Faith Read online

  I turned on the Mr. Coffee machine, then headed to Bert’s for a box of donuts, and a chance to ask Ty about his move to Martha’s. Ty wasn’t at his usual hangout behind the register, so I asked if he was working. Denise, another of Bert’s uber-helpful employees said he wasn’t coming in until noon.

  When I got home, Neil was at the kitchen table, wearing orange and green flannel pajamas, and staring in one of my red I Love Folly Beach mugs. He continued staring in the mug, and said, “Did you know there’s nothing to eat in your kitchen?”

  I dropped the box of donuts on the table. “Bon Appetit.”

  I think he smiled, although it looked more like a frown.

  “Sleep well?” I asked instead of telling him there was never food in the kitchen.

  He opened the donuts, took a bite, then mumbled, “Think so.”

  Fifteen minutes later, with food in his stomach, caffeine in his veins, Neil reentered the world of the living with full sentences and stories about some of last night’s more memorable customers. I suspected much of his conversation was from nervous energy rather than wanting me to know what each customer ordered, or what they were doing Christmas.

  Ten o’clock rolled around quicker than it does with me here alone. I was wondering if Cindy had caught up with Kaycee Ericson. By eleven, I was tempted to call the Chief. Remember, patience isn’t one of my virtues.

  I didn’t have to show the Chief my lack of patience. My phone rang at eleven fifteen revealing her name on the screen.

  She began with, “Is this the Chris Landrum homeless shelter?”

  “What’d you learn, Cindy?”

  Okay, she was reminded of my lack of patience.

  “Chill, it’s Christmas Eve. Tis the season to be jolly.”

  I said, “Ho, Ho, Ho. What’d you learn?”

  “You’re no fun. Okay, at oh-nine-hundred this morning, I knocked on Kaycee’s condo door. At nine-hundred one, nine-hundred two, nine-hundred three I knocked, all to no avail. Additionally, there wasn’t a Maserati SUV in the lot. I used all my chiefly skills to deduce she wasn’t home.”

  “What now?”

  “Glad you asked. This is where it gets interesting. I returned to my majestic office and used my chiefly skills to access my secret, super-duper databases to check on Kaycee’s said condo. Want to guess what I found?”

  “It’s too early for guessing.”

  “You wouldn’t get it anyway. It seems the condo isn’t owned by Kaycee but belongs to one Anthony Craft, a resident of Coral Gables, Florida. I called Mr. Craft, a call answered by his wife Madeline, who, once I assured her I wasn’t Anthony’s mistress, handed the phone to her hubby. I identified myself. then after explaining there wasn’t anything wrong with his rental unit, he calmed down.”

  There was a long pause, so I said, “You still there?”

  “Cool your jets. I’m looking for the rest of my notes. Got them. Okay, Anthony rented his condo to Kaycee two years ago. She occasionally was late on rent, but always paid, didn’t complain about anything, and according to Anthony, was perfect for his condo, whatever that meant.”

  “I don’t suppose he mentioned that she was an arsonist?”

  “No, but know what he did share?”

  “What?”

  “His tenant called two days ago saying she was moving. Her lease expires the end of the month and she wouldn’t be renewing. Anthony was saddened since she’d been such a good tenant, in other words, all he had to do was sit in beautiful Florida and cash rent checks.”

  “Did he say where she was going?”

  “Nope. That would’ve been too easy. She said something about going back up north, which could be New England, Canada, the North Pole.”

  “What now?”

  “I’m going to pick you up in ten minutes and we’re going to make another visit to Anthony’s condo.”

  “I thought you determined no one was there?”

  “There isn’t, but helpful Anthony gave me the keypad lock combination, plus the lawyerly super-important authorization to inspect the unit.”

  Cindy was out front blowing her horn five minutes later. Five minutes after that, we were standing in front of Kaycee’s condo, with Cindy punching numbers on the keypad. She asked me to stand back as she entered. Not seeing anything amiss, or Kaycee pointing a gun at her, Cindy invited me in, reminding me not to touch anything.

  The large, open floor plan unit was painted a cheery off-yellow with typical condo-package furniture. I didn’t see anything indicating it’d been inhabited. There were no knickknacks or photos on the tables, no newspapers, magazines, or brochures setting around. Cindy took a quick scan around the room then went into the kitchen. I followed her and noticed a dirty plate, a butter knife, and three glasses in the sink. The Chief pulled out a tall trash container from under the counter. A used coffee filter, coffee grounds, and three pieces of paper torn in half were all the container held.

  I followed Cindy down a narrow hall to the first bedroom. It looked like it’d never been used. A colorful bedspread was untouched, the pillow looked like it’d just come from the store. The closet was empty. The second bedroom didn’t look any more used than the first.

  The master bedroom was another story. The bedspread lay on the floor, the sheets mussed, the pillow dented where a head would’ve rested. Several hangers were strewn across the bed, two more on the floor, the closet door stood open, with more hangers on the rod. All were empty.

  I was searching the corners of the closet, then looking under the bed, hoping to find anything indicating Kaycee was the arsonist. Cindy had begun pulling out dresser drawers.

  She said, “Huh?”

  “What?”

  She pointed at two books she’d found in the bottom drawer. One was about buying real estate in both good and bad markets, the other on creative financing options. She was flipping through a copy-paper sized Office Depot wire-bound notebook.

  “Where was that?”

  “Under the books.”

  I moved closer to see what Cindy was seeing. Part of the first page had been ripped out. There were sketches on the next three pages. They looked like draft floor plans. What really got my attention was the paper, more accurately, graph paper.

  “Cindy, remember I told you about the note under Noelle’s windshield?”

  “Politely telling her to get off Folly or no telling what?”

  “That’s the one.”

  “So what?”

  “It was on graph paper.”

  “You didn’t tell me that.”

  “Didn’t think it was important.”

  “Bet you do now.”

  She didn’t give me a chance to answer. She continued, “You said the note burned in the fire?”

  I nodded.

  She sighed. “More circumstantial evidence.”

  I took my phone out of my pocket and tapped in Noelle’s number. She answered on the second ring.

  “Noelle, this is Chris. Where are you?”

  “Barb’s Books, why?”

  “If you’re going to be there a few minutes, I’d like talk to you.”

  She said she’d wait. I hung up and turned to Cindy. “Let’s visit Noelle.”

  “Why? The note’s gone.”

  “I have an idea.”

  Cindy was kind not to push. “Okay.”

  “Take the notepad.”

  “Don’t suppose you’re going to tell me why?”

  “Not yet.”

  Barb was behind the counter running a credit card through the machine then bagging three books.

  She saw Cindy and me, pointed to the backroom, and said Noelle was waiting for us.

  Noelle was pacing the small room. She wore a gray sweatshirt, jeans, and of course, sunglasses. She smiled when she saw me, the look turned inquisitive when she noticed the Chief behind me.

  “Thanks for waiting. Have a seat.”

  She slowly lowered herself in the chair behind Barb’s chrome and glass desk. “Is everything
okay?”

  “Yes,” I said then pulled a chair up to the side of the desk. Cindy remained standing as I removed a sheet of copy paper from the printer.

  “Noelle, didn’t you tell me the note you found under your windshield was on paper that looked like it’d been torn from a larger sheet?”

  She looked at Cindy, then her gaze turned to me. “Umm, yes. Why?”

  “Noelle, this may seem silly, but bear with me.” I handed her the piece of copy paper off Barb’s printer. “Tear this about the size of the note you found.”

  “Chris, I don’t remember exactly how big it was.”

  “I understand, give it your best shot.”

  She took the paper, began to rip it in half, stopped, then tore it about an inch lower than where she first started. She handed me the piece that was about one-third of the paper I’d handed her.

  Cindy must’ve figured out what I was doing. She flipped open the pad she’d brought with her and set it on the desk. I took the piece Noelle had given me and laid it on the open pad. It wasn’t a perfect match for what had been torn out of the pad, but close.

  Noelle who hadn’t said anything since she handed me the torn sheet, touched the pad, looked at Cindy, at me, then said, “Graph paper.”

  “Like the note you got,” I added.

  “Exactly.”

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Christmas began with a call from Cindy wishing me Merry Christmas, then telling me there was an APB out on Kaycee Ericson’s SUV. She hadn’t been found, but she’d used her credit card to buy gas at an Interstate station in Lumberton, North Carolina, and later near Richmond, Virginia. She may not have been caught, but was heading away, far away, from Folly Beach, South Carolina. For that I was thankful.

  I was then surprised when Neil stepped in the kitchen and handed me a bottle of Cabernet with a red ribbon tied around it.

  My housemate said, “Merry Christmas.”

  I was touched. “Neil, you didn’t have to do that. I didn’t get you anything.”

  “Chris, hush. You gave me the best gift I could ever get. You gave me a place to stay and knowing someone cared enough to make it available.”

  I thanked him then asked what he was doing up so early.

  “Cal’s so excited about his party, he wants me to come early to help get everything ready. I’ve never seen that old boy so amped.”

  “Christmas is his biggest day of the year.” I told Neil about why having the party meant so much to the country crooner.

  “I’ll do whatever I can to make sure it’s a success. Saying that, I’d better get dressed and over there. I’ll grab something at Bert’s community Christmas breakfast, so you won’t have to fix anything fancy.” He laughed at his joke, patted me on the back, then said he’d see me at the party.

  Cal’s Christmas gala was scheduled to begin at one o’clock, but the allure of free food and drink always brought attendees before the official opening. I wanted to be there early in case I could help.

  I walked through the door surrounded by colorful lights at twelve-thirty. The room was already half full. Brenda Lee’s “Rockin’ Around the Christmas Tree” was playing, along with laughter coming from people at a table in the center of the room holding three bowls of salsa, avocado dip, and a basket of chips large enough to hold a beachball. Always early Charles was talking with Dude Sloan cradling Pluto in his arms. Dogs aren’t allowed in Cal’s, but it was Christmas. Besides, a good argument could be made Dude needed a service animal. I don’t know what was said, but Charles was laughing louder than I’d heard in months.

  All four trees were glowing brightly as were the countless strands of Christmas lights throughout the room. Cal was standing behind the bar pulling a beer out of the cooler. The LED lights on his Stetson blinked, his red polo shirt was so bright I suspected it’d glow in the dark. His smile was priceless. Neil was at the other end of the bar fiddling with a stack of red napkins.

  Two men I didn’t know arrived next. They waved at Cal who returned the wave then pointed toward the chips. They filled a paper plate with chips and headed to the bar where Cal shook their hands and offered each a drink. They didn’t hesitate taking the drinks. Kristin, a part-time server who’d worked at Cal’s for several years, and Joy, another server who’d joined Cal’s a year ago, were moving a couple of tables around so there was more room for people to stand.

  Burl arrived wearing a Santa hat and the sweater he wore to last year’s party. It was easy to remember since it could win any ugly Christmas sweater contest.

  “Merry Christmas, Brother Chris.”

  “The same to you, Preacher. Glad to see you. I know Cal will be happy you’re here.”

  “Hope he’s not happy enough to drag me on stage.”

  “Preacher, it’s a Christmas tradition.”

  “Like grandpa getting drunk on eggnog,” Burl said, then smiled.

  Charles left Dude and Pluto talking with someone I didn’t know and headed to the bar, where he said something to Neil, then grabbed a couple of drinks from the cooler. He handed the drinks to two men who were leaning against the bar. I smiled, knowing how much Charles loves helping others. He was in his element.

  Gene Autry’s version of “Here Comes Santa Claus” interrupted Burl’s bemoaning the Christmas tradition. He said he’d better say hi to the host and left me standing near the front door enjoying the festive environment. I didn’t see Martha Wright until she tapped me with her cane. She had a gleam in her eyes, either for being able to celebrate Christmas at Cal’s or from Christmas morning hot toddies. Dixie was behind her. Each wore red Christmas sweaters; neither sweater could compete with Burl’s for tackiness.

  Dixie stepped in front of her neighbor. “Martha tells me this is one whale of a party.”

  Martha had attended for the first-time last year.

  “She’s right,” I said. “Is Ty with you?”

  “That boy’s a gem,” Martha said. “He was up at the crack of dawn. Fed my kids, fixed toast to go with my oatmeal, and,” she chuckled. “Fixed me a hot toddy. Then he went to work for a few hours. Did I mention he was a gem?”

  Yes, but didn’t remind her. I didn’t catch the answer to my question, so I repeated, “Is he here?”

  “He’s parking my car. I let him chauffeur us in the Lincoln. Told him he didn’t even have to wear one of those chauffeur hats.” She looked over my shoulder. “Heavens, here he is.”

  “Merry Christmas, Mr. Landrum,” Ty said as we shook hands.

  “Martha,” Dixie said, “are we going to stand here and yak all day or we going to the bar?”

  I had the impression she’d already found one. Martha put her arm around her neighbor and pulled her toward the drinks. Ty shrugged and followed the women. Three more people, two women and a man, I knew to be regulars entered and headed to the food.

  Noelle, closely followed by Barb, stepped through the entry and looked around. Barb saw me and motioned for Noelle to join her as she gave me a hug and a kiss. I looked up to see if there was mistletoe. There wasn’t. Noelle gave me a tentative hug. Both ladies wore red blouses and black slacks. I suspected Noelle’s blouse came from Barb’s closet.

  We weaved our way through a group of people on our way to the salsa table, as Barb said, “Noelle told me about what you wanted with her in the store yesterday. Has Cindy found Kaycee?”

  We got plates of food, Noelle went to thank Cal for hosting the party, and Barb and I moved to a corner of the room.

  I told her Kaycee hadn’t been caught, but she was several states away and traveling away from Folly.

  “Good, Noelle was so worried, thinking she should have done something different when she got the note.”

  “I doubt it would’ve helped, besides what she told Cindy about the paper will be a big help.”

  “That’s what I told her. Any idea why Kaycee set the fire?”

  “The theory is so she could buy the lot from Russell O’Leary. He’d originally said he’d sell to her, t
hen his kids and wife convinced him to keep it for their future. Kaycee probably figured he’d have no need for it if it was reduced to ashes.”

  “Putting on my lawyer’s hat, they could probably get a conviction based on a decent amount of circumstantial evidence, especially the note. I’m still confused about why Kaycee wrote the note only to Noelle. If she was going to burn the building, and not harm anyone, why not warn everyone?”

  “I suspect it had to do with Noelle spying on everyone around town while getting ideas for her novel. She could’ve seen Kaycee near the building. Kaycee could also have seen her and figured she was a loose end she needed to scare off before starting the fire.”

  “Makes sense.”

  “Know what makes more sense?”

  “What?”

  “Getting a drink, some food, and enjoying Cal’s party.”

  We were on our way to the bar when I saw Rose, Luke, and Cindy at the door. Rose and Cindy were in red sweatshirts, Luke had on a white and red T-shirt. All wore huge smiles. With their entry, there was more red in here than at a University of Georgia football game.

  Luke ran over, motioned me to lean down, and whispered, “Mom and Aunt Cindy love the shark jewelry. Thank you for helping me with it.”

  I told him it was my pleasure, took his hand, and walked him to the bar.

  “Cal, you have a special drink back there for my young friend?”

  “How about a root beer, partner?” Cal said and tipped his Stetson to Luke.

  Luke laughed. “You’re funny.”

  Cal fixed him his drink then he headed back to Rose.

  Cindy had her phone to her ear, nodded, then headed out the door. I started to follow, but figured it was none of my business. She returned with a big smile on her face and motioned me over.