Let There Be Suspects by Emilie Richards Page B

really want for Christmas,” Ginger said. “Now, if they’d asked for a Porsche, I could understand.” She giggled.
    Ed and I locked eyes for a moment. Mine said: “Your turn, buster . ”
    Ed’s tone was pleasant and measured. Just. “Deena’s too young to fend for herself at a rock concert. And none of her friends will be going.”
    “Because Mom got together with their mothers and made sure of it!”
    She got me there. Deena is one of a group of girls who call themselves the Green Meanies. Emerald green, of course. I did organize an informal gathering of Meanie moms that meets when necessary so our daughters won’t play us off against each other. It’s slightly better than nothing.
    “Everybody agreed you’re too young,” I said, although strictly that wasn’t true. Before she would go along with the rest of us, Crystal O’Grady, mother of Carlene, had to be bribed with the name of the woman who had painted tiny holly sprigs on Grace Forester’s nails.
    “I remember what it’s like not to get what I wanted on holidays,” Ginger said. “But I’m sure you two know best. I’m sure you got the girls something nice.”
    “New socks and a half-price pizza coupon,” I said. “We’re always more than generous.”
    “I’m sure it will be a very nice Christmas,” Junie said.
    Later that night Vel sat at the kitchen table with another glass of Junie’s cabernet while Sid and I cleaned up. Ed gets a break from kitchen duty at Christmas time, and the girls had gone upstairs, most likely to discuss what a terrible mother and father they have. Junie had gone off with Cliff and Ginger to do a tour of the Emerald Springs Christmas lights before the Grables returned to their hotel. Bix had taken off after his five-pear dinner. Sid hadn’t told us why, but if possible, she was in a worse mood than she’d been during dinner.
    “If you can just step back and watch things unfold, it’s a marvel how quickly and easily Ginger can sabotage a gathering,” Vel said. “Really, she has a natural talent.”
    “I hardly remember her mother, do you?”
    “Probably a little better than you do. Fig was even prettier then Ginger, if possible. And manipulative? She could twist Junie into a pretzel.”
    “Junie’s not usually much of a pushover. I bet she was so worried about Ginger, she just let Fig have her way. She thought she had to protect Ginger at all costs.”
    Sid banged two pans together in the sink. “Why didn’t somebody just report that woman to Children’s Services and have Ginger settled permanently in a good home? Anybody’s home but ours!”
    “Well, because Fig moved from town to town like we did, and those things take time. Or at least that’s my guess.” Vel got up and peeked out the window at what sounded like footsteps. “I thought that might be Junie. But it looks like Bix is back.”
    “Aggie, can you finish here?” Sid’s voice sounded like it was being forced through a strainer. She was gone before I could answer.
    “Did you watch Bix help Ginger on with her coat?” Vel asked softly.
    Somehow I had missed that.
    “He smoothed her hair over the collar, lock by lock.”
    “Lord.”
    “Prayer may not be a bad idea.”
    We listened. There were definitely loud voices coming from the front of the house.
    “So,” I said. “Let’s crank up our volume, so we don’t have to hear this.”
    “Well, did you catch the farfalle, fusilli, gaffe tonight? I told you, Ginger doesn’t know a colander from a sieve.”
    “Maybe it was just a mistake.”
    “Okay, here’s another one. Remember when Junie told Ginger not to give her any pepperoncinis? Ginger gave her three, but she didn’t give her any of the portabello slices I marinated. I think she mixed them up.”
    Since the noise out front was growing louder, I spoke louder, too. “Maybe it’s some kind of learning disability.”
    “Or maybe she just didn’t pay a lot of attention in cooking school.”
    “Then how did she have her