, he’s a big kid.”

  Cathy sat down on the foot of the bed. “I think that’s just your type.”

  “Do you need to get back downstairs?” I asked.

  She shook her head. “Parker left work early, and he’s covering the shop while I’m up here. Dad’s actually home, too, but just. He’s sleeping already.”

  Cathy helped me get ready, doing her best to hide the gash in my cheek under a good foundation, while I recounted the rest of the story. I even let her fix my hair with her Bibbidi Bobbidi-Goo.

  “I guess we’ll have to take Lori up on her fundraising ideas,” Cathy said.

  “It’ll happen, though,” I said. “I have all the faith in the world that you’ll make it work.”

  She closed her eyes. “I’m sorry I kept pushing you back in the Browning direction. You never wanted to be involved with him.”

  “He was charming at times,” I said. “I’d thought he wanted a nice girl his parents would approve of. Now I’m beginning to wonder if it was a way to buy more respect. Or even to keep tabs on the police investigation. It was pretty clear at the end there that he had no real feelings for me.” I shivered, thinking of his cold grasp.

  She gave me a tight, rocking hug. “I’m glad you and Dad are both okay.”

  Chapter 25

  If there was such a thing as liquid courage, and if I wasn’t a teetotaler, I’d be chugging the stuff as I sat in Mark’s long driveway looking up at his house. At six, the sun had set already, of course, and there were no streetlamps here, just outside the village. Still the cedar shake shingles and white-shuttered house glowed in the icicle lights dripping from the eaves. A couple of illuminated reindeer stood sentry in the front yard. Huge wreaths hung on the dormer windows. I guess I’d known that Mark owned his own house, but I pictured it more of a bachelor pad of neglect. Nor did I know he had this much holiday spirit, although I found it a pleasant surprise.

  When the front door opened and he poked his head outside, I could no longer linger in the car. What was I so nervous about? The date? Or whatever bombshell was about to accompany it?

  “You look nice,” he said, kissing me on the cheek. “Maybe a little more put together than this morning.”

  “It isn’t every day a girl catches a killer in her pajamas.”

  He put his hand up to his face, fingering an imaginary cigar, and in his best Groucho Marx impersonation said, “And how that killer got in my pajamas, I’ll ne
ver know.”

  That broke the ice, and I found myself comfortable and relaxing. Just before a little blonde girl, maybe about four, came tearing down the hallway.

  “Uncle Mark! The chicken dinged. You told me to let you know when it stopped spinning.”

  “That I did.” He picked her up. “Hannah, I’d like you to meet someone very important. This is Miss Liz.”

  I held out my hand and Hannah pumped it, then we did high fives. She giggled when I reached in and tickled her belly.

  Mark set her down and she tore off back into the other room.

  He stowed my coat in his hall closet. “My niece will be joining us, it seems.”

  “Fine by me,” I said. “Do you need a hand with anything?”

  “Nope. Dinner is about ready, although I promised Hannah we could watch Rudolph and Frosty tonight, so I hope you don’t mind eating in front of the television.”

  “That,” I said, “is my MO.”

  We assembled plates from the buffet at the kitchen island, then carried them and beverages into a cozy family room, warmed from the fireplace and scented with pine from the scraggly Christmas tree decorated with glittery balls and construction paper ornaments. I slid to the floor with my plate on the coffee table, and Mark sat next to me.

  Hannah, as I expect most four-year-olds are today, was a pro with the remote, and soon the reindeer games began.

  “Hope you don’t mind,” Mark whispered softly. “This might not be the evening you had in mind.”

  “If you must know, I adore Rudolph. And Frosty. But be forewarned, I liked to sing along with all the songs. I’ve been on my best behavior so far, but I might just forget myself.”

  Hannah looked up. “We always sing along with the songs.”

  “I can sing louder,” I said.

  “I can sing really loud, too,” Hannah said. And when the next song came on, we all sang as loudly as we could, until we were laughing too hard to keep up with the words.

  Mark cleared his throat. “Maybe I should put on some coffee. Or cocoa?” He wagged finger at me. “But it would have to be the instant kind with the desiccated marshmallows. It’s all I got.”

  “Cocoa!” Hannah said.

  “Sounds good to me.”

  Somewhere during Frosty, Mark’s arm snaked around my shoulder and I leaned into his warmth. He shifted away just before the closing credits.

  “Can we play a game?” Hannah said. “I have Candy Land.”

  “I love Candy Land,” I said.

  But Mark looked at his watch. “Sorry, kiddo. It’s time for bed.”

  “We’ll play some other time,” I said.

  And off she went without much fuss. “Excuse me a moment,” Mark said, and I could hear him step her through her evening routine.

  Maybe ten minutes later he rejoined me in the family room.

  “So Uncle Mark, huh?” I asked. “Your brother or sister’s kid?”

  Mark stared into his cocoa. “My sister’s.”

  “She’s adorable. How long is she staying with you?”

  He put his cup on the coffee table. “With any luck, until she’s done with college. That’s what I needed to talk about, before things went any further with us. I’m not babysitting. I’m Hannah’s legal guardian.”

  I took his hand and he told me about his sister, who’d already been a single parent when she’d received her cancer diagnosis and grim prognosis.

  “That must be difficult,” I said.

  “I have good support. My mother comes and spends a lot of time here. I have a good daycare center I use during the day, and a woman down the street babysits if I need to go out at night.” He tipped his head. “I ran her background, of course.”

  I drained the last of my cocoa and leaned against the sofa.

  “Here’s where you say that you’re cool with it and it doesn’t make a difference.”

  “But it does make a difference,” I said, then smiled. “I think it’s wonderful.”

  The next two hours were spent talking about everything and about nothing, those meaningless but all-important conversations couples have as they’re learning more about each other. There may have been a few cocoa-flavored kisses interwoven with the conversation.

  “Another confession,” Mark said, “I have a terrible sweet tooth.”

  “So do I,” I admitted.

  “I should have made dessert. Let me see if I have any cookies left.” He went and rummaged in the kitchen but came back empty handed. “I also have a little cookie monster in the house.”

  “That’s okay. Hey, you know what?” I opened my purse and pulled out the handful of fortune cookies I’d stuck in there after Joan’s book signing. “I came prepared.”

  I pushed one of them toward him. “Let’s see what your fortune is going to be.”

  He removed the cookie from the clear wrapper then cracked it open and read the paper inside. Even in the dim light, I could see his ears turn red.

  “What is it?”

  “Liz.” He paused and scratched the back of his head. “I like you very much, but I just don’t think we’re quite there yet. Maybe someday, but—”

  I ripped the small fortune from his hand. Now it was my turn to flush, and I couldn’t blame the heat of the fire, which had been reduced to glowing embers.

  “I’m so sorry,” I said. “I got these from an author. I guess she had them made up and used quotes from her book as the fortunes.” I buried my face in my hands. “I didn’t realize. I’m so embarrassed.”

  “So this is from a book?” he said.

  I nodded, still unable to meet his eyes. “Won Ton Desire. Page ninety-seven.”

  * * *

  “Have you seen my suspenders?” Dad exited his room holding up his Santa pants. “They won’t stay up.”

  “It’s all that weight you lost working nonstop,” I said. “You’re the only person I know who could lose weight on the doughnut, coffee, and fast food diet.”

  He tugged at the waistband. “They are a bit looser than they were last year.”

  “Try the hall closet,” I said. “I think I might have seen them in there.”

  “Thanks.”

  When he shuffled off, I shook my head at Cathy. “Why is it so much easier for men to lose weight?”

  “I wish I knew. I’m still trying to work off that pregnancy weight.”

  I tweaked her cheek. “But you make an adorable elf.”

  “I don’t understand why Dad made me dress up but you don’t have to,” she said.

  I shrugged. “Seniority? Or maybe it’s because you will be retrieving presents for Santa.” I gestured to the fruits of her labor. “Those dolls are gorgeous—and that means a lot coming from me. And I’m sure they’ll get everyone excited about the program for next year.”

  Cathy crossed her fingers. “I hope so. You don’t think giving the first of the dolls to the children of police officers is a bit self-serving, considering that one of Lori’s fundraising ideas is—”

  “Shh!” I put my finger to my lips as Dad came back with his suspenders.

  “What?” Dad said.

  “We were just talking about giving the dolls to the children,” I said. “I think it’s a great idea. Not many people realize how stressful growing up in a cop’s home can be.”

  Dad kissed me on the cheek. “The kids do make a sacrifice. Liz, I’m sorry if … I’m sorry that I wasn’t always …”

  I stopped him with a hug and Cathy joined in.

  When we arrived downstairs, Amanda was already arranging napkins on the food tables. Kohl sat in a nearby chair, drawing in his notebook.

  I looked at the spread. “Everything looks lovely.”

  “We’re still short cookies,” she said.

  “They should be on their way,” I said. “We had plenty of volunteers.”

  “Great!” Then she cast a worried look in Kohl’s direction. “Liz, Kohl really wanted to come to the party tonight, but he can sometimes get a little over stimulated
with all the noise.”

  “Do you need to leave? I’m sure we can cover.”

  “No, at least not yet. In fact, Jack is coming and he could help keep an eye on him, but if we need to get him away from the party for a bit …”

  “He’s great with Kohl,” I said. “It’s fun to watch them together.”

  “They adore each other,” Amanda said. “It’s going to make the next year a lot easier.” She reached up to a chain around her neck and pulled out what I first thought was a necklace, but a moment later realized was an engagement ring on a chain. She put a finger quickly to her lips. “We want to let the families know over the holiday, so we’re keeping it a secret. But you’re family, at least as far as I’m concerned.”

  I reached in to hug her. “Congratulations,” I whispered. “And the apartment’s unlocked if you need a quiet place for Kohl,” I said. “Maybe a bit of a mess because we were all getting ready up there, and I think Cathy’s wearing enough glitter to keep Martha Stewart busy for a month.” I pointed to the trail on the floor.

  Amanda winced. “We’re going to be finding that years from now.”

  As she turned away to her work, I found a tear growing in the corner of my eye. Not that I was weeping over the prospect of persistent glitter, but there was something hopeful and comforting about thinking about being in the same place, doing the same thing, with these same people years from now.

  I was home. And there was truly no place like it.

  When I looked up, Irene and Lenora were tapping on the front door and I went to unlock it. I had to push past Dad’s inflatable toy soldier. He was still sporting a patch on his leg from a violent encounter a couple of years earlier. At first, we’d considered throwing him away, that maybe he was too much of a reminder of a tragedy that occurred in our shop, but I’m glad we hadn’t. Now, every year at Christmas, he stands sentry, his smile just as bright and undimmed. He’s become a testimony to resilience.

  “I know we’re a little early,” Irene said. “But we thought you’d want the cookies ahead of time.”