Holidays Can Be Murder: A Charlie Parker Christmas Mystery Read Online Free PDF Page A

She’d been here a whole twenty minutes. It was going to be a long week.

    5

    Drake was busily checking the outdoor lights once more when I opened the front door to look for him. The sky had turned white again, an ominous indicator that there might be snow later in the day.
“Hon, I think those bulbs haven’t had time to burn out yet,” I teased.
“It wasn’t the bulbs I was saving,” he said, peeking around the huge blue spruce by the dining room window.
“Your mother is really a doll. Anyone who would voluntarily spend a day shopping with Paula . . .”
    He walked toward the front porch and put his arms around my waist. His face was red and chilly. “Hey, do you realize we’re alone? For probably the only time this week.”
    “Uh, not exactly.” I spotted Judy Garfield walking across the lawn toward us, bundled up in wool slacks and a puffy car coat.
    He groaned, dropped one arm, and turned to face her.
    “Oh, Charlie, I’m sorry Paula came over so early this morning,” she began. “I thought she was still in her room—it takes her forever to get dressed and made up in the mornings.”
    “It’s okay. Catherine was almost ready.” I glanced up at Drake, who was eyeing the neatly placed luminarias along the sidewalk.
    A dark blue car cruised by, the driver looking at addresses. I got an impression of a male with longish dark hair and wraparound sunglasses. When he realized the three of us were staring at him, he sped up and took a left at the intersection. I glanced toward Drake, but he was still staring after the car.
    Without a jacket, I was feeling the chill in the air. I’d ask him about it later. I turned to Judy. “Want some coffee—or how about a cup of tea?”
    “Tea would be great,” she said, pushing a wisp of mousy hair behind her ear.
    In the kitchen, I set a kettle on the burner and found two muffins left from earlier in the week. I gathered the scattered newspapers into a relatively neat pile and set mugs and tea bags out. Judy slumped into one of the chairs.
    “I tell you, Charlie, I’m whipped,” she sighed. “Having Paula around is like inviting a tornado into your home. She’s a bundle of constant energy, the kind that needs to be the center of attention. And the phone rings constantly for her. What did she do—tell everyone she knows that she’s visiting us?”
I didn’t mention Paula’s comment about possibly making it more than a visit.
“Course, I guess that also describes what having a child must be like,” she laughed. “Maybe this is good practice for me.”
“Well, at least a baby starts out small and unable to get into everything,” I offered. “You have a little time to get used to it.”
    She dunked her teabag four times and wrung it out by twisting the string around a spoon. Laying the wet bag on a saucer, she began to peel the paper off a muffin.
    “I’ll tell you, though,” she said, her eyes narrowing to slits. “I won’t ever get used to having Paula around. Wilbur won’t do anything about her. He’s . . . well, she’s ingrained a lot of intimidation into him. But I will. And pretty soon.”
    I sipped my tea and watched her rip the muffin paper into tiny shreds.

    By four o’clock that afternoon I’d stuffed the last of the packages under the tree, helped Drake straighten the luminaria sacks, and had the pot of green chile stew simmering on the stove. Catherine had come home around three, looking somewhat frazzled. She’d opted for a nap before the evening festivities and, thinking that sounded like a pretty good idea, I crawled onto our bed and pulled a quilt over myself.
Drake’s gentle hand on my shoulder woke me. “Hey, you gonna sleep all night?” he teased.
I mumbled something incoherent.
“Elsa just showed up at the back door with corn bread, and I have a feeling the others might arrive any time.”
“Oh, my god, what time is it anyway?”
“Almost six.”
I realized the windows were dark and couldn’t believe I’d slept nearly