I finished what I could of my lunch. I needed to save room for gingerbread cookies. Jackson paid for the lunch, and we walked out to just as many stares as when we walked in.
"Then our Christmas Carol plot thickens," I said as we stepped into the cold air.
"How's that?"
"I've found a Ghost of Christmas Past. Danny Danforth and the problems Evan caused him years ago. Our Ghost of Christmas Yet to Be could be Joanna Fritz. They were supposed to be married in January and she was looking forward to a bright future as she mentioned more than once."
"Who is the Ghost of Christmas Present?" he asked.
"I have someone lined up for that part. I'm heading over to Evan's realty office to talk to his assistant, Tim, father of Timmy Junior, on the crutches. I need more information for my article or it will only be a paragraph long."
"Just don't do anything dangerous," he said.
"Not my style. I'm far too sneaky for that."
He walked me to my jeep. We stopped next to it. His thick hair fluttered in the breeze, and the afternoon winter sun made his eyes glittery gold.
His mouth turned up in a crooked grin. "You know, Bluebird, there's one big flaw with your Christmas Carol plot."
"What's that?"
"Ebenezer Scrooge didn't end up with a tent stake in his back."
Chapter 24
A local television news van was just pulling away from Weezer Realty as I parked the jeep. It looked as if my timing couldn't have been more perfect. It seemed I'd arrived after the flurry of activity. With Weezer being a well-known businessman in the area and with his death being so terribly public, it was no surprise to see the news crews.
It was also not surprising to see that the office was basically deserted. Tim Barton was sitting behind a partition talking on his phone when I walked inside.
The differences between the Danforth and Weezer realty offices were stark, to say the least. Danforth Realty was a small, unassuming office space with the traditional big box store kind of furniture, pressed board desks, slightly uncomfortable chairs and cheap art on the walls. Weezer's office was sleek with polished wood, glass partitions and flat screen computers on every desk. I could easily imagine it as a bustling work place with clients flowing in and out and the large white board with listings and recent sales moving as fluidly as the fish inside the massive fish tank glowing from the back wall.
I stood at the reception desk, even though there was no one behind it and waited until Tim finished his phone call. It would have been nice to get a few employee's comments for the article, but Tim was the person who interested me the most. I wasn't sure where Jackson stood on Tim, but I had not marked him off of my own person of interest list. I'd witnessed firsthand how badly Evan treated his assistant.
Tim was keenly aware of my presence, but he continued his phone call. He seemed to be perusing several home listings as he spoke to the person on the other side, leading me to believe that it was a client. Weezer was dead but other people's lives went on. People needed places to live, after all.
One wall of the building was covered with awards and framed articles about Weezer's rise to the top. Photos of staff members and clients standing in front of new houses took up a third of the wall. I moved closer to check out a picture of Evan. He looked considerably younger, and he was standing next to another man, about the same age. They were each standing on the side of a large for sale sign on a vast empty lot. The lot was surrounded by apartments and office buildings. A big red SOLD sticker was pasted across the front of the sign.
"We're technically closed for business." Tim's voice pulled me from my photo survey. "I don't know if you've heard—" He stopped when I turned to him. "Oh, you're the reporter from Junction Times." There was no derision in his tone, but it wasn't exactly welcoming either. He reached me and glanced at the picture that had drawn my interest. "That's Evan with his late partner, John Marlin."
Evan Weezer had a late partner with the last name Marlin. I realized it would be totally inappropriate to chirp in excitement at yet another similarity to A Christmas Carol so I kept a lid on it and smiled politely. "Late partner? So Mr. Marlin is—"
"Dead, yes. I never knew the man. He died eight or nine years ago. I was just about to get a bottle of water from the lounge, can I interest you in one?"
"No, thanks. I just had lunch, so I'm good."
He disappeared through a door and returned with a bottle of water. Tim was not the same man I saw hunched over, nervous and nearly groveling in front of his boss. His thin shoulders stood much higher and straighter. His manner seemed relaxed as if a heavy burden had been lifted from his life. Which was probably not far from the truth.
His grip was firm and steady as he twisted off the bottle cap. "I've already given an interview to the press. In fact, a local station just left with their crew."
"Yes, I saw the van pulling away. I was originally assigned to cover the play for the paper, but that is no longer going to happen. I thought I could write up a little something about the future of Weezer Realty. Since it was number one in the state, I imagine people around here are going to miss it if it shuts down. Or will someone else take the helm? Did Weezer have someone in mind to take over if something happened to him?"
"I don't think Evan considered himself mortal like the rest of us. I don't know for certain, but I don't believe he made any kind of will or trust. He had no close family. A man like him rarely does."
I followed Tim to his cubicle. He was kind enough to roll over the chair from the neighboring desk. "Naturally everyone took the day off today. There is still plenty of outstanding paperwork to do, but it seemed like a good idea to close up shop today. I made the decision." He shifted higher in his seat, seemingly pleased with his new role as decision maker.
"I think that was a good call. Although, you didn't give yourself a day off," I noted.
"There were calls to be made. Even knowing he was performing in the play last night, Evan still had a full calendar today. I needed to let those people know the appointments were cancelled. Of course, most of them had already heard the news, but I thought calling them was the polite thing to do."
"It's just good business." I rolled the chair a little closer. "Evan didn't have any close relatives to leave the business to? What about friends?"
"Evan liked to joke that he had no need for friends, just acquaintances with big pockets. He had a fiancée. We were all shocked, here in the office, that some poor woman would subject herself to a life with Evan Weezer but then for some people being rich is worth the sacrifice. Except, I think something had happened between Evan and Joanna. When I asked him about the wedding invitations being mailed, he told me not to hold my breath. I figured he'd either taken me off the guest list or cancelled the wedding altogether. I decided it was the latter because his side of the list was going to be short anyhow."
I decided not to impart any of the details I knew about the engagement. "What will happen to this real estate office since Evan didn't plan for his death?"
"I suppose it will be closed down or sold. I'm not entirely sure, but I know some of the office personnel are spending their day off looking for new jobs. Most of them were just part-time people anyhow. For all the money he made, Evan was pretty stingy when it came to paying his staff. Me included."
"What will you do now? I suppose this has been a big blow for you."
"It will force me to do something I've been meaning to do for a long time. I'm going to finish my real estate license classes so I can sell houses on my own. I've learned a lot about the business working for Evan, indirectly more than directly," he added. "He wasn't much of a teacher. Most of the time he was miserable and impatient, always quick to point out my mistakes, while, at the same time, never saying thanks or good job." Tim's eye twitched as he rolled off on his short, quiet rant about his former boss. He stopped himself with a drink of water. He rubbed his twitching eye. "Sorry, I sometimes deal with anxiety. Also a result of working for Evan Weezer. Stil
l, I stuck it out, and I'm glad I did."
"Oh, why is that?" I asked. Tim was much freer with his personal insight than I expected. It was giving me a good clear look at their relationship. I could easily conclude that Tim was not going to suffer much from the loss of his boss, with the exception of having to find a new job.
Tim seemed hesitant to answer my question at first. He moved a few papers unnecessarily around his desk for a second, then sat back. "I've been the one keeping the database going for the business. It's a large database. Once I have my license, I'll have access to contact information for many potential clients."
I was slightly disappointed at his response. I wasn't exactly sure what I was waiting for, but a database of potential customers wasn't it. "I'm sure that will come in handy when you're just starting out." It wasn't anything earth shattering, but it was plain to see that Tim was going to recover from the shock of the murder just fine. Maybe too fine.
I sat forward and admired the family picture on his desk. Timmy Junior was not on crutches in the picture taken by a lake. He was holding a soccer ball under his arm and grinning impishly as he held up bunny ears behind his dad's head.
"How is your son doing?" I asked.
He looked surprised at the question.
"I was in the tent the day he hurt his ankle. I know it took some convincing for Evan to let you leave to be with him in the emergency room."
His cheeks reddened some at the comment as if he was ashamed that I'd witnessed him beg and plead with his boss. "He's fine, thanks. Evan could be a real bear when it came to time off. He never had kids, so he couldn't understand what I was going through." He was making excuses. I wondered if he was being cautious not to let on how he really felt about Evan's management style.
"I have to say, my only children are two spoiled dogs, but I could sense your distress when it seemed Evan might not let you leave."
"I knew he'd eventually give in. Look, in most respects, he was an awful man. I hate talking like this so soon after his death, but Evan was not nice. He was rich and greedy and thought only of himself. I wish I could feel some sadness at his loss, but that just hasn't happened. Once the shock wore off, the only thing I felt was—I hate to admit it, but I felt relief. That makes me sound like a monster, I know."
"No, I don't think that at all. I think you were a brave, patient man to put up with him. I know it was for your family and your future in the business, but not many people would have stuck it out with a man like Evan Weezer." My imaginative mind went straight to casting Tim in a dual role, not just as Bob Cratchit but as the Ghost of Christmas Present. The three spirits were there to bring some conscience and compassion to a miserly man, who lacked all good qualities. I was sure somewhere throughout their relationship, Evan must have witnessed enough decency through his assistant to at least give him pause about his own behavior. Or maybe I just wanted to fill in all the parts of the story.
Tim seemed to enjoy the compliments I paid him. I hoped he was open to a few more prying questions. I decided to toss them out there anyway.
"Tim, since you spent so much time with Evan, do you have any idea at all who might have killed him?"
I worried he might be taken aback by my question. Instead, he was ready with a few answers, including the one I expected. "Evan crossed so many people in business, there are almost too many to consider. But the one that stands out the most is Danny Danforth." He put up his hands. "Not that I'm accusing him, but his career was ruined by Evan. He's growing back his business now. Evan's death will definitely help."
"What about other people here in this office?" I asked, realizing that there might be an entire pool of employees we hadn't even considered. "Were any of them at the play last night?"
"Here? No, I was the only office person at the play. Most of them are just part-timers, people who run errands and sit for open houses. And Evan couldn't be bothered with handling his employees. I was the middleman. That spared them from having to deal with Evan directly. Most of them had little interaction with Evan. Most mornings, he would walk straight through that door with his phone already tucked between his shoulder and ear. He'd toss mail, contracts and paperwork onto my desk without a hello to anyone. Not even me."
I shook my head. "He obviously never took any courses in leadership or management."
"If he did, he decided to do the exact opposite of everything he learned." Tim laughed weakly.
"I won't take up any more of your time." I stood up. "I hope you're able to move on with your career in realty."
"Thanks," he said as he walked me to the door. He waved and locked the door behind me. His life had changed dramatically with Evan's death, but did he despise the man enough to kill him?
Chapter 25
I finished putting my hair up in a ponytail, a proper hairstyle for gingerbread baking.
"What is it with that man showing up at all hours, on any day and for seemingly no occasion at all," Edward griped from the kitchen.
I leaned out of the bathroom. "What man?" I asked.
"The brute with the wild hair and wolfish eyes."
The comb slipped right out of my fingers. I stooped down to pick it up and managed to smack my shoulder on the vanity on the way up. "Ouch, darn, darn." I rubbed it as I hurried out of the bathroom.
"How is it possible to injure oneself while combing hair?" Edward asked.
"Oh shush and disappear too. I wasn't expecting him."
"Exactly my point. Terrible manners."
I rolled my shoulder to ease the pain. Redford and Newman were already at the door, waiting to greet Jackson. The night air was fiercely cold as I opened the door. Jackson was wearing a black hooded jacket and a black scarf covered part of his chin.
"If I didn't recognize those amber eyes, I might very well have just slammed the door in your face and ran to hide under my bed." I motioned him inside, which took him longer because Redford and Newman would not let him pass without a few hearty pats.
He reached up and pushed the hood off and hooked his fingers around the edge of the scarf to pull it free from his face. "I guess I didn't get a good look at myself in the rearview mirror when I parked. It might explain why the woman at the walk up burger window gasped and backed away from the register when I went to order my burger.
"You ate another hamburger?" I asked. "Seems like I just watched you vacuum down a Boris Karloff not six hours ago."
"I tend to revert back to my terrible teenage junk food years when I'm mired down in work."
"Did you get any further on the case today?" I asked.
"Nope, I've got three other cases going at the same time, including a bank robbery in Smithville. I've got my team working on a few things though. Unfortunately, my team is still pretty new at this. I'm short skilled help right now." He smiled at me. "With the exception of one highly curious and skilled reporter. I like the ponytail. Highlights your beautiful eyes."
A sound that could only be interpreted as a haughty Englishman's scoff shot down the hallway from the kitchen. My heart stopped for a full ten seconds while I waited, frozen with fear that Jackson had heard it. I released a long, silent breath when he asked about the rest of my day.
"I went to Weezer Realty after lunch," I began, but was stopped by my phone buzzing. I pulled it out of my pocket.
"Gingerbread men wait for no one," Lana texted.
"It's my sister. We're making gingerbread cookies tonight."
"Wow, can't remember the last time I made gingerbread cookies," he said.
My laugh echoed off the entry, but I stopped when I realized he wasn't kidding. "Wait, you baked cookies?"
"With my mom and sisters. I was more the taste tester than the baker, but I got my hands in the flour some," he said proudly.
"That is so cute. Did you wear an apron?"
"Nope, I drew a line at the apron."
"Why don't you come with me and bake some cookies? With any luck, my mom will be too busy cutting gingerbread men to embarrass me with childhood s
tories." I quickly worried that he'd say no, and I'd feel silly for asking. His hesitation felt like a weight on my chest. Why on earth had I invited him?
"If you're sure your family won't mind."
I was elated but instantly wondering if I'd lost my mind. This wouldn't just be a chance meeting out on the sidewalk during a busy festival. It would be Jackson trapped in a kitchen with my sisters and Mom and any embarrassing question or narrative they felt like bringing up just to see me squirm.
"Great," I said and was keenly aware of the forced enthusiasm. Fortunately, just like Edward's big scoff, Jackson didn't notice. "Let me just make sure the dogs' water bowl is filled. I'll be right back." I rudely left my guest in the entry and dashed to the kitchen. The water bowl inspection was a ruse that would give me just enough time alone to send Emily a warning text. I knew if anyone would be kind and help out a now terrified sister, it would be Emily.
"I'm on my way and I'm bringing Jackson so tell Mom and Lana nothing embarrassing or I'm taking back their gifts."
Emily sent back the smiley face and thumbs-up emojis. I knew she was the perfect point person at a critical time like this.
I returned to the entry where Jackson was petting the dogs. No ghost in sight. I'd left him alone in such a hurry, I hadn't even considered the frightening possibility of Edward showing up to play a trick or make a nuisance of himself. He was especially good at sending Newman's tennis ball sailing through the house with no particular starting point. And it was always up to me to convince my guests that the house was on a slight tilt or that Newman knew how to throw his own ball.
I was a mix of excitement, nerves and pure terror. Jackson's easy going smile helped calm my frayed edges. He patted Redford one last time and opened the front door.
"All right, let's go eat some gingerbread," I said cheerily.
Chapter 26
A Humbug Holiday Page 12