Last Chance Christmas (Last Chance #5)(3)
Author: Hope Ramsay

“That’s not evidence. Is it, Daddy?” Lizzy looked up at Stone.

He was going to get drawn into this argument whether he wanted to or not. “No, it’s not,” Stone said.

Elbert turned his stare at Stone. “Don’t encourage her, son. She’s already too big for her britches.”

Stone swallowed his food. “Daddy, just because you have a long-running grudge against the former sheriff of Allenberg County doesn’t mean everything he did was totally wrong.”

“No? I don’t see you singing the praises of his idiot son any.”

Stone should have seen that coming. Andy Bennett had been sheriff of Allenberg County for decades. And when he retired, his son ran for the position. Of course Billy was elected, seeing as his last name was Bennett. But Billy wasn’t much of a cop. Stone had reserved his opinions about Billy’s father, though. Andy Bennett had been sheriff when Stone was a kid.

He gave his father a pointed stare. “I know you were angry when Granddaddy died, but that’s not a good reason to go off blaming folks for his death when you have no proof.”

“He was only fifty-four. He should have lived for a long time.”

Stone heard the unmistakable note of anger in his father’s voice. Daddy was a pretty mild-mannered man. He was a good man. But he was a little eccentric. Most folks believed that Daddy’s oddities were a result of his war injuries. But Daddy believed something else. The first time Daddy ever saw an angel was the night Zeke died. And Daddy had been seeing angels pretty regular ever since.

So naturally, Daddy held a grudge. Especially since Zeke died so young.

“You can believe what you want,” Stone said. “But there isn’t any evidence that Abe Chaikin killed Granddaddy. And to be honest, I have to believe that, if there had been proof, Sheriff Andy would have pursued it. Besides, Chaikin’s daughter was pretty surprised when I suggested that her father might have committed murder. In fact, she didn’t even know that Zeke was dead. She asked to speak with him.”

“Did you tell her what Nita’s folks think about her father?” Momma asked.

“No, ma’am, I didn’t.”

Haley, Stone’s eight-year-old daughter, suddenly stopped fidgeting in her chair. “Granny, did you mean Miz Wills? Miz Wills is really, really smart. All librarians are really smart.”

Momma laid her fork across her plate and smiled at Haley. “Yes she is, darlin’. Now eat your pot roast.” Momma rolled her eyes in Daddy’s direction. “I think we’ve had enough of this conversation, don’t you?”

“Well, maybe,” Daddy grumbled.

“I’m serious, Bert, we need to let this go once and for all. Maybe letting that woman scatter her father’s ashes at the golf course would be a good first step.”

“I ain’t letting her scatter anything there. So don’t even start.”

“All right.” Momma turned toward Stone. “Once this woman is well enough to travel, I think maybe it would be best if you would explain the situation to her and send her on her way. It’s clear that scattering her father’s ashes out at the golf course is going to upset your father.”

Daddy snarled at the other end of the table.

Stone nodded. All in all, that would probably be best.

Lizzy let go of one of those eloquently annoyed teenaged sighs. “Daddy, are you just going to agree? I mean there’s a big question here. Maybe her father actually did murder Zeke. Or maybe someone else did. Or maybe—”

“He fell off the roof of the Ark, honey. That’s what happened,” Stone said.

“Ain’t no way,” Daddy said. “They found him on the eighteenth hole, and there was no way his body would end up there if he fell from the roof.”

“Maybe the angels put him there,” Haley said.

Lizzy glared at Haley. “No one asked your opinion so—”

“Keep a civil tongue, young lady,” Momma said.

“Yes’m.” Lizzy looked down at her plate and hid behind her hair. Stone thought the matter was settled. But a minute later, Lizzy looked up.

“I’ll try to be civil, Daddy, but there’s something wrong here. I mean, if old Sheriff Andy fudged something, we ought to find that out. We didn’t have a policeman in the family back when Great-Granddaddy died. You could investigate this and lay it to rest.”

“It was more than forty years ago. As cold cases go, this one is practically frigid.”

“But if there was an injustice done, if Zeke was murdered by someone, don’t you want to know that? I mean, it probably wasn’t Abe Chaikin, but what if—”

“Lizzy, this is like a stick of dyn**ite. Pushing an investigation would upset things in town, and I don’t think Miz Chaikin came here to have her father’s reputation posthumously trampled.”

“She probably didn’t, but that shouldn’t be a reason not to find out the truth.”

“No. But the timing isn’t good, honey. We’ve got a new mayor who might object to my spending time on a forty-year-old case in which her mother played a prominent role. Right now, I want to be friends with Mayor LaFlore, not alienate her. My contract with the city comes up in the spring.”

“That’s not a good reason.” Lizzy gave him one of those heartrending stares that convinced him he was no good as a father. He could see the disappointment in her green eyes.

But there was nothing he could do about it. Agreeing with her wasn’t an option.

Haley Rhodes sat up in her bed, listening carefully. Lizzy was asleep in her bed across the room. Haley could tell by her sister’s little snores.

The wind rattled the windows a bit and moonlight came through the curtains, making the room look kind of silvery.

The house made a few creaky noises. Daddy said it was just the old place settling on its foundations. Haley wasn’t so sure. When the house creaked, it was kind of spooky.

Haley listened to the wind sounds, and the house sounds, and the sound of Lizzy’s breathing. And she heard it—the noise that had really pulled her from sleep.

The Sorrowful Angel was weeping. Again.

The Sorrowful Angel had been with Haley for a long, long time. Haley had been trying to get her back to Heaven, but that was proving to be really hard.

Haley slipped out of her bed and padded down the hallway toward Daddy’s bedroom. The door was ajar, and the flickering light of the television lit her way. Daddy often fell asleep with the television on.

She tiptoed into his bedroom.

The angel was waiting. She stood in the corner, all twinkly and pale, her long white hair coming down to her shoulders. She always shimmered like that when the moon was shining or in the TV light. She looked the way an angel was supposed to look.

Except for the wings, of course. The Sorrowful Angel didn’t have any. She was kind of like that angel in the Christmas movie that Granny always watched about the angel needing to do a good deed to get his wings.

Maybe that’s what the angel needed.

Haley crossed the carpet and took the Sorrowful Angel’s hand. Her hand was cold, but the angel’s long fingers curled around hers and squeezed.

Haley felt safe with the angel’s hand in hers. Nothing could hurt her when the angel was there. She knew this from experience. Sometimes she wondered if maybe the angel was a kind of guardian, in which case Haley probably shouldn’t be working all that hard to get her back to Heaven.

On the other hand, having a weepy guardian angel was kind of a pain. People thought Haley was crazy because most of them couldn’t even see the angel. So Haley had come to a firm decision this Christmas. She’d written a heartfelt letter to Santa Claus and mailed it down at the post office. And she’d written a letter to her mother and left it in a Christmas wreath down at the graveyard.

She figured, if anyone could help get the angel back to Heaven, it would be Santa. And since Momma was in Heaven with Jesus, maybe she could put in a good word, too.

Getting the angel back to Heaven was the only thing Haley wanted for Christmas. Except, of course, for the Barbie Glam Vacation House. She had kind of mentioned that in her letter to Santa, too. But only in the PS.

The angel bent down so that she was at Haley’s height. She wrapped her arm around Haley’s shoulder and drew her close. The hug made Haley feel all shivery inside. But it wasn’t scary or anything like that.

“Your daddy needs to make room in his heart for love,” the angel whispered. Her breath had no warmth to it. In fact, her whisper seemed to have come without any breath at all.

The shivers down Haley’s spine got a little bigger. The angel had only spoken a couple of times before, and what she said usually didn’t make much sense.

But this time, the angel had given Haley a clear mission. A really easy one, too.

She could do this. It would be simple.

Maybe she didn’t need Santa after all.

The next morning, everyone in town knew that Abe Chaikin’s daughter had come for a visit. So Stone wasn’t at all surprised when the county dispatcher’s voice crackled over the radio in his Crown Vic just as he finished his first patrol of the day. “Alpha 101 to Lima 101.”

He toggled his radio. “Go ahead, Alpha 101.”

“You’ve got a 10-25 for a signal-17 out at Lee Marshall’s place.”

“Ten-Four,” he acknowledged.

He’d just been summoned by the big man in town.

He motored up Palmetto Avenue and headed north. Five minutes later, he turned up the drive that led to the old Marshall home place, which had been built on the foundations of Heavenly Rest, the old plantation that had once belonged to Chancellor Rhodes before the Civil War. The house, with its colonnade and wrought-iron balconies, left Stone feeling like a poor relation, especially since it was supposed to be a replica of the earlier mansion—the one that had belonged to Stone’s forebears.

The place looked decidedly festive. The five Doric columns that spanned the front of the Greek Revival home were swathed in red ribbon, making them look like candy canes. Holly swags topped every one of the six-over-six double-hung windows. A wreath the size of Alaska hung on the door.

Lee was waiting for him on the porch, sitting in a straight-backed rocker with a plaid blanket across his lap. Last night’s rain had given way to a bright, sunny, and unseasonably warm day, perfect for porch sitting.

Lee was in his middle sixties, but the years had not been kind to him. He was fond of bourbon, and the booze had taken a toll on his face. Broken blood vessels gave his nose a red sheen. It was a well-known fact that Momma had turned down Lee’s proposal of marriage more than forty years ago in order to follow the advice of Miriam Randall.

And for that reason, Lee Marshall had never been particularly friendly to Stone. Not that Lee was a particularly friendly man.

“Nice porch weather for December,” Stone said with a little deferential tip of his hat.

“Don’t talk to me about the weather,” Lee growled. He waved toward the rocking chair beside him, but Stone ignored the invitation and leaned back on one of the porch columns.

“What can I do for you, Mr. Marshall?”