by Cate Conte
We remained silent for the next agonizing twenty minutes until Grandpa returned. When he did, he didn’t speak and ushered us outside. Once we were in the car, I couldn’t stand it.
“How is she? What happened? What’s going on?”
“She’s okay. She says she didn’t do it.”
“Well, no kidding,” I said. “Of course she didn’t do it.”
But Grandpa didn’t echo my declaration. Didn’t say anything, actually. Under the parking lot lights I caught a glimpse of his face. His expression was somber. Thoughtful. “What?”
“She says she didn’t do it,” he repeated. “But she admits to being at Virgil’s house that night.” He pointed at Becky. “And that is off the record.”
Chapter 17
Friday, December 25, Christmas Day: three days after the murder
7 a.m.
I wasn’t feeling very festive the next day, but Christmas was Christmas and we had a big day ahead of us at my parents’ house. Last night, we’d gone back to our house for a very subdued Christmas Eve feast after Grandpa and I returned from the trip to the Turtle Point Police Department. Lucas had left right after we did, Val told me, and he’d asked her to have me call him.
I hadn’t.
My parents had been just as concerned about Katrina—they considered her another daughter, really, and like I’d reminded Grandpa earlier, she’d babysat us. They would’ve known a future killer if they’d seen one. The parent vibe and all that. I didn’t believe for one second she had done anything, and I knew they wouldn’t either.
So we’d all pretended to go back to celebrating, but none of us were in the mood. I noticed Grandpa pushing the food around on his plate and I knew he was lost in thought about this mess too. I couldn’t imagine what he was thinking. Katrina had been part of his department, so he knew her from that perspective as well. He didn’t believe this either.
But then there was the elephant in the room: Katrina had been at Virgil Proust’s house. She’d admitted to it. Which was crazy. She had completely avoided the question when I’d asked her if she’d been in the neighborhood that night. Which meant she hadn’t wanted me to know if it was true.
There was always the possibility that she’d gone there to confront the Prousts, despite her boss’s wishes, about the things that had been happening—calling the cops on her other volunteer, the shelter vandalism, the threats about poisoning the cats. She’d said the day before the murder that someone was going to pay. I’d laughed it off at the time, chalked it up to her being dramatic, but maybe something had happened. An altercation. Maybe Virgil had tried to do something to her. She could’ve tried to fight back and it had gone wrong.
So she’d beamed him with a Christmas gnome? Ugh. It sounded crazy.
But someone had. And she’d been there.
I’d wanted to talk to Grandpa about it before bed, but we had too many other people in the house and it seemed wrong to mess up everyone else’s holiday vibe. So I went to bed and snuggled with JJ, but barely slept at all. Finally, after a night of thoughts and questions swirling around in my mind and barely any sleep, I went downstairs early on Christmas morning to clean the cats’ quarters. The house was silent as I descended from the third floor. It reminded me of all those Christmas mornings when my sisters and I would sneak downstairs to see if Santa had brought us any presents. He always had—more than we’d ever asked for.
We’d lived here for a time, before my parents got their own house. This house was huge, and it had made sense when we were a young family and my dad was building his career and they were saving money. But then when Sam came along, my mother didn’t want to completely take over her parents’ house, so we moved.
I’d been devastated. I’d even asked if I could stay and live with Grandma and Grandpa. I loved following Grandpa around, playing with his badge and his official police hat, pretending to be on the force. We spent many nights snuggled up in the book nook right outside the room I was in now, reading together. When he was at work, I was baking with Grandma in the kitchen, or helping her with her garden. She and I would take long walks around the island. In the summer we’d go to the beach almost every day—she’d been a beach freak like me—and sit and read together. When we got too hot, we’d swim. She taught me how to boogie board, and we would ride waves side by side.
I brushed away a tear. I hated that she was gone. It felt wrong that we were still celebrating without her. But what else could we do? Life went on. And Grandma’s house was now a cat café.
That part was kind of funny when I really thought about it.
Grandpa had left the Christmas tree lights on overnight for a little extra cheer. We had two trees this year, one for the main house and one for the cats in the café. Although we had a couple of younger babies, like Gimley, and they did like to climb it. As a result the lights were usually slightly off kilter and a couple of the decorations were always on the floor whenever I came down. I peeked into the room to find it was no different today. Apparently they’d had batting practice last night.
I straightened out the tree and cleaned all the boxes. As I was about to haul the trash out of the room, I caught sight of something on the little table next to the window. A shiny red bag that read LEE’S BOUTIQUE.
The present Lucas had brought last night. We’d been interrupted when he was trying to give it to me by the news that one of my best friends was under arrest.
I picked up the bag and peeked inside. There was a small, gift-wrapped box. I took it out and turned it around and around in my hand. The wrapping was gorgeous, shiny silver paper with a purple ribbon. It looked like he’d done it himself—it didn’t have that perfect, polished store feel.
I held it for a long time, staring at it. Did I open it? Give it back to him? Ignore it? I had no idea. I felt tears prick my eyes and put the box back in the bag. Between him showing up last night and the murder, not to mention whatever was going on with Katrina, my emotions were going crazy right now. I’d been so happy to see Lucas—so glad he was okay—but so mad at the same time. And I couldn’t let him know I was happy to see him. He’d think he could treat me however he wanted if I acted like I was okay with it.
But I’d really wanted to hug him and hear him out. He’d looked … sad. And like he’d lost a lot of weight.
I wondered what he was doing for Christmas.
“Hey.” Val stuck her head into the room, startling me. “Merry Christmas. You need some help?”
“Hey,” I said with a weak smile. “Merry Christmas. No, I’m good. Thanks.”
“Ethan’s not up yet. He was tired from all the defensive cooking last night. Grandpa had the truck packed up with the gifts before any of the rest of us were even up. Now he’s out for his walk. Seriously, I have no idea where he gets his energy. I’m going to make coffee. You want some?”
“Are you kidding?”
“Thought so.” She turned to go, then paused. “Are you okay?”
“Fine. Why?”
“Why?” She repeated. “Because last night was like an episode of some alternate-reality TV show?”
“It was kind of wild, wasn’t it?” I sighed. “I can’t believe this is happening to Katrina.”
“Yeah. What’s up with that? How could they think Katrina could hurt anyone? I mean, she didn’t even hurt you when she babysat you—and you were tough.”
She was trying to be funny, but I wasn’t really in a laughing mood.
“Sorry. That was inappropriate.” Val sighed. “I’m not as good at jokes as you. So what’s going to happen to her?”
“She has to stay in jail until at least Monday when they arraign her. And that’s only if they give her bail and she can make it.”
Val stared at me. “Seriously?”
“Well, yeah. She got arrested. She’s their prime suspect.” I picked up a cat scoop, sighed, and put it down again. “Even though there are about five other people I can think of right off the bat who could’ve done it.”
Her eyebrows shot up. “Really?”
I snorted. “For sure. That neighborhood where the guy lived is full of crazies. Including his own wife.”
“Are you going to be able to help her?”
“Help her?” I asked. “How?”
Val shrugged. “I don’t know. By figuring out who really did it. You’re good at that. She could use your help, sounds like.”
“I’m not really sure what I can do. I mean, they already arrested her.”
“So? Innocent until proven guilty, right?”
I thought about that. Maybe she was right. Maybe I could help point the cops in the right direction. Especially since I was in the neighborhood a lot. Maybe there was a way to find out who the real killer was.
I kept my thoughts to myself, though, and finally she changed the subject. Alas, to an even worse one. “So what did Lucas say before I interrupted you? Sorry about that, by the way.”
I turned away. “He said he was sorry. And he couldn’t help it. Whatever that means.”
“And you said…?”
“Val.” I turned, brandishing the litter scoop. “I don’t want to talk about it. I have to feed everyone breakfast.”
“I’ll help,” she offered, grabbing the stack of bowls. “So I take it you’re still not going to give him a chance to explain?”
I considered what options I had to get rid of her. Aside from clobbering her with my litter scoop, I didn’t see many. Val didn’t take hints well. “I already told you how I felt about guys who vanish. And since when are you the big defender of men who behave badly? I know Ethan is perfect and all, but not all guys are.”
“I’m not defending men who behave badly. I think Lucas is a nice guy,” she said. “It seems really out of character for him. And I personally want to know what happened. Don’t you?”
More than anything. But I was also terrified to know what happened. What if it had to do with some other woman? I didn’t want to hear about that. I didn’t think I could handle it.
“Not really,” I said, wondering if Val knew I was lying. “I think what he did was really crappy, and I’m not ready to talk to him.”
Val nodded. “That’s fair.”
“Good,” I said. “I’m glad you think so.”
She finished spooning wet food into bowls and distributing them. “I’ll go make the coffee.” Val headed out, then poked her head back in. “By the way, I don’t think he’s doing anything for Christmas.”
“Val.”
“Sorry. I just thought you would want to know. I know you don’t like when people spend holidays alone.”
“We’re going to Mom and Dad’s. I couldn’t invite him if I wanted to—which I don’t,” I added, in case she was going to suggest I do just that. And of course I could if I wanted to. My parents would open their house up to the whole island if they could fit everyone. But did I really need to explain—again—why it wasn’t a good idea to invite Lucas?
Val gave me her Oh come on look. “Mom and Dad always have plenty of room. And they welcome everyone. You know that. Anyway, I was just telling you.” With one last, long look at me, she turned and headed into the kitchen.
Now I was cranky. I sulked while I filled up the bowls of dry food I kept out for a snack, changed the water bowls, vacuumed, and threw out the trash. I only started to feel better when JJ came in looking for me. He came over and rubbed his head against my leg, accepted my ear scratches, then plunked down on one of the beds to oversee the operations.
True to her word, Val returned shortly thereafter with a steaming mug of coffee. It was actually good, and sipping it made me feel better. But I was still sulking. I was the one who everyone should be feeling sorry for, not Lucas. Why did I get the feeling that everyone thought I was in the wrong here?
Chapter 18
Friday, December 25, Christmas Day: three days after the murder
Noon
All of us, including JJ in his brand-new Christmas harness, piled into Grandpa’s truck—which wasn’t exactly easy given the mound of presents, since we hadn’t opened any last night per our usual tradition—around noon to head over to my parents. We would spend the majority of the day there, eating, watching Christmas movies, drinking, and napping. It was more relaxing than Christmas Eve, which had always been the more festive event for our family. On Christmas Day, you got the sense that it was already more over than not. The festive facades were slipping, the cheery music was dwindling and pretty soon everything was going to go back to the way it had been.
Or maybe it was just my mood. And last night had certainly not been festive. Between Lucas showing up and Katrina’s arrest, they couldn’t have made a Hallmark movie with more Christmas drama in it.
“Put on the Christmas music,” Val demanded from the backseat.
Grandpa flipped the radio on. He’d actually gotten SiriusXM installed in his truck. He said it was partly for me, and partly so he could listen to the news. I didn’t quite believe him but it still made me laugh. Especially because I saw one of his presets was the Christmas channel Holly. George Michael from Wham! was currently singing about giving his heart to someone last Christmas, who gave it away the next day. I knew how he felt.
“So is Lucas joining us?” Grandpa asked, once we’d turned off of our street and were driving through town.
“Et tu, Brutus?” I muttered.
“What’s that, doll?”
“Nothing. No he isn’t.”
Grandpa frowned a little. “You two were interrupted last night.”
“Yup,” I said. “The interruption was kind of important, no?”
“Of course. Just saying.” He sighed and glanced in the rearview mirror. I saw him catch Val’s eye, which made me think this was a whole conspiracy. Great. I sunk lower in the seat, snuggling my face into JJ’s fur, and stayed quiet until we got to my parents’ house.
My dad met us outside, and he, Grandpa, and Ethan unloaded the gifts while Val and I brought the pies and JJ inside. We’d been in charge of dessert and had made three pies—apple, pumpkin, and my dad’s favorite, blueberry. When we got to the kitchen, my mother and Sam were at the oven giggling.
“What’s so funny?” Val asked, depositing her two pies on the counter.
“Nothing. Your sister tried to make fudge.” My mother winked at me as I slid my pie next to Val’s, deposited JJ on the floor and shrugged off my coat.
“How do you mess up fudge?” Val demanded.
“You forget to stir it and leave the burner on too high.” Sam shrugged and hugged me. “Merry Christmas.”
“Merry Christmas, sweetie.” I’d barely gotten to spend any time with my youngest sister since I’d been home. She’d been away traveling, then she moved off-island for a short amount of time to pursue some kind of yoga training in Boston. “Did you finish your yoga training?”
Sam nodded. “But I’m not sure what I want to do still. I’m going to move back in here until I figure it out.”
“You are?” I glanced at my mother over Sam’s head, who shot me a look as if to say, Don’t ask. It was kind of a running joke in our family. I was the typical oldest—responsible, ambitious, driven. Val was more serious, though. And really Type A. And Sam, well, she was the flighty but sweet youngest who had been babied by everyone. To my parents’ credit, they just rolled with all of us. I’d never heard them say to Sam, for instance, If you could just be more like Maddie.
“Okay!” My dad came into the kitchen rubbing his hands together with glee. He was kind of like a little kid on Christmas too. “The presents are all under the tree. We should open them before dinner. Right, Soph?”
“Sure thing, honey,” my mother said. “Let me just check on the stuffing. Sam, get rid of this mess.” She handed her the pan with the burnt chocolate. “Maddie, want to get drinks? There’s nondairy eggnog and pumpkin-pie soda.”
“And rum,” my dad said. “Who wants a mudslide?”
“Me,” I said immediately, bending to pet Moonshine, the cat my parent
s had adopted at my grand opening earlier this year. He was a gorgeous black cat, who I could see was getting a little chunky. JJ was glad to see his old pal too. The two of them spent some time sniffing each other.
Once drinks were made and presents were opened, we all sat down to eat. I was grateful that the mood had been light so far, and I could be semi-quiet without a lot of attention. But eventually, as I knew it would, the conversation turned to Katrina.
“Have you heard any news?” My mother looked from me to Grandpa anxiously. “I’m so worried. I tried to call over to Lisa’s but she’s not answering.”
Lisa was Katrina’s mother. “I haven’t,” I said, glancing at Grandpa.
He shook his head too, scooping a bite of turkey and potatoes into his mouth. Once he’d finished chewing he said, “The arraignment won’t be until Monday.”
“Do you think she’ll get out?” my mother asked.
“I don’t know, Sophie.”
“Mom. Dad. Do you know anything about the people on that street? Aside from Lilah, of course.”
My dad frowned. “What do you mean, know anything?”
“Well, they all seem a little sketchy to me,” I said. “And since we know Katrina didn’t do this—”
“Maddie, you can’t go accusing people randomly,” Dad said. “If there’s something not right about Katrina’s arrest, the police will make that right.”
“Yeah, but will they bother? Grandpa never thought they were that good,” I said.
They both looked at Grandpa, who raised his knife and fork defensively. “Look. All I said was they work in a community that’s … not that challenging. I can’t remember the last Turtle Point murder. Can you?” he asked my parents.
They looked at each other, deep in thought. “Wasn’t there that guy with the chainsaw?” my mother asked.
“Chainsaw?” Ethan repeated, looking at me.
“That was an accident,” my dad said. “Manslaughter.”
I debated the wisdom of asking for details and decided I didn’t have the energy. I shook my head at Ethan. “We don’t even want to know. But seriously, Dad. Some of those people seem a little nuts. Like June Proust.” I circled my finger around my ear, a gesture I hadn’t used since I was a kid.