Silent Night in Dry Creek. Janet Tronstad
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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