Mistletoe And Murder

But it wasn’t important now. She had her own life, and her parents had theirs. She picked up her cell from beside her. “It’s time for me to try Shamus again. He’s going to talk to me whether he wants to or not.”

“Since he hasn’t answered all your other messages, I’m thinking that’s a definite ‘not,’” Ginny said, tucking her feet underneath her. “Why on earth would you want to talk to him that badly? He’s a jerk.”

Mallory held up her hand for Ginny to wait a couple seconds, then answered the other woman’s question in the message she left for Shamus.

“Hi, Mallory again. I know you’re probably busy trying to help the police find Bud Tripp, and I’m sorry for bothering you so much. It’s just, now that I’m well, I have to get started on my promise to help Tara, and I’ve decided the fastest way to do that would be to find Mr. Tripp myself. I just really wanted to talk to you before I start looking. Thanks.”

Mallory tapped the disconnect button triumphantly. “That ought to get a response.”

It did. Ginny’s feet hit the floor, her long, blond hair swinging. She stood up, her eyes filled with concern.

“Tell me you were going for shock value to get Shamus to call back,” she said. “Tell me you’re not truly planning on…” Her voice drifted off as her gaze turned horrified at the sight of Mallory’s resolute one.

“Oh, Mallory. You are going to look for Tripp.”

“Of course I am.” Mallory put the phone back down beside her. “If I find Mr. Tripp and persuade him to turn himself in, it solves three problems. The police and the FBI will be that much closer to the person behind the bombing and Tara’s kidnapping. I won’t have to revoke Mr. Tripp’s probation, and Tara will have her father home when they find her, not sitting in some jail cell.” The teenager would have someone with her who really cared, unlike what had happened to her after…

Ginny shook her head and sat back down. “It’s too dangerous for you to get in the middle of this. Whoever is behind the bombing might be just playing games right now while he gets ready to kill someone. Why be a target?”

“If the man was a killer, he wouldn’t have told Mr. Tripp to get Shamus and me out.” She’d had plenty of time to leave before the bomb went off. Getting trapped had been her own fault. “But you agree Tripp couldn’t have been behind this?”

“Sure. It’s not logical. Why would he want to blow up the building? You said he was basically honest, with a conscience. Plus, you said he was scared to death.”

“He was.” It felt really good knowing Ginny agreed with her, when the detective in charge had not ruled out Tripp’s involvement. Kidnappings, he’d said, had been faked in the past for all sorts of reasons.

“But don’t change the subject,” Ginny told her. “You might not think Tripp is dangerous, but sometimes you’re a little too trusting of people. What if Tripp is ordered to kill you if you try to take him to the police department to be questioned? If the mastermind threatens his daughter’s life, who do you think Tripp is going to choose?”

Mallory had to admit she was right about the danger. But she had promised Tara Tripp she would help her, and she couldn’t back down. To make Ginny feel better, Mallory compromised. “How about if I just gave my ideas on where to find Tripp to the police?”

Ginny’s face filled with relief. “That would be wonderful. And you’ll stop talking to Burke, too, right?”

“Uh, no.” She wasn’t giving in on that. “Why should I stop talking to Shamus?”

“Because he’s got to be the one the bomber is targeting, and you could get caught in the middle.”

“We don’t know Shamus is the target yet.” The police weren’t telling her a thing.

“Of course we do,” Ginny corrected. “You said the man talking to Tripp through the microphone mentioned Burke? I’m betting someone wants to get revenge on him again, the way that man did when he killed Burke’s wife.

“Think about it, Mal. In the five years I’ve been at the probation department, no probationer has attacked us in our building—until Shamus came to work there. Very few people take offense at being monitored by a kind probation officer, but I’ll bet a lot did when Mr. Personality was arresting people. He’s probably a maniac magnet.”

“He hasn’t always been like he is now. I told you that when he started working with us.” Mallory’s face flushed. Keeping calm was an effort, but she was determined to do it. “He was happy. Interested in everyone, and always trying to do things for others.”

“I didn’t mean to get you upset—you’re supposed to be recuperating.” Ginny looked genuinely sorry as she picked up a pillow and cradled it in her arms. “I remember when you told me about already knowing him. I never said anything then, but I need to now. You said Shamus was that way at church, and you didn’t know him otherwise socially. He could have been putting on a front for all of you there to fit in, maybe to please his wife. Who knows? For certain, there have been no signs of the man you’re describing in our office. Not one.”

Mallory took a deep breath. “I don’t think he’s a hypocrite, Ginny.” Her voice was so calm. God was helping her.

Ginny stared at her for a long moment. “You might want to consider if your heart isn’t getting in the way of your common sense where Shamus is concerned.”

“I don’t have romantic feelings for him.” She didn’t. Shamus might never change back to the man he once was, and the man he was now was too much like her father. “I was just trying to live my faith and be kind to him.”

“Faith.” Ginny brushed the idea away with her manicured fingertips. “All month he’s ignored you, scowled at you and turned down every offer of friendship, no matter how hurt you looked. What kind of Christian would do that?”

“One who is suffering a great deal of pain,” Mallory said firmly.

Ginny put down her pillow and stood. “Sometimes I think you carry Christianity too far, Mal. I don’t get how you can let someone walk all over you like Shamus did, and still defend him. I can’t. I hope he continues to ignore your calls, because I’d hate it if you got caught right in the middle of his battle with a demon from his past.”

Mallory watched her walk down the hall to her kitchen, then stared down at the cell phone by her side. Was she being naïve about Shamus? Was he a hypocrite, putting on a show at church when he was another way at home?

She put that question aside and considered what she knew for certain about him.

He’d saved her life by going back into a burning building for her.

He’d shown true concern for her in his unguarded moments in the parking lot afterward, when he’d held her in his arms.

He’d taken charge of Mosey’s Santa so it wouldn’t get lost or broken, despite the fact that he was furious she’d gone back for it. For a second she’d thought he would smash it down on the asphalt, but he hadn’t.

All that meant Shamus had integrity and feelings—he was just keeping them buried now. Ginny’s defenses were up when it came to Shamus for some reason, so she would just keep all of this to herself, along with her plans to find Tripp.

When Ginny returned with a soda and a box of expensive chocolates to share, she didn’t mention Shamus or the bombing again, and Mallory was relieved. She loved Ginny like a sister and didn’t want anything coming between them. So when her cell phone vibrated in her pocket, she told Ginny she was going to her room for a nap, waited until she got far enough down the hall so Ginny couldn’t see and checked the number.

It was Shamus.

THREE

In a moment of insanity, Shamus had agreed to meet Mallory the next day on Holiday Avenue, named on purpose because its shopkeepers had persisted in decorating for every holiday for so many years it had become a tourist attraction in the state. From his table in the rear of the coffee shop where they’d chosen to meet, he had a good view through the windows.

He saw bright lights on Christmas trees in shop windows, a couple of people with charity buckets ringing golden bells and a tall Santa with a thick white beard that looked pretty realistic. He also saw trouble—Mallory, who was parallel-parking her SUV in a space not too far from where he was sitting.

He had hoped his lack of response to her calls would annoy her enough to give up on him, but really, what was he thinking? This was Mallory. For some strange reason, she seemed willing to take all he had to dish out—and cheerfully, too.

When she’d called to say she was going to look for Bud Tripp, Shamus’s blood had run cold. Whether Tripp was a victim or the bomber, searching for him would be dangerous. He had to dissuade her from helping Tripp and his daughter, no matter what she’d promised Tara Tripp on the phone.

If Mallory refused to listen, he’d feel obligated to watch out for her, and he wanted no part of that. None. On the other hand, he couldn’t take it if something happened to someone else he—no, not liked. Admitting to himself he liked Mallory would create a bond they didn’t have. He just didn’t want something to happen to someone else he knew because of him. Nothing more, nothing less.

He held back a sigh. Why was God doing this to him? Why couldn’t He let him just live out the rest of his life paying for not being there for his wife when she died? That’s what he wanted. Instead, God had given him—Mallory.

Compared to dealing with her, misery was easy.

Poor Shamus looked absolutely miserable, so Mallory stopped at the sales counter long enough to get some plain coffee for herself and two large sugar cookies with green and red sprinkles, which the clerk bagged along with napkins. The very sight of the decorated cookies made her happy. It didn’t get any better than Christmas—and surviving a bomb blast. She would convince Shamus of that, too.

Carrying her snack to his table, she put it down and gave him her most cheerful smile that made most people light up like a Christmas tree.

Shamus’s bulbs, apparently, were all burned out.

“Merry Christmas!” she said. “Before I forget again, thank you for saving my life.”

“You’re welcome,” he said. His black-velvet eyes were still guarded, but at least his tone wasn’t as frosty as usual. “I take it you’re okay?”