Oh Holy Fright (Pecan Bayou Book 8) Read online

  “Time to eat,” he announced, ignoring her.

  “Five more minutes,” asked Tyler.

  I expected Dad to lay down the law, not unusual for a person with a career in law enforcement, but to my surprise, he relented, “Okay, but just five. The toast is getting cold.”

  Leo eyed the casseroles. “Can we eat? I’m hungry.” He reached out toward a waiting serving spoon, but my aunt slapped at his hand playfully.

  “We eat as a family,” she joked. Pulling out chairs, we all sat staring at the forbidden food.

  Finally, Leo broke the silence. “So, Judd, how many robberies did you end up getting called to last night?”

  Aunt Maggie bristled slightly. “Really? We have to discuss this on Christmas?”

  “I was just trying to get my mind off my stomach,” Leo confessed.

  “It was six in all,” Dad answered as he attached a napkin to the collar of his shirt.

  “Six? Are you kidding?” I gasped. “That has to be some kind of record in Pecan Bayou.”

  “The thieves were targeting full Christmas trees and empty houses. They must have been watching for people to go to church or family gatherings then they swept in and cleaned them out. You all got off lucky. You surprised your thief before he could steal anything.”

  “She.” I corrected him.

  His eyebrows knit together, and he stopped fussing with the napkin.

  “She? Was it a woman? I didn’t think you got a good look at him … her.”

  “I didn’t. She had on a ski mask. She didn’t have a lot of strength to pull herself up by her arms.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “It was the way she went over the fence. She used her leg to get over, not her arms.”

  “I don’t understand. How did that clue you into what sex the burglar was?”

  “Upper body strength. Most of the time a man uses his arms first, but a woman uses her legs.”

  “Interesting. I never thought of it that way,” he said, fingering his mustache in thought.

  “I’m surprised after all the jars you’ve opened for me over the years.”

  He smiled. “Did you pick up on anything else?”

  Now I needed to reveal what I felt in my gut, but I hated to cast guilt on someone when I couldn’t be absolutely sure. Last night, when all was quiet, I lay in the dark staring up at the ceiling and replaying the scene over and over again. Leo picked up on my mood.

  “Betsy? Do you think you know who it was?”

  “Betsy?” Maggie echoed.

  I pressed my lips together, willing myself not to speak. Finally, I uttered, “Okay. It looked like Karen Baldwin’s daughter, Michelle.”

  My dad slapped his hand on the table. “That makes a hell of a lot of sense. She’s an addict. We all know addicts will do anything to finance their habits.”

  I hated that my statement would bring more grief into Karen’s life, but I was pretty sure her daughter was a thief, and that could lead to murder. “So how do we prove it’s her? I mean, I only saw her for a fleeting moment, and I’m not even sure if it was her that I saw. What if this comes down to my word against hers?”

  “I would answer your question with another question. Why are you saying we? I really appreciate all your help, Betsy, but last time I checked, you aren’t on the police force. If I ever forget that, Boyle is only happy to remind me.”

  “Here, here,” my husband chimed in, happy to find someone on his side.

  “Fine. But if you want to catch this person, I’m sure it would be a lot easier to catch them with someone from the town they think is innocuous. I’m the Happy Hinter. How dangerous could I be?”

  “Betsy, darling. You’re the one and only Happy Hinter,” Maggie said, “but you also have a reputation around town as a crime solver. You are not as non-threatening as you might think.”

  I grudgingly agreed, giving Maggie a nod. “Yes, but Michelle Baldwin has been out of town, so she probably isn’t up on the town gossip. She thinks all I’m good for is getting rid of nasty stains and finding a way to get your doors to stop squeaking. I’m the perfect foil.”

  My father let out a sigh. “Maybe. So, if I were to agree to this—and I’m not saying I agree to this—how exactly would you catch her?”

  “Bait, of course. We could use some of the items the kids just got for Christmas. An addict looks at other people’s possessions as future cash withdrawals. It might be just enough to tempt her.”

  “Does anybody want to know what the family meteorologist wants to do?” Leo piped in. Leo had never been comfortable with me putting myself in the line of danger.

  “I know. Shelter in place until the storm passes,” I said, putting my hand over his. “But this time, I’m not actually going after a murderer, just a thief. It’s not so bad.”

  “A thief, a drug addict, and a possible murderer,” Leo corrected me, grabbing a piece of toast.

  There was a strong possibility that my dear husband was right, but I wasn’t willing to think about that yet.

  Chapter 24

  I knew that if I wanted to pull off this plan to catch Michelle Baldwin, I would need to include her mother, Karen. From the beginning, she had been fiercely protective of her daughter, warts and all. The idea of setting her up to steal something because of her drug habit would not be an easy sell. I decided to talk to her. As usual, I found Karen Baldwin in her garage, working away on a set of cabinets.

  “Hey, Karen.”

  She barely looked up from what she was working on, and it was evident that her daughter’s reappearance in her life was wearing on her.

  “Hey.” Karen Baldwin and I had never had the opportunity to be friends, but this morning she was downright frosty. Her words quickly ended our conversation, but I couldn’t let it go at that.

  “I suppose you heard about Sammy?”

  “What about him?”

  “He was caught passing counterfeit bills. He was behind a shady reverse mortgage scam here in town. Ruby Green almost lost her house.”

  “That … man. I should have known. I guess I was just so happy he wasn’t bothering me I didn’t care what happened to him.”

  “I can understand that. How is Michelle?” I said, ignoring Karen’s attempt to get me out the door.

  She shrugged. “Fine, I guess. I haven’t seen much of her in the last couple days.”

  I was struggling to find a way to introduce the topic of conversation. How do you tell a mother that you’re pretty sure you saw her daughter stealing from under your Christmas tree? Frankly, I wondered if she’d get angry enough to come after me with a hammer.

  “Karen, I need to talk to you about something.” Karen’s eyebrows rose. “It’s about your daughter.”

  She picked up a piece of sandpaper and began a flurry of motion on the cabinet door. I wasn’t even sure the wood could outlast our conversation she was taking so much anger out on it.

  “What about my daughter?” Her rhythm never stopped.

  “I really hate to tell you this, but when we disrupted the burglar at our house on Christmas Eve, I think it might’ve been Michelle.”

  “You think? Either it was her or it wasn’t.”

  “She had on a ski mask. I wasn’t totally sure, but I thought I recognized her clothes and the way she moved when she jumped our fence.”

  “That’s ridiculous. You’re pointing the finger at my daughter because you thought you recognized a pair of jeans on some woman? You do realize she shops the same stores everyone else does. Just because she has a history of substance abuse you immediately assume she also steals from people? You have a lot of nerve.”

  She was working herself into a rage. I needed to work fast. “I’m sorry I’ve upset you. The thing is, she has become a person of interest in all the burglaries that took place on Christmas Eve. I wanted to ask you a favor. You don’t have to do this if you don’t want to, but whether you’re on board or not, we will probably proceed with the plan,” I shouted over the sound
of the rough paper scraping the wood.

  She finally put down the piece of sandpaper and lifted her eyes to mine with a glare that chilled me. I had her attention. I rushed on. “We’d like to see if we could tempt Michelle with the idea that I had something valuable.”

  “You can’t be serious. You’re going to set a trap so you can get my daughter in jail? You know my ex-husband is back, too. Have you ever thought of framing him for something?”

  Actually, I hadn’t. But I was pretty sure the person who hopped my fence was a woman. “No, but listen, Karen, Michelle may renew your faith in her and choose not to steal. Wouldn’t it feel good to prove me wrong?”

  “Damn straight. My daughter is not a thief. Go ahead and dangle the Hope Diamond in front of her. She is not a thief. She has her problems. I’ll admit that, but she’s never stolen from me or anybody I know.”

  I’d be upset if someone had come to me trying to set a trap to arrest one of my children. I could feel her pain, but I also could see Karen’s daughter through a clearer perspective. I pushed on with the plan.

  “Okay. I’m going to tell everybody that I received a very valuable diamond necklace for Christmas. In truth, it’s not even mine—it’s my Aunt Maggie’s—but that’s what I plan to use for bait. If she asks you anything about it, just say you heard it was very valuable. You really don’t need to do much other than not alert her. Can you do that?”

  Her lips formed a thin line, and she crossed her arms over her chest. I still wasn’t sure if she was planning to come after me with her hammer. Then to my surprise, she responded, “Sure, but there is one other little problem. She really only comes around to see me when she needs money.”

  “And how often is that?”

  Karen sighed and pulled off her hat, trailing her ponytail back behind her as she stared up at the ceiling. “Well, now that she’s back in town, it’s been about every two or three days.”

  “When was the last time she came asking for money?”

  She shook her head, and I was sure I saw moisture in her eyes. It was obvious Karen Baldwin had not been talking about this situation to anyone. She was a dam about to break. I had to wonder if that was the part that Joe Nelson had played in her life. Finally, she admitted, “Right before Christmas.”

  My attention drifted to a pristine light-gray Volvo pulling up to the house. Whoever it was would have to wait. I finally had Karen talking.

  “Has she been with any friends since she’s returned to town? Do you think anybody else would be in on this with her?”

  “Not really. Most of her friends are drug addicts now. She’s abandoned her friends from high school.”

  I thought about the times I had seen her in the town square during the Christmas festival. She hadn’t talked to anybody, except for Crazy Eddie, of course. Why would she be talking to him? I thought he was from out of town. Maybe they found a connection knowing they were both outsiders. Living in a small town does tend to separate people into two groups: the ones who live there and the ones who don’t.

  “Okay. I want you to know I really appreciate your help. When you have your next encounter with your daughter, text me and let me know. Can you do that for me?”

  “Do I have a choice?”

  “You always have a choice. I know this is hard, so, thank you.” I backed out of the garage, feeling not too proud of myself. I was asking Karen Baldwin to do something that was against her nature. Her daughter was hurting, and I had asked a mother to plot against her. That wouldn’t be an easy parenting decision for anybody.

  Doogie Burton was approaching us from the sidewalk. I should have known he would keep a car looking that good. It was old, but it shined from hood to bumper. “Betsy and Mrs. Baldwin. I’m so glad I caught you two together because my business has to do with the both of you,” the city clerk said. “Mrs. Baldwin, I was wondering if you still had a copy of the letter that was sent to you? You see, I keep a record of all the correspondence I send out, but when I searched through my computer file, I couldn’t find anything addressed to you but a tax bill on the Wildflower Lane property for this last year. If I had to guess, I would say there is something fishy afoot in the city of Pecan Bayou.”

  “Sure, let me get it for you.” Karen ran into the house and returned with the letter now folded into fourths. She tried to smooth out the creases.

  Doogie took the letter, pulling a pair of reading glasses from his pocket. Squinting, he began to read the words, his mouth moving along the way. After finishing the short missive, he adjusted his glasses and pulled the paper close, nearly touching it to his nose.

  “Hmm.” The city clerk continued to search the letter as if trying to read between the lines. “I thought so.” He pulled off his glasses and looked directly at Karen. “I’m afraid you are the victim of a prankster. I did not write this letter. As a matter of fact, this letter didn’t even come from my office.”

  “But it says it’s from your office.” I pointed to the official city seal on the top.

  “Yes. Yes, that is our letterhead, but if you look closer you can see a slight line underneath the logo. If I had to guess, your prankster received a letter from us at some point. They simply laid a white piece of paper over the body of our letter, keeping the logo in place and creating a new blank piece of letterhead.”

  “So, does that mean I can build on Wildflower Lane?” Karen asked. I began to see a brightness in her eyes I hadn’t seen since the day we originally spoke of her future as a builder.

  “I’m sure you can. The city always welcomes a new development for our citizens. Of course, you will have to go through all the normal measures of getting building permits and allowances. But at this point, I believe you are free to pursue your project.”

  Karen let out a squeal and jumped. “Thank you.” She enveloped Doogie Burton in a hug, making the small man flinch and blush.

  When she released her hold on him, he stepped back and straightened his vest. “Certainly, Mrs. Baldwin,” he said, suddenly out of breath. Doogie Burton was a lifelong bachelor and unaccustomed to such an outpouring of affection. “But there still remains an important issue at hand.”

  A shadow fell across Karen’s face as she waited for the proverbial other shoe to drop.

  “If I did not send this letter of refusal to build, then I would like to know who did. Impersonating a city official is against the law—at least, I think it is. Or it should be,” Doogie said. “Do you have any idea who might have perpetrated this letter against you?”

  Karen and I looked at each other, the words unspoken. I turned to Doogie. “I suspect we know who it was.”

  Doogie’s eyebrows lifted. “And that would be?” Before I could say the name Sammy Baldwin, Karen squeezed my arm to stop me.

  “We can’t be completely sure yet, Mr. Burton. But as soon as we are sure, we will let you know.”

  “Hmm, if you must. I still don’t think this is quite the way of city business, but I will let you handle it. Please keep me informed as to what you find out.”

  “Yes, sir,” I said with a mock salute. It seemed like a good idea in the moment, but I could tell Doogie did not share my sense of humor.

  “Well, now, ladies, I still have some Christmas shopping to do. It’s so enjoyable to get out of the office into the crisp December air of Pecan Bayou.”

  As Doogie left, Karen turned to me. “I knew it. Well, maybe I didn’t know it, but thank you for butting in.”

  “Do you think it was Sammy?” I asked.

  “It has to be. Nobody else really cares.”

  “But why would he do it?”

  Karen shook her head in confusion. “I really don’t know. Other than the fact he doesn’t like me. Sammy has never been one to hold a grudge. To do something like this is a little unusual, even for him.”

  “I don’t really know your ex-husband, but what would he have to gain from preventing you building?”

  “Well, he thinks anything with his name on it belongs to him. Maybe he hop
es I’ll abandon the building project, and he’ll just start building on the land like it’s his?”

  “It would be illegal to do something like that. You just can’t go and build on somebody else’s land.” If he was capable of such underhandedness, I would be amazed.

  “If Sammy were desperate enough, he would do it.”

  “But Sammy has his business in Dallas. Why does he need to mess with little old Pecan Bayou?”

  “I wasn’t planning on mentioning this, but a bill collector called me last weekend. Sammy is behind on paying some of his contractors, and they are sueing.”

  Now that made a lot of sense. Sammy was here because he needed money. It was no accident he showed up right after Karen was featured in the paper as the recipient of Joe Nelson’s estate. He was trolling for money. The scheme for the land on Wildflower Lane was his way of trying to save his own business.

  Karen massaged her temples as if she had a headache coming on. “What do I do next?”

  “I’m not sure, but maybe you need to talk to the police about this. We can find out if impersonating a member of the city government is against the law. Doogie will be happy if it is.”

  “You know, somehow I’ll bet they’ve never really come across this before,” Karen said, a smile tugging at the corner of her lips.

  Chapter 25

  The next day I joined Aunt Maggie and Ruby Green in Birdie’s Diner.

  “I just don’t know what I’m going to do. What if I lose my house? I don’t have the title anymore.”

  Ruby dabbed at her eyes with a pink floral handkerchief. I hadn’t seen a handkerchief in years, but Ruby always had her own sense of style, and it beautifully matched the pink jacket she was sporting. With some dangling pink bling on her ears and matching rhinestone bobby pins in her hair, she could give Barbie a run for her money. People outside of Pecan Bayou might think Ruby’s look was a bit overdone, but here in town, she fit right in. Ruby’s outfits were like flowers in the spring and Christmas lights in December—we looked forward to them. But there was something missing in her today. The whole reverse mortgage scam had taken the sparkle out of her.