Be My Baby: Konigsburg, Texas, Book 3 Page 21

  The aisles were awash with plastic pine boughs and holly, along with lots of fake snow. Christmas carols boomed from some of the booths, competing versions of “Jingle Bell Rock” echoing down the corridors. If the temperature hadn’t hovered somewhere around seventy-five, Jess could have sworn it was Christmas.

  The aisles were also clogged with people, not all of whom were happy about making room for a woman and a stroller. Jess wished she had some kind of Road Warrior armor to put around Jack in case somebody tripped over the front wheels, but she had to make do with dirty looks and shouted “Excuse mes”. If only Lars were here, he could run interference.

  Lars. Last night in her room. In her bed. Doing things she was pretty sure she hadn’t ever done before with anybody. He was a generous man, Lars Toleffson. And the thing about generous men was that they made you want to be generous too. Bedroom generosity lent a whole new meaning to the words, “Do unto others and they’ll do unto you.”

  Jess almost ran the stroller into a squarish woman in a purple sweatshirt who was holding a lethal-looking tote-bag. She pulled her mind back into focus. “Excuse me.”

  The woman narrowed her eyes, then nodded to acknowledge the apology as she stepped to the side.

  Jess paused to take stock again. According to her map, she was nearing the outer edge of the booth maze, which was where the Hill Country Books booth was supposed to be. She turned the stroller down another aisle and headed toward the far end.

  Janie waved at her as soon as the booth came into view, and Daisy galloped toward them. “Jack, Jack, wait’ll you see! It’s Santa Claus!”

  Jess raised an eyebrow. “Santa Claus?”

  “Actually, Horace in a red suit,” Janie explained, sotto voice. “When he powders his moustache and puts on a fake beard, there’s a resemblance. That was this morning, though. Now he’s back at the clinic with Cal.”

  “Hey, Jess, you made it!” Docia cried. “Come on into the booth.”

  Jess paused to check the layout. The counter in front was laden with what looked like homemade cookies shaped like stars, candy canes, and bells, each wrapped in red or green cellophane and tied with a bow. The counter running along the side of the booth was full of pet books—picture collections, training manuals, novels, cartoon collections. A large basket next to the cash register was full of peppermint drops.

  Jess raised an eyebrow. “For the dogs?”

  “Nope. For the kids. Speaking of which…” Docia leaned down to touch noses with Jack in his stroller. “Hi, sweetie.”

  Jack giggled and lunged for her hair, managing to bump his head in the process. He stared at Docia in surprise for a few moments before the inevitable wail.

  Jess unfastened him from the stroller, lifting him into her arms. “Well, kid, what did you expect? If you keep trying to grab every pretty girl you see, sooner or later you’re bound to get nailed.”

  His wails subsided into sniffles, and then he was reaching for the dog biscuits.

  Jess shook her head. “I foresee a long afternoon ahead. Is there a spot where we can set up a playpen? I’ve got a collapsible one in the back of the stroller.”

  “Sure. Back there.” Docia nodded to the far corner of the booth, shoving aside a couple of chairs. “You and I can sit up front.”

  Ten minutes later, Janie and Daisy had left for the shop and Jack was standing in his playpen, watching the customers with bright brown eyes that looked a little like raisins in his smiling baby face.

  “Can I ask a really stupid question?” Docia leaned back against the edge of the counter, watching a couple of elderly ladies examine the books.

  “Sure, I guess.”

  “How old it Jack?” Her face flushed slightly. “I mean, I haven’t been around babies much. I’m just beginning to learn what they do when.”

  “He’s almost ten months.” Jess leaned down to pick up Mr. Wiggles from where Jack had thrown him. “Pretty soon he’ll be walking, which means everything in the house goes up another level, and my anxiety rate accelerates to full panic.”

  “You’re really good with him.”

  Docia flushed again, and Jess wondered what exactly was going on. She didn’t think she’d missed any nuances, but she might have.

  The elderly women glanced at the biscuits without much interest and then moved on, muttering.

  “I’m pregnant,” Docia blurted, then slapped a hand to her mouth as she checked to see if anyone had heard her. All the customers seemed to be otherwise occupied.

  “Oh, Docia, how wonderful!” Jess put her arms around Docia’s shoulders, standing slightly on tiptoe to do it.

  “Yeah.” Docia was grinning now, her face still slightly pink. “I didn’t exactly mean to say it that way. I just found out for sure a couple of days ago. Cal and I haven’t told anybody else, except for Janie and Pete. Don’t tell Lars yet, okay? Let Cal do it.”

  “Sure. No problem.”

  “Of course, I won’t be able to keep it a secret for long.” She patted her stomach. “Toleffson babies are huge, judging by Daisy. And then on my side we’ve got the Brandenburgs, who aren’t exactly small. How big was Jack?”

  “Seven pounds, eight ounces.”

  “That’s sort of normal, isn’t it?” Docia’s forehead was scrunched. “I mean how big are babies supposed to be?”

  “Six or seven pounds is normal, I think. Jack’s dad wasn’t a big man.”

  “Oh. What was he like?” Docia shook her head. “I mean, I’m sorry, I don’t want to pry or anything.”

  “No, that’s okay.” Jess sat back in her chair, watching Jack maul Mr. Wiggles. “He was a good man. Very gentle. Sweet. Funny. A great person to talk to.”

  Docia pulled the other chair to the side of the booth. “Cal said he was older.”

  Jess nodded. “By a few years. He always said he’d wasted his youth, but had a shot at a great middle age.”

  She felt a quick pang somewhere around her heart. She hadn’t thought about Barry in several days. Days during which she’d been doing some serious cavorting with a relative stranger.

  “You miss him.”

  “Yes, I do. I wish he’d lived long enough to see Jack, but he just couldn’t hang on any longer. His heart problems were too advanced.” Tears gathered in her eyes for the first time in weeks. She reached for her purse to grab a tissue.

  “Oh, Jess, I’m sorry!” Docia leaned forward to give her a hug. “I didn’t mean to make you sad.”

  “It’s okay. I don’t mind talking about Barry. Really. He was a great guy.”

  A couple of teenagers stopped at the front counter, eyeing Jess and Docia somewhat dubiously. One of them nodded at the dog biscuits. “What’s in these?”

  Docia pointed at the stars. “These are cheese. They’ve got milk and cheddar and whole wheat flour, along with some egg and a little sugar. The candy canes are peanut butter and flour and milk. Those—” she pointed at the bells, “—are bacon, with whole wheat flour, milk, eggs, garlic powder, and a little bacon fat.”

  “Ewww.” One of the teenagers crinkled her nose. “That’s disgusting. Cookies with bacon fat?”

  Docia looked as if she were contemplating a quick dismemberment. Jess stood hastily.

  “They’re dog biscuits, not cookies for people. Dogs will love them.”

  “Christmas dog biscuits?” The second teenager raised her eyebrows.

  “Sure. Why shouldn’t your pup get to celebrate like everybody else?”

  The first teenager still looked dubious, but the other was digging into her purse. “Okay, I’ll take one of each. Nobody ever gave Boomer a Christmas present before.”

  Jess took her money, then offered her friend a peppermint drop, which led to the friend deciding to check out the books, which ultimately ended with the friend buying a dog-themed date book for her mother. “She loves Chihuahuas,” the girl explained, shrugging. “Really lame.”

  After she’d made change and sent the teenagers happily on their way, Jess looked back t
o check on Jack. Docia sat in her chair at the side of the booth again. Her face looked damp.

  “Docia?” Jess leaned down beside her. “Is everything okay?”

  Docia swallowed. “You know…cookies with bacon fat really do sound sort of…disgusting.”

  “Oh my.” Jess put her hand on her shoulder. “Just breathe. You’ll be okay.”

  Docia’s face now had a faint greenish tinge. “I was fine. Honestly I was. Then we started talking about bacon fat…” She took a deep breath, closing her eyes. “This is so not good.”

  “There’s a restroom building at the end of this aisle. I saw it as we were coming in. Can you make it down there on your own? I can call someone to help.”

  “Don’t be silly.” Docia stood, wobbling slightly. “I don’t need to go anywhere…” She took another deep breath. “Scratch that. Where did you say that ladies room is?”

  Jess took her arm, pulling her gently to the aisle. “Look down there. It’s the green door.”

  “Right. I’ll be right back. Hold the fort.” Docia started toward the bathroom at something approaching a brisk trot.

  Jess watched her go, then turned back to the booth just as a group of tourists in baseball caps arrived, exclaiming over the biscuits. One of them had a golden retriever who looked capable of eating the entire table in a single gulp. Jess divided her time between selling biscuits and keeping an eye on Jack, who’d taken one look at the retriever and fallen deeply and urgently in love once again.

  Ten minutes later, she wondered if Docia needed help. She couldn’t leave the booth as long as they had customers, not to mention Jack.

  “Hello,” someone whispered at her elbow.

  Jess turned to see Erik’s girlfriend. What was her name? Dahlia. Something about her looked different today. After a moment, Jess realized she wasn’t wearing all her earrings, or the spike through her eyebrow. Without them, she looked sort of…ordinary.

  “Hi, Dahlia, how are you?”

  “I’m fine. Is this your booth?” Dahlia still sounded like she was auditioning for a Marilyn Monroe sound-alike contest.

  “It’s Docia’s. Look, do you have a minute? Could you run down to the restroom and check on Docia for me? She wasn’t feeling well, and I want to make sure she’s okay.”

  “Oh.” Dahlia’s eyes widened in alarm. “Okay. I guess I could. You want me to come back here then?”

  “Yeah, please come back and tell me how she is.”

  Dahlia chewed on her lower lip. She looked as if she’d just been asked to take a quick walk over a fire pit. “Okay. I can do that.” She started down the aisle toward the restrooms, keeping far to the side, out of everybody’s path.

  Jess sighed. Somebody needed to take Dahlia in hand, but it wouldn’t be her. Maybe that was Erik’s job.

  The crowd had thinned out a bit as she’d talked to Dahlia. Only a few people strolled along the far end of the aisle. The Hill Country Books booth seemed to be in one of the more isolated sections of the booth maze. Still, just in the hour or so she’d been there, she’d sold a lot of dog biscuits and a few books.

  She picked Jack up, cradling him against her shoulder. “Any chance you’ll want to take a nap today, kid? Not that you’d be able to sleep around here with all this excitement. Maybe you’ll be a sweetheart and go to bed early tonight.”

  Jack wriggled in her arms, trying to turn so that he could see the people walking by.

  “Okay.” Jess sighed. “Let me sit. Then you can do your worst.”

  “She’s not there.”

  Jess jerked around, staring. Dahlia stood in the entrance to the booth, eyes wide.

  “I looked all around the restroom and nobody was there. Did she come back here?”

  Jess shook her head. “That’s odd. I hope she didn’t feel so bad she had to leave.”

  “Do you want to go see for yourself? Maybe I missed her.”

  “I can’t leave the booth. Not with Jack.”

  “I could look after him.” Dahlia glanced at Jack a little doubtfully. “I mean, he doesn’t look like he’d be hard to take care of. And you’d only be gone a minute.”

  Jess considered it. She could put Jack into his playpen. Dahlia could certainly watch him for five minutes, and it wouldn’t take her longer than that to see if Docia was still in the restroom somewhere. It seemed like the ideal solution.

  She wasn’t sure why she didn’t want to do it.

  “Thanks anyway, Dahlia. Maybe I’ll just phone Lars and have him check with Cal.”

  She put Jack down in his playpen again, then reached beside the playpen to pick up her purse.

  The pain caught her before she could straighten up. Her entire body seemed to be clenched in a single jolting cramp. A burning ache flowed down her spine, as if someone had punched her again and again.

  She dropped to her knees, panting. “Dahlia, something’s wrong! Help me!”

  Jess managed to look up. Dahlia stood with what looked like a plastic gun in her hand, her expression impassive. “I’m afraid I can’t do that. You should have taken my first offer.”

  Her hand clenched again, and Jess gasped as her body spasmed with another jolt of agony. She fought for breath, fought to keep herself from passing out. “Why are you doing this to me?” she gasped.

  “It’s just a Taser. Don’t worry. The effects pass.” Dahlia’s voice sounded less like Marilyn Monroe and more like Nurse Ratched all of a sudden. “Much better than the alternative.”

  Jess tried to push herself up, but her bones had turned to water. Her arms felt too numb to support her.

  “Don’t make me hit you again.” Dahlia’s voice sounded almost conversational. “There’s some evidence that too many shocks in a row can result in nerve damage. Just stay where you are. You’ll be okay again eventually.”

  Jack stared at Jess through the mesh of his playpen, his eyes wide. He reached his chubby fingers toward her, whimpering.

  “Okay, baby, time to go.” Dahlia stepped next to the playpen, gathering Jack into her arms.

  “No,” Jess groaned, trying to pull herself up again. “Don’t! Leave him alone!”

  “Now what did I just tell you?”

  The third jolt sent her thrashing backward. Her body felt like it was on fire. She fought to keep her eyes open as darkness touched the edges of her vision. Somewhere Jack was wailing. And then Dahlia was gone.

  Lars told himself he didn’t really mind working on Friday, even though half the town seemed to be taking the day off. The half that didn’t need to sell things to tourists, that is.

  He’d never seen the streets so clogged—it looked like everybody in Texas over the age of sixty had decided to come to Konigsburg for the weekend.

  Not that the tourists needed the emergency services of an accountant. Lars checked his calendar—no appointments until next week. He supposed he could use the time to catch up on other work, but somehow the prospect didn’t sound all that appealing.

  Mrs. Suarez had left at noon. Lars figured he wouldn’t stay much longer himself. He could pick up Daisy at the bookstore and head out to the county fairgrounds to see what Jess was up to.

  What she’d been up to last night had left him with a lot of very pleasant memories that had warmed him through the morning. He had no idea where this thing with Jess Carroll was headed, but he figured he’d worry about that later. He’d had a lifetime of careful planning and look where it had gotten him. He’d earned the right to be slightly irresponsible for a change. Right now, life was good.

  The bell on the outer door tinkled around twelve-thirty, and Lars felt like groaning. He’d almost talked himself into leaving for the day.

  He opened his office door and leaned out. “Hi. What can I…”

  Lorne Haggedorn looked back at him, with a slightly smug grin.

  Lars grabbed his cell from his belt and began punching in the number for the police station. Given the number of times he’d had to call them, thanks to Haggedorn, he had it memorized.

/>   “You might want to hold on there,” Haggedorn said mildly. “Hear what I’ve got to say before you jump off the handle.”

  Lars paused in mid-punch. Given his choice he’d rather be punching Haggedorn. “I doubt it.”

  “You don’t want to hear what your wife’s been doing?” Haggedorn’s grin widened. “Up to you, of course.”

  Lars took his hand away from the cell. “My wife? You mean my ex-wife?”

  Haggedorn nodded. “Thought that’d get your attention. You want to take this inside your office?”

  “We can talk here. Nobody else is around.” Lars clipped his cell back onto his belt. “You work for Sherice?”

  “Right. Lorne Halsell, at your service.”

  Lars ignored his extended hand. “Let’s see, that’s Haggedorn, Barrymore, and now Halsell. Any of them real?”

  Haggedorn/Halsell reached into his pocket and pulled out a battered leather wallet. “My license.”

  Lars studied the laminated card for a moment. “You’re a PI?”

  “Right. Divorce work, mostly for some people in San Antonio. Your wife’s lawyer looked me up.”

  “For what?” Lars handed the card back. “The divorce is final. It’s not like she can do anything else to me.”

  “Child custody as I understand it.” Halsell shrugged. “Lawyer said she was trying to get the custody order amended.”

  “With what? What are you supposed to find?”

  Halsell shrugged again. “Anything I can lay my hands on. She wanted some evidence you were endangering the little girl. Lawyer told me to look at the child care facilities, stuff like that. Also neglect. I guess she figured she might be able to convince some judge that Daddy didn’t spend as much time with her as Mommy would.”

  “That’s crazy.” Lars stared at him. But even as he said it, he knew it wasn’t crazy at all. It was Sherice. Pure Sherice. “So what did you tell her?”