Chapter 20 #2
“Can we get back to why we’re all here in the first place?” Shouting above the congratulations, I slap my hands together like I’m rounding up a group of kindergartners. “I have a lot of problems with you people and now you’re all going to hear about it. Elliot… take the floor.”
Eager to change the topic, Elliot begins pacing in somber silence. His deliberate movements quiet the guests, drumming up a collective intake of anticipation.
“All of you have ample opportunity to defecate under Holly’s tree,” he begins, “but do you have the motive?” He pauses, watching the guests’ reaction.
Eyes shift suspiciously toward each other.
Manny wipes his sweaty brow with the end of his scarf.
Uncle Tony pops open a can of beer.
Paige disappears into her baggy beige sweater.
Elliot resumes pacing. “What about you, Jen?”
Jen squares her shoulders. “What about me?”
“As Holly pointed out, you’re the most defensive one here. Perhaps it’s you who took a shit under her tree?”
Jen snorts. “Perhaps she took a dump under her own tree.”
“So you’ve been saying all night.” Coming toward her, Elliot looms over her shoulder. “Trying to throw the scent off yourself, perhaps?”
Bundling up her hair into a sloppy ponytail, Jen says. “Go sniff up some other sap. I didn’t shit under her tree.”
“You have no sympathy for your sister, do you? Holly gets all the attention. And what do you get? Her hand-me-down clothes? Her hand-me-down…” He looks pointedly at Brian.
“Wouldn’t it be nice to ruffle Little Miss Perfect’s feathers?
When you found out someone took a shit under her tree, your reaction can only be described as glee. ”
“I was upset,” Jen insists, not sounding the least bit upset.
“Her situation delights you, doesn’t it? Your sister… finding three lumps of coal. Except it’s not coal, is it? Not by a long shot… Imagine the horror Holly must’ve felt when she crouched down to examine—”
Jen clasps a hand over her mouth, suppressing a giggle.
Elliot glares at her. “You think this is funny?”
“N-no,” Jen hiccups.
“Imagine Holly discovering three spiteful stinky turds under her Christmas tree? Freaking out as only your sister could…”
Jen sinks her nails into her denim clad thigh. “I-I feel very sorry for her,” she says, mashing her lips together.
Elliot turns to me. “Tell her what you did when you discovered the turds.”
I raise my chin, gathering my last shreds of dignity. “I ran around screaming.”
Elliot nods. “Like a chicken with her head cut off,” he says, watching my sister’s reaction.
The image punctures Jen’s decorum. A snicker escapes, followed by a squeal, capped off by a peal of mean-spirited laughter. My sister transforms into a malicious little hyena, stomping her foot and clutching her belly.
“Jennifer!” My mom whacks her on the thigh. “It’s not funny!”
“It kind of is,” Jen says, wiping the tears from her eyes.
I sink back in my seat, fuming. “That’s right. Laugh it up. You did it.”
Collecting herself, Jen sinks back into the cushions. “I shit you not.” She chokes on another giggle, reveling in her pun. “It wasn’t me. I was in the bathroom all night shitting in an actual toilet.”
“And why was that?” Elliot halts behind Paige, who shrinks into her seat at his approach. “Was it because a certain barista made your latte with whole milk?”
Everyone turns to the mousy woman cowering in the corner.
“Paige?” Jen frowns. “You know I’m lactose intolerant, right? I thought it was the sweet potato casserole!”
Paige’s bottom lip trembles. “I made you an oat milk latte.”
“How would you know?” Holding up a finger, Elliot heads toward my coffee bar. He kneels down and yanks open the cabinet. “All these bottles look the same. How can you tell the difference between oat milk and whole milk? There are no labels…” He turns to me. “Why don’t you allow labels?”
“Because they don’t go with my um… my decor.” I clear my throat. Saying this aloud makes me sound shallow. “Why are we talking about me? This is not about me… it’s about Paige’s milk disaster.”
“Ah,” Elliot gets to his feet and hovers like a specter over Paige’s shoulder, “but it is about you. All about Holly, wouldn’t you agree… Paige?”
Paige lowers her head, gulps.
“Don’t you think it’s bothersome,” Elliot asks, “having to decant milk into uniformed plastic containers every day at your own cafe? You’re the owner… why can’t you make the executive decision and just use the milk as is? Why is your cafe painted yellow when your favorite color is blue?”
Paige lifts her head. Her gaze lands on me. I’m blindsided by her expression. Instead of a compassionate friend, I was looking at a stranger… an embittered employee, to be exact.
“Why don’t you ask the real owner of The Honey Latte Lounge?” she spits out.
All eyes turn to me.
“You own the cafe?” my mom asks me.
“Hmph!” Aunt Cherry sniffs. “So you can afford to loan Tony money after all, Miss Fancy Cafe Owner.”
I glare at Elliot, displeased by where he’s taking this interrogation. I thought he was supposed to be on my side. “I don’t ‘own’ the cafe.” I square my shoulders. “Paige owns the cafe.”
“But you fund it,” Elliot says. “You fund most of it. And she who holds the purse strings picks out the paint swatches and the aesthetic milk jugs…”
“You don’t enjoy being controlled by Holly, do you?” Mayor Thornberry asks Paige. “Imagine if she becomes mayor. Do you want her holding the purse strings of Mapledale?”
“I object!” I’m about to set Grizzy down and personally boot Mayor Scumbag from my home.
“Funneling money into your friend’s cafe,” Ivan shakes his head, “sounds suspicious to me.”
“What are you implying, Ivan?” I ask.
The mayor coughs into his fist. “Money laundering.”
My eyes widen. “YOU—”
Elliot motions for me to simmer down. “The unfortunate truth is,” he says to me, “you’re not liked in this town.”
“Tell me about it,” I mutter.
“Some may say you’re actually hated…” he leans against the mantle, “hated for being yourself, which some people find exceptionally irritating.”
I glance down at my clasped hands. “Yeah, this is doing wonders for my self-esteem.”
Elliot addresses the suspects. “I admit. Holly is no picnic. She’s egotistical and smug.
She’s obsessed with winning and slightly shallow.
Holly’s even a bit of a narcissist, delusional in her belief that everyone must love her.
She can’t sing worth a damn, but she keeps trying when she should stop. ”
“Couldn’t have put it better myself,” Ivan mutters.
“Preach!” Jen claps, only to have her hand slapped down by our mother.
“Maybe you should stop defending me, Elliot,” I grumble.
“I don’t think she’s that bad,” Manny says. “You could ease up on the online orders though…”
Dennis shoots me what could only be described as a ’sexual look.’ “I still like you, Holly.”
“You’re not perfect,” Elliot continues, his face softening, “but you are also kind and forgiving. And thoughtful…” He slips something out of his pocket and flips it in the air like a coin. It glitters under the lamplight. Amber. He kept the amber!
“You don’t deserve to find shit under your tree. Or your basement. You don’t deserve to be pelted by balls. And yet someone has taken it upon themselves to terrorize you during the holidays.” His gaze—warm, strong, grounding—finds mine. “I will not stand for it. I will find you justice.”
“I have my carpet cleaning bill ready.” I’m on the edge of my seat. “Tell me who did it.”
“Alright, let me make this short and sweet or we’ll be here for hours.
” He jams his hands in his pockets. “Holly hired me to catch a shitter.” He turns around the room, sizing up every guilty face.
“Every one here has plausible motive to defecate under her tree. And her basement. Some motives,” he paces by Jen, then looms behind Paige, “are stronger than others. While one person seems to have one hell of a vendetta against Holly,” he glares at Mayor Thornberry, “there is only one person who took a shit under her tree.” He turns his back to the guests and looks straight at me.
I suck in my breath, hanging on his every word. Here it is. The moment of truth.
“Ms. Lo,” Elliot begins, “after careful consideration, I give you the perp…” He whirls around, scanning every single face, and then he’s on the move.
I gasp as I see him step toward Aunt Cherry.
My aunt is equally shocked that he’s coming for her and then, as if steered by an afterthought, Elliot pauses, steps to the left and slams his hand down on Uncle Tony’s shoulder. “YOU!”