I figured that Emily and Madison had a head start on us, but since Dinah had driven like a race car driver, I was hoping we were close behind them. I was out of the car before Dinah had pulled all the way into a spot. I took out my BlackBerry as I ran to the escalator. I was ruthless, pushing through shoppers and baby strollers as I headed toward the Santa setup, figuring that was where they’d go.
Santa had his own gingerbread cottage here with Raggedy Ann and Andy handling the photos. I pushed through the throng of parents and kids waiting, while I surveyed the crowd. Someone brushed against me and I automatically turned. My breath stopped when I found myself face-to-face with Emily.
“Molly, what are you doing here?” When I looked down both she and Madison were empty-handed and going in the opposite direction. I studied the crowd ahead, looking for a man with a jewelry bag, but it was impossible to pick out anyone in the crowd.
I swore under my breath. They had won.
CHAPTER 17
MRS. SHEDD WAS IN THE FRONT OF THE STORE when Adele and I walked in. Dinah had just dropped us off and headed home with the kids. She had evening plans with Commander—this time the kids were included—and she was nervous.
“Well, how did it go?” Mrs. Shedd asked. Adele stepped in front of me and took over answering.
“We didn’t see the dead guy, but Pink thinks he’s alive because of what some elf told her.” Mrs. Shedd wasn’t smiling when she looked around Adele and our eyes met. “Don’t worry, I won’t tell Mr. Royal about the money you lost in the investment scam,” Adele said.
“How could you, Molly?” Mrs. Shedd said, her expression darkening. “I specifically told you I wanted to keep my situation a secret.”
For once Adele’s ego helped me. Adele insisted I hadn’t told her anything, she’d figured it out all by herself. “Pink’s not the only detective around here,” Adele said. Mrs. Shedd muttered something about the afternoon being wasted, but Adele held out her shopping bag. “No, it wasn’t. I got a new dress for the launch. I can’t wait to show it to William.” Adele kept giving me conspiratorial winks. Finally Mrs. Shedd asked her if she’d developed a twitch.
Adele looked horrified. “Of course not. Don’t you know a wink when you see it? It was just my signal to Pink about some special information we have.” Adele sighed. “And don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone who A. J. Kowalski really is and ruin the launch.” Adele fingered the little vampire hanging off her sweater.
“You know who the author is?” Mrs. Shedd asked.
Adele waited a beat to build up the suspense. “It’s William. My boyfriend.” Mrs. Shedd looked toward me and I just put up my hands in a who-knows sort of way. The next moment Adele waved toward the parking lot and announced that William was driving by to pick her up and then she flew out the door.
With Adele gone, Mrs. Shedd and I discussed the afternoon. I didn’t want her to feel hopeless, but at the same time I didn’t want her to feel too hopeful, either, since there was no guarantee Bradley was even alive. And even if he was alive, after what the SEC people said about the checks to the casinos, it was doubtful there was any money to find.
“Just don’t give up, Molly,” Mrs. Shedd said in a tense voice. “No pressure, but the future of the bookstore is on your shoulders.” She let the words sink in and then went back to her normal self and asked if everything was ready for the upcoming holiday event.
Thanks to CeeCee’s effort to get everyone making snowflakes, I felt comfortable saying yes. Finally, Mrs. Shedd went back to her office.
I looked back at the activity table in the yarn area and was surprised to see Elise sitting by herself. Even from here I could tell by her body language that she was upset. She was slumped in a defensive posture over her yarn. She looked up when I approached the table. I almost expected her to put her hand in front of her face to deflect any blows. She had balls of black and white yarn and seemed to be starting another vampire scarf. I slid into the seat next to her.
“I couldn’t stay home any longer. The phone keeps ringing. It’s always the same thing. They want to talk to Logan. Why isn’t he answering his cell phone? Why isn’t he answering his business phone? Then they want to know what’s going on with Bradley Perkins. Is it true he’s dead? They called Bradley’s office and all they did was take a message and refuse to give out any information. It ends with something frantic about wanting to know if their investments are okay.”
Elise leaned back in the chair. “I was afraid to come to the Hookers meeting this morning. Everyone is so angry. They think Logan was making some kind of commission off the people he got to invest with Bradley.” Her expression darkened. “I don’t know how much more Logan can take. He seems pretty close to cracking.”
I felt sorry for her, but at the same time wanted to know the truth. “Did Logan make money off his dealing with Bradley?”
Her face hardened. “Logan didn’t make any commission on the clients he introduced to Bradley. The only gain he got was that Bradley tried to push real estate business his way.” She said the line as if she’d said it many times before. She ended by staring at me and saying a defiant, “Okay?”
I reached out and touched her in support. I believed her and felt sorry for her situation. “Would it make any difference if Bradley was alive?”
Her eyes focused and she straightened. “Did you see him? Where? When?” Her voice sounded frantic.
“No, I didn’t see him,” I said. “I just have reason to believe he might still be alive.”
Elise held on to my arm. “Find him, please. If he is, he’s the one who should pay for his crime. Not Logan.”
I lightened the mood by asking her about her crocheting. As soon as I got her talking about Anthony and what we thought would happen with the vampire and the reporter in the next book, she went back to being her regular self. I asked her about the directions for the scarf and she apologized for forgetting she said she’d bring them in. She pulled out a piece of paper and began writing down how to make it. As I was leaving the yarn area, a woman had come up to the table and was admiring Elise’s work. It was probably only temporary, but at least for the moment she seemed to have some peace.
Since I’d been gone all afternoon I stayed at the bookstore until eight. Most of my time was spent helping customers, but in between I went through my checklist for our So Many Traditions event, as we were calling it. The centerpiece was celebrating Santa Lucia Day, which it more or less coincided with. To many the Swedish holiday kicked off the holiday season. Mrs. Shedd was the Santa Lucia expert. It was part of her Swedish heritage and as a child she’d been the one to wear the white dress, red sash and crown of candles. In our version, Rayaad’s daughters were going to wear the outfits, though our candles were going to be battery operated. Since part of the tradition of Santa Lucia had to do with feeding everybody, refreshments were on the house. I stopped in the café to check with Bob on the status of the ginger cookies, or pepparkakor, as Mrs. Shedd called them. He had taken advantage of the slowdown in customers and was leaning on the counter, typing on his laptop.
He startled when I stepped up to the counter and stood up abruptly.
“I tried two recipes. Tell me what you think.” Bob was very serious as he handed me two cookies shaped like stars and a shot of milk to clear my palate between tastes.
“I thought so,” he said when I pointed out the cookie I preferred. “Those are the ones with molasses.”
He asked about the rolls we were serving. Technically, they were supposed to be saffron buns, but Mrs. Shedd’s family had been renegades and served cardamom buns instead. Bob was the king of cookies, but he was nervous about doing anything with yeast, so I’d offered to make the buns.