Free Fran Rizer - Callie Parrish 06 - A Corpse Under the Christmas Tree by Fran Rizer

the porch, and the string of lights dangling from over the front door, still lit, were definitely out of place.
    Then I noticed something significant—a lady’s purse. Not an expensive brand, it probably came from Wally World. Zipped closed, black imitation leather, it lay on the edge of the step. I pointed it out to Wayne at the same time he must have seen it because he stepped over to it.
    He picked up a stick from the ground, stuck it through the straps on the purse, and lifted the handbag just like cops do on television.
    “Something’s happened here, but I don’t know what at this point. I think we need to go into the house to be sure Amber’s not in there sick or injured.”
    Dalmation! I wished I was anywhere but here with the sheriff. The way my luck goes, we’d find this woman neither sick nor injured, but dead in her house, and I’d feel like it was my fault. Shih tzu! That was ridiculous. I didn’t cause people to die around me.
    Wayne stepped to the door and pushed the dangling string of illuminated lights over with the stick. The green wire snapped back at him and slapped his finger. He snatched his hand back and let out a mild cuss word. Then he put his finger to his mouth. “Burned just a little,” he said.
    He knocked and rang the doorbell, but no one answered. I’ve known the man my whole life, and I could almost see his brain working, considering what to do next. Action was swift when he made up his mind. I expected him to kick the door in, but, instead, since there was no dead bolt, he jimmied the lock with a credit card from his wallet and the door swung open.
    Inside,everything appeared decorated and immaculate. An empty cereal bowl and coffee cup in the sink were the only things not spotless in the kitchen. The single bed in her bedroom was made with corners folded in military precision and ornamental Christmas cushions spread across the top. She had Christmas trees and nativity scenes in every room along with ceramic figurines of angels and Santas.
    “Not to hurt your feelings,” Wayne said, “but I want you to stand still while I check this out. The purse on the steps bothers me, and I’d feel better if her car wasn’t in the driveway.”
    The sheriff oozed tension into the air. Something was wrong. He knew it, and I knew it, but we didn’t know what had happened or what he might find as he opened every closet door and inspected the contents. When he finished, he came back to me and said, “The only evidence of foul play is her handbag on the porch. Everything in here looks fine, and her car in the driveway isn’t necessarily an indication of anything wrong, but the purse is.”
    “Those candy canes all over the front porch aren’t a good sign either,” I commented. “She appears to be a good housekeeper, not the kind of woman who’d drop things and leave them lying all around.”
    Wayne took the broom from the kitchen and swept the candy canes on the porch into an evidence bag from his car.
    “Are you doing that in case there are fingerprints on the cellophane wrappers?” I asked.
    “Just in case.”
    He put the broom back, then locked the door behind us as we left.
    By the time we’d finished at Amber Buchanan’s, neither of us had time for a sit-down lunch at Rizzie’s. We went through the McDonald’s drive-through and picked up sandwiches before he took me back to his office to get my car.
     
    • • •
     
    My niece Megan and nephew Johnny ran over and gave me great big bear hugs when I went into Gee Threethat evening. I’m really trying to use Rizzie’s “brand,” and Daddy or John were supporting it because one of them had bought the kids Gee Threesweatshirts which they wore. Daddy, John, Miriam, Mike, and Frankie nodded at me and said “hello,” but none of them are into hugging me hello or goodbye like the kids are.
    “Where are Bill and Molly?” I asked when I sat down at the biggest table Rizzie has in the grill.
    “He called and said they