Marry Christmas Murder

by Stephanie Blackmoore

  We ate the rest of our slices of pie in testy silence. I rarely argued with Garrett. We had our differences, like most couples, but something seemed different. A finely rumbling current of discord had been planted, sending out subtle little seismic shocks. We exited Pellegrino’s together, the warm spark in the booth extinguished. I offered Garrett a hasty goodbye, and he bestowed a perfunctory kiss atop my head. I stared at his retreating figure as he made his way back to his office.

  I’d imagined my friend Olivia as a chess piece, moving across the board with no control over her actions.

  And something tells me she’s not the only one.

  CHAPTER NINE

  I made a beeline to see my friend that evening. I wanted to see the gown Olivia had texted me about and also pick her brain about her family’s company. My quest took me up to Pittsburgh and Olivia’s apartment atop Mount Washington. I couldn’t tamp down my grin as I caught a glittering glimpse of the city below. A tree of lights punctuated the point where the Monongahela and Allegheny Rivers met to form the Ohio. Skyscrapers of glass and steel gleamed beyond, and their lights reflected off the rivers’ waters. I felt a pang of regret and realized though I’d made a wonderful new life for myself, I did miss the city. Maybe I was wrong to want Garrett to give up a chance to live here with his daughter. It hadn’t been a quick trip up from Port Quincy, but it also hadn’t been impossible.

  I stepped into the lobby of Olivia’s condo with a sinking feeling of déjà vu. I hoped this impromptu dress reveal didn’t presage some crisis with fire and mayhem like the last one did.

  “Come in.” Olivia opened the door clad in a fuzzy red robe with a pattern of Scottie dogs roaming all over. “This is one time I’m happy to live so far apart from my fiancé. I can try on the dress without him getting a peek.”

  I settled in on the couch to await for Olivia’s return. She didn’t disappoint.

  “Ta-da!” She was a vision in winter splendor in a simple cream satin gown with tight-fitting long sleeves and a pretty bateau neckline. The plain yet rich fabric was unadorned, save for a thin line of champagne sequins just below the bust. The dress would be forgiving, yet not automatically reveal her pregnancy. She’d placed a pretty, pearl-beaded headband atop her lustrous dark hair, but sported no veil.

  “This dress is you, Liv.” I clapped my hands together and circled my friend. “I’m glad you were able to find it up here on such short notice.”

  Olivia’s joy dimmed a degree. “I did want to wear my family’s dress in the end. But what’s more important is that Grandpa Rudy is okay.”

  I nodded my assent. The jolly old man was finally out of the hospital. He was settled into the yellow bedroom at Thistle Park where Clementine was lovingly caring for him. I didn’t want to press Olivia any further, but the strange meal I’d shared with her soon-to-be mother-in-law was replaying in my head.

  “Did Truman share any ideas about who would want to burn down the cabin?”

  Olivia twisted her face into a frown. “Not beyond the obvious possible culprits. Townsfolk who aren’t happy about all of the houses my parents plan to build in Port Quincy.” She sighed and flounced down on the couch next to me, still wearing her wedding gown. “To be honest, I don’t know if I’d want the drama of working for March Homes if I were to pair up with Garrett.”

  I took the opening and ran with it. “So you’ll be taking the partnership here?”

  “Oh, no.” Olivia shook her head, sending the beaded pearl headband slipping down her bangs. She pushed it back into place. “I know my life should be in Port Quincy now. I’m tired of making the drive. I’m tired of this rat race. I want to be with Toby and actually see him each day.” She beamed and rested her hand on her still rather flat belly. “I’m even beginning to think of Port Quincy as home. Isn’t that funny?” Her dark brown eyes sparkled. “Who would’ve thought us two city girls, meeting as summer associates, would both eventually end up in sleepy little Port Quincy?”

  I smiled at my friend while inwardly squirming.

  She doesn’t know Garrett seems to be on the precipice of leaving Port Quincy.

  If Garrett handed over his entire practice to Olivia, it would take some time to get up to speed, especially with a new baby in tow. I realized enough was enough. I was going to tell Olivia about Garrett’s probable acceptance of the clinic offer, so she had enough time to change her plans if necessary.

  “And I think I need to take a bit of a break from my family, even if I do end up practicing with Garrett.” Olivia spoke before I could croak out my warning. “I’m still hurt my dad didn’t want me to take over legal duties for their company in Port Quincy. He must have his reasons, but he isn’t sharing them with me.” She frowned and stood, pacing the hardwood floors in her wedding gown. The floor-to-ceiling glass windows fronting the city below were an interesting backdrop. “My parents are definitely of the helicopter variety,” she mused. “Maybe it’s because they adopted me so late in life or because I’m an only child.” She nervously picked up the angel tree topper from the fireplace mantel. I noticed she’d glued the angel’s wing back on. “I came to them under . . . unusual circumstances, and looking back, they raised me as if they were always waiting for the other shoe to drop.”

  I tried not to be nebby, but the long day got to me. “Judge Frank mentioned something about it.”

  Olivia turned around, a flash of anger in her eyes. “She’s not as discreet of a woman as I’d expect in her position on the bench.” A flush of pretty crimson climbed from her throat to dot both cheeks with color. “It’s a pretty incredible story but not hers to tell.” Olivia stared down at the city and wheeled around. “I was left as a days-old infant in the manger display at the Port Quincy Lutheran Church.” She blinked, seeming to try to remember the event, though of course it would have been impossible. “My family would leave Pittsburgh Christmas Eve, head down to their old cabin in Port Quincy, and attend church that evening. My mom heard me crying in the manger and picked me up. I was placed in their care as a foster child and then they adopted me. And the rest is history.”

  “That’s a pretty amazing story.” The judge had been right. But so had Olivia. It wasn’t Ursula’s story to tell, even to hint about. I’d known Olivia for over five years, and she’d kept the story a private piece of her identity.

  Olivia sank back into the couch, thoroughly exhausted now. A knock at the door startled us, but not so much as the rumbling of the lock as a key was inserted.

  “It must be Toby. I’ve got to get out of this dress before he sees me!” Olivia sprang to life and left me standing in the living room.

  “Hi, Mallory.” Toby graced me with a warm smile as he looked beyond me to catch a glimpse of his fiancée. He carried a cone of pretty pink roses in one hand and a brown bag concealing what smelled like one delicious pizza.

  “What a lovely surprise!” Olivia must have shimmied out of her wedding gown in record time. She cast a fond glance at the gorgeous, lush roses, but her eyes really lit up upon spotting the pizza.

  “I got you Campiti’s.” He mentioned a tiny pizzeria in the Dormont neighborhood I’d eaten at a time or two.

  “My favorite.” Olivia relieved Toby of the pizza. “The way to a pregnant woman’s heart is to remember her particular cravings. Thank you, sweetheart.” The two shared a sweet kiss.

  I stayed for a slice, and Olivia and I made hasty plans for a tiny bridal shower to be held in three days’ time. Goldie and Clementine insisted, and I could squeeze it in one afternoon. My heart melted as I listened to Toby talk about their little family-to-be with the arrival of their son or daughter due in the summer.

  I thought of having my own family someday as I slid across the frigid, worn leather of the Butterscotch Monster. I shook my head at my presumption as I turned the key. The engine coughed and sputtered in the cold. Nothing seemed certain anymore. When I reached Port Quincy, I took a detour past the Lutheran Church. The pretty crèche out front had a fresh coat of paint, but the wo
od and craftsmanship of the figures featuring Mary, Joseph, the three wise men, and baby Jesus looked quite old. Old enough to have been the same set in front of the church when Olivia was abandoned Christmas Eve, then found. I stared at the wooden cradle surrounding the wooden infant, a bed big enough to hold a real baby. I shivered at the thought of Olivia lying in the manger, waiting to be discovered.

  My shivers accelerated as I recalled the message on the hood of her car, the small cradle from my own nativity sliding off and into the snow. Someone else knew about Olivia’s history, and they weren’t playing nice. My friend’s sudden fainting spell now made all too much sense.

  * * *

  The next day my sister and I headed to March Homes headquarters downtown. I carried a list of toys to be gathered at record speed for the toy drive. Word had traveled fast around town about the purloined presents, and the people of Port Quincy had rallied with good cheer. Many of the toys had been replaced, and some families’ wish lists were nearly complete. I had spent the morning inventorying the toys collected from various businesses, and now it was time to present the list to the March family to make up the rest.

  “Into the lion’s den.” My sister seemed to hold her breath as she laid her hand on the brass handle of the lobby’s front door. She wore gloves with the fingertips cut off, the better to show off her sparkly silver-and-red striped acrylics.

  “And Mom’s the last to know.” I’d filled my sister in on the judge’s misgivings about March Homes in a roundabout way. Rachel had agreed we should let Carole know she was working for a company that might not be on the up-and-up.

  “I’m sure she’ll love this visit.” Rachel chuckled without mirth as we made our way to the shiny brass elevator. We stepped out into a bank of offices hugging the walls of the second floor, with a busy hive of workers in a series of cubicles in the center. It was decorated with the same joy as the lobby below, but not as plentifully.

  “Girls, girls! I’m so excited to show you my office.” My mother bustled forward from the back row of offices and linked arms with my sister and me. She was clad monochromatically per usual, today’s hue a pretty burgundy.

  “It’s lovely.” She’d led us to a corner room in the back. The walls were a pleasing heavy cream, and she’d hung festive ribbon wreaths of silver and gold in the windows. I could see a pretty silhouette of Port Quincy through the old-fashioned panes. Her desk was a clean expanse of blonde wood. Blueprints, fabric swatches, and tile samples were piled neatly on an ample side worktable. I viewed pictures of Doug and my mom relaxing on their dock in Florida, a framed picture of Ramona, and photographs of Rachel and me.

  Gulp.

  Mom had really settled in. It didn’t look like she’d want to leave her new job anytime soon.

  “They’re really taking care of you,” I mused. “Are they in the office?”

  I craned my head out my mom’s open doorway. The other large offices in the back appeared quiet and dim.

  “All the engineers and construction managers are onsite. Alan and Goldie are onsite, too.”

  And I knew Clementine had just left to shuttle Rudy to a follow-up doctor’s appointment.

  “Ouch!” I gave a tiny yelp as my sister pinched my side with her shiny acrylics. “Okay, okay. Um, Mom?”

  “Yes, dear?” My mother had migrated to the worktable and taken her burgundy reading glasses from their perch on her forehead. She looked down at a swatch of gray silk and juxtaposed it with a slate tile.

  “Rachel and I are concerned about you.”

  This made her stop and listen. The reading glasses returned to her head, and she crossed her arms and squinted at my sister and me. “Now what could you two be talking about?”

  “These people are cray.” Rachel stated our concerns in her typically blunt manner.

  “Excuse me?” Our mom frowned.

  “I think she means the March family seems to be up to something hinky. The—” I stopped myself before I mentioned the judge by name—“er, certain townspeople have hunches about how they run their business. And we don’t want you to get caught up in anything.”

  A dim echo of Garrett’s warning to basically mind my own beeswax flashed through my conscience. I batted it away.

  My mother arched one artfully lined brow. A tiny vein on her forehead stood out.

  Uh-oh.

  I knew the signs and was worried my mom was about to have a conniption. But she decided instead to recede into mere annoyance.

  “Lots of people are unhappy with the Marches’ plans for Port Quincy. That doesn’t mean there’s anything untoward going on here.” She gestured to her office and those beyond. “I have seen nothing strange. Just a hardworking family trying to expand their business and bring more progress and opportunity to this town.”

  “But—” Rachel opened her mouth and was silenced by my mom holding her hand up.

  “Tell me, ladies. What exactly are these rumors? What specific claims do people have against March Homes?”

  Huh.

  I wracked my brain revisiting lunch with Judge Frank. She’d been aggravatingly unspecific in her complaints against Olivia’s family’s business. The more I thought about it, her actions could have just been an elaborate smear campaign.

  “You see? You have nothing.” My mother angrily slapped the tile sample down, and I winced as it connected with the wooden table.

  “That’s where you come in, Mom.” Rachel cheerily broke in. “We want you to do a teensy-weensy bit of snooping.”

  My mother whirled around almost fast enough to appear a blur.

  “Under no circumstances, Rachel Marie Shepard, will I be snooping on the March family!”

  “Oh, please. You’re the best snooper in town, Mom.” Rachel smirked. “You spent my entire middle school and high school existence snooping on me!”

  It was true. My mom knew Rachel had been a wild child. Snooping had headed off some of Rachel’s more daring but less-than-stellar ideas.

  “Only to prevent all the trouble I knew you were trying to get into.” My mother’s eyes softened and she shook her head with a chuckle. “You girls are just worried about me. It’s very sweet. But I’m having the time of my life here!” Her kind visage dimmed a degree. “I know you’re not trying to jeopardize my job. But that’s what could happen if I entertained your Nancy Drew fantasy. And besides.” She gave me a soul-searching look. “I thought you’d have more allegiance to your friend, Mallory. Olivia has so much going on in her life with her impending marriage and now the fire and Rudy’s recuperation.”

  I gulped. No one could serve up a heaping helping of guilt and introspection like my mom.

  “I think it’s because of Olivia that I want to know,” I said. “And to protect you.”

  “Well, I don’t need protecting.” My mother moved to sit down in the impressive leather chair behind her wide desk. She crossed her hands in front of her in a settled manner.

  “Rudy probably didn’t think he needed protecting either. He was napping in a chair when someone lit the cabin on fire.” I nearly whispered the facts.

  My mother’s superior face fell. “That brand-new wooden palace up in smoke.” She shuddered and seemed to doubt herself.

  “Brand new?” Rachel had only heard about the cabin from my description. It had looked recently built when I’d arrived and my mind scrambled to recall what Olivia had said about it.

  “Yes, look.” Our mother led us out of her office and into the hallway. She pointed to a series of framed photographs. The first three depicted outside shots of a tiny specimen of a cabin, the kind that would grace a cozy maple syrup label. Shots that were presumably of the inside of the structure followed next, with an impossibly young Clementine and Rudy, a child Goldie, and later Goldie and Alan with baby Olivia. The final series of photos showed the construction of the wooden castle I’d seen and the end result in all its splendor.

  My mom looked up and down the hallway and seemed to consider something. She bit her lip and deci
ded to go for it.

  “Alan does have a little problem with extravagant spending. Clementine and Rudy don’t think he pulls his weight. I heard he wanted to put an addition onto the original cabin, but Clementine and Rudy wouldn’t allow it. So he went against their wishes, had it razed to the ground, and erected that huge wooden castle on the same spot. He revealed it late this spring.” She shook her head. “That poor man is henpecked. He claimed he redid the cabin for Goldie, but no one cared. Clementine and Rudy were furious at the amount he spent—almost more so than the fact he tore down the original family cabin.”

  “So there is trouble at the palace!” Rachel nearly crowed at succeeding in getting our mom to spill the beans once and for all.

  “Oh, you two!” My mother turned on her heel and returned to her office. “That’s just family squabbles. It has nothing to do with their business.” The frown lines deepened between her eyes. “I’m grateful for this job. I don’t need the money, thankfully, but I was frankly pretty bored in my early retirement.”

  It was true. My mom’s well-meaning but incessant inquiries and uninvited suggestions about my and Rachel’s lives had kicked up a notch after she’d retired. This past week had been blessedly free of nudges to speed up my relationship with Garrett, cut my hair, or lose five pounds. I’d been worried about fending off my mom’s sweet but nosy comments, and instead, she’d been too busy to meddle.

  “Just be careful, that’s all,” I mumbled, ready to leave it at that.

  “And don’t forget you’re still a suspect.” Rachel wasn’t as keen to drop it.

  “I know how to handle myself! Truman didn’t arrest me, I must’ve done fine on my own, missy.” My mother glared at Rachel and included me in her dark look. Oh well, if Rachel was going to wade back in, I could, too.

  “Just think of what happened at the party thrown right in this building, one floor below.” I winced at the memory of Lacey collapsing. “Someone tried to set you up, Mom, and we don’t know who.”