Lizz Lund - Mina Kitchen 02 - Christmas Bizarre (27 page)

“So you mean all the vampire stuff was because he was nuts?”

“Not exactly. Right before he moved out on her, Dolores said he was diagnosed with a bad case of UTI. Turns out it was listeria monocytogenes. Which makes perfect sense.”

“
Huh?”

“Causes
headaches, cramps and
confusion
.”

“Wow.
So his complaining about his head hurting and a belly ache was legit, huh?

“Yes.
Except that he thought those were symptoms of his being a vampire, not an infection.”

“So the infection made him think he was a vampire?”

“Coupled with dehydration dementia. His doctor had him on the mend for a while, but he refused to keep up his fluids. His wife said he didn’t like to pee so much at night. He was up and down all the time, what with his blood pressure meds and all. So he barely drank anything.”

“Yikes.”

“I’ll say. Then she told Mike he’d been reading all these vampire novels. So on top of his starving his body of fluids, he was feeding his imagination with some pretty strange stories.”

“So he imagined himself a vampire?”

She nodded.

“And folks around here got conned into imagining a tape shortage?”

She nodded again. “Let’s hope they still think so.”

“Why?”

“Vito’s cornered the market for the bazaar. He’s got tons of boxes of the stuff. And, he’s targeting a 300% markup.”

A virtual light bulb went on over my conked cranium.
“Is
that
what he stashed in my basement?”

“Yep.”

I rubbed my forehead. “Please tell me it’s not hot tape.”

Trixie shrugged.
“Dunno.”

“Good grief.”

“That’s nothing.
Wait until you see the Lost and Found table he and Miriam have set up.”

“What?”

“He told Mike he figured out where Dexter had been dumping the stuff that hadn’t been mailed. With the exception of the presents the guy sold on eBay.”

“He sold other people’s Christmas presents?”

“Yep.”

“Wow. That
was mean.”

“And stupid.
It led Mike right to him. I mean, it would have, before he got charcoal broiled.”

I
winced.

“Anyway, so now Vito and Miriam get to make like Santy Claus.
Look!”

Vito and Miriam stood behind a long table
piled with packages, with signs labeled across the front A-E; F-L, and so on through the alphabet. Long lines of folks snaked in front of each set of letters. PennDOT would have been proud.

I rubbed my forehead.
“Please tell me he’s not reselling used Christmas prizes…”

“No! He’s actually helping the police out.
After Appletree got pulled into all this, he complained about the station not really have the staff or the room to deal with it. That’s when Vito came up with the idea about returning the victim’s things here.”

“Without police staff?”

“Nope. Look.” She waved at Appletree and several other officers.

“Ah
, ha! So that’s why you wanted Mike to hang back and babysit my pets!”

“Did you really want to see that much testosterone flying around?”

“No.”

We
ambled over toward the table. Trixie leaned in and proceeded to flirt shamelessly with Appletree, in a too-bad-so-sad kind of way.

Bauser tapped me on the shoulder.

“What are you doing here?”

“Getting your Christmas present.”

“I thought you were giving six-packs?”

“I was.”

“But?”

“I drank them.”

I did a mental genuflect.

“Besides, Norman wanted to chip in.
We got a little worried about you, what with your getting kidnapped a couple times and all.”

Norman nodded silently next to him, sipping from a large Styrofoam cup.

“You’re not drinking Krumpthf’s
here
, are you?”

He held the cup out.
I sniffed. “Earl Grey?”

“We’re not a couple of
alchies, you know?”

“At least not
in church,” Bauser added quickly.

“Here.”
Norman thrust a large, unadorned plastic grocery bag into my hands.

“What the?”

Jim stood up and pawed at the bag and my waist. He slid over. Norman caught him.

“Open it, okay?”

“You don’t want me to wait until Christmas?”

They shook their heads adamantly.

I began to open the bag, feeling a bit sheepish. While I was able to pick up some cute things for them during my search-and-destroy coupon sale, I certainly didn’t buy them anything extravagant. Knowing Norman’s bottomless bank account, I figured this was something top notch.

I opened the bag. “A helmet?”

“Not just any helmet! A lacrosse helmet!”

Bauser chimed in.
“Now you can get whacked on the head with a ball
or
a stick – you won’t even feel it!”

Norman shook his head.
“No, no, no. Of course she’ll feel it. The point is, you wouldn’t get knocked out.”

“Or more brain damage.”

More
brain damage?

“Umm.
Thanks.”

“Try it on!”

“Well, I…”

“See? It matches your crocs! You can even wear it
to work!”

I sighed deeply and
flopped the orange plastic insect looking helmet on my head. Judging by its wire cage, all I needed to complete my ensemble was a chain saw.

Bauser and Norman high-fived each other.
Jim wagged and fell over.

“Thanks guys.
I’ll catch up with your presents later, okay?”

“No problem,” Norman said.

Bauser sniffed. “I smell hotdogs.”

And away they went.
Mission accomplished.

I sniffed
in the opposite direction, toward the aroma of funnel cake wafting my way. I turned around to find Chef standing behind me, munching on one.

“What are you doing here?”

“Lost and found.”

“You lost presents to Mail-it-2?”

“No. I almost lost a particularly talented cook, and I was worried about her.”

“Really?”
Did he mean me? I whipped the armor off my head and hid it behind my back.

“I called your house
. Mike answered and said you were here.”

“You came here because of me?”

He nodded.

Trixie coughed a bit.
“Oh. I forgot to tell you. Chef called asking about you, too.” She returned to taunting Appletree.

Appletree
stared at me with all the desperation a drowning man eyes a rope. “Actually, he called you lots. Then he called me, asking me to check your place. Which I did.”

“Yeah, we sure did,” Vito added.

“Smart thinking, letting Vito have a spare key to your place.”

I closed my eyes and held my breath.
Then I opened them. Nope, they were all still there.

Vito nodded behind the fake beard.
“Sure. He could have been tangled up in red tape for weeks.”

“I guess giving a
friend
a key to your place is a good idea, hmmm?” Miriam elbowed Vito in the side. He grimaced.

Appletree stood up from the table and continued – giving Trixie a
wide berth. “That’s right. If I hadn’t seen all that blood on the basement floor, I wouldn’t have thought very much about you being missing.”

Trixie snorted.
“That figures.”

He ignored her.
“Truth is, Chef was pretty upset about you’re not showing up for work.”

I stared at him “You were?”

Chef nodded. “I couldn’t imagine you’re skipping out on a shift, so I kept calling. After Vito answered and told me your van was still there, I called Appletree.”

“Even after Trixie called Mike?”

Chef rubbed his chin. “I didn’t know she’d called in the big guns.”

“Hey, careful now,” Appletree huffed.

Trixie rolled her eyes. “It was a two-pronged effort okay? Good grief.”

Appletree pressed on.
“It was damn lucky. Otherwise, the state police wouldn’t have shown up when they did.”

I stared wide-eyed.
“Really?”

“Mitchell’s partner was on the way.
But he wasn’t planning on calling for armed back up unless he thought something was really wrong.”

“So he figured it out?”

“Eventually.”

“When?”

“After the house blew up.”

“That’s a good clue.”

“And it led Mike’s outfit to another case.”

“Really?
What?”

“Hamilton.”

“The dead guy?”

Trixie stared
at me, open- mouthed. “You got another dead guy?”

Chef leaned against the wall, munching his funnel cake,
smiling at me.

I waved my arms.
“It wasn’t my fault! He stroked out!”

Appletree nodded.
“I’d have had a stroke too, if I’d lost all that money gambling, and my wife didn’t know.”

“I know! I know! $96,000!”

He shook his head. “Try closer to a million. The ninety-six was just the icing on the cake.”

“So that’s why he had a stroke?”

“That, and the pressure Myron was putting on him.”

“About?”

“Gambling. He was blackmailing him against his marriage. And his job.”

“That was
rotten!”

“That was lucrative.
Myron had connections to some top gambling sites. He got some names, and regularly hustled hush money out of some pretty high profile professionals.”

“How high profile?”

“Let’s just say, there are a few folks who won’t be running for re-election.”

“I won! I won!”
K. came skittering into the mix.

“Won what?” I asked.

“The Mini Miracle!”

“Huh?”

“They just texted me!”

“Who did?”

“Don’t you remember the ‘enter to win’ contest at the mall?”

“For a Mini Cooper?”

Chef joined in. “You won a Mini? Wow, that’s great!”

“Well, I didn’t exactly win a Mini, per se.”

We looked at him.

“But I won a chance to buy one! At a discount!”

Clearly, not every crook hails from New Jersey.

K. pouted.
“So, who’s coming with me to claim my prize?”

Trixie
pretended to help Appletree. Miriam adjusted Vito’s beard.

“Oh, come on! It will be fun!”

“You want me to go to the mall?”

“Not shopping! To get my
Mini discount!”

“Thanks. But I’m giving
it a rest.” And I have been. Given my PTSD over my near-death experience, I’d quit the Sidekick gig. I became faint at the thought of the mall. The other part of my therapy consisted of ordering a pasta maker. I was certain I’d feel lots safer once my windows were full of drying pasta.

“Pooh.”

“You don’t have to go right away, do you?”

K. bobbed with anticipation.
“First come, first serve!”

Chef grinned.
“You don’t think this is a marketing ploy, do you?”

K. stared at him.
“There are only so many cars!”

“And so few buyers?”

“Precisely.”

Barnum was right.

“I’m off, Sweetie.”

“Don’t sign anything without me!”

“Never.”

Trixie’s cell phone rang.
“No, I’m not buying anything weird.”

Appletree rubbed his forehead.
“She’s helping me. That’s weirder.”

Trixie listened.
“Yes, that was Appletree.”

She listened some more.
“No, that’s not correct. Or fair.”

Appletree
began to whistle “It’s Beginning to Look a Lot Like Christmas” under his breath, as he helped another victim sign their claim form.

Trixie whacked his shoulder.
“All right, all right. I’ll keep you company.” She shut off the phone, looked at me and shrugged. “Anything you want to buy here, before I turn into a pumpkin?”