Christmas Madness Page 5

  Edwina stepped inside and Mrs. Jenkins shut the door.

  “Oh, yes, yes it is,” Edwina lied with a smile. “I was just hoping to talk with Charlie for a moment. He’d mentioned something when he was at my home, and I wanted to follow up with him. Would that be permissible?”

  Mrs. Jenkins’ face fell. “Well, I’m afraid he’s been grounded to his room, due to his behavior.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that, but it will only take a minute, I promise,” Edwina said, using her most winning smile. There were some benefits to being a Winterwood, and one of them was because her mother was the one raising funds for Mrs. Jenkin’s orphanage. It gave her certain leeway where otherwise her requests might be refused.

  “Well, would you mind visiting him upstairs?” Mrs. Jenkins asked, looking uneasy. “He’s been a terrible influence on the other children, and I’d rather he stays isolated from them.”

  “That would be just fine, and I apologize for any bother,” Edwina said. Mrs. Jenkins hurried up the staircase and Edwina followed. The hallway was lined with bedrooms, and all of the doors were propped open, except for one at the far end of the hall. Mrs. Jenkins walked to it, knocked once, and pushed it open without waiting for an answer.

  “Charlie, Miss Winterwood is here to talk with you,” she said with a nervous smile. “Now, you mind your manners and be a good boy.” She turned to Edwina. “And if you need anything, I’ll be right downstairs in the kitchen,” she said, before hurrying out of the room, and shutting the door with a loud click behind her.

  The room had two other small beds in it, and a washstand by the narrow window. There was a faded rag rug in the middle of the room, and a large bureau set close to the closet.

  Charlie was sitting on his bed, his red hair combed into perfect order, his shoes worn but clean, and his expression thunderous with anger.

  “What do you want?” he asked, putting his hands on the bed and swinging his feet a bit.

  “Hello, Charlie,” Edwina began, trying to sound friendly. “Do you mind if I sit down?”

  “Suit yourself,” came the belligerent reply. “It’s a free country.”

  Edwina eased onto a bed opposite the young boy. “I hope you don’t mind me coming to visit you, but I wanted to ask you a question.”

  He looked at her, surprised, his freckles stark against his pale face.

  “What sorta question?”

  “A question about those bells you saw at my house, when my Aunt Zinnia came to visit me.”

  “Oh, those old things,” he said with a grunt. “What about ‘em?”

  “Well, I can’t find them.”

  He blinked at her. “So?”

  “So, I’m wondering if you can help me. I think maybe my Aunt moved them somewhere and forgot. You’re smart, Charlie. Do you know where my Aunt would’ve moved them to?”

  “I didn’t see her move nothin’,” he said, then his face lit up in understanding. “Hey! You’re here because you think I took ‘em, aren’t you?”

  Edwina shook her head. “No, I’m not. I’m just trying to solve a puzzle and I need someone to help me. I thought maybe you’d seen someone put them back in their bag, and then take them somewhere.”

  Another lie.

  Charlie stared at her for a moment.

  “What… what if I moved them?”

  Edwina tried to look surprised. “Well, I’d be glad you’d be able to tell me where they were. Did you move them, Charlie?”

  He stared at her. “What if I did it for a good reason?”

  His voice had a small quaver in it that Edwina hadn’t heard before. He bit his bottom lip and said, “Would you think I was a terrible person if I did?”

  Edwina stood up and walked slowly over to the boy, but he flinched away from her as she sat down slowly on the bed next to him.

  “Charlie,” she said softly, “where did you put them?”

  “You’d think I was a terrible criminal, like one of those bad guys in the moving pictures, wouldn’t you?” his voice was rising, his eyes reflecting his fear. “What if I’m just a bad person?” He jumped up and stood in front of her, shaking his fist. “What if I can’t tell you what I did?”

  Edwina stretched out her hand, as if to calm him somehow, but before she could touch him Charlie picked up a crockery mug and threw it as hard as he could at the lone window. The mug crashed through the lower pane of glass, shattering it outward in an explosion of sound and flying shards. The pieces of glass landed in the snow-covered ground below.

  “Oh, no!” Charlie said in horror. “Why did I do that?”

  There was the sound of heavy footsteps pounding up the wooden stairs, and Edwina jumped off the bed and touched Charlie’s arm. “Don’t say anything,” she whispered.

  Charlie gulped once and nodded. “Okay,” he whispered back.

  The door burst open and Mrs. Jenkins was standing there, panting heavily from exertion, looking startled.

  “What in the world is going on up here?” she asked. As soon as she saw the window she gave out a small shriek, then took two fast strides across the room to grab Charlie with one hand, and raised her other high so she could slap him across the face.

  “That’s enough, Mrs. Jenkins!” Edwina shouted, grabbing the woman’s upright arm. “It wasn’t his fault! I was the one who broke the window. It was me!”

  Mrs. Jenkins froze in place. “You? You broke it, Miss Winterwood?”

  “Yes, and I’m terribly sorry. I was looking at the mug on the washstand, and somehow it slipped out of my hands and crashed into the window. I am so sorry!” Edwina glanced at Charlie, who was biting his lip again, probably in an attempt to keep quiet.

  Edwina turned back to Mrs. Jenkins. “I can have someone come out right away to fix that window, and I’ll pay for any repairs. Would that be acceptable?”

  Mrs. Jenkins had lowered her arms and stepped back a pace. She glanced between Charlie and Edwina, seemingly uncertain, and finally said, “Well, I guess accidents do happen. If you could have someone come out and fix the window right away that would be just fine, Miss Winterwood. We can put a piece of wood over it until the repairman gets here, I suppose.”

  As Mrs. Jenkins escorted her to the door and Edwina apologized at least four more times, she couldn’t help but notice the red-haired boy at the top of the stairs. He was soberly watching her go, his expression uncertain, his conversation with her about the missing bells unfinished.

  Chapter 8

  “Oh, this is ridiculous! Why in the world did Mother make us do the clues for the treasure hunt? Why not one of the servants?”

  Edwina stopped scribbling on her little notepad and shot a look of utter disgust at her brother, Graham. He was sitting on the bottom step of the main staircase, leaning back with one elbow on the marble step as he watched his sister do the work they both had been assigned. Tall, handsome and rich, it was just too bad he wasn’t very bright and that he thought of himself as God’s gift to Chicago.

  “This treasure hunt and this party are her doing. They’re women things,” he said, then smiled at Edwina, his narrow lips barely showing. “They’re boring things. In other words, they’re your sort of things.”

  “Oh, stow it, Graham,” she said bitterly. “You haven’t lifted a finger to do anything for this charity event, and you need to do your part. Mother says it’s high time for you to step up and learn how to be more responsible. If you’re going to take over Dad’s business, you’re supposed to learn how to help others and help the community, too. That’s part of being a Winterwood.”

  “Yeah, right. Look, I’m supposed to leave in a half an hour,” Graham said, a bit of a whine in his voice. “I have a date.”

  “With whom?” Edwina asked. When she got a blank stare in response, she said, “Well, what’s her name?”

  “I don’t remember. Tina? Trina? Trixie?” Graham shrugged. “Something like that.”

  “You’re incorrigible,” she said, her nose wrinkled up in disgust, and her brothe
r laughed.

  He hauled himself to his feet, brushing off his corduroy slacks. “And I hope to stay that way, too.”

  Edwina tapped her pencil on the paper. “The less I know about your love life, the better. Let’s get back to the treasure hunt,” she said, and her brother nodded.

  “Fine. Let’s get this done so I can go meet my new girl.”

  Edwina put the pencil up to her lips and reread the last clue. “Well, if we’ve led them here, to find the clue taped under the lip of the bottom step, then we need to give them a bit of run to get to the next one. I’ve checked with Mrs. O’Doul, and she’s given us permission to route the hunt through the main part of the kitchen, and Mother’s given the okay for me to send guests through the servant’s breakroom, because no one should be in there when the hunt’s going on.” She paused, considering. “How about putting a clue in the laundry room, or the kennels?”

  “Fine by me,” Graham said, then gave a mighty yawn as he ambled after his sister. “Whatever gets this thing done.”

  Mrs. O’Doul was busy when they walked through, explaining to her errand boy, Daniel, that the proper way to wash the counter was to scrub it with a brush and vinegar and then use a clean linen towel to dry it thoroughly. He was all ears, nodding his head in agreement as the stout cook lectured him on the importance of keeping a kitchen spotless.

  Edwina had to laugh a bit to herself as she walked by. The young lad was handling one of Mrs. O’Doul’s lectures with rapt attention, which was more than Edwina would probably be doing.

  “What about back here?” Graham asked as he walked down a hallway off the kitchen. “We could move the dog out of the kennel so he won’t bark at people.”

  Following his voice, Edwina walked over to the door to the kennels. Ozzie, their new Airedale, was lying on the tiled floor near the wire gate, watching her with alert, hopeful eyes. It was common knowledge in the household that although Mrs. O’Doul ran a tight ship, she had a huge soft spot for the dog, and kept a plush bed for him at the edge of the big kitchen. Edwina had caught her talking baby talk and feeding him choice bits of leftovers more than once.

  “You’re right. We’ll have to move Ozzie somewhere else during the party,” she said, crouching down to look at the dog, who thumped his little stub of a tail in response.

  “Why aren’t you in your bed, buddy?” she asked him, reaching in to scratch him behind his ear. “That’s your favorite place.” She’d seen the Airedale lounging on his big, comfy bed, head poking out from his doghouse so he could watch the world go by.

  She opened the gate, then grabbed Ozzie’s collar and led him outside the kennel. “Sit,” she commanded, and the dog obediently plopped his backside down and watched her with rapt attention.

  Like the kitchen, the kennels were immaculate. Ozzie was currently the only dog in residence, but each fenced enclosure had a place for food and water dishes, plenty of room, and an enclosed doghouse at the back.

  As Edwina walked to the back of the kennel, she bent over and looked inside the doghouse, worried that it might need cleaning. Bracing herself with one hand against the wall, she reached in and grabbed the dog bed, giving it a hard yank.

  There was a sound of shifting metal.

  Edwina’s heart began to pound as she slowly extracted the padded dog bed and poked her head inside the box-like doghouse.

  Tucked into the back corner was an old carpetbag.

  And she had a very good idea what was in it.

  Chapter 9

  “You found the bells!” Aunt Zinnia did an actual jig, right in front of the grand piano in the Winterwood’s ballroom, her head thrown back in throaty laughter. “That’s fantastic! Where were they?”

  “In Ozzie’s kennel,” Edwina said, enjoying watching her aunt’s exuberance.

  “Ozzie, that dog that barked at me? I owe him the biggest bone he’s ever had!” She grabbed Edwina and spun her around. “I owe him two!”

  Edwina laughed and pulled away from her aunt, watching her dance again, until the eccentric artist stood stock-still.

  “So, who took the bells, then? How did they get in the dog’s kennel?”

  “I’m not quite sure yet,” Edwina said, trying not to be evasive, but her perceptive aunt’s eyes narrowed.

  “You don’t know, or you’re not going to tell me?”

  Edwina coughed once, then shifted foot to foot. She didn’t like to keep the truth from Aunt Zinnia. “As soon as I’m one hundred percent sure, I’ll let you know. Will that satisfy you?”

  Aunt Zinnia looked at her, then broke out into a huge smile. “Sure, daisy. I trust ya. If it’s good enough for you, it’s good enough for me.”

  Edwina stared glumly into her cooling coffee, thinking over her conversation with Charlie at the orphanage. Whatever he’d done, whatever he was, there was a raw brokenness to him that was painful to see. Edwina could see the hurt in his eyes when he spoke, and it made her heart ache in her chest. How could she tell her family what he’d done? The consequences for him would be horrible and life-changing, and the theft of a set of antique silver bells from a wealthy family, committed when he was young, would follow him forever.

  “Are you okay, Miss Edwina?” Mrs. O’Doul asked as she sliced up several red apples on a breadboard. “You don’t seem like yourself.”

  “I’m just thinking about those children who were here the other day,” Edwina said, with a long sigh. She’d already decided she wasn’t going to tell anyone about her conversation with Charlie, unless it was her mother. “They’ve got such a tough life, don’t they?”

  “Yes, poor little things,” Mrs. O’Doul said in a pitying tone. “I can’t imagine what life would be without having at least one parent with you until you’re grown, let alone losing two.” She set down her knife and pulled a box of ground cinnamon out of the cupboard. “I just want to snatch them up and feed them ‘til they pop. You should’ve seen them gobble down my chocolate cake the other day! Crumbs all over the table, but the plates were licked clean!”

  “I’ll bet. You make great cake.”

  “I just have to keep it away from Ozzie,” Mrs. O’Doul said. “He mostly just sleeps in here, but dogs aren’t supposed to have chocolate, you know. Someone told me it’s really bad for them.”

  Edwina picked up her teaspoon and stirred her coffee, then took a tentative sip. There was something at the back of her mind, but she felt sluggish and scattered, as if she couldn’t quite grasp it.

  And then, there it was.

  She sat bolt upright, blew out a quick breath, and stared at the cook.

  “Mrs. O’Doul, the children ate in the dining room, right? Not in here?”

  The cook nodded. “That’s right.”

  “Do you remember when I drove the orphans back to the children’s home the other day?”

  “Sure, I do,” the cook replied, as she scooped the apples into a bowl and sprinkled cinnamon on them.

  “When I was gone,” Edwina asked, “did you spend all your time here, in the kitchen?”

  Mrs. O’Doul looked up, obviously puzzled. “Yes, I was putting together the gingerbread house. I had to do all the white piping on it before I could assemble it. I’d already been working on it for hours. Why?”

  “Did you see or hear anything peculiar?”

  “Not really, no.” She grabbed a spoon and stirred the cinnamon into the apples. “It was really quiet in here, which suits me just fine.”

  “And the dog didn’t bark?”

  “No, he didn’t. Is there something particular you’re trying to ask me?” Her eyebrows went up in sudden alarm. “You don’t believe I had anything to do with those silver bells, do you?”

  “Not at all, Mrs. O’Doul,” Edwina said in a soothing voice.

  “But I think I have a pretty good idea who did.”

  Chapter 10

  “Can I come and sit with you?” Edwina asked, and got no reply in response.

  To be fair, she was talking to the bottom of a huge, f
resh Christmas tree. It was stuffed in the corner of her grand parlor, just waiting for the dozens of decorations and candles it would be draped with before the party.

  Edwina got down on her knees and leaned down so her head was about a foot from the ground. She could see the massive tree stand, holding the trunk firmly in place.

  “Please?” she asked.

  She got a muffled answer in response, which was good enough for her.

  Skirting the branches as she crawled toward the wall, she carefully worked her way back to the corner, trying to ignore the fir boughs that kept smacking her as she did.

  Finally, with a satisfied sigh, she leaned her back against the wall and slid her legs underneath the tree.

  “So, do you come here often?”

  There was a sniffle, then Daniel said, “I just found this place. I thought it might help me feel better.”

  “Hmmm,” Edwina said. “I see. Better for what?”

  There was a pause. Edwina could just see the young cook’s assistant’s sorrowful face through the branches between them. There were dark circles under his eyes, and he did his best to avoid looking at her.

  “I did a bad thing.”

  Edwina sighed. There it was.

  “Yes, honey, I know,” she said, and there was a gasp from her young companion.

  “You do?”

  “Yes, I do.”

  “How did you know what I did?”

  “Mrs. O’Doul told me.”

  “But she didn’t see me take them!”

  “No, Daniel, she didn’t. She told me she was in the kitchen when the orphans arrived, and the whole time between then and when I drove them back to the children’s home.”

  “So?”

  “So,” she said slowly, “she would’ve heard if Ozzie barked at somebody who put the bells in his bed. He barks at anybody he doesn’t know. He even barks at Fiona, our new maid, because he hasn’t made friends with her yet.”