Sesame Swallow | The Christmas Caper (Pt 6 of 6)
A Holiday Mini-Mystery: Festively Foiled
Lindsay was having it out with the deputy mayor’s hubs when I pushed through to the middle of the battle. And right on cue, she stopped talking, smiled and said, “Oh, bro, now you’re in trouble.”
The whole place froze like someone hit pause on a bad movie, and every eye in the place swung my way.
“Are you Jack Smythe, the food blogger?” I pronounced the last name with a short i and got exactly the response I expected. He spun away from Lindsay, red-faced, spitting his words like bad quiche bites at everyone that crowded around. Linds had really rocked his world with whatever wisdom she’d dropped. I couldn’t wait to hear about it over dinner.
“I’ll have you know — ” he started, his fat finger wagging in my face, but I ignored him and kept going.
“The same Jack Smythe who was seen outside Heath’s Woodworking an hour ago, right before poor Heath Baker was taken to the hospital in critical condition?” He hesitated, his lips moving silently for a moment and then flapping together. He dabbed at the thin sheen of sweat on his vast forehead.
Assholes needed their moment in the sun, too, as did traitors.
And rivals. I’d spied Shelby Stevens near the door. She wasn’t going to miss out on whatever calamity was happening in the kitchen. Did she even know her assistant was at the hospital? Doubtful. I’d handed her phone, which she’d dropped in the street, to the paramedic when he’d loaded her up in the truck and helped her lie down.
But everyone was quiet now, even Linds, and I had to take it all the way.
“My friends and I came here tonight, not because we heard the City of Frederick’s Christmas Tree Lighting Extravaganza was the best show in town. Not because we heard about the menu, or because we didn’t have dinner reservations in Fells Point. Have you been to The Broken Oar? The oysters are to die for.” I did that thing the French do when they kiss their fingers and motion with their hand, whatever that is. And I almost laughed because Linds did it, too. She loved those damned oysters as much as I did.
“No, we came here because my dear friend and former classmate from Towson — my boy there, Teddy, Special Assistant to the Mayor, who had a 4.0 GPA in Criminal Justice —”
“Four point three five,” he mumbled, and I threw him a well-drawn warning eyebrow.
“Teddy called his private investigator friend — that’s me,” I said, and gave everyone a little beauty pageant wave, “from Baltimore because a Christmas ornament is missing. And not just any Christmas ornament, because if it had been just any Christmas ornament that we’d driven an hour from Baltimore to retrieve, I would have already replaced it with one of Teddy’s own decorative balls.” A sly smile, a gasp from someone behind me, and a chortle that could only have been Regan accompanied this last comment.
“No, this one, I understand, is special. A magical bauble made of wood. A perfect sphere covered in carvings and called “The Eye of Frederick.” And a legend, a legend with consequences and benefits accompanies this bauble. We’re now —” I checked my watch “— late for the ceremony to put the magical thing on the tree across the street, but that’s okay.” I looked at the mayor, and I could see the moment in her face, the worry lines in her forehead. “It’s okay because the bauble is right here in this room, and we’re going to get it across the street in just a few minutes.”
I paused, watched the mayor push through the crowd, Teddy following up behind her.
“Where? You got it? We need to go.”
“Not yet, Madame Mayor. Let me tell you what happened tonight.”
She nodded and stepped back. Everyone else just stood and stared while I took a deep breath. I’d either gotten it right or I’d stepped in it, and I was wearing a favorite pair of boots, so the latter was not on the menu.
“The obvious choice for the thief would have been Shelby Stevens,” I said, looking up over the crown and indicating the surprised-looking woman by the stairs. “She’s the mayor’s number one rival and the person who obviously has the most to gain from the bauble missing. A disgraced mayor who can’t follow through with the city’s Christmas tradition surely can’t be trusted in next year’s election. Right? So, yes, Shelby Stevens would be the right choice, but she didn’t steal the bauble.”
I could see the woman in question let out the breath she’d been holding in. All eyes on her mustn’t have been the best feeling, and I saw a bunch of people turn back to me, letting her off the hook. Only I wasn’t going to.
“No, she paid the ice sculptor a thousand dollars to steal it for her.”
I let that hang in the air a moment and almost burst out laughing when Lindsay blurted out, “What the fuck? Is it made by Gucci? David Yurman?” And this is why we were friends.
The whole room turned around then, the deputy mayor and his husband forgotten for the moment. And this was fine. The last thing I wanted was for them to walk out. There were no cops here. Citizen’s arrest wasn’t exactly a thing. I needed everyone to just follow along now, focus their shock and distaste on the silver-haired woman in the corner, who was just now nervously poking at her phone.
“Her assistant, Gigi Blaese, told me everything while I was helping her into the ambulance.” Shelby stopped dicking with her phone then. I had her attention. “Only she didn’t get the bauble,” I said with a smile, watching Shelby put her phone to her ear and turn and walk out the door. Hopefully, Gigi would be alright. Maybe just a concussion and the near future on unemployment.
“Nope, she didn’t get the bauble because someone else burst into Heath’s woodworking and demanded it, didn’t they, Jack?”
Suddenly, the air went out of the room again, and all eyes were back on Jack Smythe. He coughed, then straightened himself up, taller and wider than I’d ever be. “Nonsense. I’ve been here the whole time working with Meighan.” Composure. He had it in spades. A shiny, sweaty bald head, sure, but the guy was well-dressed, the husband of the deputy mayor and a known personality about town. I was going to have to deliver.
And hope I was right.
“Heath is now in the hospital. I don’t think it was a quiche that took him down. He stole the bauble for Shelby Stevens, then before her assistant could take delivery, you showed up in your black Explorer, walked in, took it and left. You left Heath bloody and on the floor.” I took a breath, pausing for effect, and Jesus fuck did the little crowd rumble.
“What?!” said just about everyone, even Linds. I hadn’t told her that part.
Jack was good. He barely flinched. “I’m not going to stand here and be slandered. Madam Mayor? These are the kinds of people you invite to the city’s Christmas celebration?” He turned from the mayor, who was just staring at me like I’d just run over her cat, and started pulling his husband toward the door. “Let’s get to the tree lighting, James. We don’t have to listen to this little girl and her accusations.”
I swallowed and went in for the kill. “I believe Detective Hart should be stopping by with a warrant any time now. There was a chainsaw on the floor next to Heath’s body.”
The room froze, as did Jack and James Smythe, like two ice sculptures cut with Heath’s chainsaw.
“Before you go, Jack, could we have the bauble, please? It’s time to put it on the tree.” I held out my hand, my eyes locked on his.
Jack Smythe stammered; probably for the first time in his life the blogger was at a loss for words. I’d read some of his entries in the car, and I thought he had potential as a fiction writer. I left my hand out, my focus on him, feeling the eyes of about two dozen people shift from me to the perp, even those of his husband and entourage. Even those of Mayor Carter. But he didn’t move, and he didn’t have to because James Smythe, Deputy Mayor of the City of Frederick, stepped forward, his eyes on his shoes, and reached into his suit pocket. What he pulled out was a perfect wooden sphere decorated by intricate carvings and set it in my hand.
It was made of oak or something like it, and had a Christmas tree on one side and a Christmas star on the other. It looked heavier than it was, but I didn’t hold on to it for long. Teddy pushed through the crowd, pulling Mayor Carter behind him. And suddenly she was standing there in front of me again, beaming, her hands stretched out to take the prize.
“What a mess,” said Teddy around another mouthful of Maitake mushrooms. That same curl of hair hung down over his forehead, bouncing as he chewed. Some things never changed.
“You think I should start a food blog? That sounds like fun.” Linds poured herself a little more wine while she surveyed her plate. She’d gone with the scallops risotto and had already taken four pictures of it.
“I can’t believe the deputy mayor was backstabbing his boss to get elected next year,” said Regan, ignoring the photo shoot happening to her right. “What a douchenozzle!”
“I think he was just jealous that he didn’t have Teddy as his assistant,” I said, rolling my eyes over the top of the bourbon smash I was sipping. “Politics, am I right?”
Whatever that meant. It just gave me a moment to savor another bite of the filet mignon. The dinner had been amazing so far. Oysters roasted in garlic-parsley butter as an appetizer had been a brilliant choice, and I was totally in love with my steak — medium rare Koji perfection. Regan was wrecking the rack of lamb she’d ordered. And Teddy was making quick work of his Dover sole with brown-butter sauce. “But what I really want to know is if Teddy is springing for dessert, too.”
“Not to worry,” he said, pulling a credit card from his pocket, a familiar grin across that boyish face. “The City of Frederick is picking up the tab tonight. You guys are the best. You saved Christmas for the city. Saved the mayor’s campaign. And you saved my job. It was totally worth letting you cheat off me on those CJ exams, Ses.”
“Hey now!” I said, and tossed a broccolini at him.
The End
