“Did I stutter?”
“No, ma’am. You didn’t.” I glance at Alex, who’s pinching her lips together. “We’ll head to the church now to check everything out.”
“Let me know if you need me to come over there,” Mabel says. “I’ve been known to get people to talk.”
“Thank you for that offer,” I say. “We’ll let you know.”
I hang up the mic. Alex and I take one look at each other and burst into shared laughter.
Once I regain some self-control, I turn the car toward First Lutheran.
Alex is still laughing when she says, “In Brooklyn, stolen property meant catalytic converters. In Bordeaux, apparently it’s a plastic Jesus.” She pauses, eyes gleaming. “This gives a whole new meaning to robbing the cradle.”
“Good one.” I smile, a small, residual laugh puffs out of me before I rein in my focus to the job at hand.
“I’ll be here all day,” Alex says as I pull the car to a stop.
The sidewalk around the church is teeming with people.
“Well, this should be interesting,” I say, hopping out of the car.
The three teen boys we dealt with the other night are lingering at the fringes. I call them over. Alex asks them questions. She and I exchange full conversations with a glance. Usually, it takes months or even years to develop that kind of rapport with a partner. When she finishes interviewing the boys, she gives me a short shake of her head, and with that single movement I know she thinks they’re innocent. I do too.
“We’re not ruling them out completely,” I say quietly to her once we’re out of earshot.
“No one’s ruled out yet,” she agrees.
Kate Shaller approaches, her high heeled boots clicking along the freshly-salted sidewalk. “This is an outrage!” As if waking from a dream, her eyes flit to Alex and her tone shifts. “Kate Shaller, event coordinator, head of the holiday homes tour, and parade chairperson.”
The recitation of her small-town resume is intended to impress and possibly intimidate Alex.
My partner just smiles at Kate. “Nice to meet you, Alex Keller.” She extends her hand. Kate eyes it and then shakes it dutifully, a fake smile pulling her lips too thin.
“While I appreciate the interest these thefts are drumming up, this time the thieves went too far. Even if those elves were a few years out of date. We really needed something more on trend in the town square.” Kate’s tone is melodramatic. “And I don’t expect you to be able to do much, Jesse. I know you don’t deal with crimes enough to have the necessary skills. But something needs to be done!”
Alex looks offended on my behalf. Or maybe I’m just reading into her expression.
“I’ve only been here a short time, Ms. Shaller,” Alex says, her accent thicker than usual. “But I’d say Jesse has all the necessary skills. He takes his job and the protection of Bordeaux very seriously.”Awl the ness-ess-ahrie skills.I think her accentthickens when she’s fired up. I like it more than I probably should.
Instantly, the scene of me pulling Alex over in Lexi’s van floods my mind. Sometimes I definitely take my job too seriously. The weight of Alex’s support slams into me, resting between my sternum and melting there with a warmth that energizes me. Not only does she believe in me, she’s defending me—to Kate Shaller of all people.
“I didn’t mean anything by that,” Kate dismisses Alex. “Everyone around here knows Jesse. He means well.”
Alex’s eyes narrow for just a moment before she dons a mask of neutrality and professionalism. “Well, we’ll be doing our diligence to find the thief.”
“Or thieves,” Kate adds, pointing to the bushes near the edge of the property where the three teen boys are lingering.
“Do you mind if I ask you some questions?” Alex says to Kate, pulling out her pad and pen.
“Me?” Kate’s the picture of innocence. Too much so.
“We’re interviewing everyone we can,” Alex says. “In the spirit of thoroughness.”
Cooter strolls by, walking down the middle of the street, wearing a dirty Santa hat, a well-worn Carhartt coat and carrying a trash bag. He looks at the crowd gathered around the manger and belts out a gusty, “Ho, Ho, Ho!”
Kate rolls her eyes. “Drunk before lunch. You could issue him a citation.”
“What good would that do?” I ask Kate. “He’s not hurting anyone.”
