The Snow White Christmas Cookie

“Look, you just shut up,” Casey shot back. “You don’t know anything about Josie and me.”

“So school me.”

“It’s none of your damned business.”

“Actually, it is my business, Casey. Bryce Peck took his own life this morning, but Josie wouldn’t stay home to mourn his loss. She told me she had a client who needed her. That client would seem to be you.”

He blinked at her in shock. “I–I didn’t know. She didn’t say a word.”

“Pretty good deal for you. The field’s clear now.”

“Field?” He shook his mop top at her. “What field?”

“We’re all adults here. If you and Josie have been getting busy behind Bryce’s back that’s your business. And if you two like it rough, well, so be it. Not my thing at all, let me tell you. Any man used his fists on me he’d be picking his teeth up out of the carpet for a week. Josie’s had a real bad morning. She’s upset. She’s vulnerable. I’m wondering if I should be worried about her. You know her a lot better than I do. What do you think?”

Casey considered his answer carefully. “I think she’ll be fine. I’ll take care of her. I–I love her.”

“Have you told her that?”

“Not exactly, but she knows how I feel. I mean, she must know.”

“And what about Gigi Garanski? I hear you date her.”

He let out a derisive snort. “You don’t ‘date’ Gigi.”

“Just use her for sex, you mean?”

“I’m not the only one who does,” he said defensively. “But it’s Josie who I want to be with. Josie’s … She’s wonderful.”

Des studied this man-boy curiously. He was definitely bizarre, but what flavor of bizarre? Harmless or the other kind? “Okay, Casey. Thanks for your insight. I appreciate it.” She hopped out and found Madge and Mary jawing in the snow with a couple of firefighters. “Is he okay to drive home?”

“I don’t see why not,” Madge replied. “Assuming he can dig out his car.”

“Casey’s a real catch, isn’t he?” Mary said. “It’s a shame he doesn’t find himself a nice girl.”

Des looked over at Josie Cantro, who was still sitting in the front seat of the Crown Vic nursing her swollen eye. “The boy’s way ahead of you, Mary. He thinks he has.”

Dorset’s Post Office was located in a squat, brick-faced building that was plunked down all by itself in the same shopping center that was home to the A amp;P and to the local branch of First Niagara Bank, which had formerly been the local branch of New Alliance Bank and before that New Haven Savings Bank. Des thought that a side from the flagpole out front, the Post Office bore a remarkable resemblance to a Friendly’s family restaurant.

She parked her cruiser out front and strode inside, allowing herself a sigh. She’d already seen a week’s worth of action and it wasn’t even 11:00 A.M. Days like this required stamina. Not the physical kind, which she had in abundance. The emotional kind. If she wasn’t careful she could lose her patience with people. The public didn’t care for snappish behavior from its sworn personnel. Especially sworn personnel who happened to be women of color.

There was a mud rug on the floor just inside the door of the vestibule. Flyers were tacked to a bulletin board there for the upcoming Dorset High production of Fiddler on the Roof. Inside the lobby, which was painted pea-soup green, a tinny sound system was playing Christmas carols. Tinsel was draped here, there, everywhere. But thanks to the blizzard there wasn’t the usual crush of holiday customers waiting in line to send off presents. No customers waiting in line, period. There wasn’t even anyone behind the counter. Billie, the counter clerk, had left a hand-lettered sign there that read, “I’m out back. Holler.”

Des didn’t have to holler. The postmaster’s office had a window that overlooked the parking lot. Paulette came right out of her office to escort Des in. The village’s mail carriers hadn’t left on their routes yet. Des could hear them out in back, joking with each other while they finished their sorting.

“Casey just phoned me,” Paulette stated stiffly as she led Des into her small, spare office. There was a desk. There was a safe that was almost as big as the desk. There were no personal flourishes of any kind. No photos or Christmas cards. No invitation to sit down, either. “He was extremely upset. It seems he’s had quite an ordeal.”

“He has indeed. He got a cut on his head but he’s okay.”

“Did I hear him right? Kylie slammed her car into Josie’s office?”

“I’m afraid so.”

“Tina and Lem have had nothing but trouble with that little airhead. She’s so irresponsible.” Paulette raised her chin at Des. “Casey told me you were extremely abrupt with him.”

“I’m sorry if he felt that way, but it was an emergency situation. Kylie suffered a serious injury. The building was in danger of collapsing. I had no time for kid gloves.”

Paulette studied Des, her eyes crinkling. “And you had a job to do. I understand. Casey can be a bit thin- skinned sometimes. Hank thinks I babied him too much. He has trouble sticking to things. Gives up too easily when someone says no to him. And then gets all down on himself. I’m hoping Josie can help him find some direction. She sure worked wonders with Hank. Hank was a heavy smoker for thirty years. He quit when his doctor warned him that he was in the early stages of emphysema. But then he had some personal setbacks and before we knew it he was reaching for the nearest Marlboro. Josie helped him kick the habit again. Hank thinks she’s a miracle worker. Mind you, we knew Casey would flat-out reject the idea. So we had to be a bit devious. Josie arranged to ‘accidentally’ bump into him at the flu clinic back in October. He’s been seeing her ever since.”

“And do you think she’s helping him?”

“Damned if I know. He seems a bit more confident, but it hasn’t translated into any concrete changes. He hasn’t moved out of the basement. He hasn’t taken charge of his life. We’ll see. These things don’t happen overnight.” Paulette bit down hard on her lower lip, studying Des once more. “Did you come here to tell me about Casey?”

“Actually, I’d like to speak with Hank.”

“Absolutely. I believe he’s still here. Shall I?…”

“That’s okay, I’ll find him.”

Hank and the others were at their workstations loading bundles of mail and parcels into big rolling carts. A ton of parcels. Big boxes, the kind that Christmas toys come in. Small boxes, the kind that books and DVDs come in. And a whole lot of those bubble-wrapped pouches that prescription meds come in. The carriers were a casually dressed group of four women and six men. The standard outfit appeared to be fleece tops, jeans and snow boots. Most of them appeared to be in their thirties and forties. Hank was the oldest of the group. They were an upbeat bunch. Chatting and laughing with each other. If there was tension in the room Des wasn’t sensing it-until they caught sight of her approaching them. The uniform had that effect on people. Especially when something nasty was going down. Clearly, they all knew about the grinch because they got real quiet.

“Morning, Hank. Have you got a minute to talk?”

“Sure thing, Des,” he said easily.

The others decided that now would be a really good time to start rolling their carts toward the loading dock.

“You seem to have a lot of parcels today,” Des observed.

“That’s pretty much all that we have. The seven A.M. truck made it here from Norwich with our parcels and our flats but then they had to-”

“I’m sorry, ‘flats’ are?…”

“That’s what we call our catalogues and junk mail,” he explained. “Usually, a second truck shows up at 8:30 with our machine-sorted letters, but the governor had closed the highway by then.” Hank fished a package of Nicorette gum from the pocket of his fleece top and popped a piece in his mouth, going to work on it with his crooked yellow teeth. “That was sad news about Bryce Peck. How’s Josie holding up?”

“It hasn’t been one of her better mornings. I understand it was your idea to put her together with Casey.”

He shot a wary glance in the direction of Paulette’s office, lowering his voice. “Believe me, that kid needs help. He’s in a deep hole.”