Court?”
“If she hates Christmas so much she chops off the heads of plastic Santas, she’s bound to hate little children, too.”
“The thing I can’t figure out, Cal, is how Opal would know Wayne was Santa? Only you and Jack and I knew.”
“Plus, when he got dressed, he looked like every other mall Santa.” Cal strips off Charlie’s hat and shakes her hair out of the pins. “Did you say anything about Wayne to Cleveland?”
“No. I only let him know we had a Santa substitute and he didn’t have to worry.”
“I still can’t picture Cleveland as the killer. Did Opal know Uncle Charlie or Nathan Briggs?”
“I was just getting ready to ask her that when she jumped up and raced toward the kitchen like her coattail was on fire.”
“A few seconds earlier, and she’d have caught me in her basement. Why didn’t you warn me?”
“Next time I’ll light a cigarette and yell, Fire .”
“You don’t smoke.”
“That’s not the point. We need to work out a signal. I don’t intend to die at the business end of a mop.”
“Good grief, Lovie. You weren’t the one she was after. Besides, there’s not going to be a next time. We need to turn this investigation over to professionals.”
“Who? The cops? The way they were questioning you in Santa’s Court, you’re at the top of their suspect list, Cal. I can just see how they’ll react to information you’ve gleaned snooping in Opal Stokes’ basement.”
“You have a point.”
This admission makes my human mom slump. I edge over and lay my head in her lap. Listen, if there’s anybody in the world who can keep Callie from having a “Blue Christmas,” it’s yours truly.
Of course, Lovie always does her part, too. Usually with a six-pack of Hershey bars and a barrel full of sass. Currently she’s jerking off her granny wig and perking up.
“Let’s change clothes at my house, then drive by the hospital, Cal. We need to tell Daddy about Wayne before he hears it on the six o’clock news.”
“That’s a good idea. But don’t tell Uncle Charlie he was your fiancé.”
“Why not?”
“That would only upset him. He likes to think he can take care of everybody in the family.”
“Poor Wayne. He probably never would have made it into the family, anyhow.”
My human mom is wise enough to keep quiet. I know what’s on her mind. The same thing that’s on mine. Wayne was simply another of Lovie’s diversions. Deep down she’s still hoping Rocky Malone will leave Mexico and start digging for real treasure.
Lovie gives me a treat at her house—bacon-flavored Milk Bones. She knows when a loyal dog deserves a reward. When Callie finally parks her truck in front of the hospital and says, “Wait in the truck, and I mean it, Elvis,” I don’t argue.
Listen, I may be the best canine detective in the world, but I’m not a lick of good if I miss my sleep. And it’s past my nap time.
I watch until Callie is safely inside the hospital, then I give that suspicious guard who’s looking my way a snarl and curl up on the warm spot Callie left behind. Even a famous dog has to have his rest.
Chapter 8
Gentle Murder, Graceland Send-offs, and Fatal Attractions
U ncle Charlie’s color is better, but he still looks fragile. On the way up to his room, Lovie asked if I’d be the one to tell him about Wayne.
“You can do it so much more gently than I can, Cal.”
“Sure,” I told her, but I don’t know how you can be gentle when you’re breaking the news about murder.
I flounder my way through, but Uncle Charlie takes the latest Christmas murder in stride. Lovie is the one who takes things badly. I’m not used to seeing my unflappable cousin cry.
She lets Uncle Charlie hug her, and even leans on his shoulder a while, which is unusual for her. Lovie has always believed her daddy is disappointed that she’s not a boy. She tries so hard to act like she doesn’t care, she’s finally convinced herself it’s true. “Why don’t you stay
“If she hates Christmas so much she chops off the heads of plastic Santas, she’s bound to hate little children, too.”
“The thing I can’t figure out, Cal, is how Opal would know Wayne was Santa? Only you and Jack and I knew.”
“Plus, when he got dressed, he looked like every other mall Santa.” Cal strips off Charlie’s hat and shakes her hair out of the pins. “Did you say anything about Wayne to Cleveland?”
“No. I only let him know we had a Santa substitute and he didn’t have to worry.”
“I still can’t picture Cleveland as the killer. Did Opal know Uncle Charlie or Nathan Briggs?”
“I was just getting ready to ask her that when she jumped up and raced toward the kitchen like her coattail was on fire.”
“A few seconds earlier, and she’d have caught me in her basement. Why didn’t you warn me?”
“Next time I’ll light a cigarette and yell, Fire .”
“You don’t smoke.”
“That’s not the point. We need to work out a signal. I don’t intend to die at the business end of a mop.”
“Good grief, Lovie. You weren’t the one she was after. Besides, there’s not going to be a next time. We need to turn this investigation over to professionals.”
“Who? The cops? The way they were questioning you in Santa’s Court, you’re at the top of their suspect list, Cal. I can just see how they’ll react to information you’ve gleaned snooping in Opal Stokes’ basement.”
“You have a point.”
This admission makes my human mom slump. I edge over and lay my head in her lap. Listen, if there’s anybody in the world who can keep Callie from having a “Blue Christmas,” it’s yours truly.
Of course, Lovie always does her part, too. Usually with a six-pack of Hershey bars and a barrel full of sass. Currently she’s jerking off her granny wig and perking up.
“Let’s change clothes at my house, then drive by the hospital, Cal. We need to tell Daddy about Wayne before he hears it on the six o’clock news.”
“That’s a good idea. But don’t tell Uncle Charlie he was your fiancé.”
“Why not?”
“That would only upset him. He likes to think he can take care of everybody in the family.”
“Poor Wayne. He probably never would have made it into the family, anyhow.”
My human mom is wise enough to keep quiet. I know what’s on her mind. The same thing that’s on mine. Wayne was simply another of Lovie’s diversions. Deep down she’s still hoping Rocky Malone will leave Mexico and start digging for real treasure.
Lovie gives me a treat at her house—bacon-flavored Milk Bones. She knows when a loyal dog deserves a reward. When Callie finally parks her truck in front of the hospital and says, “Wait in the truck, and I mean it, Elvis,” I don’t argue.
Listen, I may be the best canine detective in the world, but I’m not a lick of good if I miss my sleep. And it’s past my nap time.
I watch until Callie is safely inside the hospital, then I give that suspicious guard who’s looking my way a snarl and curl up on the warm spot Callie left behind. Even a famous dog has to have his rest.
Chapter 8
Gentle Murder, Graceland Send-offs, and Fatal Attractions
U ncle Charlie’s color is better, but he still looks fragile. On the way up to his room, Lovie asked if I’d be the one to tell him about Wayne.
“You can do it so much more gently than I can, Cal.”
“Sure,” I told her, but I don’t know how you can be gentle when you’re breaking the news about murder.
I flounder my way through, but Uncle Charlie takes the latest Christmas murder in stride. Lovie is the one who takes things badly. I’m not used to seeing my unflappable cousin cry.
She lets Uncle Charlie hug her, and even leans on his shoulder a while, which is unusual for her. Lovie has always believed her daddy is disappointed that she’s not a boy. She tries so hard to act like she doesn’t care, she’s finally convinced herself it’s true. “Why don’t you stay
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