Читать книгу Silent Night in Dry Creek - Janet Tronstad - Страница 9

Jasmine felt her breath catch. Who was that man? He stared back at her for a few seconds before looking down at his coffee cup. In the moment she met his eyes she could tell he had something to hide. At least that’s what it must be because he went pale at the sight of her.

For a second, she wondered if he recognized her from prison. She’d told the people around here that she’d spent time in jail, but she didn’t want someone from her past to come and remind them of it. Not when she was trying to be a normal woman instead of an ex-con.

She stood still as she looked at the man more closely. He had a fine-looking face, one she was sure she would remember if she’d seen it before. A dark growth of whiskers covered his chin and his moss-green eyes studied the pattern in the checkered tablecloth. His blue flannel shirt and jeans were both well-worn, too, as though he spent a lot of time outdoors. And he had a black Stetson hat sitting on the chair next to him.

If it wasn’t for the way he held his coffee cup, she would think he was a new cowboy heading out to the Elkton Ranch. But he held his cup loosely. Her old boyfriend, Lonnie Denton, had held his cup that way when he wasn’t sure what he’d need to do in the next minute or so. He said it gave him options. He could grab the cup and use it as a weapon or reach for the knife he kept in a sheath against his arm. He’d been proud when he explained that to her and she’d been sufficiently young and foolish to be impressed.

Jasmine mentally shook herself. She couldn’t fall apart every time a suspicious-looking man came to town. She needed to leave her past behind if she expected others to forget it. And—most importantly—she needed to stop thinking about Lonnie. He was locked up tight in prison. He couldn’t get out and, even though he’d always been unstable, she couldn’t believe he would send someone to spy on her just because she’d sent him a pamphlet about heaven in the mail. Granted, it had been a colossal mistake; she’d known that when he had sent her that postcard in response. But that should be the end of it. She had a new life to live.

She looked at the man’s sleeve in front of her. She couldn’t see the outline of a knife sheath.

“I—ah—” Jasmine started to say and then stopped. She’d forgotten that her voice was raw. It sounded sultry rather than raspy, but her throat was sore all the same.

“Here. Let me get you some coffee,” Carl said as he reached over to a nearby table and grabbed a clean cup. “It’ll make your throat feel better.”

Jasmine had been practicing her songs for the Christmas pageant a little too much lately. She’d taken a leap of faith a few weeks ago and pledged her life to God. She’d been half surprised lightning hadn’t struck through the church roof on that day. In a burst of gratitude, she’d signed up to be the angel in the pageant.

She owed God big-time for taking her in. Doing the angel role wouldn’t be enough to repay Him, but maybe it would be a start if she did it in some spectacular way. She was considering fireworks. Nothing too loud, of course, but maybe a sparkler trailing behind her as she swung over the audience would add pizzazz to the role.

She accepted the cup the sheriff filled from the carafe and sat down in the chair he pulled out from the table he shared. Then she took two long sips of coffee.

When she’d been at the hardware store just now, she had picked up her mail. She was half afraid she’d get another postcard from Lonnie, but all she’d received was an invitation from the sheriff and his wife.

“Tell Barbara I’d love to come to dinner tonight,” she said after she swallowed a gulp of coffee.

The people of Dry Creek had really taken Jasmine to their hearts when she volunteered to be in the pageant. Of course, she didn’t have the courage to tell anyone that she’d never seen a Christmas pageant, let alone been in one before. Growing up, her mother had avoided churches and the only thing marking the season in their apartment had been a silver aluminum tree that was perpetually bent at the top.

The sheriff nodded at her proudly. “Dinner’s going to be great. Barbara’s got some fancy holiday menu going. She’s been baking all day.”

Jasmine swallowed. Things like that made her realize what she’d missed. Too much of her life had been lived behind bars when other women made Christmas dinners for their families. Not that she could afford to forget all that she’d learned. She opened her mouth to tell the sheriff about knives in sleeves.

“I’d like you to meet Wade Sutton,” the sheriff said before she could speak. “He’s a friend of mine—grew up around here. He’ll be coming to dinner tonight, too—I hope.”

The sheriff looked at the other man as he spoke and Wade gave him a slight nod.

Just then Jasmine placed the name. What a relief. “Why, you’re the angel! I’ve heard about you.”

The man slouched in his chair.

Jasmine hesitated. Maybe there were two Wade Suttons. This man didn’t look like someone who would play an angel. He didn’t even look like someone who would smile at the baby Jesus, let alone proclaim His holy birth from the rafters of the old barn. Of course, she’d heard the man was a private investigator, but that didn’t mean he had to scowl all the time.

When she had heard the angel everyone talked about was coming to Dry Creek, she hadn’t expected someone so solidly…well, male. Now that she was sitting, she could see the snug way his jeans fit along his thigh. Maybe he still had his leg in a cast that she couldn’t see because of his jeans. No one had that much muscle, especially not someone willing to fly around on a rope. He shifted his leg slightly and she realized she was staring.

“Sorry,” she muttered. “It’s just I thought you’d look more like a ballet dancer. Because of the angel thing.”

He shot her an incredulous look. “I was eleven.”

She felt the heat of his indignant glare all the way down her spine.

“It’s nothing. I was just wondering what kind of legs you had when you used those pulleys. Of course, your legs weren’t so—so—” Jasmine felt herself blush. She hadn’t blushed in years so she cleared her throat. “Well, the point is people are still talking about when you made your swing overhead. You had to be graceful. And your legs—well, I thought maybe you did something special with them as you made the swing. You know—the way you pointed your toes. That kind of thing. Really, I was just hoping you could give me some tips.”

She didn’t want to mention the sparkler idea. But even a clue as to the real part the angel played would be welcomed. Jasmine couldn’t believe that all she was supposed to do was wave her wings over the shepherds and say a few words. Everything was too plain. She was coming to know a God who parted the seas and thundered from the rocks. He wouldn’t have announced the birth of His Son without some drama.

“I didn’t have much sense back then,” Wade finally said reluctantly. “You should ask someone else for help.”

“Oh.” Jasmine said. He must have done something very special if he was so closemouthed about it. But, if he wouldn’t tell her anything, how was she supposed to give a performance that surpassed, or at least equaled, his?

There was a moment’s silence.

“How’s everything at the hardware store?” the sheriff finally said a little too cheerfully. “I bet they’re doing good business even in these hard times.”

“I don’t know.” Jasmine didn’t want to show her disappointment in Wade’s response so she was glad the sheriff had started a new conversation. She turned to look at him. “There was a sale on nails. No one was buying, though.”

“Things will pick up,” the sheriff added. He seemed to be struggling with his words, although she couldn’t imagine why. “People just need to be patient in these hard economic times.”

Jasmine nodded. The pastor had asked for prayer for the store last Sunday. “I buy as much as I can there.”

She tried to do everything that was mentioned in church, including the things that cost her money.

The sheriff turned a little more so she could see his face even though the other man couldn’t. Then he winked at her. “There’s no need to say anything to the people at the store about the hard times—they might be embarrassed.”

“Oh, for goodness’ sake, Carl,” the other man spoke out. His eyes were smoldering and his jaw was clenched. “You don’t need to warn people not to say anything to me. Everybody knows I’m the one who is supposed to get the handout. The people of Dry Creek just can’t leave well enough alone.”

Jasmine wondered how anyone had ever thought that man could be an angel. He might not even be suited to being the innkeeper, and that role was written for a surly actor.

“You should be grateful someone cares enough to help you.” Jasmine refused to listen to any complaint about her friends in the church here. They were perfect—every one of them.

Although, she had to admit, they might have misjudged on this one. The man before her didn’t look like someone who needed a handout. She had pictured him with the watery, timid eyes of someone who was ashamed of needing help. Instead, he almost bristled with pride. And, here she’d contributed six perfectly good dollars to the collection for him.

“I haven’t taken a handout since I was a kid,” the man said, and then pressed his lips together. “No reason to start again now.”

“Well, I’m sure you can work enough to earn it if you want,” Jasmine said. “There are still some parts left in the pageant. King Herod, for one. And you could coach me if you would just unbend a little and relax about it.”

The man grunted. “Unbend? You should be worrying about things breaking instead of them bending. The church should get one of those mannequins to swing around up there for an angel.”

Jasmine blinked. “A mannequin can’t proclaim anything.”

He shrugged. “Well, it’s your funeral.”

He wasn’t suggesting it was dangerous, was he? She’d seen the pulley system; it was sturdy enough to swing an elephant across the barn.

The man’s face didn’t change, but he did lift his coffee cup for a drink.

Jasmine bit back her words. He was nothing like she’d expected. She wondered if God had sent him to her as some kind of a test. She secretly thought God should be a little choosier about who He let into His family, so she couldn’t fault Him if He wanted to see what she would do when provoked.

“Wade here is Clarence Sutton’s grandson,” the sheriff finally said in the silence.

Jasmine summoned up a polite smile and looked at the man. “You must be staying out with your grandfather then.”

“Not likely.” The man’s eyes flared for a second and then turned cold.

Apparently that scowl ran in the family along with his rather anti-social attitude. No one could accuse the elder Mr. Sutton of being neighborly, either. He lived next door to her father and the men had feuded for years. Still, Jasmine kept the smile on her face.

“He’ll be spending the night at my place,” the sheriff injected smoothly. “I expect he’d like to see some of the countryside while he’s here, though. I figure he might as well drive out and pick you up for dinner. If that’s all right?”

The sheriff smiled again.

“Oh, he doesn’t need to do that.” She wanted to talk to the man about the role of the angel, but she could do that in a few minutes. She didn’t need any more time with him than was necessary, especially since he was so disagreeable. And arrogant. A man like him would probably think he was on a date with her if he drove her anywhere.

“You can’t be riding that motorcycle at night,” the sheriff continued. “I’d have to ticket you for not having your backlights working and Barbara would be upset with me. It could ruin the whole dinner. Besides, it might rain. Riding with Wade will at least keep you dry.”

Everyone was quiet again.

“I might be able to borrow Edith’s car,” Jasmine finally said. Ever since Edith had gotten married for the second time, she didn’t drive her old car very much. Sometimes the car wouldn’t start right away, but Jasmine could get out and push it until it did if she had to.

“I can drive you,” Wade said, and then added, “It’d be my pleasure.”

He didn’t sound like it would be his pleasure and that made Jasmine feel better. It definitely wouldn’t be a date if neither one of them wanted it to be. And it was a cold night to be pushing a car. Maybe the test God was sending her was to see if she had the sense to stay out of the rain.

“I guess it’d be okay,” she agreed.

At least the man didn’t have bad breath or anything. And he nodded like he was a sensible person when he wasn’t scowling. He might not want to tell her how he’d managed to give such a spectacular performance in the pageant, but if he sat next to her long enough, he might say something about it out of sheer boredom since she didn’t plan to put any effort into making conversation with him.

The sheriff beamed at her. “I’m glad you stopped by. It reminds me that I need to invite Edith and Charley, too. Barbara wanted to have the two of you and another couple to balance out her table. Some notion she got watching Martha Stewart on television.”

“Oh.” Jasmine set her coffee cup down on the table. If the sheriff’s wife was watching good old Martha, Jasmine needed to find a hostess gift before she went. She was sadly lacking in homemaking skills, but gift-giving was something important in prison, too, so she’d learned the value of that. “Well, I’ll see you later, then.”

Wade watched the woman flee from the café before he turned back to his friend. “Are you happy now? You’ve pretty much scared her away, making her think she’s agreed to be a couple with me.”

“Oh, she’d never think that. The women have her paired up with Conrad.”

“Conrad?” Wade frowned.

“Nelson,” the sheriff added. “Edith’s his aunt now that she married Charley.”

Wade remembered a kid by that name. He came to town during the summers to visit the Nelsons. Wade didn’t think much of a man who relied on his aunt for matchmaking. “He doesn’t seem like much of a go-getter in the romance department.”

The sheriff snorted. “You should talk. I don’t see a wedding ring on your finger.”

Wade glared at his friend.

“Besides, I’m helping you set up your cover,” the sheriff continued like he hadn’t noticed Wade’s look. “Lonely grandson comes home to be with his grandfather for the holidays. I can hear the Christmas bells ringing already.”

“I don’t need a cover.” Wade gritted his teeth. “There’s no reason to follow that woman around. I’m going home tomorrow.”

Wade felt hollow the second he said the last. Who was he kidding? He never really thought of his apartment in Idaho Falls as home. His furniture was rented and all that the refrigerator ever held were takeout cartons and a few bottles of soft drinks and water. Half of the time he didn’t even get his mail before someone made off with it, not that he had much to steal except pizza flyers and catalogs. All of which had been fine with him until he spent a few hours in Dry Creek again. Now he felt an old stirring, telling him there should be more to a man’s life than what he had.

“I don’t know,” the sheriff said thoughtfully, and for the first time Wade saw real concern on his friend’s face. “If she hadn’t gotten that postcard last week, I wouldn’t be worried.”

Wade waited for more, but nothing came.

“Nobody dies from a postcard,” he finally said.

The sheriff looked at Wade for a minute. “You remember Lonnie Denton? Shot a gas station attendant in Missoula twelve years ago?”

Wade nodded. “Almost killed the kid behind the counter. All for sixty-two dollars and change. I know a couple of the officers that finally picked him up.”

“Well, Denton was Jasmine’s boyfriend.”

Wade whistled. He hadn’t seen that coming.

“It was the only job she pulled with him and she called the ambulance that saved the kid’s life,” the sheriff continued. “She still got ten years prison time, though. Just got out a year or so ago.”

That explained the walk, Wade thought. A woman had to be tough in prison.

“The postcard she got was from Denton.”

Suddenly, the sheriff had all of Wade’s attention. “I’m surprised they’d let him write to her—since they were in it together.”

“He used a fake name for her. But he sent it to Dry Creek and she knew it was hers. She picked it up out of the general delivery mail on the hardware store counter. She showed it to me right away. Told me she didn’t want me to think she was hiding anything. Said she’d sent him a pamphlet about the glories of heaven and this is what she got in return. I could see she was shaken, too. He said he’d see her soon.”

Wade was quiet for a minute. He didn’t like the thought of Jasmine worrying about the soul of a man like that. Not that he was overjoyed about the boyfriend angle, either. “I don’t suppose Lonnie is up for parole or anything?”

The sheriff shook his head. “I found out where he was doing his time and called a guy I know who works at the prison, the one west of Phoenix. He said Lonnie had a seven-year stretch to go.”

“I guess some people might say soon and mean seven years,” Wade said.

“Maybe.”

Wade had been an investigator for a long time. Partners in crime often stayed together. Something told him the woman was too perfect. She was trying too hard. And she was clearly nervous around him. All of that chatter about his part in that old pageant was probably just an attempt to distract him from her past. “How well do you know this Jasmine? Did you ever think maybe she and Lonnie are getting ready to pull another job and that’s why he wrote to her? Maybe she’s here to make plans.”

“Jasmine served her time.” The sheriff’s tone was final.

“She wouldn’t be the first one to be sent back to prison. Some folks find it hard to make it on the outside. Even getting a job can be a challenge.” Wade stopped. “She does have a job, doesn’t she?”

“She sure does. She works for Conrad in that mechanic shop of his. It’s only part-time for now, but she’s also keeping house for Elmer so she keeps busy.”

“Isn’t that convenient? Her working for her father and the man she’s planning to marry—”

“Oh, she hasn’t even gone out on a date with Conrad,” the sheriff said. “And, whatever you do, don’t tell the women I said they’re thinking in that direction. My wife probably shouldn’t have even told me. They don’t want to scare her off.”

Wade wondered what the women in this town thought it would take to scare a thief away from the full cashbox of a local business that was doing well enough to actually have employees. This Conrad fellow might not know it, but he was a target. Dry Creek wasn’t Wade’s town anymore, but he hated to see innocent folks being set up for robbery. He looked around. “I don’t see a cash register here. I suppose the waitresses keep the money in the back?”

The sheriff narrowed his eyes. “I hope you’re not accusing Jasmine of something.”

Wade shrugged. “I’m being careful, that’s all. Just because she’s out of prison doesn’t mean she didn’t do what put her there in the first place.”

The sheriff grunted and looked over his shoulder. “Just keep your suspicions to yourself. The women in this town will have my badge if they hear I let you get away with that kind of talk. Besides, Jasmine told me about the postcard. She wouldn’t do that if she was planning something.”

Wade picked his hat up from the seat beside him. “The real message Lonnie sent was probably in code so it wouldn’t matter if you did read it. And she probably figured you would find out about the postcard and she told you so you wouldn’t think anything of it. She was just playing it safe. That’s all.”

“But the people in Dry Creek like Jasmine.”

Some people had probably liked Al Capone, too. “Of course, they like her. Nobody plans a robbery by going around making themselves unpopular with folks. It attracts too much attention. People watch unfriendly people. They write down the license plate number for their car. They remember where they’ve seen them. No, nice is a much better cover if you’re up to something.”

“I think you’ve been in this business too long. Nobody is planning anything.”

“Does Elmer still have that fancy white Cadillac car of his?”

The sheriff narrowed his eyes. “That car is old as the hills by now. No self-respecting criminal would want to steal it.”

“Well, let’s hope not,” Wade said as he pushed his chair back.

“She joined the church, too, you know,” the sheriff added.

Wade nodded. That’s just what someone would do if they wanted to gain people’s trust, but he couldn’t say that to Carl. His old friend had never been as cynical as he was. “I’ll bet she’s joined the choir, too.”

The sheriff’s jaw dropped. “How’d you know that?”

Wade just smiled as he stood up. He’d seen some sheet music in the bag the woman had on her shoulder, but he didn’t mind looking mysterious to Carl. “Just doing my job.”

The sheriff and Wade walked out of the restaurant together.

The cold wind hit Wade in the face and he pulled his hat down a little farther over his ears. The sheriff nodded and walked to the side of the café where he’d parked his car. Wade had to walk in the opposite direction.

It had been a long time since Wade had been in the town of Dry Creek. Back then the homes all looked like mansions compared to the weathered old house on his grandfather’s farm. He’d spent his childhood feeling second-rate around the other kids here, especially at Christmas. His mother died when he was four and his father went to jail shortly after that, so the only one left to give Wade a present had been his grandfather.

Wade knew a gift was never coming, but it took him years to stop hoping. In the meantime, he was embarrassed to have anyone else know he spent his barren Christmases out in the barn while his grandfather drank himself into a stupor in the house. Maybe that’s why he made up stories about imaginary Christmas dinners he claimed his grandfather used to make for them.

Wade smiled just remembering. Every Christmas, he had gone out to the barn and planned the stories he’d tell the other boys about those dinners. He didn’t want anyone to feel sorry for him so he climbed up to the hayloft where he kept his mother’s jewelry box and her old magazines. That’s where he found the picture of the coconut cake with raspberry filling that he said was his grandfather’s specialty.

Wade had made it sound so mouth-watering the other kids practically drooled; he’d even agreed to copy the recipe for Carl one year.

But now, looking around at the houses, Wade wondered if some of those kids wouldn’t have understood a hard Christmas. The town was very ordinary, maybe even poor. None of the houses were new and, even though each was set back from the main street with a fenced lawn, it was winter and no grass was growing. It felt strange to remember how he used to envy the kids who lived in these houses.

Fortunately, by now he knew a man could have a good life without a family. And Christmas passed just fine with a drive-thru hamburger and fries.

He shook his head slightly so the memory of the red-haired woman wouldn’t sit so clearly in his mind. He didn’t need to mess up his life by dreaming about her. She was like that coconut cake. Something nice to dream about, but nothing that was likely to ever come his way. He was glad the sheriff had tipped him to the fact that the women around here were planning for her to marry Conrad—that is, if the sheriff wasn’t wrong and she didn’t end up back in jail instead.

He stopped a minute; he didn’t like thinking of her in a place like that. Then he sighed. His radar was good. That probably meant she was guilty as sin. Fortunately, it must also mean the church going was only a façade. If it was, he would have more in common with her than he thought. Suddenly, he was glad he was picking her up for dinner. It wouldn’t hurt to get to know her a little bit better. Maybe she wasn’t as much of an angel as she wanted people to think she was.