Chapter Sixteen

“No, no, h-e-double hockey sticks no!” Trinity’s standing in the middle of the store, hands on hips. She’s wearing civilian clothes, but there’s no mistaking the large weapon holstered on her hip under the hounds tooth blazer. It’s still early Wednesday morning, but she looks like she’s been up for hours. Maybe she has.

“I don’t know what you heard, but hold on.” I put the last few Christmas elves in place on the shelf adjacent the Russian Santa display. The elves are hand-felted in Azerbaijan and are bedecked in brilliant hues of fuchsia, aquamarine, and violet. What I loved about collecting decor from around the globe was the cultural take each region gave to traditional Western European and North American holidays. The elves are definitely elves, and their red-and-green stocking hats and socks shout “Christmas,” but the fabric choices are definitely not traditional. “Okay, let me guess. You found out about the Stonebridge Buddies meeting.”

“Dang straight. Why on earth would you think for one second that you should be involved in a murder investigation? Not just Frannie’s, but any criminal investigation?” Trinity’s as unhinged as I’d thought she’d be, and I’m mad at myself for not going to her first.

“I’m not playing detective. And I’ll tell you anything I hear.” I motion for her to follow me back to my office. Once there, I motion at the coffee and tea station I set up. “Can I get you anything? Or better, please help yourself. I’ve got some snacks left over from the Buddies meeting.”

“I didn’t come here to chitchat, Angel.” But I see her gaze longingly land on a clear plastic bowl of homemade holiday cereal mix. “Oh, all right. Where are the napkins?”

“There.” I point to the neat stacks of paper napkins and plates, imprinted with snowmen and turkeys. “We’re definitely between seasons. Do you want tea or coffee? And I have bottled water, too.”

“Tea, please.” Trinity snorts as she picks out savory tidbits. “They put up the Christmas decorations on the streetlights before most people have bought their turkey for Thanksgiving.”

“I know.” I put the electric kettle on to boil and grab more of the mitten-shaped cookies. I already ate three last night.

“You’ve never lost your sweet tooth, I see.”

“No. And I still envy your stick-thin figure because you prefer salty.”

“You can’t blame extra pounds on just sugar. Although, you’re taking good care of yourself.”

I sigh. “Usually I’m a lot better at self-control around the sweets, but this time of year is difficult.” Especially in the midst of a very stressful time, surrounded by all the comforts from my childhood. “I don’t dare let myself buy a box of spiced wafers at the grocery store.”

Trinity takes a seat on one of the two folding chairs I’ve set out in front of my desk. I pour the water into the mugs and take the second seat, placing our mugs and a basket of assorted teabags on the desk. “Help yourself to whatever tea you like.”

“You still work out?” She picks English Breakfast, and I take Earl Grey.

“Yes. Mostly walking, and I’ve done yoga classes on base, before. I suppose I need to sign up for classes with Eloise. Her studio sure is conveniently located. I haven’t had time to do anything but put the store together since the girls went off, and now, with, you know…” I’m reluctant to mention Frannie as we’re enjoying a bit of solid companionship. Searching for a distraction, dunk my tea bag a few times.

She nods. “I do know. And I know you, Angel. Sure, we’ve been out of touch for a long while, but we wouldn’t be able to sit here like this if we didn’t still click. Which is why I’m asking you, as a friend, to mind your own business. Worry about setting up your shop. I’ll take care of the murderer.”

A chill runs over my nape, across my forearms. “My brother and his husband think I’m nuts to stay in the building until you catch him.”

“We’re keeping a good eye on it.”

“Any suspects?”

“You know I can’t discuss details. But this looks a lot like what I saw in Harrisburg. The demographics are different, sure, but whoever did this caught Frannie in your shop instead of you. They were looking for easy cash.”

“And didn’t realize how valuable some of my stock is.” Other than my desk being ransacked, the locked bottom drawer forced open and dumped, there were no other signs of a search for money or valuables.

“I know that you have some expensive items in here, but unless it’s a computer or gun, forget it. An addict wants a quick sale, quick cash.”

“So you think it was a heroin addict?” I’d read about the opioid epidemic. It basically tore through central Pennsylvania like an evil, twisted tornado, leaving devastation in the form of bereaved families in its wake. And it wasn’t over.

She shrugs. “Heroin, prescription pills, you name it.”

“Your job is hard. I’d never want it.”

“Good. Then we agree that you’ll stick to setting up shop?”

“Well, it can’t hurt if I talk to folks, can it? And of course I’ll report anything I find out to you.”

Her brows draw together. “This is what I’m talking about, Angel. You say report as if you work for me, and you don’t. You’re not on the case, or mission, or whatever you called it in the Navy.”

“But you can’t fault me, Trinity. It’s my property where Frannie was killed. Did you know that most of the small business owners believe I did it? I explained myself at the Stonebridge Buddies meeting, but you know how stubborn the folks around here are. That hasn’t changed since we left high school.”

“No, it hasn’t. But what has is that they’re getting a little more accepting. Two different sources told me about your request for information.”

I stop, mid-cookie bite. “You’ve gotten flack for being the first female lead detective of SPD?”

She rolls her eyes. “Hello. Yes, of course, but we both know what they’re most upset about.”

“You’re Black.”

“Yes indeed-y.” Trinity’s expression is resigned, but not in the I can’t change them way. More like, they’re going to learn to deal with it.

“I’m proud of you. You’ve accomplished so much, Trinity. You’re the bravest person I know.”

“Keep talking.” She waits a long beat before flashing me a bright smile. “Hey, I’m not doing anything no one else is. Giving it my all, getting it done.”

“Well, I’m grateful you agreed to take this position. Your expertise is invaluable with this case, I’m sure.”

“Stop blowing smoke, Angel.” She doesn’t finish it, but we both know it’s up my butt. I giggle. “You are not Nancy Drew or 007.”

“More like Inspector Clouseau?”

She methodically wipes her fingers with the turkey napkin, purses her lips. I know better than to say a word.

“You’re going to do what you’re going to do. But hear me out. You’re a civilian, even with your military background. Unless you have some kind of police training I’m unaware of?”

I shake my head. “No.”

“Okay. Do you carry a weapon, have one in your home?”

“You know I don’t.” SPD had searched every inch of the building, and I have never applied for a gun license.

“So you have no protection against a hardened criminal, a murderer, who is still out there.”

“No. But you said yourself that you think it wasn’t personal, it was a drug-related crime. What are the odds they’re still hanging around?” I don’t happen to agree with Trinity on the drug-related deal. Sure, it looks like it, but there was something so sinister, so very personal about the Santa stake to Frannie’s heart, the swizzles to her eyes. I can’t shake that this crime is more than a random try for quick cash.

“That’s for me and my team to figure out.”

“But if you’re wrong, and the murderer is someone more local, wouldn’t it make sense to have someone on the ground, collecting whatever information comes up?”

“Sure. Except what will you do if the murderer decides they don’t want you nosing around?”