Jingle Bones Read Free Page A

back for saying the names without laughing.
    â€œAbout what?”
    â€œThe Final Harvest crèche.”
    â€œThey had nothing to do with the theft of the baby Jesus.”
    Defensive, some? “Could I speak with the boys?”
    â€œDo you have a warrant?”
    â€œMarjorie, I’m a private investigator. I don’t use search warrants. I just want to ask them what they know, if anything.”
    She put a hand on the edge of the door, opening it a little wider, and cocked a hip. “Why my boys?”
    â€œThey’re boys. This was a prank. They may know something about who did it.”
    â€œHogwash.” She turned from the door and screamed, “Heathcliff, Lord Darcy, get down here.”
    I considered the possibility that if someone had given me such ridiculous names, I might have become a serial killer. The boys tumbled down the stairs, punching and trying to trip each other. The fact that neither of them was a paraplegic or dead testified to their toughness. At the bottom of the stairs, Heathcliff, a handsome boy with black hair and dark eyes, stuck a foot into Lord Darcy’s legs and they both tumbled and rolled to a halt at the door.
    â€œBoys, Miss Delaney wants to ask you some questions. Watch her. Her fiancé dumped her for a blonde and she may be a bit on the snarky side. Be courteous unless she acts rude first.”
    Ignoring Marjorie was the best route open to me, for the moment. When this case was done, I’d drive to New Orleans and see about buying a voodoo curse. “Boys, do you know anything about the theft of a baby doll from the Final Harvest crèche last year?”
    â€œUs?” Heathcliff, the older by three minutes, looked suitably shocked at such a suggestion. “Why would we take a doll?”
    â€œWe’re not into playing house,” Lord Darcy said. “Dolls are for sissies. Why do you even care?”
    â€œI don’t. But someone does, and I’ve been hired to find out who did it. Ever hear any talk at school about the prank?”
    â€œEveryone was shocked. Downright appalled.” Lord Darcy could barely contain his amusement. “I mean, who would want that scabby-looking doll.” He crossed his eyes in imitation of the doll’s disfigurement.
    The boys knew exactly what had happened to the doll, and they were so full of themselves they didn’t even try to hide it.
    â€œMy boys wouldn’t touch a doll,” Marjorie insisted. “Now why don’t you jump in your car and drive on out of here. Oh, and you can tell Theodora that she’s not going to put my boys out of the pageant no matter what she tries. Now beat it.”
    I was more than happy to oblige. There was nothing else I could accomplish—I had warned Theodora that it was futile to take this on—and I wanted a drink and the rousing company of my friends. We had garlands to make and fruitcakes to bake.
    *   *   *
    I awoke to the sound of “Jingle Bell Rock,” and I had to admit, Jitty sounded exactly like Brenda Lee. Before I realized it, my toes were tapping. Joining in on the chorus, I jumped out of bed and hurried down to the kitchen to make coffee. The smell of cedar filled Dahlia House, and a million wonderful memories of childhood teased me. If I closed my eyes, I could visualize my parents decorating a tall cedar tree in the parlor, singing and laughing. They had made each holiday special and fun.
    This day wasn’t earmarked for old memories, though. It was time to make new ones. As I sipped my coffee I chopped pecans for bourbon balls, divinity, date loaf, and other Christmas goodies. I was going to bake the day away.
    â€œJitty?” I called out for my haint. I wanted to sing “Rocking Around the Christmas Tree,” but I needed Jitty’s excellent vocal chords. I was a little on the froggy side.
    â€œJitty?”
    Wherever she’d gone, she wasn’t answering my summons