Death of a Dapper Snowman (6 page)

“I’ll keep an eye out for her.” I leaned in, squinting theatrically. “I think that’s my dad’s neighbor over there. What did he steal?”

“Men’s clothes, sometimes. I think he took one of my top hats, but I can’t be sure. It disappeared on a day I had my new employee working, and she might not have recognized him from the board.” He formed his long-fingered hands into fists and shook them angrily. “That was an expensive hat, too. I’ve half a mind to hold him upside down by the ankles and shake him until everything came loose. He had a few of my things.”

I carefully studied the store owner’s face as he talked about what he wanted to do to the deceased.

“Even if you dropped something personal, he’d snap it right up,” Mr. Jenkins said. “I’d like to drop something right on his head.”

In my business deals, I was good at spotting when someone was lying, overselling something with too much emotion and eye contact. Mr. Jenkins was behaving like a normal store owner, upset over losing an expensive hat. If he really had killed someone, he wouldn’t be uttering threats right now to someone everyone knew was a police officer’s daughter.

Or would he? Was Mr. Jenkins a criminal mastermind? Or just a tall, balding man going through a mid-life crisis? I scanned him again, letting my eyes wander, guided by my subconscious. My attention settled on his left hand, to the indentation where a wedding ring had recently sat.

He finally stopped ranting about shoplifters and removed his glasses again so he could dab at his eyes with a tissue. “Sorry for my outburst,” he said softly. “I’ve been under a lot of stress lately.”

“Winter is tough,” I said with matching softness. “The days are short and cold, but spring will come.”

He blew his nose and turned away for a moment.

“Stormy, you always did have a gift with words,” he said. “How is your father?”

“Exactly the same.”

“Good health?”

“Except for the new hip, yes.”

“Good,” he said with a weak smile. “Too many things change these days. People are under the delusion that all change is an improvement. But what’s the word for change that isn’t an improvement?”

“In the business world, we say
restructuring
instead of layoffs.”

He frowned. “Life is full of restructuring.
The things they shove down our throats these days!
” He shook his head and looked away.

My gaze went to his bare ring finger as his hand settled on a pile of paperwork. It looked like a stack of waybills and invoices, which made me think of financial matters.

“Oh,” I said with a sympathetic note. “Is everything okay with the business?”

“Of course,” he snapped. “Why wouldn’t it be?”

“No reason.” I picked up my shopping bag and tucked it into my purse along with my wallet. “See you around,” I said with a cheery smile.

He forced his thin lips into a smile. “Good to see you again, Stormy.”

“You, too,” I said as I backed away.

He gave me a pleasant-enough wave, and turned to busy himself with something on the computer.

I walked past the racks of costumes and formalwear toward the door, still thinking about the shop owner’s empty ring finger. A top hat was nothing to kill someone over. Stealing away someone’s wife, however, was another story. I made a mental note to ask around about this
restructuring
Mr. Jenkins was having
shoved down his throat
.

Outside on the sidewalk, it was almost bright enough for sunglasses, with the sun turning the recent snowfall into sparkling diamonds.

Diamonds?

That gave me an idea.

Chapter 8
 

For the next hour
, I walked up and down the main shopping avenues of Misty Falls.

Word would soon spread about the strange discovery of the body in the snowman, so I only had that afternoon to gather information about Mr. Michaels before people became more guarded. Whatever I found out, I planned to pass along to the police. Both Tony and Peggy seemed like they could use the help.

I told myself I was just being a good citizen, doing my duty to help dispense justice. But as I went from shop to shop, I got more and more energized.

While I didn’t miss the long hours and stress of my former life, I did miss the excitement, and the challenge of the puzzle. Mr. Michaels had been shoplifting at a number of places, for years. I felt like I was onto something.

I was practically beaming as I entered the jewelry store on the corner, Ruby’s Treasure Trove.

There were two people in there, behind the counter. A young woman who looked like she ought to be in high school was polishing the glass display cabinets. She glanced up at me shyly then scurried away, into the back room.

“Don’t mind the new girl,” said the other woman, the store’s owner. “She’s as skittish as a newborn colt born on a frosty day.”

“Ruby Sparkes!” I exclaimed.

“You remember me!”

“Of course I do. Who could forget the most fun lady in all of Misty Falls?”

Ruby Sparkes tipped back her head and let out a big laugh, not denying my compliment. Ruby was an energetic woman of sixty-something, with curly hair colored a purple-red shade between auburn and grape soda. She had a friendly voice, a warm smile, and the kind of bosom you wanted to have your face crushed into as a kid if you were feeling blue. She always wore purple, unless she wore leopard print. It was leopard print today—a blouse paired with purple slacks.

Ruby came out from behind the counter with her arms held wide. “Little Stormy! You’ve become such an elegant young woman.”

I looked down at my boring ski jacket, casual jeans, and old boots.

“Me? Elegant? Oh, Ruby, you’re such a charmer. I have so much to learn from—
oof
.”

She grabbed me in a hug and pulled my face down to the top of her bosom. Her hug felt every bit as good as it had when I was a kid. It was a shame my father had no interest in older women, or Ruby might have had a bigger role in my life.

“I like your short hair. It’s so spunky. Let me look at you.”

From her bosom, I said, “You’ll have to let me go first.”

With a burst of laughter that would fill any room with joy, she released me and took a good look at me, from head to toe.

“I haven’t seen you since your grand re-opening. I popped in and out before we got to talk. I hope you got to slow down and eat some of those mini cupcakes I brought. You’re too thin, honey.”

“Yes, I ate a few,” I said, which wasn’t exactly true. I’d seen the cupcakes and enjoyed smelling them, but resisted the sugary treats.

“There’s that lovely smile of yours. You’re taking me down memory lane, dear. I remember when your father used to bring you in every year on your birthday to pick out something special.”

“I still have all those little treasures.”

“He always felt so bad he couldn’t surprise you, but you enjoyed the shopping trip even more than the trinket you picked out, didn’t you?”

I smiled at the memory. “You sure are good at figuring out everyone in this town, Ruby.”

She patted her huge, purple-hued curls. “I keep an eye on things.”

“Thank you for bringing those cupcakes, by the way. That was so sweet of you.”

“Nonsense. You’re the sweet one! Give us another hug!”

Suddenly, I was in her arms again, being crushed against her fragrant and ample bosom. This time she patted my back.

“You poor dear,” she said as she kept patting my back. “That must have been such a ghastly surprise, when you found that poor man’s frozen body.”

My voice muffled against the ruffles of her leopard print blouse, I said, “You heard the news?”

“Poor, poor thing. Come into the back. I have more of those mini cupcakes. They’re so small, you can’t say no.”

She grabbed my hand and practically dragged me past the display counters and into the back room.

We passed by stock room shelves stacked with cardboard boxes. She had far fewer boxes than I did at my gift shop, because Ruby’s inventory was much smaller in scale than mine. In fact, she didn’t even need such a big stock room.

Just as I was wondering what she did with all the extra space, we rounded a corner and found ourselves in a bright nook that looked like a miniature tea room.

My mouth dropped open at the surprise. I felt like how Alice must have felt when she jumped down the rabbit hole and found herself in Wonderland.

“Sit!” Ruby Sparkes commanded, and plopped me into a chair next to a round bistro table. “I’ll be back with hot tea in two shakes of a lamb’s tail.”

I took a seat next to the large window, which looked out onto the sidewalk. I could see the front of my gift shop, down the street. How had I never noticed the secret tea room in the back of Ruby’s Treasure Trove?

The window itself was decorated with puffy floral curtains, and the adjoining walls were covered in antique serving platters and framed prints of cats and dogs having high tea. I’d never seen so much charm packed into such a small space. I smiled up at the ceramic busts of cat faces higher on the wall. One of the cats looked exactly like Jeffrey, if he wore a fisherman’s hat.

The nook was big enough for a single table and seating for five people—six or seven people if they were very good friends.

It puzzled me that I’d never noticed the jewelry store had a miniature tea house in its back room.

Ruby’s store sat on the corner, so the window offered a clear view of the entire downtown core of Misty Falls. I watched as Mr. Jenkins emerged from his costume store across the street. He locked the door, and then walked to the corner, where an older woman with a cane was talking to a fair-haired young woman. The older lady was waving her free hand wildly, and the younger one held her hand to her mouth, as though shocked.

Mr. Jenkins joined in the conversation, and they stood there while the intersection’s traffic lights changed and then changed again.

On the second walk signal, Mr. Jenkins offered the blonde his arm. She hesitated, then timidly took it, and the two of them crossed the street together. Both of them walked directly toward me.

I raised my hand and gave Mr. Jenkins a cheery wave through the window.

He kept walking straight toward me, cutting a lean, dark line against the postcard view. I kept waving. He was definitely looking my way, but he didn’t return the gesture. I started to feel uncomfortable and dropped my hand. Had I offended him during my brief visit?

The girl he’d crossed the street with, a blonde in her early twenties, looked right through me, like I was a ghost. She let go of Mr. Jenkins’ arm and dug around in her purse for a moment. Then she leaned in toward the glass and applied a coat of red lipstick to her full lips.

She was using the window as a mirror because, to her, it was a mirror.

I let out a giddy laugh as soon as it came to me. I’d never noticed this window, because it didn’t look like a window on the other side. It was a mirror, and a famous one, at that. Ruby’s mirror on the corner was one of the cutest things in Misty Falls, and frequently featured on our local postcards.

While I was looking out at Mr. Jenkins and the girl, they were looking at themselves. I knew the view well. The mirror was surrounded by a decorative tile mosaic sprinkled with letters that spelled out positive words and phrases, like
JOY
and
LOVE
and
YOU LOOK SUPER TODAY!

Mr. Jenkins glanced over to the girl and said something I couldn’t hear through the glass. He didn’t look happy, or sad, but she looked miserable, with red-rimmed eyes.

She turned and spat some words at him—I saw actual beads of spit fly out of her mouth—and stepped closer to the mirror, lipstick in hand.

I watched in amazement as the blonde finished fixing her makeup, her body language cold toward Mr. Jenkins.

“Something’s going on there,” said Ruby, startling me at her quiet arrival. She set a tray of tea and miniature cupcakes on the table.

I whispered, “Can they hear us? Or see us?”

“Triple paned,” she said. “And nobody can see in. You could sit here naked if you wanted, though I wouldn’t recommend it.” She picked up a mini cupcake and popped it into her mouth whole. “The crumbs would go everywhere unmentionable.”

Mr. Jenkins and the blonde walked away, heading in separate directions.

“I wonder what that’s all about,” Ruby said. “I’d bet my beloved turtle on a scandal.”

She stroked a diamond-encrusted gold chunk of jewelry hanging from her necklace. Something struck me as being odd. I didn’t find it strange that an older man such as Mr. Jenkins might be having an affair with an attractive younger woman, because that was the norm back in my high-powered business world. I found it odd that Ruby was talking about a beloved
turtle
while stroking a panther-shaped charm.

She settled into the seat across the small table from me and poured us both tea.

“I’m sorry, Ruby, but I have to ask. You mentioned a turtle, but that spectacular piece you’re wearing is something else.”

She smiled and patted her jewelry. “This is my kitty. My turtle’s too precious to wear for everyday stuff, silly.” She gestured for me to drink the tea. “It’s creamy Earl Grey, love. Drink up.”