Christmas at the Hummingbird House (18 page)

Cici stepped in suddenly and embraced Angela.  “Kevin married my daughter,” she said.  “He grew up to marry my daughter and make us all a family.”

“It wasn’t just one life your husband saved,” Lindsay said.  “If Kevin had died that night, Bridget would never have been the same.  Maybe our friendship wouldn’t have survived, maybe we wouldn’t have moved to Ladybug Farm, maybe I would never have met Dominic. Maybe none of us would be here now …” She gestured helplessly around her.  “Where we are today. Everything would have been different.”

“Small things change all things,” Cici said softly.  She looked at Geoffery. “Isn’t that what you said in your speech the other day, Mr. Windsor?”

He remembered then what he had wanted to say to Angela.  “Yes,” Geoffery replied, his eyes on Angela.  “I think I did.”

Angela glanced at him apologetically. “I’m afraid I haven’t read your book.”

He smiled.  “That’s okay.  I’m about to start a new one.  In the meantime …” He took a breath.  “Maybe it would be a good thing if you and your husband and I could talk about survivor’s guilt.”  The next words came slowly, from a place deep inside that he’d never really acknowledged before.  “I don’t think I actually understood what it was until now.”

Angela looked around uncertainly, at the strangers who seemed so ready to surround her with love, at the man asking for her goodwill, even at the teenagers sitting nearby and listening so intently.  She said, “I … I’m not sure …”

Suddenly all heads swiveled toward the sound of the cranking engine.  Mick leaned out of the open driver’s door and beckoned them inside gaily. “All aboard!” he called.

Cici looked at her watch, and the leap of excitement in her eyes died.  “Too late,” she said.

But then Angela glanced at the two girls, and she smiled, very faintly.  “Maybe not,” she said.

SEVENTEEN

The Age of Miracles

T
he smartest thing Derrick had ever done was to break out the champagne before the police arrived.  The Mathesons and the Canons were half-buzzed in the parlor, munching on chocolate scones and laughing too loudly as they made plans for next Christmas in Aspen.  Mrs. Hildebrand sipped contentedly in the corner, but those bright, birdlike eyes missed nothing as Derrick tried to hurry the sheriff’s deputy into the office, where Carl Bartlett waited uneasily with Paul and Purline.

“I don’t like to accuse anyone,” Bartlett said unhappily, “particularly not without talking to my family.  But …”

“But it’s not just diamonds and emeralds,” Purline insisted hotly, “it’s a whole bunch of stuff.  I started making a list.”  She thrust the paper into Deputy Richards’s hands.  “And this is just what I know about.”

Deputy Richards glanced at the list.  “And you are?”

“Purline Williams.  I’m the housekeeper.” She craned her neck to see his notebook as he wrote it down. “P-u-r …”

“Yes, ma’am, I’ve got it.”  He looked at Paul, who was slumped behind the desk, mopping his pasty brow with a handkerchief.  “When did you first notice these items were missing?”

“I’m not sure.”  Then, anxiously, “Is this going to be in the newspaper?  We have a stellar reputation here at the Hummingbird House, and if this is in the paper …”

“I’ll tell you when,” interrupted Purline.  “When that Hell’s Angel first showed up, that’s exactly when things started to go missing.”

The deputy looked at her alertly.  “Hell’s Angel?”

She snatched the newspaper from Derrick’s desk and thrust it at the officer.  “This fellow right here, that’s who done it!  That same guy that robbed all those poor folks over in Evanston, he’s been hanging around here for over a week now and bringing nothing but trouble with him!”

“It’s going to be in the paper,” Paul moaned.  “We’re going to be ruined.”

Derrick said anxiously to the deputy, “If there’s any way you could keep this quiet …”

The deputy looked up from the article and said to Purline, “Ma’am, you realize this newspaper is three days old, don’t you?”

“Mama.”  Purline’s daughter Naomi stood at the door.  “We finished all our chores and we’re ready to go now.”

Purline glanced at her distractedly.  “In a minute, honey.  Mama’s busy.”  She looked back at the deputy. “So what if it is?  What’s what is what, right?”

“Well, yes,” he admitted, handing the newspaper back to her.  “But this suspect was picked up day before yesterday, and as far as I know he’s still in jail.  So if we could get a clearer time line …”

Purline stared at the newspaper in disbelief.  Paul sat up straighter.  Derrick cast him a triumphant look.  “I
knew
it wasn’t him!” Derrick said.

The relief on Paul’s face faded slowly to dread.  “I just had a horrible thought,” he said, turning to Derrick.  “Park Sung and Kim Gi. They arrived about the same time as Mick.”

Derrick pressed his hand to his heart.  “And they don’t even speak English,” he added ominously.

“And we have no idea what their background is,” added Paul.

“We know nothing about them at all except that Harmony sent them,” Derrick said.

“Which is hardly an endorsement.”

Deputy Richards, tracking the conversation, said, “Could you spell those names for me, please?”

Paul began, “P.A.R. …”

Naomi tugged on her mother’s sweater.  “Mama!”

Purline patted her head absently.  “Go get your stuff together, sweetie, and get your brothers’ coats on.  Mama will be there in a minute.”

Naomi started to run toward the door but then turned back and looked at the two men behind the giant desk.  “Mr. Paul and Mr. Derrick, Mama said we mustn’t forget to thank you for helping us buy our goat.  We’re going to get a
great big
one!”

She scampered off happily, and even Paul almost smiled as they all watched her go.  “Christmas,” explained Derrick to the deputy, “is all about the children.”

Purline waited until the child was out of sight to address the deputy again. “Well, if you ask me, my money is still on the Hell’s Angel,” she said determinedly.  “Just because it’s not the same man that was in the paper doesn’t mean he didn’t do it, and I’m telling you there’s something awful suspicious about that Mick fellow.”

“Again,” insisted the deputy, “if I could get a complete description of the missing items, and then I’ll need to interview all the guests …”

There was a commotion in the corridor, raised voices and slamming doors and a woman’s voice demanding, “Carl!  Carl, where are you?”

Leona Bartlett strode into the office, her hair wind-tossed, her color high and her gaze fierce.  She was trailed by the Mathesons and the Canons, all of them still holding champagne glasses, their expressions alert and interested.  “Officer,” declared Leona forcefully. “I’m an attorney and this man is my client.”  She swiveled a sharp gaze toward her astonished husband.  “Honey, don’t say another word.”  And then she swung back to the deputy.  “This is a federal case and you have no jurisdiction here.  Furthermore, my client has already signed an agreement with the state attorney general that protects him from prosecution by local authorities, so if it isn’t too much trouble would you
please
tell me what’s going on here?”

Paul lurched to his feet.  “Federal case?”

Derrick said weakly, “Oh, this will definitely be in the paper.”

Bob Matheson looked at Carl Bartlett with a quirk of admiration. “Attorney general? I never would have guessed it, old man.”

“Quiet sort,” agreed his friend Will.  “Doesn’t look like the kind to get into that much trouble.”

Sheila looked at her sister with a raised eyebrow.  “And we thought we had interesting lives.”

Adele replied, “Of course, there is such a thing as too interesting.”  She sipped from her glass.

Carl just stared at his wife with a look of quiet resignation.  “How did you know?”

She dug into her purse and took out a manila envelope, shaking it at him forcefully.  “I found this in your nightstand—copies of your deposition and the lab reports your company falsified.  The bigger question is why didn’t you tell me?”

An uncertain bewilderment clouded Carl’s gaze as he stared at the envelope.  “But that’s impossible.  I left that envelope at home.  I deliberately hid it where you wouldn’t find it.”

“Why?” she demanded, and now the ferocity in her eyes was wiped away by the sheen of tears.  “Why didn’t you trust me?”

Then, dashing away her tears and her own question with a single swipe of her hand, she turned back to the deputy.  “Now,” she demanded sternly, extending her hand, “may I see your warrant?”

The deputy began, “Ma’am, I’m here on a burglary complaint …”

“Burglary!” exclaimed Sheila, big eyed.

Paul smothered another groan. “We wanted to keep this quiet …”

Carl said to his wife, “Your Christmas gifts.  The girls’ watches, your necklace …”

“Oh, for heaven’s sake!”  She tossed him an impatient, disbelieving look.  “Didn’t you get my text?  I took them with me to Richmond to return for a full refund.  Do you honestly think we can afford twenty thousand dollars worth of jewelry when you don’t have a job and we’re facing at least that much in attorney’s fees?”

The deputy closed his notebook and Paul sank again into his chair, hand over his heart.  “Oh, thank goodness.”  Then, to the others who were crowding into the office doorway, “No cause for alarm, folks, everything is fine here.  His
wife
took the jewelry.”

Purline objected, “Everything is not fine!  What about all that other stuff?  Your train and the silver and …”

“My letter opener,” supplied Derrick.

The deputy opened his notebook again.

“Well, of course,” Paul asserted, “but at least none of that belongs to a guest. Our valuables are insured, but the trust of our guests … that’s priceless!  So I say again, thank goodness.”

Derrick nodded his wholehearted agreement.

Carl took a step toward his wife.  “You went to Richmond?”

“Of course I did.  Blake Archer is the best attorney in the southeast, and I had to make sure to get him on our team.  If we hadn’t gotten the documents to the courthouse before closing today, we wouldn’t have even been able to
begin
working on discovery until after the new year, and his office was the only one with the manpower to get it done.”

“Wait a minute!” exclaimed Will.  “You work for Apricot Foods.  They had that massive recall over the summer—this has got to be some kind of whistle-blower case!”

Sheila said, “Good for you!” And lifted her glass.

Adele looked at Will suspiciously.  “How did you figure that out?  You didn’t used to be that smart.”

The deputy said, “Do you think we could get back to the case at hand?”  He moved his gaze around the room, which had grown more than a little crowded. “And could everyone who does
not
have a stolen item to report please wait somewhere else?  Don’t leave the house though, because I’ll want to talk to you all.”

Adele shrugged and drained the last bubbles from her glass. “Suits me.  I could use a refill.”

Sheila worried, “Maybe we should do an inventory of our rooms.”

Carl touched his wife’s arm and they left the room, walking close together.  Will, oblivious, dropped a companionable hand on Carl’s shoulder and said, “So tell me about this case of yours. Is it anything like the one in upstate New York a few years back?  Boy, that poor guy got the shaft.”

When everyone except Purline, Paul and Derrick had left the room, the long-suffering deputy turned back to Paul.  “Sir, next to the jewelry, you said the most valuable item missing was an antique train.  Could you describe it, please?”

“Well,” began Paul, “it was wooden.  And red.  Hand-carved in Holland.  About so big …”  He held out his hands a foot or so apart.

“Did it look anything like this?”

They all turned at the sound of Mrs. Hildebrand’s voice. She stood at the office door with an amused look on her face, resting both hands on the crown of her walking stick.  Beside her were Purline’s three children, dressed in their outdoor gear and ready to go home.  Naomi, the oldest, held a medium-sized plastic box in her hands, the contents of which were clearly visible to anyone who cared to look.

“The young ones here were just showing me their treasures,” explained Mrs. Hildebrand.

Derrick hurried forward.  “Apologies, Mrs. Hildebrand,” he said.  “Children, what have we been told about bothering the guests?”  He stopped short as he reached them, staring at the box.

He swiveled his head toward Paul and then, in astonishment, back to the box again. “It’s your train,” he said.  He took out the aged wooden engine and showed it to Paul, who got slowly to his feet, staring.  Derrick reached into the box again, and brought out the video game console, still in its original wrapping. “Wait.  Here’s my letter opener, and the candlestick … Oh, my God, your crepe pans!”

Paul rushed forward and dug into the box, snatching out a crepe pan with one hand and a box car with the other.  “They’re here!” he cried, gazing at them as though upon the Holy Grail.  “It’s them, they’re really here!”  He dug back through the box and pulled out a book.  “Derrick, this is your Emily Dickenson first edition!  It’s your most prized possession.”

Derrick’s face lost a little color as he grabbed the book and stared at it for a moment in disbelief, then pressed it close to his chest. “It was on my shelf only this morning,” he said.  His voice sounded strangulated.

“It’s very valuable,” asserted one of the twins. All eyes turned on him.

“All our treasures are valuable,” added the other boy.

“We’re going to take them to the bank,” said Naomi.

“And trade them for money,” added one of the twins.

“For a goat,” said the other.

Purline’s hand was at her throat.  “You …”  Her voice was hoarse and her eyes bulged as she looked at the children.  “You
took
these things?”

“We didn’t take them,” Naomi insisted earnestly.  “Mr. Paul and Mr. Derrick said they wanted to help.”

“With our goat,” said Joshua.

“Mr. Paul said we needed valuable stuff,” said Naomi.

“And Mr. Derrick said we needed a lot more money,” said Joshua.

“And God helps those who help themselves,” added Jacob.

The deputy closed his notebook again, trying to keep a straight face.  “Gentlemen, please ascertain that everything is there.  Will you be pressing charges?”

Purline reached behind her to steady herself on the corner of the desk.  “My children,” she whispered.  “My children are thieves.  I am raising criminals.  My children are going to jail.”

Paul looked at Derrick.  The look he returned was filled with pained determination as he slowly returned the book to the box.  Reluctantly, Paul did the same with the box car, and finally, with the crepe pan.