An Ale of Two Cities

by Sarah Fox

  Penny had turned her car onto Creekside Road, heading east. Shontelle had also told me that Penny lived west of the green, so wherever she was headed that night, she wasn’t going home. No matter which way I looked at it, Penny had told a blatant lie. And why lie if she didn’t have anything to hide?

  The fact that she’d driven north along Hemlock Street before turning onto Creekside Road put her in the vicinity of the scene of Freddy’s death right around the time he was killed. The town hall was, after all, located near the corner of Hemlock and Creekside. And there was a window of only twenty minutes or so when Freddy could have been killed. The time when Shontelle and Kiandra left the chili supper was smack in the middle of that window.

  Had Shontelle seen Penny fleeing the murder scene?

  I didn’t want to believe that Penny could be a murderer, but I knew from experience that a killer could turn out to be someone you least expected. And no matter my personal feelings, her lie had solidified her spot on my suspect list.

  When I reached the northern edge of the village green, I paused at the edge of Creekside Road and smiled. After a car drove by, I pulled off one glove and fished my phone out of my bag so I could take a picture. One of the horse-drawn sleighs Kiandra had talked about was parked across the road, near the driveway that led to Grayson’s brewery. The horses were gorgeous, with braided manes and caramel-colored coats.

  I snapped a photo of the scene, just before a group of half a dozen tourists bustled across the road to the horses. By the time I was crossing the footbridge toward the pub, the tourists had all bundled into the sleigh. With a word from the driver, the horses set off to the east, the bells on their harnesses jingling merrily. I’d heard that a couple of landowners were allowing the sleigh rides to take place on their property, providing plenty of room for roaming over the snowy landscape. Hopefully I’d have a chance to go on a sleigh ride myself before the Winter Carnival drew to a close at the end of the following weekend.

  In the meantime, I’d upload my photos of the sleigh and the ice sculptures to the Inkwell’s social media accounts. I liked to showcase the town as well as the pub online, and the Inkwell’s followers, only some of whom were locals, seemed to like it too.

  Reaching the front door of the pub, I welcomed the warmth that wrapped around me as soon as I stepped inside. As I was defrosting, I checked the Guinness wall clock. I didn’t have time to go snowshoeing before I opened the pub, but hopefully I’d have a chance the next day. Ever since the first snowfall of the season, snowshoeing had become my main form of exercise. I was trying to regain some of the fitness and athleticism of my youth. Over the last several years, I hadn’t been as diligent about staying active, and I’d felt the effects of that when I’d tried going out on bike rides in the fall.

  With the Winter Carnival underway, I had some extra motivation for exercising regularly. I was going to need every bit of the stamina I’d regained when I took part in the hockey tournament and the snowshoe race scheduled for Friday. I doubted I had a chance to be victorious in either contest, but I was still going to give the hockey games and the race my best effort.

  I ate a quick lunch up in my apartment and then spent a moment replacing a bauble on the small Christmas tree in my living room. Apparently, Wimsey had decided it was fun to knock decorations off the lower branches. Not that he’d admitted responsibility on this occasion or any previous ones, but since he and I were the only ones with the opportunity to commit the offense, it wasn’t difficult to figure out who the culprit was.

  If only Freddy’s murder was so easy to solve.

  Once I’d rehung the bauble on a higher branch—the lower ones were starting to look quite bare—I returned downstairs.

  Booker had arrived while I was in my apartment. I could hear him singing in the kitchen below, as he often did before the Inkwell opened for the day. At the moment he was in the winter spirit, singing an enthusiastic rendition of “Let It Snow,” an appropriate choice, considering the weather.

  I didn’t mind his before-hours singing one bit. He had a pleasant tenor voice and I considered it free entertainment. As he wrapped up the song, I unlocked the front door and flipped the sign. The snow was falling thickly now, and I wondered if that would keep people away on a Saturday afternoon. It turned out that I needn’t have worried. Many of the tourists in town for the carnival showed up, seeking refuge from the snow and a place to thaw out their fingers and toes. Several locals came in as well, including Joey in the early evening.

  He left his coat on one of the coatracks by the door and claimed a stool at the bar, as was his custom lately. Damien poured him a pint of beer while I took his order for To Be or Nacho Be to the kitchen. As I carried the platter of heavenly smelling nachos out to him a few minutes later, a lightbulb flashed on in my head.

  “I don’t suppose you play hockey, do you?” I asked Joey as I set the platter on the bar in front of him.

  “Sure. I was on the local team when I was in school. Why?”

  “The Inkwell’s hockey team is short one player.”

  “You signed up for the tournament?”

  “We did,” Damien answered as he mixed a Count Dracula cocktail. “But we might live to regret the decision.”

  “No, we won’t,” I said, with far more confidence than I felt.

  “Have you seen the schedule?” Damien asked. “It was posted on the carnival’s Web site this morning.”

  “No,” I said. “When is our first game?”

  “Monday morning. We’re playing the Spirit Hill Brewery.”

  Of course we were.

  “Who else is on your team?” Joey asked.

  “Aside from me and Damien, there’s Mel, Teagan, Zoe, and Cordelia.”

  “Cordelia King?”

  “Yes.”

  “Can she even skate?” Joey sounded doubtful. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen her at the rink.”

  “She told me she can skate.” I decided not to mention that she’d also told me she’d never played a game of hockey in her life. “And it’s not like it’s the Stanley Cup play-offs. It’s all in good fun.” Although, defeating Grayson’s team would make it all the more enjoyable.

  “I’m all about fun.” Joey chomped down on a cheese-laden nacho. He swallowed before saying, “Count me in.”

  I smiled at him. “Perfect! We’re all set then.”

  “You got us jerseys?” Damien asked as he returned to the bar from delivering two cocktails to a table.

  “I did. I got them this morning.” I didn’t offer to show them off. “I guess I’m going to need some equipment, though. I’ve got skates, but nothing else. I should have thought about that while I was at the secondhand store. Cordelia needs gear too.”

  “The two of you can borrow what you need from my girls,” Damien said. “They both play hockey.”

  “Perfect. Thank you. Too bad your daughters aren’t old enough to play in the tournament.”

  “They’re looking forward to the day they will be. I have to say I’m impressed you found us enough players. Oh, and I booked the rink for a practice session tomorrow morning,” Damien added. “Ten o’clock. Can you both make it?”

  Joey and I assured him that we could.

  “I’ll bring the girls’ equipment for you in the morning then.”

  The oldest of Damien’s teenage daughters was about my height, the youngest close to Cordelia’s size. It was a relief not to have to go out and buy a full set of equipment for one tournament and I didn’t doubt it would be welcome news for Cordelia too. She didn’t even have skates of her own. I thought she was a good sport for agreeing to play for the Inkwell’s team on such short notice.

  Joey was too, and I told him so.

  “Anything to help out my favorite pub owner,” he said with a grin.

  I left him to finish his nachos and got a fire going in the wood stove in the Christie Room. When the flames were dancing and crackling merrily, I straightened up and my gaze settled on the shelf with the missing
books. I tried to ignore the ache in my chest that returned whenever I thought about the books or spending Christmas alone.

  Fortunately, work provided me with a good distraction. We had a decent crowd in the pub and, not long after I got the fire going, the first arrivals for the mystery book club meeting showed up. Cordelia popped her head through the door and smiled when she saw me.

  “Evening, Sadie.”

  “Evening. Thanks so much for joining the hockey team.”

  “Thank you for asking me,” she said as she unbuttoned her coat. “I can’t wait! I’ve never been on a sports team before.”

  I filled her in on the fact that we could borrow gear from Damien’s daughters.

  “That’s a relief,” she said. “I wouldn’t even know what gear to buy.”

  “I’d be a little lost too,” I admitted.

  Lara Hawkes, Eli and Sybil’s thirty-something daughter, was the next to arrive. We all exchanged greetings as they unbundled themselves.

  “It’s always so cozy in here,” Cordelia said as she unwound a long scarf from around her neck. “So perfect for a night like tonight.”

  I noted their damp hats and coats. “I’m guessing it’s still coming down out there.”

  “I’ll say.” Lara unbuttoned her coat. “We’re supposed to get at least six inches overnight.”

  Cordelia pulled her knitted hat off her head, letting her long, crinkly orange hair spring free. The static from her wool hat had left her hair even puffier than usual. She tried to smooth it down, but without much success.

  As Lara hung her coat over the back of a chair, my gaze latched on to her cable knit sweater. The earthy tones went well with her light brown hair, but what I really noticed was the burnt-orange yarn woven in with the shades of cream, brown, dark green, and deep red.

  “That’s a beautiful sweater,” I managed to say, masking my surprise before Lara noticed me gaping at her.

  She glanced down at the garment. “Thanks. It’s one of my mom’s creations.”

  “I was at her shop this morning,” I said. “It was my first time going in there. It’s a great place.”

  Lara smiled. “My mom loves it, and I do too.”

  “Do you knit?” I asked, figuring she probably did with Sybil for her mother.

  “I do, but not like my mom does.”

  “I wish I could knit,” Cordelia said forlornly. “My gran tried to teach me once, but I’m all thumbs.”

  “You probably just need practice,” Lara said. “You could try one of the classes at my mom’s store.”

  Cordelia pulled an armchair closer to the wood stove and sank into it. “That sounds like fun. I might do that.”

  Nettie Jo Kim, owner of the Village Bean coffee shop, arrived next. I took the women’s drink orders while they waited for their fellow club members to show up, and I spent the next few minutes mixing cocktails. Cordelia had opted for the Poirot—made with cassis—while Lara had requested white wine and Nettie Jo ordered a Milky Way Gargle Blaster. That was one of my favorite drinks on the menu. Made with root beer, cream, and vanilla vodka, it tasted like a root beer float with an extra kick.

  While I was mixing cocktails, Cordelia came out to the bar and requested three platters of nachos for the group to share. I relayed that order to Teagan and then set the three drinks on a tray. When I returned to the Christie Room, I noticed that another member of the book club had arrived.

  Adam Hammerstein had already shed his outerwear to reveal one of his many sweater vests, worn—as usual—over a white shirt with the sleeves rolled up. He was a couple of years younger than me. He taught physics and math at the local high school and was an avid reader and keen amateur baker.

  Adam nudged his black-framed glasses up higher on his nose and handed me a small box. “Happy holidays, Sadie. I wanted to share some of my baking.”

  Cordelia, Lara, and Nettie Jo already held similar boxes. We all peeked inside. Each one contained a variety of cookies and other delicious-looking goodies.

  “Wow! Thank you, Adam,” I said. “They smell amazing and I bet they taste even better.”

  “They do,” Cordelia said. She’d already bitten a piece off one of the cookies from her box. “Thank you.”

  Nettie Jo and Lara chimed in with their thanks too.

  “You’re welcome,” Adam said, clearly pleased by our response to his gifts. He waved his copy of the club’s latest book of choice—Death by Chocolate Lab, by Bethany Blake. “This book was a lot of fun.”

  “Wasn’t it?” Cordelia said before finishing off her cookie.

  Nettie Jo settled deeper into her chair, her drink in one hand. “I loved Socrates, the basset hound.”

  “My favorite is the one-eared chihuahua,” Adam said.

  Cordelia selected another cookie from her box. “All the four-legged characters are great. I also love the two-legged ones. Especially the handsome police detective.”

  “Maybe we shouldn’t get too far ahead of ourselves.” Adam pulled a comfy chair closer to the wood stove. “The rest of the group’s not here yet.”

  “Can I get you anything to drink while you wait for the others?” I asked Adam.

  “Definitely, but I’ll have to take a look at the menu.”

  I handed him one that was sitting on a nearby table.

  My gaze settled on Lara’s sweater again and I couldn’t stop myself from fishing for some information. “Lara, you must know Penny Blaine well, since she works at your mom’s store.”

  “Sure, Penny’s a friend of mine.” Lara frowned. “I feel so bad for her. This whole thing with Freddy Mancini hasn’t been easy on her. Though to be honest, I have no idea what she ever saw in him.”

  “Did you all go to school together?” I asked.

  “No, I’m a few years younger than them. Penny and I only became friends in the last five years or so when she started teaching classes at Purls of Wisdom. I remember Freddy from back then, but I didn’t know much about him.”

  “I heard he didn’t used to be so pompous.” Cordelia slapped a hand over her mouth. “I shouldn’t say things like that, should I?” Her words came out muffled.

  “Why not?” Adam asked.

  “Speaking ill of the dead,” Nettie Jo said, and Cordelia nodded.

  “But he is pompous.” Lara stopped and realized what she’d said. “Was. Why should we make him out to be an angel just because he’s dead?”

  Nettie Jo set her drink on a side table and leaned forward in her chair, holding her hands out to soak in the warmth from the wood stove. “Did Penny think he was an angel? Even after the way he treated her the other day?”

  “No,” Lara said. “She knew he’d changed. She knew that all the way back when he dumped her. But it still hurt her when he snubbed her.”

  “Leo sure didn’t think he was an angel,” Adam commented.

  “Is it true they couldn’t stand each other?” Cordelia asked.

  “That’s what it seemed like to me,” I said.

  “I don’t blame Leo.” Lara’s voice had taken on a blunt edge. “It’s not like Freddy’s worth mourning. The only reason he came back here was to thumb his nose at the town, at everyone who helped him along the road to success. If you ask me, Shady Creek is better off without him.”

  Her last words were laced with venom. Everyone in the room fell quiet, all eyes on Lara. Her face reddened and she stood up abruptly.

  “Washroom,” she said. “Excuse me.”

  She left the room with her back straight, her shoulders tense.

  When she was gone, Adam requested a Count Dracula and I headed for the bar. Cordelia joined me on my way out of the room.

  “Do you think she’s okay?” she whispered.

  “Lara? I hope so. She sure seemed angry, though. Probably because of the way Freddy acted toward her father at the chili supper.”

  Cordelia nodded, her eyes wide. “I heard about that. Poor Eli. He treated Freddy like a son, spent hours and hours with him teaching him how to co
ok when he was a kid. And then Freddy was so rude to him!”

  “It was pretty bad,” I said, remembering the exchange at the town hall.

  “I’m not surprised Lara’s taking it hard. She’s really close with her dad, and she’s been protective of him ever since he had a stroke four years ago.” Cordelia drifted away from me as I reached the bar. “I’ll go check on her.”

  As I mixed Adam’s drink, I thought over what Cordelia had told me. It was understandable that Lara was angry at Freddy on her father’s behalf, but just how angry was she? Angry enough to kill him?

  It was a possibility, especially since the orange in her sweater was the same shade as the tuft I’d seen on the murder weapon.

  Cordelia and Lara emerged from the washroom and returned to the Christie Room. I followed behind them with Adam’s drink, thinking as I went that Lara was deserving of a spot on my suspect list.

  Chapter 14

  The next morning, Wimsey made sure I woke up in plenty of time to get ready for hockey practice. I snoozed my alarm when it went off, but that never did much good. As soon as I’d snuggled back down under the blankets, Wimsey climbed onto my pillow and meowed in my ear. When I tried to ignore him, he batted and clawed at the covers, trying to get them off me.

  When my cat wanted his breakfast, he wasn’t about to let anything get in his way, especially not five more minutes of heavenly slumber for his human servant.

  Once I’d had a cup of coffee and a light breakfast of toast, I dressed warmly with leggings under a pair of sweatpants and a long-sleeved shirt beneath a sweater. I braided my hair, pulled on my boots and outer layers, and then braced myself before stepping outdoors.

  The snow had stopped falling during the night, but the accumulation predictions had been accurate. Roughly six inches of fluffy new snow covered the footpath outside the pub’s front door. I grabbed the shovel I’d left leaning against the side of the building and pushed it along ahead of me, clearing a narrow path as I went. I planned to do a better job of shoveling the walkway before the pub opened, but that would have to wait until after hockey practice.

  When I reached Creekside Road, I backtracked a few paces and left the shovel leaning against the railing of the footbridge. Hoisting the bag holding my skates and the team jerseys over my shoulder, I picked my way through the fresh bank of snow the plow had left behind and made it out onto the street. Since there was no sidewalk on Creekside Road, I walked along the edge of the snowbank on the street, heading east toward the park where the outdoor rink had been set up for the winter.