Christmas by the Sea (Haunting by the Sea Book 6)

by Kathi Daley

  “Did you hear that she died?”

  His eyes grew wide. “Died? What happened? She seemed fine when she was here. A bit chatty, I suppose, but fine. Was she in another accident?”

  I had to admit that his shock at the news seemed legitimate, but it was hard to imagine that a bartender wouldn’t have heard the news that seemed to have spread through town like a wildfire. “I’m not sure how she died, but I heard she was drugged. I’m thinking that maybe whoever drugged her must have killed her. What do you think?”

  “Can’t see why anyone would drug her, and I certainly can’t see why anyone would kill her. She was a nice enough girl. She came in here a few times a week, and usually sat right here at the bar and chatted with me. Of course, she wasn’t really right after the accident if you know what I mean.”

  “No. What do you mean?”

  “I think the accident she was in messed with her head. She seemed paranoid when she had no reason to be, and sometimes she told me stories that made no sense. I think she might have been losing time.”

  “Losing time?”

  “She’d tell me stories that just couldn’t be true based on the timelines she created. I guess that’s understandable given the serious nature of what happened to her.”

  This was the first time I stopped to consider the fact that perhaps the story Holly had told me was less than accurate. Of course, she did die, and someone did dump her body, so it wasn’t like she was making the whole thing up.

  I took a final sip of my wine and set a twenty-dollar bill on the counter. “It was nice talking to you.” I slid off the stool. “Have a happy holiday.”

  With that, I headed toward Woody’s office. He hadn’t gotten around to calling me back yet, but the more I thought about it, the more certain I was that we’d both been wrong about what had happened to Holly Quinn.

  Chapter 11

  When I got to Woody’s office, the woman in the reception area gave me the oddest look. I told her I was there to see Woody, and she told me to have a seat. She headed down the hallway, I assumed to let him know I was there, and when she returned, Woody was on her heels.

  “Is everything okay?” I asked after noticing the grim expression on his face.

  “Come on back to my office. We can talk there.”

  Oh, I didn’t like this at all. Woody was often tired and sometimes even grumpy, but he rarely wore the doomsday expression he wore today.

  “What is it?” I asked the minute I sat down. “Did you find out who killed Holly?”

  “No. My news is not about Holly.”

  My stomach sank. “Then what?”

  “I found Maria Bonatello.”

  I smiled. “That’s good. Right? We wanted to find her and question her about the texts.”

  “We can’t question her. She’s dead.”

  My smile faded. “Dead? What…” I was about to ask what happened, but suddenly I knew. “Vito.”

  He nodded. “As far as I know, and as far as Donovan knew when I spoke to him, Vito is in New York, but yeah, Donovan thinks Vito is behind the seemingly random shooting in the park.”

  I placed my hand on my stomach. I was pretty sure I was going to be sick. “I need to call him. Donovan. I need to find out what he knows.”

  “He’s on his way here, and in the air, so I doubt you’ll be able to reach him. He wanted to tell you what happened himself, but you didn’t answer when he called.”

  I looked at my phone. There were three missed calls from Donovan. I supposed I really should turn on my ringer.

  I swallowed hard. “This is my fault. Maria died because I noticed her following me and Donovan spoke to Vito on my behalf.”

  “It isn’t your fault. You couldn’t have known what would happen, and even if you could predict what might happen, she was the one threatening you, not the other way around. You can’t blame yourself for what happened to Maria.”

  I lifted a brow as a tear slid down my cheek. “Can’t I? The minute Donovan told me that Vito would handle Maria, I knew deep inside what was going to happen. Vito’s grandfather killed his father and his uncle when they came after me, and now Vito has killed his sister for doing the same thing. I know I shouldn’t feel bad. And to be honest, I didn’t feel bad when Mario and Clay were killed since I knew they really did want me dead. But Maria? I’m not sure she was even a danger to me. I think she heard about my role in her father’s death and decided that I needed to pay some sort of price for my part in the whole thing. I know she threatened me, but I really do think her threats were just that, threats. She had a lot of opportunities to kill me if she really wanted me dead.”

  Woody placed his hand over mine. “That may be true, but you didn’t do anything wrong. If you stop to think about it, all you did was to ask Donovan if he recognized the woman in the photo. She’d been following you. Wondering about her was a natural thing to do.”

  I knew Woody was right. I knew that Maria’s death was on Vito and not on me. I didn’t understand how a man could kill his sister, but I remembered the comment Donovan made about the obedience that was required within the family to those who came above you in the hierarchy. Vito probably told Maria to stop following me and come home. She probably declined to do one or both, so he had her killed. He was the leader of the family now, and due to the fact he was new to the role, I supposed disobedience from anyone could not be tolerated. Allowing his sister to defy him would have been a show of weakness. Still, how could he do this?

  “Thanks for letting me know what happened,” I said. “I guess I know in my mind that I’m not responsible for what happened, but in my heart, I am going to mourn for the girl who never really had a chance.”

  “She had a chance. It sounds like she was out of the family and everything that came with being part of the family, but she willingly stepped back in. She must have known that going off on her own the way she did could only lead to trouble.”

  I understood what Woody was saying, but it didn’t make things easier to accept. I needed time to process everything that had happened. I texted Trevor and told him that I was heading home, and if he still wanted to spend time together, he could meet me there.

  Chapter 12

  By the time Saturday rolled around, Mac had come home, Donovan had arrived and planned to stay through Christmas, Maria’s body had been sent to her family in New York, and life had settled back into a somewhat normal routine. I’d turned in my collage of photos to the magazine running the contest, and while I hadn’t heard back yet, I felt really good about the final product I’d come up with. I supposed the one dark cloud in my life was the fact that Holly’s killer hadn’t been caught. The official cause of death, as declared by the medical examiner was heart failure, but the ME also said that the drug found in her system should have lowered her inhibitions, but should not have caused her heart to fail. Her body had been found out in the storm, so the ME concluded it was the bracing cold, combined with the drugs that led to her death.

  Of course, I had reason to believe she died in the Santa House and had been moved into the storm after her death, but I had no evidence to support that theory other than my discussion with a ghost, so I kept my opinion to myself. The reality was, if not for the fact I had chatted with Holly before she moved on, the theory that she’d simply gotten wasted, wandered into the storm, and died, would have been one I considered to be a good one.

  Woody admitted the explanation the ME came up with was most likely the one he would have gone with as well if he didn’t know better.

  The question was: if Holly hadn’t wandered into the storm and died, and the drugs in her system weren’t the sort to stop her heart, how had she died?

  And then there was the Santa House supervisor, and the illegal smuggling operation Woody and I were convinced was going on right beneath our noses. The theory was a good one, but the problem was that while the theory seemed solid, we really had no proof. Ms. Valdez had certainly covered her tracks, and she seemed to be ready with both an invoic
e and an explanation for all the merchandise moved into and out of the building. Woody had shared his frustration with the situation. If Jessica Valdez had come to the Santa House with a helper or her buyer on the night Holly died and found her hiding in the dressing room, I supposed it tracked that she might have killed Holly to protect her secret. Sure, the medical examiner had stated that the use of death was heart failure, but that didn’t mean that the heart failure wasn’t helped along by a pillow held to her face, or an injection into her veins.

  However she died, Woody and I figured that once Holly was dead, Ms. Valdez would have had the motive to move the body to avoid any association with the Santa House, which would have brought about a lot of attention she wouldn’t have wanted. Of course, she may have found Holly already dead and moved the body for the same reason. Holly had said she’d heard voices and had run and hidden, but she didn’t remember anything after that. Could the extra adrenalin produced from her fear have been the catalyst that caused her heart to stop?

  And then there was the question of who drugged Holly. Since it appeared she was drugged at the bar, we assumed that it was the bar owner who was also a defendant in her lawsuit who’d drugged her, but to what end? Had he known the drugs would lead to heart failure? Or was he simply trying to mess with her as some sort of a threat to back off the lawsuit?

  Woody and I had gone around and around on this. Our current theory was that Rowen Morton, the bar owner, had slipped Holly the drugs and then drove her to the Santa House. We didn’t know his motive for drugging her, but it appeared Holly had fallen asleep and hadn’t died until Jessica Valdez and a helper or her buyer came in, scaring the girl and sending her running. When Valdez found Jessica dead in the dressing room, she’d panicked and moved the body.

  Based on the evidence we’d gathered, we’d come up with a good theory, but as I’d said in the beginning, we didn’t have a lick of proof to support any of it.

  Trevor and I had a shift at the Santa House today, and I was looking forward to playing an elf to his Santa. When we’d played those roles as teenagers, we’d brought Tucker along to play the part of Tucker, the Red-Nosed Reindeer. I’d asked the event coordinator if he could come along this year as well, and she’d approved my request, so it was the three of us who headed into town.

  “It looks like the line wraps around the building,” Trevor said as we approached the Santa House. The attraction didn’t even open for another half hour, so I couldn’t imagine what the line was going to look like by then.

  “I guess we should be prepared for a long day. I hope they have enough candy canes. I heard that they ran out one day last week, and the poor volunteers ended up with teary-eyed children and angry parents.”

  “Let’s check the supply when we get there,” Trevor suggested. “If it looks like we’re going to be short, we can call Mac and have her bring us some more.”

  Once we parked and let ourselves into the Santa House, Trevor and I changed into our costumes. Tucker’s costume consisted of a pair of reindeer antlers, which we decided to wait to put on until we were ready to open the door. The woman in charge of running the gift shop for today showed up shortly after we did, and the girl who was in charge of the photos showed up shortly after that.

  “It looks like half the town has come out today,” the woman who was going to be running the gift shop said after looking out the window as we prepared to open. “Which is crazy since we’ve actually been busy all week.”

  “Of course, we were closed for a couple of days while the police did their investigation,” the girl doing the photos, whose nametag read Polly, pointed out.

  “Did you know Holly?” I asked.

  “Sure. She was a regular volunteer. In fact, she was probably here more often than any of the other elves.”

  “It’s a shame what happened to her,” the woman who ran the gift shop said.

  “I heard she got wasted and wandered into a storm, but that doesn’t feel right to me,” Polly said. “Sure, Holly liked to go out and have a drink now and again, but she told me she had a heart problem, so she drank responsibly and never did drugs.”

  “A heart problem?” I asked.

  She nodded. “Some sort of a murmur. She didn’t go into the specifics, but I remember her saying that she needed to avoid anything that might alter her natural rhythm. She avoided caffeine, as well.”

  I glanced at Trevor. He raised a brow. Had we just figured out why Holly had died? “I need to make a call,” I said. “I won’t be long.” I grabbed my phone and found a quiet place to call Woody. I shared what I’d heard about Holly’s heart condition with him, and he said he’d look into it.

  By the time I returned to the main room, it was time to open the doors. The next six hours flew by as a constant line of children of all ages filed through. I was really hoping the crew who was supposed to relieve us at four would be on time since, I for one, was exhausted by the time the clock reached the three o’clock hour.

  “Hello, and what is your name?” I asked the blond-haired girl with the long pigtails who had moved to the front of the line.

  “Sophie.”

  “I’m going to lift you onto Santa’s lap if that is okay.” I’d learned not to pick up a child without asking first.

  “I don’t want to talk to Santa. I want to talk to the reindeer.”

  I glanced at Tucker, who had been such a good sport, but I could see was tiring as well. “Is it okay if Sophie whispers her secret to you?”

  He lifted his head and thumped his tail.

  Sophie approached cautiously. She got down on the floor next to Tucker, leaned in close, and whispered to him. She then hugged him around the neck, kissed the top of his head, and stood up.

  “Before you go, do you want to tell Santa what you want for Christmas?” I asked.

  “The reindeer knows. He can tell Santa.”

  I glanced at the woman who stood nearby, and who I assumed was the girl’s mother. She had a look of desperation in her eyes.

  “Maybe you should whisper it to me as well. Tucker, the Reindeer, is getting old, and he doesn’t always remember things like he should.”

  The girl looked hesitant but eventually nodded. I got down on the floor, so I was closer to her height. She whispered in my ear that she wanted Santa to bring her daddy home. I was sure there was a story there, but it wasn’t my business, so I hugged her and told her I’d pass along the message. The girl’s mom sent the child to get a candy cane while I whispered Sophie’s wish in her mother’s ear.

  “I was afraid of that. Sophie’s father is in the Army. He’s overseas and won’t make it home this year.”

  “Maybe you can set up a call or something,” I suggested.

  “Perhaps. I’ll see what I can do.”

  While most of the kids wished for toys and games, it was the wishes like Sophie’s that tugged at my heartstrings. I was heading back to my spot by Santa’s side when I noticed something under his chair. The sun was coming through the window at an angle as it set, causing a reflection that I hadn’t noticed before. I bent down to see what it was that had slipped under the chair. Whatever it was had rolled all the way to the center, so I decided to wait until Santa got up, and we could move the chair. I knew that the Santa chair would be roped off during the shift change, so I could retrieve the object then.

  As I hoped they would, our relief shift showed up right at four, so we drug the rope across the entrance to the Santa chair, and announced that Santa would be taking a twenty-minute break, but would be back shortly.

  “There’s something under the chair,” I said to Trevor. “I noticed it earlier, but it’s all the way toward the middle, so I decided to wait for the break. I think you’ll need to lift the front of the chair while I get down on the floor and grab it.”

  The chair was a huge overstuffed type chair that weighed as much as a small sofa. Trevor lifted the front, and I laid down on the hardwood floor and reached forward. I slid the small stone toward me. Trevor lowered the
chair, and then we both headed toward the changing room.

  “I think I might know who killed, or at least who moved, Holly.”

  Chapter 13

  I called Woody with the news that I’d found a small diamond under the Santa chair, and that I’d also noticed that Dave, the bartender, had a diamond missing from the ring he wore. Sure, he could have lost the diamond at any point, and I imagined if asked about it, he’d tell a tale of it having gone missing long ago, but what were the odds that the man who had served her the drink she’d enjoyed just prior to becoming dizzy, wasn’t the one who added the drugs that eventually killed her.

  Of course, that didn’t explain why Dave had been in the Santa House unless he’d been the second person in the pair who’d shown up later in the evening. If Dave was working with Jessica, that would explain why he was there, and it might even explain how Jessica could have managed to move her, but it really didn’t explain why he’d drugged her. I felt like our theory had a big gap that needed something to fill it.

  “Okay, so Holly goes to the bar after her shift at the Santa House,” I said to Woody and Trevor, who were sitting at the same conference table I sat at in Woody’s office. “She has high heels on, so Owen gives her a ride. He drops her off, and she has drinks with her realtor. At some point, the realtor gets a call and leaves. I assume she was still feeling fine at this point.”

  “I spoke to Chris, and he said that Holly seemed fine, and at no time while he was with her did she complain about feeling ill,” Woody confirmed.

  I glanced at Tucker, who was snoring softly at my feet. The poor puppy was exhausted after playing a reindeer for half the day. “Okay, so she must have been drugged after Chris left,” I concluded. “The fact that she didn’t complain about not feeling well until well after he left supports this as well.”

  “I can see where it might be logical that Dave is the one who drugged her, but why? What was his end game?” Trevor asked.