Marry Christmas Murder

by Stephanie Blackmoore

  “Holy tamale. Judge Frank presided over Olivia’s adoption.” The story was a little blurb, a feel-good fluff piece that celebrated the adoption of the baby found in the manger. The writer did not mention the new name chosen by the adopting parents nor their names for that matter. But the small article did feature some quotes from the judge who handled the adoption, one Ursula Frank.

  “But Judge Frank doesn’t usually handle family court matters,” I mused. “Her docket is always criminal.”

  Rachel gave me a shrug. We were no closer to what had happened.

  “There’s one other thing that’s bothering me.” My voice sounded so small.

  “You’re thinking about what that toad Keith said.” My sister knew me well. “Don’t even give it a thought. You’d believe some stupid bee Keith tried to put in your bonnet over your trust in Garrett?”

  I squirmed as my sister put it that way. But I needed to put the accusation Keith had made to rest. I pulled up the Westlaw legal database and put in my old credentials. The search I was about to do would cost a small fortune. I put Garrett’s name in as the attorney in the search field and Ursula as the judge. Garrett had appeared in her court for over sixty matters. And each and every one had been decided in his favor. My heart rate accelerated.

  “It could be a coincidence,” Rachel muttered.

  “I don’t think so. Garrett is a phenomenal attorney, but this percentage is too high. At best, she’s deciding in his favor because she’s his mentor and she feels some kind of loyalty. At worst, they have some kind of formal arrangement going on.”

  “Well, you can’t just accuse Garrett,” Rachel warned. “I know your relationship is at some kind of a turning point. But this would turn it for the worse; you have to know that.”

  “I know. That’s why I’m not going to ask him. Yet.”

  I nosed around in Westlaw for a few minutes more, searching for all of Judge Frank’s cases. A troubling pattern began to emerge.

  “I don’t like this. There are some cases where the judge accepted a plea bargain grossly off from the initial charges. I have to wonder if she’s receiving payoffs.” A thought clicked into place. “Oh my goodness. The payments made by Goldie started thirty years ago. Maybe she’s been paying the judge for facilitating the discovery and adoption of Olivia.” My voice got faster and faster. “All that in addition to getting Goldie a kidney.”

  Rachel shook her head. “I wouldn’t want to cross that lady, Mallory, even on a good day. You’d better watch your step.”

  * * *

  I ignored my sister’s advice and texted Garrett. My beau appeared, rosy and handsome, a mere ten minutes later. He leaned in for a delicious kiss on the front porch. I paused before bringing him inside.

  “What’s wrong, Mallory?” Garrett tipped my chin up and peered into my eyes. I longed to turn back the clock. Before I’d taken on any events for the March family. Before the judge had brokered Garrett’s job offer at the clinic. Before all of the death and mayhem had rained down this December like a sinister snowfall.

  But it was too late. So I waded into the fray.

  “I’m a little worried about some things I’ve uncovered.” I paced the front porch and noted Garrett sitting down on the wide swing.

  “You’ve been sleuthing again.” An amused smile lit up Garrett’s face. “My dad won’t be happy, but I think it’s fun.” His face dimmed a degree. “As long as you’re staying safe, Mallory. I don’t know what I’d do if something happened to you.”

  My heart melted. Then I steeled myself to have the hard conversation I didn’t want to have.

  “Judge Frank presided over Olivia’s adoption.”

  Garrett frowned and stood, the chains from the porch swing clanking in the cold air.

  “Did she? What does that have to do with anything? Other than being a fun coincidence that her son ended up marrying Olivia.”

  “It’s just odd. I looked up each and every one of her cases. She has presided over criminal matters exclusively, not adoptions. All except for Olivia.” Garrett raised his eyebrows. “Goldie March has made a sizable cash payment mailed to a post office box in Port Quincy for precisely thirty years. They began soon after the Marches found Olivia.”

  Garrett shook his head. “I don’t like where this is going, Mallory. This sounds like a lot of loose coincidences.”

  I sent him a pleading look. “Judge Frank’s husband was the head of surgery at the hospital. Do you know what kinds of surgeries he usually performed?”

  Garrett seemed to consider my question. “I think he had a gift with transplants, actually. But Tobias Frank has been dead for eight years or so.”

  I nodded, a chill running down my back. “Andrea Adams disappeared the day before Christmas ten years ago. And a day later, Goldie March had a kidney transplant. You’d think she’d have had her operation in Pittsburgh, where she lives. But she had it here.”

  “These are very serious accusations, Mallory, and quite frankly, I don’t really see how they’re tied to Judge Frank.”

  I’d anticipated Garrett’s fierce allegiance to his mentor.

  “Why does the judge seem so keen for you to leave Port Quincy? Do you think she thinks things are coming to a head?”

  Anger flashed in Garrett’s lovely hazel eyes. “I think she offered me her class at Pitt because she knew I once had aspirations to teach law. Nothing more. If the school wants to offer me a job directing a clinic, that’s their business.”

  I took a deep breath and hoped my relationship could withstand my next observation.

  “The judge’s record is there for all to see. Including some plea bargains that are a bit outside the range of normal. I have to wonder if she’s accepting favors or payments to reduce sentences.”

  Garrett had had enough. He opened his mouth to speak. But I wasn’t finished.

  “There are rumors about your practice, as well. All of the issues and matters you’ve presented before her have been adjudicated in your favor.”

  Garrett’s anger melted into something akin to sadness. “I’ve heard those rumors, Mallory. And while I do have many cases in front of Judge Frank, I can assure you we have no deal or arrangement. I just practice to the best of my ability. Faithfully and with integrity. And I thought you knew that, too.”

  He brushed his thumb against my cheek. “I had made my decision. I should have involved you more in the process, and for that I apologize. I was going to reject the clinic offer and stay here in Port Quincy. But now I’m not so sure.”

  “I’m sorry.” My heart sank into my feet. I felt a rivulet of tears course down my face, but Garrett didn’t wipe them away.

  “I need your trust. And I don’t have it. I love you. I do. But I think we need to stop seeing each other.”

  I nodded my reply. I had no words to offer. I watched his figure advance down the front stairs, into his car, and out of my life.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  I slipped back inside and grabbed my pea coat. I couldn’t bear to join my jolly family before the fire. I had ruined the relationship with the man I loved, all over some suspicions that may or may not even be true. My sister had been right. I should’ve just calmed down, enjoyed the holiday, and run my theories by Truman the day after Christmas.

  I left Thistle Park, walking in a blind stupor toward downtown. I passed the pretty rows of Victorians in my neighborhood, each one bedecked in holiday finery. I realized with a start I was near Judge Frank’s own house. I definitely thought there was something hinky going on with her cases. But maybe it wasn’t my place to wonder.

  “Mallory, do you need a ride? It’s far too cold to walk.”

  Speak of the devil.

  A Tahoe pulled over and Ursula Frank beckoned me inside.

  “I’m fine, thank you.” I blinked up at the judge. “Merry Christmas.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous,” she snapped. She could be as commanding outside the courtroom as within. “I haven’t thanked you properly for the wonderful
wedding you put on for my son and Olivia.”

  I stood on the sidewalk at an odd kind of standoff. Finally I pulled open the passenger door and climbed into the SUV. I’d ruined my relationship with Garrett over accusations with the judge. I may as well seek some clarity.

  “Where are you headed?” I frowned as we headed away from downtown and out to the western side of Port Quincy.

  “I wanted to check out my new home. My retirement is going to be all about new beginnings. I bought the Victorian with my husband ages ago, and we raised Toby there. But it’s time to get some new digs. I’m going to be moving into one of the first March Homes. The house is nearly finished.”

  Alarm bells rang in the back of my head as we traveled further from the city. True to her word, the judge pulled into a housing development, this one marked at the entrance as Phase I, Juniper Ridge.

  “And here we are.” The judge had selected a pretty rambling ranch of a home. Smooth salmon brick rose in a pleasing composition of triangular roof peaks. It was a modern structure, very different from her current abode. Ursula gave me a mini tour, her excitement palpable.

  “Hemingway will like looking at all the nature,” I began carefully. The judge ushered me into the kitchen. The room was almost finished, but there were some missing elements. The kitchen cabinets still bore tape holding their doors closed, and there was no refrigerator. I could see the big backyard through a set of French doors.

  “Tell me, how did you come to adopt Hemingway?” I’d slipped my cell phone from my pocket. I hoped to be able to dial my sister if I needed to.

  The judge surprised me. She folded her hands neatly in front of her and raised her eyebrows in invitation. “I think you already figured it out, Mallory. Why don’t you tell me?”

  So I gave her the same spiel as I had done with Garrett, this audience very different.

  “I think you and your husband facilitated Goldie’s kidney transplant. Andrea Adams had been typed to explore giving her organ to her cousin. She wasn’t a match, but Goldie was. So you killed Andrea, Goldie got her kidney, and you got Hemingway as a token of thanks from the March family. Did I miss anything?”

  The judge laughed, her smile suddenly disingenuous and cunning. “Well done, Mallory. But some of your details are off. I didn’t kill Andrea Adams. In fact, I have no idea where that kidney came from.”

  She made note of my guffaw. “Oh, fine. If I’m honest, I’d guess that’s where they got it. But I didn’t ask and neither did Tobias. He just performed the operation.”

  I almost believed her. “What about Olivia’s adoption? You stepped out of your purview of criminal cases to handle that. Why?”

  The judge sighed. “Before I became a judge, I had a thriving practice. I handled a few cases for the March family. I knew Goldie couldn’t have her own children. Her kidneys were always a problem.”

  Her story so far echoed Goldie’s.

  “I knew of a woman in a troubled marriage who was having a baby of her own. I got her in contact with the March family.”

  “You tried to broker the sale of her baby?”

  The judge recoiled. “No! The adoption of her baby. What kind of a person do you think I am?”

  A person who obviously skirts the fine line of ethics and legality.

  I rolled my eyes at the judge.

  She sneered and continued her tale. “As it turns out, she wasn’t interested in giving up her baby. But she did eventually need my help. Her husband attacked her, and she murdered him in self-defense. I arranged not to charge her, or even report the crime, if she gave up her baby.”

  A sickening wave of dread washed over me.

  “Olivia.”

  “Yes.” The judge gave a callous laugh. “The funny thing is, I didn’t even need to broker that deal. It’s truly ironic. The killing of her husband clearly was in self-defense—a pregnant woman trying to save herself and her baby. But the poor woman didn’t realize. So, the Marches got their daughter, and I got a nice, fat check each month.”

  “I’m sure this is illegal.” I slipped my phone from my pocket, not sure how rational the judge would be. “You can’t get away with all of this.”

  Ursula smiled. “I get away with it all, Mallory. Although your snooping was a bit much. I tried to get you off my trail at lunch that day. And I’d almost succeeded in convincing Garrett to take the position in Pittsburgh. He really is an exemplary attorney. I hear the rumors about deciding too much in his favor. But that’s because of his skill, not some arrangement. At least you should know that.”

  It was a small good thing in a sea of odious and unethical actions. If I managed to get out of here, the judge would surely pay.

  She pulled open a drawer in her new cabinet and extracted a pistol.

  “The one thing I can’t figure out is who took my Hemingway. I did assume it was someone who didn’t like one of my rulings. But removing his microchip? That muddies the waters.”

  I heard my breath as it accelerated. The judge was yammering on, waving the gun this way and that. If I approached it just right, I bet I could kick it out of her hands. In the meantime, I swiped my fingers across the smooth glass case of my phone. I didn’t dare remove the device from my pocket, but hoped the screen was still up and ready to dial my sister.

  “Ursula, what in the heck are you doing?”

  We both wheeled around, coming face to face with Santa himself.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  “Rudy, thank goodness.” I sidled up to the man in red and willed my heart to stop racing. Olivia’s grandfather wore a red Arkansas Razorbacks sweat suit. With his bald pate, big belly, and prodigious white beard, he looked like Santa taking a day off.

  “Mallory, you sure have waded into a mess here.” Rudy shook his head, his eyes no longer twinkling. “And Ursula, you’ve said too much.”

  I grimaced as the judge raised her pistol and pointed it at Rudy.

  “Don’t play your little Kris Kringle gambit with me, Rudolph March. You’re in this up to your eyeballs.”

  Uh-oh.

  I’d unwittingly chosen to jump straight from Judge Frank’s frying pan into an even more dire fire. I attempted to put some physical distance between Rudy and me, but it was too late.

  “I’m sorry, Ursula. But I should have done this a long time ago.” Rudy pulled a revolver from the back of his waistband and shot the judge. She crumpled to the floor with a moan, her blood staining the pretty subway tile.

  “Oh no, oh no, oh no,” I chanted.

  “Chill out, Mallory.” Rudy’s voice was weary. “When it’s your turn, I’ll make it quick. Now, let’s just have a little chat about how you figured this out.”

  I closed my eyes against the wave of nausea cresting in my throat. “If Judge Frank didn’t kill Andrea to get a kidney for Goldie, then you must have.”

  Rudy nodded sagely. “If you have children some day, you’ll see. You’d do anything for them. And I was tired of watching my baby Goldie get so sick. All the money in the world wasn’t healing her; she just needed that kidney.”

  “So why didn’t you offer Andrea payment for her kidney? I don’t think that’s allowed, but it would be better than killing her.”

  Rudy shook his head in a mournful manner. “I tried, believe me. But she didn’t want to sell. So she had to go. I told Lacey the same thing the evening of Paws and Poinsettias.”

  “She was snooping around and figured it out.”

  Rudy shook his head. “Not quite. It was ridiculously ironic. Lacey never figured out I’d murdered her sister. What she’d uncovered concerned Goldie’s transplant. Lacey needed her own kidney. She tried to blackmail me into procuring one just as I had for my daughter. I had to burn down that cabin to hide any traces of records.” The man laughed. “Like I’d go out of my way for someone who isn’t family, blackmail or no! So for Lacey, I used the antifreeze I had in the trunk of my Land Rover. It wasn’t until later that evening I realized your mother had brought in a jug of the stuff that first day
I met her. It was too good of a coincidence to pass up.”

  His smile was still kindly, his manner still avuncular. But as I heard Ursula moaning on the floor behind me, I knew this was the sickest incarnation of Father Christmas I could ever imagine.

  “And what about Olivia?”

  “That was more complicated but worth it just the same.” Rudy smiled. “I love Olivia. And she was meant to be a March.” A dark cloud crossed over his jolly visage. “Or at least a Krylenko.”

  The name rang a distant bell in the back of my brain.

  “Alan’s original surname before he changed it to March. Oh my God, Alan is Olivia’s biological father. Does he even know?”

  It fit. Olivia resembled both of her parents, despite being adopted. Now I knew in the case of her father, it especially made sense.

  “He was starting to poke around that actuality. He asked me if I knew anything else about Olivia’s whereabouts before he and Goldie found her.” He sighed. “So I let myself into your house and made Alan a special drink. He likes blue drinks, so I hoped he’d drink it. And I wasn’t wrong.”

  “But you could have poisoned anyone at Olivia’s shower with that antifreeze!”

  Rudy shrugged. “That was an acceptable risk. I admit I bungled that one, though.” He ran a hand over his balding scalp. “Turns out I bungled burying that body, too.”

  “The man found on your property.”

  Rudy nodded. “Patrick Bowman was an abusive jerk. I would have killed him myself, but it turns out, I didn’t have to. But I did tip him off about his wife’s affair with my son-in-law.”

  “Justine,” I whispered. It fit.

  “Yes, Justine. I nearly had a heart attack when she waltzed into March Homes as your mother’s new hire. And I think she suspected Olivia may have been her daughter, but I don’t think she was sure.”

  If he had thought she was, he may have already taken care of her, I thought with a shiver. I realized my teeth had been chattering since Rudy shot the judge. I wondered if I’d have any enamel left on my teeth if I made it out of here unscathed.