“Tell me about it.” Emmie sighed. “I think a lot of them are animal hoarders masquerading as do-gooders. You should join the committee.” She grabbed my hand. “We need—”
“Some fresh blood?”
She stuck her tongue out at me. “We need some sane people. Just me and Cora are the only ones.”
“Rosie seems fine.”
Emmie snatched her hand away.
I grabbed it again. “Someone’s jealous.”
“You’re just my lawyer. You can go on a date with Rosie. I won’t stop you.”
I didn’t let her tug away, just pulled her closer. It was nice to walk with a pretty girl in the snow. There was something wholesome about it.
“Rosie’s not my type.”
“You mean you don’t like girls with big boobs and mouths that look like candy wrapped around your cock?” she asked bitterly.
“What the fuck?” I stopped abruptly, turning her around to face me.
“That’s what Brooks always said.”
“About Rosie?” I was taken aback. “He said that to you?”
“He was trying to convince me to get a boob job.”
“You don’t need…” I changed the subject and stared straight ahead so I didn’t stare down at her chest. “The guy’s dead, Emmie. You need to get him out of your head.”
“It’s too late,” she forced out. “I think he’s ruined me.”
“I don’t think so.”
“Maybe I just need to solve the mystery and finally get closure.” She pulled out the bracelet.
“This doesn’t look like something from a typical jewelry store. I bet Brooks had a craftsman make it.”
“So you’re just going to ask every random jeweler?” I asked.
“Sure. Someone will know who did make it.”
That kicked off a scavenger hunt through the Christmas market, from jeweler to custom jeweler. Finally, one located too close for comfort to the stall I was trying to avoid, looked at the bracelet with recognition.
“You made this?” I asked, incredulous, as I took in the messy piles of beads and gold wire in the stall.
“Oh no, not this one. This is a high-end piece!” the older woman exclaimed.
“Do you know who made it?” Emmie perked up.
“No, but”—she handed the bracelet back—“the girl will be so happy you found it.” She chatted as she rifled through her stash. “She was such a nice girl, didn’t have much money but had lost her favorite bracelet. I said I’d see what I could do. I didn’t have much to go off of.” The jeweler held up a bad copy of the bracelet Emmie had found. “She’ll be so glad that you found the actual one.”
“What was the girl’s name?” I asked. “Was it Oakley?”
“Oh no. It was a plant name, though. I have it somewhere. Somewhere!” she sang, disappearing under the table, then came out with a scrap of paper.
“A-ha! Rosie was the girl.”
11
