Jolly Dead St. Nicholas

Chapter One

I think the worship committee did a superb job this year, Adelaide McBride said on Thursday morning as she viewed the sanctuary of the Crescent Falls United Methodist Church.

Well, I have to admit I was skeptical when Reverend Underwood suggested bringing in live Christmas trees, but now that I’ve smelled that wonderful aroma, I’m completely sold. The one in the social hall is every bit as lovely as this one. The children put a lot of effort into making the ornaments, Adelaide’s best friend Ethel Henshaw observed.

Have you put in a bid for one of the trees? Adelaide asked.

The two live trees would be sold via silent auction once the holiday season was over.

Carl is determined to have the one from the social hall, Ethel said, referring to her husband of thirty-eight years.

Adelaide looked over at the rotund woman who had been her friend for so many years. Her snow-white hair was carefully styled, her cheeks as plump as those of a cherub. I kind of favor this one, Adelaide commented, admiring again the perfectly shaped branches of the six-foot fir tree.

With the annual Christmas Bazaar starting tomorrow, they’d arrived early to finish setting up the various tables of craft items. A year’s worth of work had gone into making crocheted afghans, unique tree ornaments, and a variety of embroidered, knitted and hand-sewn items. Other clever gifts that couldn’t be bought at local stores would also be available.

I hope it isn’t going to put too much stress on some of our people, having this thing for two days instead of one, like we usually do, Ethel said.

Adelaide knew some church members had opposed expanding the annual event. However, the finance committee pressed the issue. Ethel had expressed concern about overworking some of its older members, since they created most of the handmade items along with the baked goods sold during the bazaar.

Of course, people took sides, so several church board meetings erupted into heated debates. What else was new? In the end, the finance committee won out, citing that the influx of tourists that came each Christmas season to see the beautifully lit falls and accompanying holiday displays would mean more sales if the bazaar was a two-day event. Adelaide knew from past experience that many of the decisions made by the board were money-based.

Well. since we’re holding it for two days we will realize more of a profit, which means the UMW will get a bigger cut. Ethel said, referring to the United Methodist Women. She was president of the organization this year, a position she’d held several times through the decades.

As had been the arrangement for as long as she could remember, the UMW, whose main focus was mission work, would split the money from the annual bazaar equally with the church. Unlike some churches, the women’s group had a separate treasury, making it autonomous within the church structure. Adelaide had served on almost every church committee, also holding various positions in the UMW through the years. She knew the inner workings of the church, which made her acutely aware that personalities were bound to clash over even the smallest thing. That was why she always tried to evaluate both sides of a situation before expressing an opinion. Sometimes that worked, sometimes it didn’t. You just never knew.

Adelaide had lived in Crescent Falls her entire life. Until three years ago she’d been married to a wonderful man, Albert. He’d been her high school sweetheart. They’d married when they were twenty-one. Now, at the age of fifty-six, she was a widow. Albert had succumbed to pancreatic cancer after a grueling battle with the horrible disease.

Adelaide ran a hand through her hair, which she’d noticed just that morning seemed to be showing more touches of gray at the temples. All we can do is hope for the best, Ethel. Our members will rise to the occasion. They always do. We have some beautiful merchandise this year, plus we’ve done some expanded advertising, so I’m looking forward to a big crowd and lots of sales.

Not much of a pep talk, I must say, but it’s the best I can do. Many people are giving of their time to make this the most successful bazaar ever. I don’t want to see them disappointed. We have to do well, or some much needed church repairs will have to wait, to say nothing of the fact that the UMW might not be able to expand its mission program.

It hadn’t been a particularly good year for the small town of Crescent Falls. Its largest employer, L&C Precision Machine, closed its doors in August, throwing over a hundred people out of work. While some had found jobs in Crescent Falls, others found it necessary to search for work in the larger city of Marietta, ten miles away. A lucky few had found work in the adjacent town of Rosewood. A large majority, however, remained unemployed. Adelaide had a feeling things were going to get worse before they got better.

If it weren’t for the annual lighting of the magnificent falls on the east end of town, which brought tourists from all over the state to view the display for a three-week period in December, she wasn’t sure how Crescent Falls would survive. Still, the town couldn’t live all year on what they made during that short time span.

I thought I heard some cheery voices in here!

Adelaide turned to see Reverend Douglas Underwood striding into the sanctuary from the short hallway leading to his study.

You’re here bright and early. It looks great, doesn’t it? He made a sweeping gesture with one hand. In addition to the fir tree sitting just left of the altar, pine boughs hung all around and live red poinsettias lined the altar railing.

It’s amazing, Adelaide assured him. She observed the minister. He was quite handsome, really, with thick dark brown hair, hazel eyes and a rich, even tan. Many of the women in the congregation had huge crushes on him. She could see why. He was a very charismatic man who dressed with impeccably good taste. Today he wore a pair of gray slacks, a light blue shirt and a navy blue blazer. His shoes were shined to a high gloss.

Such a contrast to his plain, mousy wife, Fran. Stop it Adelaide! That was unkind. Well, at least I didn’t’ say it out loud.

…by tomorrow morning. We have a good crew coming in today. In fact they should be arriving any time now to start setting up, Ethel was saying.

Adelaide snapped her attention back to the conversation. Both Ethel and Reverend Underwood were staring at her expectantly. Yes, well, let’s go to the basement, Ethel. There’s no time to waste, she said briskly. She turned on her heels, walking purposefully toward the main hallway.

As she passed the church secretary’s office she thought about popping in to say hello, but noticed she was on the phone. Continuing her brisk pace she glanced into the church parlor before descending the stairs. She could hear Ethel’s footfalls behind her trying to keep up.

Chapter Two

The church basement contained four Sunday school classrooms, a social hall and the kitchen. The Christmas Bazaar would be held in the classrooms. One side of the social hall would be used for the bake sale. Box lunches would be available both days. Santa would be making an appearance Saturday afternoon, something the children looked forward to each year. The annual Christmas dinner was scheduled for five o’clock on Saturday evening.

Adelaide felt a pang as memories of her late husband, Albert, surfaced with unusual clarity. Christmas was always his favorite time of year. Even though they’d both been raised in Crescent Falls, he insisted they visit the lighted falls at least twice during the season.

They add a new display every year and I know they make subtle changes to the old ones just to see if anyone notices. It takes a couple of visits to catch all of them, he’d say every time she protested that one visit was enough. Then he’d smile that impish smile, his azure blue eyes twinkling with childlike delight.

She still missed him very much. She had occasional conversations with him, which helped soothe the loneliness. Naturally she never mentioned this to anyone, especially not to her son, Daniel. As the town’s new chief of police, he had enough to worry about without thinking his mother had gone bonkers.

Voices from the stairway signaled the arrival of the other workers. While Ethel greeted them, Adelaide did a last minute check of the classrooms. The tables were all set up, thanks to members of the United Methodist Men, many of whom had come in last night or early this morning to take care of that arduous task.

Before leaving the church, Adelaide stopped by the church office to say hello to the secretary. She liked Brenda Collier, which was a good thing, since her son Daniel was dating her.

I was just about to come find you, Brenda said the minute Adelaide stepped into the small, well equipped office.

The desk was on her left, a set of file cabinets to her right. Behind the desk was a long counter. Underneath the counter were cabinets. In the corner next to the cabinets sat a heavy steel safe. Adelaide knew for a fact it was circa early 1900s. It had a combination lock with a heavy L shaped handle. The workmanship, which included intricate hand carvings along the perimeter, fascinated Adelaide. She’d always viewed it as a work of art, testimony to a bygone era when individuality was admired, not admonished.

Adelaide observed Brenda briefly while the young woman sorted the mail. Today her golden hair was tied back with a silk ribbon, accentuating the oval shape of her face. Her fair complexion and blue eyes indicated that she was a natural blonde. Is something wrong? she finally asked Brenda.

I hope not. Can you fill in for me on Tuesday? I have an appointment with Doctor Hawkins. They want to do some tests, so I might be gone all day. Getting up, she walked to the stackable trays atop the file cabinet where she began distributing the mail.

Alarm shot through Adelaide. Are you all right? You’re not sick are you?

Or pregnant? Surely not! Hopefully Daniel has better sense. Come on, you know you want grandchildren. Of course I do, but they’ve only been seeing each other for a couple of months. Wake up, Adelaide, that’s plenty of time to…Stop borrowing trouble!

Brenda smiled. No. It’s just my annual checkup. You know that can take a while. Afterward, my mother wants me to go shopping with her. I haven’t had a day off in a while.

For over twenty years Adelaide had filled in for the various church secretaries when they were ill or on vacation. She suspected a few of them had feigned doctor appointments to cover up job interviews. I’d be glad to, Adelaide said, adding, as long as you promise me you’re not job hunting!

Or pregnant!

Brenda laughed out loud. "Now that I can promise you. I’m very happy with my job here."

Adelaide felt somewhat better, but not completely at ease. Brenda seemed tense, on edge. Changing the subject, she said, How do you like the new computer system? She glanced at the machine sitting on the desk.

Under their former minister’s tenure, there had been a computer in the secretary’s office along with one in his study, but neither had connected to the Internet. Upon Reverend Underwood’s arrival a year ago, he’d immediately installed two new computers, then secured an online service provider. Now the monthly newsletter could be e-mailed to those who wished to receive it that way. According to the latest finance report, this had saved the church over five-hundred dollars in paper and printer cartridges so far. They even had their own website.

It’s a great system! It’s so quick, so easy. I wouldn’t trade it for anything, Brenda said enthusiastically. Reverend Underwood says it is saving the church lots of money.

It’s good for the environment, too. Think of how many trees we’re saving, Adelaide told her.

Brenda didn’t have a chance to reply because just then the phone rang.

Opening the door, Adelaide waved goodbye. Tuesday. I’ll mark it on my calendar.

Chapter Three

Located on the Ohio River ten miles west of Marietta, Ohio the town of Crescent Falls was blessed in numerous ways. Not only did it have the beautiful falls to attract visitors, but it was near the Wayne National Forest, so there was access to fishing and camping. All of this helped keep the town afloat in the aftermath of L&C’s abrupt closure. However, Adelaide feared it wasn’t going to be enough over the long run.

The downtown section of Crescent Falls ran east to west along Main Street between Acorn and Birch Avenues. Hawthorne Avenue, running north and south, cut it down the middle. She left the church on Acorn Avenue, walked north, then turned west on Main Street. Along the way she passed the local hair salon called Tina’s Tresses. Next to it was Brie’s Boutique. Across the street sat Dora’s Diner. Even though the exterior was like most of the brick buildings on the block, inside, its Pullman car design replicated diners of the past—booths along the outer wall, a long counter opposite.

She took in all the elaborate Christmas decorations as she walked. Holly hung in baskets from antique lamp posts. Garlands with tiny white lights glistened from doorways. Outside the savings and loan, an elaborately decorated spruce tree was strung with colored lights that glowed brightly even in daylight. Christmas music could be heard coming from speakers mounted on the sides of various buildings.

Looking straight ahead across Hawthorne Avenue, she could see Fletcher’s Real Estate, and at the next corner, Hatfield’s Insurance. Gayle’s Gifts & Flowers sat across from the real estate office. Several vacant buildings where small businesses used to be dotted the landscape. However, in keeping with the spirit of the season, the town had put lights on the outside of even those abandoned structures.

It looks so festive! I always love the way the town looks during the holidays. Plus, it’s so lively, with all the extra people visiting the falls. I know you agree, Albert. Oh, how I wish you were taking this stroll with me right now. You’d love the way the church looks, too. I’m going to make sure to get that live tree from the sanctuary. I’ll plant it in the corner of the yard where I had to take out that dead lilac bush last spring. I hated to see that bush go. We planted it shortly after we bought the house, remember? Lilacs were my mother’s favorite, your mother’s too, as I recall. My father preferred peonies; he loved the heavy, sweet aroma.

Adelaide’s father had been the local postmaster, her mother an elementary school teacher. Her husband, Albert, had owned McBride’s Pharmacy, located on the corner of Main Street and Hawthorne Avenue. She’d never even considered closing the place after Albert’s death. Why would she, when their dear friend Vernon Dexter was doing such a good job of running the business? In essence, everything was going well. In her opinion, this Christmas promised to be a joyous one in spite of some recent setbacks.

So why do I have this sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach? It’s the same way I felt the week before Albert finally died of that awful disease. A feeling of dread.

Trying to shake off the eerie sensation, she entered the pharmacy where Anne Hinderman, the sales clerk who had been with the pharmacy for over twenty years, immediately greeted her.

I wasn’t sure we’d see you today, Adelaide, what with the bazaar starting tomorrow. I can’t wait to see all the goodies! I already told Ethel to save me back one of those lap robes she knitted.

Anne was a short stocky woman with dark brown hair— thanks to Clairol—and vibrant green eyes. Divorced, with one grown son, she had a warm, helpful way about her that immediately put customers at ease.

The well-stocked pharmacy was laid out quite simply, with neat rows of products clearly labeled. Like many drug stores of the past, McBride’s had an old-fashioned soda fountain, located in the back left corner. The décor was reminiscent of the late 1950s. Local highs school students comprised the workforce. As had been the arrangement for over twenty-five years, half the proceeds went to the Crescent Falls High School Athletic Fund.

I’ve put some very good people in charge of the displays, Anne. I’m looking forward to buying one of your pecan pies, Adelaide told the woman.

I’ll bake them tonight, Anne Hinderman promised. I thought I’d drop off three tomorrow, then three on Saturday.

Excellent, Adelaide said as she continued toward the area of the store where the pharmacy was located.

As she approached the elevated counter, she spotted Vernon’s shiny balding pate. He was looking down, writing something on a pad of paper so he didn’t notice her at first. At the age of fifty-seven, he still had a youthful complexion. What was left of his hair was a smooth shade of sable brown. Even though he’d gotten a little pudgy over the past few years, he was still a nice looking man.

She, Vernon and Albert had been friends since grade school. She’d dated both of them in high school. In the end, her heart had gone to Albert. Although obviously disappointed, Vernon seemed to take it in stride. The three of them had remained good friends.

Albert’s father, Horace, who opened the pharmacy in 1939, was proud as could be when his son decided to become a pharmacist. Father and son worked together side by side until Horace succumbed to a stroke in 1989 at the age of sixty-three. It was then that Albert made a trip to Marietta, where his best friend Vernon Dexter was managing a franchised drug mart.

It didn’t take much convincing, Addy, Albert had told her upon his return that day. His big smile said it all. The next week Vernon began working at McBride’s. Albert loved telling the story of how he saved his best friend from wasting away in some cookie cutter drug store where the bottom line was more important than its customers’ needs. To say nothing of the gas money he’s saving now that he doesn’t have to commute from Crescent Falls every day!

In response, Vernon was fond of saying, I just accepted his offer as a favor to an old friend. I mean, he looked so pitiful down on bended knee begging me to help him out.

In spite of the good natured banter, Adelaide knew Vernon was as glad to be working in his hometown as Albert had been to finally have his best friend by his side.

Come on, Adelaide, you know there is more to it than that, at least where Vernon is concerned. He’s in love with you, always has been. I should be flattered to have such a fine man interested in me. But somehow I just can’t take that step. Not yet. Maybe never.

Got everything under control at the church? Vernon asked. His smile lit up an already cheerful face.

We’re as ready as we’ll ever be, she replied. She looked around. Although no customers were waiting in any of the six chairs lined up against the wall to her left, she could see he’d been busy that morning filling prescriptions, by the number of bags in the plastic bins behind him.

You say that every year, and every year things go like clockwork. They always will as long as you’re in charge, Addy.

I’m saving you one of my lemon meringue pies, she promised.

I’m counting on that.

Suddenly his expression sobered. I just filled a prescription for one of our long-time customers whose insurance has run out.

Adelaide felt her dander go up. Another ex-employee of L&C?

He nodded. That brings the total to over thirty.

Adelaide hated the way the town’s largest employer had closed up shop, leaving its employees with little notice and only thirty days’ worth of medical coverage. Many of those people couldn’t afford to continue their benefits through COBRA for very long, so they were now without insurance.

You know our policy, Vern. We still only charge the customer the three-dollar co-pay if they have it. If not, they get the medicine free.

I know. I’m not complaining about that, Addy. It’s the right thing to do. I’m just worried we won’t be able to keep this up for much longer, His brow furrowed in a frown.

We’ll find a way. The Lord provides, Vern, remember that. Even though she knew Vernon wasn’t particularly religious, she didn’t think it hurt to remind him once in a while that there was a higher power at work in the universe.

Just then Adelaide heard an all-too-familiar voice, making her inwardly cringed a little. She couldn’t decipher exactly what the woman was saying, but she heard Anne’s cheery reply cut short. Momentarily, the sound of quick, snappy footfalls announced the arrival of Zelda Jackson. The petite woman came around one of the nearby shelves, the ever-present look of pent-up tension on her face. Her dark blue eyes darted between Adelaide and Vernon as her mouth turned down in disapproval. In her late fifties, Zelda had been a widow for many years and constantly referred to her late husband in a way that made it clear she viewed his untimely demise as a personal affront to her.

Although she’d been born in nearby Rosewood, Zelda liked to claim Crescent Falls as her hometown. Once a quality control manager for L&C Precision, she was extremely bitter about the way the company treated her when it shut its doors forever.

Zelda nodded a greeting at Adelaide, then laid a prescription up on the counter. Can you get this right away, Vernon? I’m due at a Friends of the Library meeting in fifteen minutes. I need my allergy medicine.

In Crescent Falls it was said that Zelda Jackson had her finger in every pie and her eye to every keyhole. She was president of the local Friends of the Library, vice president of the Crescent Falls United Methodist Women, tour coordinator for the local historical society, as well as secretary of the Church Coalition Board, the group in charge of running the local food pantry and thrift store.

Zelda took a ragged breath then turned to Adelaide. I can barely breathe! That clerk in the front has so much perfume on it about choked me.

Besides having many vague health problems, Zelda claimed to be allergic to all perfumes, all dairy foods, all seafood, all alcohol, all citrus, peanuts and pork. Her medications were varied, of course, which kept her coming into the pharmacy on a regular basis.

I didn’t smell anything as I passed by, Adelaide replied.

Zelda glared at her. I’m very sensitive to such things, everyone knows that.

Adelaide bit her tongue so she wouldn’t say anything unkind.

Zelda went to one of the chairs and sat down with a groan. I thought you’d be at church all day. I was just over there. It looks like there is still plenty to do.

Everything is moving along just fine, Zelda. Thanks for your concern, though, Adelaide said with a smile. When are you scheduled to work?

Zelda’s eyes narrowed a little. Tomorrow in the kitchen, fixing the box lunches. I’ll also be there on Saturday all day wherever I’m needed.

Adelaide knew from past experience that Zelda loved to over-extend herself so she could later complain about being overburdened.

Zelda folded her hands in her lap. I just saw Harold Purcell headed this way, but he ducked into the diner first. I suppose he’s still making a fool of himself over Dora. Nancy hasn’t been dead a year and he’s already on the prowl. Her eyes gleamed with malice as she curled her lips up in a disdainful sneer.

Harold’s wife of forty years had died of lung cancer nine months ago. Adelaide doubted very much if the stoic funeral home director was already looking for a replacement. More than likely he was just after some good home cooking, which was what Dora served at her diner.

Adelaide knew that Zelda’s scathing comment had less to do with Harold observing a proper period of mourning than it did with a personal vendetta. The animosity between the two was well known. When Zelda’s husband, Edward, died of a heart attack, she’d accused the funeral home of doing an inadequate job of embalming. She told anyone who would listen that the embalmer had used watered down solution, which made Edward’s remains turn dark before the service was even over. Later it was discovered that the fault lay with the manufacturer of the solution. Batches of that lot number had been recalled statewide. Regardless of that, Zelda continued to blame Harold. To this day she barely spoke to him in public.

Maybe he was just hungry, Zelda. Today is Thursday, so meatloaf is the special. Harold loves meatloaf, Adelaide suggested.

Zelda huffed. I’ve seen the way he moons over Dora. Believe me, it has nothing to do with her cooking. I know what I’d tell him if he ever acted like that around me.

All set, Zelda. Here’s your prescription, Vernon called. He caught Adelaide’s eye, giving her a wink. His expression seemed to say, Don’t lose your cool.

Turning to go, Adelaide almost ran into Harold Purcell as he approached the counter. His eyes flickered toward Zelda then away. He smiled down warmly at Adelaide. He was a tall, lanky man with neatly trimmed gray hair. His soft brown eyes were kind, his manner gentle.

I was going to call you later, Harold. The men are going to start setting up the tables in the social hall at five this afternoon, Adelaide told him.

I’ll be there, he vowed. He watched as Zelda hurried away, heading toward the cashier’s counter in the front. He sighed heavily, shaking his head. That woman certainly knows how to bear a grudge, doesn’t she?

Adelaide watched until Zelda was out of sight then said, Everyone knows it wasn’t your fault, Harold. How was the meatloaf?

Harold smiled. Delicious, as always. Dora wasn’t there, though. Seems she had a dentist appointment.

Adelaide didn’t miss the disappointment in his tone, or the sadness in his eyes. Harold was a precise man who’d turned the funeral home his grandfather opened in 1914 into an extremely profitable business. Harold had also been town mayor from 1994 to 1998. He remained on town council and almost every citizen in Crescent Falls held him in high esteem.

How is James doing? Adelaide asked referring to Harold’s son who lived in Columbus. She knew that one of the great disappointments in his life was when his son told him he would not be returning to Crescent Falls to help run the family business. Instead, James opted to become a doctor. On the bright side, however, Harold’s daughter, Ruth, now worked with her father.

He’s expanding his practice, which means he has little time for anything else. I’ll tell you, Adelaide, I don’t think I’m ever going to have grandchildren. James is still unmarried. Ruth won’t even date. He sighed again.

Just hold good thoughts, Harold. All things come about in their own time.

Harold nodded. I hope so. By the way, since you’re here, let me give you this. He dug into his coat pocket, taking out a folded piece of paper, which he handed to her.

Adelaide nearly gasped when she realized it was a very generous check. I don’t understand, Harold. She held up the check for Vernon to see.

I know what you’ve been doing—letting people who have no insurance have their medicine for free or for the co-pay. I want you to put this toward the fund.

Adelaide felt a lump form in her throat. I don’t know what to say, Harold.

Vernon chuckled. That will be the day.

Harold put a prescription on the counter. Just don’t tell anyone I gave that check to you. I don’t want it spread around, all right?

Adelaide nodded. Vernon nodded. Harold said, I’ll be back for my pills later.

As Adelaide left the pharmacy moments later with the check in her purse, she thought the funeral home business must be very profitable indeed if the amount of Harold’s donation was any indication.

Chapter Four

On Thursday afternoon, Chief of Police Daniel McBride was cloistered in his office just off the squad room, hoping to catch up on some paperwork he’d been putting off for about a week. Upstairs, the two jail cells were empty. Courtroom A was reserved for Mayor’s Court, which was held each Wednesday evening to handle traffic violations and other misdemeanors. Common Pleas/criminal cases were heard by a circuit court judge in Courtroom B or transferred to Marietta. Crime always seemed to increase during the holidays.

In the six months he’d been the town’s chief of police, he’d encountered his share of controversy. Many citizens expressed the opinion that he was too young for the job. I’m thirty-two, how is that too young? I have nine years on the force. Small town politics. I’ll never get used to it.

The city council vote had been close. He could still recall that night, as they sat in the town council chambers right across the hall. In his mind, Daniel ticked off who’d been for him and who’d been against him during that heated meeting. He knew for a fact that Harold Purcell, Vernon Dexter and local insurance agency owner Jerry Hatfield had voted to hire him. All three men were friends with his mother, so that explained their vote, he supposed.

On the other side of the aisle, so to speak, Marty Castro, proprietor of the local pub, Dora Carmody, the owner of the diner, and Lloyd Fletcher, a local real estate broker had voted nay. That had left the deciding vote up to the mayor, Carl Henshaw. So, did you vote to hire me because of your friendship with my mother? Daniel had asked Carl after the meeting in the mayor’s office, which was tucked in the back corner of the building. Carl had just patted him on the shoulder and smiled, but made no comment. On his way out that evening, Daniel noticed a small group of people cloistered in the public meeting room next to the council chambers. Unfortunately he was too far away to hear what they were saying.

Looking up from the files in front of him, Daniel stared out the large picture window that served as part of his office wall. In the squad room, Sergeant Ray Butler, a tall man with finely chiseled features, was just settling behind his gunmetal gray desk. Of all his officers, he trusted Ray the most. In truth, he’d