Page 5 of Dirty Ex-Mas
“Probably.”
We’re silent the rest of the trip until pulling onto the street where Paula Nelson lives. An upper middle-class neighborhood with larger tract homes, lush green lawns filled with holiday decor, towering oak trees, and well-maintained roads and sidewalks.
“It should be that bluish house here on the right.” I point out the house to Mack and he parks on the street in front of a “Caution: Reindeer Crossing” sign. Only a couple of cars on the street, not surprising with just a few days to go before Christmas.
We head up the front walk between rows of fake candy canes lining either side. An older woman with graying hair opens the door before we knock. She’s dressed in a robe and slippers despite the eleven o’clock hour. Not that I’m judging, sleeping until eleven in the morning sounds great, if I could do it. My body won’t let me go past six in the morning at the latest.
“You looking for Paula?” she asks.
“Yes, ma’am.” I pull out my badge to show her. “I’m Agent Roberts and this is my partner, Agent Murphy. We’re following up on a report that Miss Nelson made recently and we're hoping to have a quick word with her. Might that be possible?”
“Call her Paula, that’s her name, she hates the Miss and Ms. stuff. She’s in the shower. But you all can come in and wait, I just made a fresh pot of coffee.”
We follow her into the house, and she offers us a seat in the living room while she goes to get the coffee. The house is spacious with a lot of natural lighting. A huge Christmas tree sits in the corner with a pile of wrapped presents beneath it. The smell of cinnamon pinecones fills the air.
“Nice place,” I tell Murphy.
He nods in agreement.
The woman returns, balancing three mugs of coffee between her two hands. Mack stands to help, taking two from her. She makes a point of setting out coasters on the coffee table between us, so I use mine.
“If you don’t mind me asking, how are you acquainted with Paula, ma’am? Mrs....?” I pause, waiting for her to tell me her last name.
“Nelson. I’m Mrs. Nelson. Paula is my daughter. She came to stay with me after all this transpired.”
“Do you know much about what happened?” Mack asks while my phone dings with an incoming notification from research and records:
MESSAGE: Call in when you get a second. Got a match on your sketch. You’re not gonna like it.
I interrupt Mack to show him the message, then excuse myself to step outside and call in to Jenny.
2
Quinn
“This is exactly what best friends do for one another,” I tell Daria from my perch on the other side of the bar.
“I love you like a sister, you know that,” she says, her Russian accent slipping in as she talks. She’s been wiping at the same spot on the bar top for a few minutes. “But, sweetie, you would explode up my whole operation, and I can’t afford for that to happen.”
“I wouldblowup your whole operation.”
“I know, that’s what I just said.”
“The word is blow, not explode.”
She waves her arm at me in response.
“You have no faith in me.” I frown and try to give her my wounded puppy-dog look.
“Okay, fine. Prove me wrong.”
“How?”
“Carry a tray of beer from here to the holiday tree and back.”
“Pfft. No problem.” The bar isn’t even busy at this time of day, so it will be easy to do. “And it’s a Christmas tree, not a holiday tree.”
“Ha! That is not me getting one of your American words wrong. I don’t discriminate the holidays. That’s not just a Christmas tree, it’s an everything tree.” She spreads her arms as though encompassing everything in the bar. “And you can’t spill the beer.”
