I rose early the next morning, thoughts of the Auld Lang Syne Auction hammering me. Heaven only knew what remained to be done by tomorrow. I donned jeans with an elastic waist and an oversized sweater the color of celery. Grateful that I could call on my entire family to pitch in, I made a big pot of coffee and poured half of it into a carafe to take with me to Bonnie’s office. Mochie rubbed against me, reminding me that the kittens needed to be fed.
The door to my study was open and the kittens nowhere to be seen, so I assumed Hannah had taken them upstairs to sleep with her. Life had been so crazy after Bonnie’s murder that I hadn’t given the kittens much thought. Who would have left them here? They were adorable, but Mochie had first dibs and he clearly didn’t care for them in his territory.
After he ate, Mochie curled up on the window seat in the kitchen. I slid Daisy’s harness over her head, bundled up, and left Mochie and Hannah to doze.
The hazy clouds had lifted, and for the first time in days, the sun glistened on ice crystals and sparkling decorations. The brisk air felt good against my face. Daisy trotted with her tail high, and I felt like I could think clearly.
I unlocked the front door of Clutter Busters. It was eerily silent and the far corners seemed dark and sinister. I didn’t let Daisy loose until I’d located light switches. The shop came alive when overhead lights beamed. I snapped off Daisy’s leash and locked the front door, so no one would catch us unaware if we were in the back.
Daisy explored eagerly, and after a brief look around at the many closet and storage displays, I wandered to the office in the back, set down the coffee on a chair, took off my jacket and muffler, and stared at the desk of a dead woman.
It was a frightening mess. Heaps of paper threatened to tumble off. Bits of wrapping paper and craft projects clung precariously to stacks of boxes and organizing folders. Boxes upon boxes lined the walls, two and three deep in places. The organizing diva had been a sham. Maybe Natasha and the man with the Rhodesian ridgeback had been right about her. She presented a sweet, organized image to the public, but underneath lurked someone entirely different.
Thankful that I didn’t have to clean up the mess on her desk, I set about exploring the little rooms in the back, in search of anything auction related. A store room in the back overflowed with boxes. So much so that I couldn’t reach the light switch. I opened an unsealed box and found a small table and a footstool. They had to be auction items. I groaned aloud at the thought of having to go through every single box.
If I had been running the show, I would have kept a list of donated items. Surely she must have kept some kind of log. I drifted back to Bonnie’s office and stared at her overburdened desk. With enormous dread at the prospect of having to dig through that pile, I plopped into her desk chair. The sharp corner of something dug into my hip. I reached back and pulled out a receipt book. I held my breath when I opened it. Bingo! The names and addresses of donors, along with itemizations of what they’d donated. I sang aloud, “Hallelujah.”
Now that I had a clue about the donations, what I needed was a team of Santa’s elves to help me find it all and cart it over to the auction site. I pulled out my cell phone and called George’s house.
He answered his phone with a gruff, “Yeah?”
“Very nice. Is that how we answer the phone now?”
“C’mon, Soph. We’re in total chaos here. What do you want?”
“What happened? What are you talking about?”
“Hannah didn’t tell you? I just got off the phone with her. Know any good lawyers? Shawna and Phil are both in jail.”
EIGHTEEN
From
“Ask Natasha”
:
Dear Natasha,
My husband keeps everything that is remotely computer related. We have seven boxes of disks that no longer work in today’s computers. We have boxes of cords, plugs, scanning items, memory devices—until I want to scream. Not to mention all the old computers and keyboards. Hubby is convinced that they will all be “worth something someday.” How do I get rid of them?
—One Computer Woman in North Pole, Idaho
Dear One Computer Woman,
I have learned the hard way that there are some things that cannot be wrenched away from men, no matter how useless, filthy, broken, or outdated. I recommend giving up a closet or a storage cabinet in the garage to hubby for his computer clutter. Mark it with a piece of straw in the door, so that it will fall to the ground if the door is opened. If he doesn’t open it for two years, have the contents hauled away.
—Natasha
I jumped to my feet. “When did this happen?”
“Early this morning. Shawna was arrested for murder and Phil was taken in for helping her—an accomplice after the fact or something. Now we’re worried that they think Phil was involved in the murder all along.”
Oh no
. It made sense that the police might think someone more clever had rigged up the gas. Phil had seemed perfectly happy with Bonnie on Christmas Day, though. He didn’t have a reason to kill her. Well, not until she announced their engagement anyway. “So what now?”
“We’re coming to town in the hope we can find a lawyer who can spring them.” He lowered his voice. “Do you have something to keep Laci occupied? She and Marnie are beside themselves.”
Did I have something to keep them busy? “You bet! Come straight to Bonnie’s business.”
The second I hung up, my phone rang. Hannah was calling to relay the message from George. “I thought you were home until I found your note in the kitchen.”
“Feel like calling Zack?” I asked.
“Isn’t he fabulous? Sophie, I’m dreamily in love.”
“Call your dreamboat and tell him we need help organizing and transporting items for the auction. Then drive my SUV over here so we can fill it up, okay? Oh, Hannah? Stop at a bakery and pick up croissants or doughnuts or whatever they have that looks good—and get lots of it.”
I poured myself coffee and revved up Bonnie’s computer and printer, both nearly buried under papers. Please, please let her have kept a running list of all the items as they came in. That would save an enormous amount of time. I felt a little bit guilty going through her computer files, but someone had to do it.
When I didn’t find anything that sounded quite right, I gave up and made a list of what needed to be done. I’d just finished when Daisy barked in the front of the store. I raced to the door and unlocked it. My family piled in, along with a bunch of strangers who seemed to be there with Zack.
He helped Hannah carry in the baked goods, grinning like a lovesick fool the whole time.
I found a chair to stand on, and explained my plan to everyone. Half an hour later, we had an unbelievable assembly line going. Cops took turns opening the boxes and calling out the contents. Laci found the corresponding listing in the receipt book, and Hannah, the computer wizard, transferred the information to a spreadsheet. Zack then marked the boxes, and the cops moved them out to a troop of SUVs and vans that waited to transport them all.
I put Jen in charge of Daisy, and George quietly slipped off to spring Shawna and Phil. Marnie seemed completely hopeless, and drifted aimlessly until I told her to find a coffeemaker and disposable cups, and brew coffee for our team of elves.
I drove Dad over to the auction site and arrived just in time to receive the first load of items the cops were driving over.
Surprisingly, the process went smoothly for two hours, and then Hannah called me. “Houston, we have a problem. Better come back to Bonnie’s shop.”
NINETEEN
From “THE GOOD LIFE” :
Dear Sophie,
I have some expensive heirloom ornaments that I would like to pass along to my grandchildren someday. Should I store them in a special way to be sure they last?
—Doting Gramma in Silver Bell, Arizona
Dear Doting Gramma,
Ornaments, Christmas houses, and other collectibles should be stored in the boxes in which they came. The boxes are usually made to fit the exact dimensions of the items, which cushions and protects them. In addition, because boxes are so often thrown out, the value of collectibles is usually higher if the original box is still available and in good condition. Never store them where the temperature will exceed eighty degrees or be less than forty degrees.
—Sophie
I left Dad with a couple of the cop elves so they could continue to receive the items en route while I drove back to Bonnie’s shop.
The second I entered the store, Daisy dashed to me for petting, and Jen ran along behind her, waving a Christmas ornament in the air.
“Here.” She shoved it in my face.
I squatted to Daisy’s level and stroked my wriggling mutt with one hand, while accepting the ornament with the other. Handmade, it appeared to be a hard foam ball covered with glittery beads attached with pins. “Very pretty.”
Zack walked up behind Jen, his mouth grim. “That ornament is one of the items stolen from your brother’s home on Christmas Eve.”
“What?” I stood up.
Jen reached for the ornament. “I made this for Grandma but the thief stole it. Daisy found it behind a bunch of boxes in the back.”
I blinked at her, trying to absorb the implication. How could it have gotten here? “Honey,” I said as gently as I could, “did you make this from a kit? Maybe it just looks like the one you made.”
“Kit? I bought all the beads and made it myself. Look, see how some of the beads are a different shade of silver? They spell out Grandma’s name, Inga.”
So they did. I looked to Zack, bewildered.
“I’ve got three officers phoning the donors to be sure they donated the goods and that they weren’t stolen. So far, everything checks out. This is the only item we’ve found that corresponds to the list of stolen items. I’m not sure what to make of it.”
“The Christmas Eve thief donated something to the auction and included this little bauble? How else could it possibly have gotten here?”
“That’s what I’m thinking.” Zack ruffled his hair by running a hand through it. “I can’t quite wrap my head around it, though. The timing is a little bit weird. It wasn’t stolen until Christmas Eve, and Bonnie was murdered on the day after Christmas, so she would have had to accept the donation on Christmas Day or before her party.”
A chorus of laughter broke out near the pastries. “Is that Tyler?” I asked. “Could he have accepted the donation?”
“Isn’t he cute!” said Jen. “I’m so crushing on him.”
Zack shot me a look of amusement.
“He is very cute,” I assured her. And he was. The shaggy hair in need of a good cut made him seem boyish, and far younger than his years.
“He told me the police called him about a break-in here last night.” Zack massaged his eyes. “Says nothing is missing.”
I bristled a little. “I’m the one who reported it. I saw someone loading a car in the back. No question about it.”
Zack’s concerned cop expression returned. “But there was no sign of a break-in, right? Could you have confused this building with one of the other stores that back to the alley? They look a lot alike in the rear.”
“I suppose so, but I don’t think so.” I thought back. “No! I’m certain of it. I looked through the show window right there and could see someone moving about in the back with a flashlight.”
“Hey, Tyler!” called Zack.
Tyler ambled over, and Jen blushed. “I think my Aunt Shawna should be in love with you instead of Beau.”
Tyler laughed aloud. “You tell her that.”
“Okay. As soon as Dad springs her from the slammer.”
Tyler’s expression changed fast. “Slammer?”
“Shawna and Phil were arrested early this morning. My brother is trying to get them out of jail,” I explained.
“No!” Tyler shouted it so loud that everyone turned to look. “Not Shawna. I’m sorry, I have to go. Maybe I can help.”
“Just a couple quick things before you leave.” Zack issued that very polite request in a no-nonsense voice. “There were a lot of boxes when we arrived today. How did you know nothing was missing?”
Tyler seemed taken aback. “Nothing had been moved. I didn’t do an inventory, if that’s what you mean. Everything was exactly as I last saw it.”
“And there was no sign of a forced entry?” Zack asked.
Tyler’s mouth pulled to the side. “I checked my coat at Bonnie’s party—you were there,” he said, pointing at me. “Stupidly, I left my keys in the pocket, and when the coat was returned to me, the keys were gone. Initially, I thought I’d just misplaced them, but now it seems apparent that someone took them on purpose.” Tyler jingled coins in his pocket.
Zack fixed him with a cold stare. “Did you accept any donations to the auction?”
“Sure.” Tyler shrugged. “I brought them to Bonnie.”
“Did you receive any between Christmas Eve and the time of Bonnie’s death?”
“No. The shop was closed. If that’s all, I’d like to go see what I can do to help Shawna.”
Zack flicked his hand in approval, but seemed deep in thought.
Tyler hurried out as Hannah floated toward us. She slid an arm around Zack’s waist, and they grinned at each other in that giddy new love sort of way.
“You looked so serious!” she said.
He couldn’t stop the silly grin. “I was just thinking that it has to be more than coincidence that Bonnie was murdered and someone stole the key to get into her office.” He glanced around. “Do you suppose they got what they wanted?”
I drifted over to the coffee and pastries, poured a cup of java, and selected a croissant. I bit into it. Something didn’t seem quite right. It made sense that the killer might have stolen the key to Bonnie’s office, killed her to silence her, then paid a nighttime visit to the office to find whatever she possessed that troubled the killer. If that desk was any indication, though, he might not have found an incriminating document, if that was what he was looking for.