“Good news from the hospital,” he said. “Both nut jobs will live to stand trial.”
“That’s good,” the chief said.
“What now?” I asked.
“Now?” The chief looked startled. “Go home and get some sleep.”
“I need to start doing something about that room as soon as you release it,” I said.
“Meg,” Michael began.
“I can’t let Mother see it like that,” I said. “Chief, promise me you won’t let Mother in until we clean it up a little bit.”
“As soon as the chief releases it, I’ll be here with my crew,” Randall said. “I’ll bring in as many cousins as it takes, and she won’t see it like this.”
“I’ll send a deputy over to your parents’ at first light, to break the news to her,” the chief said. “And I won’t let your mother into the crime scene until you’re back to help her cope. But for now, you need to get some rest.”
“I won’t sleep a wink,” I muttered to Michael as we walked out to the Twinmobile.
“Just close your eyes and rest then,” he said.
I slept so soundly he almost couldn’t wake me up when we got home.
And woke up well before dawn, already worrying.
Chapter 26
December 23
“It’s not even seven,” Michael mumbled as he watched me pull on my clothes.
“I have to get over there before Mother sees her room.” I raced downstairs and into the kitchen to grab something to eat.
Michael followed me.
“And I need to figure out how to fix it,” I said over my shoulder as I stuck a cup of water with a tea bag in it into the microwave.
“You’ve got Randall and his workmen,” he said. “They can fix most of the damage.”
“They can fix the walls and the woodwork.” I rummaged through the fridge for a yogurt. “But I’m pretty sure they can’t sew or do upholstery.”
“You go over to the show house and help your mother through the shock of seeing the room,” he said. “I think I can find you a few people to do a bit of sewing. Leave it to me.”
“Thanks,” I said. And then the microwave dinged, so I snagged my tea and the yogurt and dashed out the door.
There weren’t quite as many police vehicles at the house when I got there. Only two patrol cars and the chief’s blue sedan. That was a good sign, wasn’t it? I also spotted three trucks from the Shiffley Construction Company parked in front and a Dumpster in the driveway. A dozen tall, lanky Shiffleys in boots, jeans, and heavy jackets leaned against the trucks with carryout coffee cups in their hands or stood in twos and threes on the sidewalk. Two shorter forms, heavily bundled, were barely recognizable as Tomás and Mateo. Eustace stood by them, blowing on his hands.
Randall ambled over to my car.
“Good,” he said. “I was just debating whether to call you. Chief’s going to release the house any minute now. And if it’s okay with you, we’ll start hauling off the trash and repairing the damage as soon as he does. Of course, all we can do is get the room back to where it was when your Mother started it. Decorating’s not something we can do.”
“We’re working on some plans,” I said. At least Michael was.
The front door opened. Chief Burke stepped out.
“All yours,” he said.
Things started happening. Tomás and Mateo and the Shiffleys swarmed into the house. I followed, a little more slowly.
“Okay, boys,” Randall said. “First thing we do is haul all this trash out. Meg, you want to take charge of rescuing stuff that can be reused?”
They were just getting started when one of the Shiffleys came running in.
“Meg? Your parents are here.”
Mother followed close on his heels. She burst into the hallway, and when she saw me, she rushed over and gave me a fierce hug.
“I’m okay,” I said.
“Yes,” she said. “And as long as you’re okay, everything else will be fine.”
“Good,” I said. “Because I’m afraid we’re going to have a bit of work to do in your room.”
“My room?” She turned and took a few steps toward the archway. We all froze. She didn’t react for several long moments, and then she burst into tears.
“My room,” she keened. “My beautiful room.”
I must have heard every designer in the show house say the same thing at some time over the last few days, but never with so much cause.
Jessica had knocked over the giant Christmas tree. At least three quarters of the delicate glass ornaments had been broken, either in the fall or when she hacked the tree into dozens of pieces. Giant gouges marred the walls, where there were still walls—in some places Jessica had ripped away great stretches of wallboard. She had knocked over and broken lamps, end tables, and vases. She’d attacked chairs and sofas so fiercely that every one of them was missing at least one leg and cotton stuffing spilled out through gaping slashes in the upholstery. She’d smashed the mirror over the fireplace and several panes of glass. She’d even hacked great holes and tears in the beautiful oriental carpet.