Chapter 11
Eleven
“That’s a lot of packages,” Elliot comments as Manny loads the second dolly into my store.
Manny jogs from the counter where he dropped off the boxes to the backroom, making a total of four trips.
He’s a blur of tanned, sinewy limbs powered by kinetic energy…
lifting, heaving, stacking package after package into a formidable tower.
“Are those all for her?” Elliot asks.
I glare at Elliot. Stop playing dumb. “Of course they’re all for me,” I say. “It’s coming into my store.”
“There should be another delivery coming in the afternoon.” Manny hands me his tracker for a signature.
“More packages?” Elliot arches an eyebrow. “I thought you made your own candles…”
“Do you think candles grow from trees? Candle making requires wax, scented oils, pots, wick holders… it’s a whole process.”
Elliot circles my stack of deliveries. “Why don’t you have a seat,” he says, ushering Manny to the stool behind the counter. “You must be exhausted seeing as you just moved a tower of boxes. Would you like some water? That is, unless we’re keeping you…”
“To tell you the truth, it’s almost break time anyway,” Manny says, swiping his sweaty forehead on his shoulder. “Holly’s store begins and ends my day.”
“She keeps you busy?” Eyeing me, Elliot leans his weight on the counter. “All these packages…” He whistles. “The deliveries must amp up around the holidays.”
“You don’t know the half of it, man. And this is just Monday morning. I deliver every day of the week and sometimes on Saturdays. Then there’s the outgoing packages.”
“Outgoing packages?” Elliot turns toward me.
I nod to the huge pile in the outgoing mail bin. “I also ship online orders to customers across the country,” I say, handing Manny a chilled bottle from my mini fridge.
Manny guzzles his water and crushes the bottle. “Holly’s our best customer. Our most frequent customer,” he adds with a laugh, “I always look forward to coming to her store.”
“Thank you, Manny,” I say.
He’s all smiles and genuine good humor. Naturally, Elliot can’t swallow an innocent friendship of any kind. “Why?”
Manny is taken aback. “What do you mean ‘why’?”
“Why do you look forward to coming to her store?”
“Well…” Manny clears his throat. “She’s nice and always has freshly baked cookies. And coffee.”
“So she feeds you?”
“That’s right.”
“Nothing else?” Elliot asks.
I take a deep breath. I see where he’s getting at with this and I don’t like the implication. “Manny and I are just friends.”
“Yeah, man.” Manny glances between the two of us and gulps. “I heard about you two hooking up from Paige.” He holds up his palms. “Holly and I are friends, okay? I’m not trying to get with your girl.”
“It’s okay, Manny,” I pat him on the shoulder and lower my voice. “Elliot’s the jealous type, very possessive. Didn’t find that out until we got together, but now I’m rethinking the whole thing.”
Manny nods and whispers. “Maybe it is time to reassess the whole relationship, you know… We all make mistakes. If you ever need someone to talk to, I deliver to the women’s shelter and—”
“Packages,” Elliot interrupts. “So many packages.”
Manny turns to me. “Why is he so obsessed with packages?”
I shrug. “He’s a little crazy, but that’s what makes him so exciting.”
“Girl…” Manny shakes his head. “You’re self-destructive.”
“Doesn’t it annoy you,” Elliot comes toward us, “the sheer amount of packages that come and go from this shop?”
Manny frowns. “How do you mean?”
“Holly inundates you with packages. You deliver packages. She has packages for you. The cycle never stops. Packages. Every morning. Most afternoons. Every day. Sometimes on Saturdays. And now… the holidays.” Elliot leans forward, a prosecutor badgering a witness on the stand.
“Doesn’t it exhaust you? The ebb and flow of packages? ”
Manny tugs on his collar. “To tell you the truth, it gets pretty overwhelming during the holidays.”
“And yet, the packages never stop, do they?”
“No.” Manny shakes his head. “No, they don’t. Truth be told,” he sneaks an apologetic glance at me, “I wish everybody would stop ordering stuff online. I mean, how much stuff does one need?”
“I need a lot of wicks,” I say, sheepishly. “The candles—”
“How many candles does one need?” Manny mutters beneath his breath. “I mean, we have electricity now…”
“It’s not about lighting,” I step in, “it’s about ambiance!” I whirl on Elliot, furious that he’s managed to turn sweet, gentle Manny against me.
“I dream about boxes…” Manny stares at a groove on the floor, his leg shaking uncontrollably. “A mountain as high as Everest. Box after box, toppling over, crushing me… I can’t breathe.” He gasps for air. “Can’t breathe…”
“It’s okay, man,” Elliot clasps a hand on Manny’s shoulder, “Ride it out. Ride it out…”
I clasp a hand over my chest. “I didn’t know you were under so much pressure.”
Manny does a full body shake. “I don’t know what came over me,” he says. “I really don’t mind delivering packages.”
“Burnout happens to us all,” Elliot says. “But you and Holly,” he wags a finger between us, “friends, yeah? We were just talking about her Thanksgiving party…”
“That was a great party,” Manny says to me. “Never had turkey that tender.”
“Manny’s plans got cancelled,” I add, “and there’s plenty of food to go around at my place.”
“As I’m sure you heard…” Elliot circles Manny. “Holly and I are in love—”
I lift my head up. “We are?” That’s the first I heard of it.
Elliot tilts his head to the side, considering. “I think so.”
Manny’s eyes dart between us. I can read his thoughts. This is the strangest relationship I’ve ever seen. “Paige told me.”
“Ah yes,” Elliot strokes his chin. “Paige…”
“Holly was trying to set us up,” Manny adds. “We’re going out for drinks on Friday.”
My eyes widen in surprise. “You are? Manny, you sly dog…” I swat him on the arm. “No wonder you spend so much time at the cafe.”
“I’m happy for you, too,” Elliot mutters. “What else did Paige tell you?”
“That…” Manny ducks his head, embarrassed. “Someone left an unwelcomed present under your tree. Holly… Ugh. That’s all kinds of messed up. Any idea who did it?”
“No.” I bite my bottom lip. “We were hoping you might have seen something.”
Manny rubs the back of his neck. “Sorry. Wish I can help, but after two helpings of turkey and three glasses of wine,” he snaps his fingers, “I was out like a light.”
Elliot jots down the details in his notebook. “You were asleep during the entire party?”
“It’s true,” I jump in. “Every time I checked in on the guests, Manny was snoring on the couch.”
“The couch,” Elliot glances up from his notes, “right next to the tree.”
“Who do you think did it?” Manny asks me.
“I don’t know, Manny,” Elliot interrupts, “who do you think did it?”
“Except for Holly and Paige,” Manny says, “I don’t know everyone too well. Your cousin Victor though,” he shakes his head, “he might have done it.”
“Victor?” I startle. “Why Victor?”
Manny grimaces. “I sat next to him during dinner. He’s starting some crypto company or something.
Sounded shady as hell. Kept trying to talk me into investing.
I’m like ‘Nah, man… I’m just a delivery man.
I don’t have the cash. I’m just trying to pay my rent.
’ And he’s like, ‘It’s an exclusive opportunity.
I’m not sharing it with just anyone. Give me five years and I guarantee you’ll be retired on a beach in Cabo, two girls in each arm.
’ And I’m like ‘Nah, bro. I’m cool.’ And that got him angry.
He’s like, ‘Fine. Stay poor. See if I care.’ I thought that was it, but the next moment, he’s going on about crypto again. ”
Manny turns to me apologetically. “He wouldn’t leave me alone. That’s probably why I drank that extra glass of wine.”
I rub the spot between my brow. “I’m sorry about Victor. He’s such a loser. Thank God you didn’t give him any money.”
“Why’d you invite him?” Elliot asks.
I heave a sigh. “He’s family. Aunt Cherry’s son. My mom insisted. But if it were up to me, I would never invite him or Ivy. She’s just as bad as Victor. Their kids are the cutest, though. So we suffer the parents to see the kids.”
“Did he ever try to get you to invest?” Elliot asks me.
“Every six months or so,” I roll my eyes, “when he has a new business. If it’s not him, it’s Ivy’s herbal supplement company or her beige legging company. That’s why I hid in the kitchen all night.”
“I’m glad I fell asleep,” Manny says, “so he wouldn’t bother me anymore.”
“I’m so sorry.” I felt terrible that Victor ruined Manny’s Thanksgiving.
But did Victor ruin my Thanksgiving?
“Manny,” Elliot yanks out his phone. “This is photographic evidence of what Holly found under her tree.”
Manny squints at the picture. “May I?”
“By all means,” Elliot says.
Manny pinches the screen, enlarges it. “Ugh.”
“‘Ugh’ is right,” Elliot says. “You seem like a nice guy, but I have to ask: Did you do it?”
Elliot’s question almost topples Manny from the stool.
“What?!”
“Did you or did you not take a shit on Holly’s floor?” Elliot asks, unfazed by Manny’s reaction.
“No!”
Elliot picks up one of the cardboard boxes from the tower.
“Look at this. A package. So many packages. Every day. The deliveries never stop. Holly is the source of your nightmares. Maybe she’s even the source of your resentment.
On the night of November 24th, 6:03 pm, haunted by another dreadful prospect of being a UPS man during Christmas, you took to the drink and cracked… ”
“No.” Manny covers his ears.
“You wanted vengeance on the source of your torture… There she is,” he tosses the package to me, “Holly-Overnight-Shipping-Lo. So when no one was looking, you dropped your shorts and squatted…”
“I didn’t do it!” Manny jumps to his feet and whirls on me. “What’s with this guy? Is he some kind of cop?”
“Worse.” I shake my head. “He’s an insurance fraud investigator.”
“He’s crazy is what he is,” Manny says, scrambling for his stuff. “Breaks done. I’m leaving. I didn’t shit on your floor, Holly. You want proof?” Manny whips out his phone and pulls up his photos.
Unbeknownst to me, he’s taken a ton of photos during the party. Mostly of the food and the cornucopia, but then we have a few snapshots of the living room:
Paige at the coffee bar.
Many photos of Manny, just as he described, on the couch… fast asleep.
Despite the direness of the situation, I squash a giggle at the sight of Manny’s slumbering face.
“The photos of me were taken by Paige,” Manny explains. “She liked my ‘stupid sleep face’ and was going to blow it up as a poster. But here… Look at the time stamp.”
“6:03,” Elliot reads sounding slightly disappointed.
“I told you I was asleep all night.”
“We didn’t think you actually did it, Manny,” I assure him. “Elliot’s just enraged by what’s happened to me.” I level Elliot with a ‘see-what-you-did’ glare. “He’s very protective of me.”
Manny nods in understanding, his mouth a grim line of judgement.
Now that he and Paige were on the “stupid sleep face” snapshot level of their relationship, I expect them to swap interrogation stories by nightfall.
Next thing I know, I’ll get a text from Paige: “Your new boyfriend is intense. Maybe you should slow it down with this one…”
I really know how to pick ‘em.
“Can you send these photos to me?” I walk Manny to the door.
“Done and done.” Stepping outside, Manny turns around and lowers his voice. “Your new boyfriend is intense. Maybe you should slow it down with this one…”
Alone, I pull up the photos on my phone and study the crime scene prior to the crime.
Elliot’s by my side, glowering down at the evidence.
Manny, dead to the world and drooling on the couch.
Uncle Tony sits beside him, a beer resting on his belly, drowsily watching the football game.
Victor and Ivy are nowhere to be found, but their kids, Tristan and Chloe, are huddled at the foot of the couch, each engrossed in their Nintendo Switches.
Paige is working the coffee bar, her back turned.
“I was in the kitchen, putting away food with my mom and Aunt Cherry.”
“Your sister’s in the bathroom,” Elliot says. “That leaves Brian the ex, Mayor Thornberry, and this…” he pulls up his notebook and flips to the suspect list, “Dennis, the blind date.” Elliot scrubs a hand over his face. “Why do you have to know so many people?”
Ignoring him, I tap on the final picture of the lot. It’s the same photo of Manny’s ‘Stupid Sleep Face’ but from a different vantage point. This one offers us a Dutch angle of the Christmas tree, but sadly, nothing visually interesting or incriminating.
I’m about to swipe back to the beginning, but Elliot elbows me gently. “Go back to the last photo,” he says.
I swipe backward.
“There, behind the tree. In the nook.” He squints. “Enhance it.”
I enlarge the photo.
There isn’t much to see except a triangle of blue between the Christmas tree and the window.
I frown, squinting at the photo. “Are you seeing what I’m seeing?”
Elliot sucks in his breath. “An elbow…”
We both turn to each other. “An elbow in a blue sweater!”