A Christmas to Dismember

by Addison Moore

  And tonight I’m hoping to gain a little more clarity on the type of person Arthur is, and more importantly, if Quinn ever said anything about him to Warwick.

  “Hubba hubba.” Georgie moans as she inspects a couple of frat boys walking into Quinn’s Bar and Bistro, out in Whaler’s Warf, and that’s exactly where we stand now.

  I had no idea Quinn owned a bar out in Whaler’s Warf. I vaguely remember him telling me about other establishments he held in Maine, but once he assured me they weren’t inns, I guess I must have tuned him out.

  Regardless, it turns out, this place is a nightly haunt for the next suspect on my list. And per the contract I seemingly entered into with the lead homicide detective on the case, I informed him of my whereabouts and he said as soon as he was done with forensics he’d swing on by. Besides, I’m far from alone. I have Macy, Georgie, and Juni with me.

  “Georgie, stop drooling,” Macy snips as she adjusts her booty-hugging little black dress.

  She’s chosen to spice up the much-loved frock with a pair of spiked silver heels.

  Believe me, I’ve got my eye on those, and if she pulls any unwarranted stunts, I might accept them as payment for letting her tag along on my little investigative jaunt. I caved this time once she swore she’d never sleep with a killer again.

  Macy sniffs my way. “Those boys were young enough to be embryos. I should have figured that when you invited me out for a bar crawl something would be amiss. I don’t do frat boys. Here’s hoping a scruffy bartender who doubles as a vampire can rectify the night.” She cinches her purse over her shoulder as she marches on in.

  “Don’t forget the booze!” Juni shouts after her. “Booze always rectifies the night for me.”

  I hold the door open for the rest of our motley crew, only to find Macy in the foyer donning what looks to be reindeer antlers with tiny bells festooning them and a red plastic nose that blinks on and off.

  “You’re going to pay for this,” she hisses while wagging a finger my way. “You’re lucky they serve beer.” She stalks on into the heart of the establishment just as the hostess welcomes us and hands us each a set of antlers and a glowing red nose for ourselves.

  “Fair warning”—the hostess shrugs—“the Greeks from Dexter University are hosting their Christmas bash here tonight. It might be a little rowdier than usual.”

  “Really? I went to Dexter.” It comes out a little too enthusiastic. I didn’t graduate, but I doubt anyone is going to ask me to pull out my college records tonight.

  The hostess laughs. “Then you know exactly how rowdy they can be.”

  I quickly scan the establishment, with its dusty wooden floors, small round tables, packed dance floor, and what looks to be a thousand lunatics running around disguised as Santa’s most trustworthy reindeer. Everyone is either laughing hysterically or gyrating their limbs as if they were being electrocuted.

  “Honestly, the three of us might just be the sanest people in the room tonight.” I purposely left Macy out of the equation because her sanity has been questionable from an early age. I turn to look at Georgie and Juni and freeze.

  Georgie has attached herself onto Juni’s back and is spurring her onward with her invisible reins.

  “Never mind,” I say. Honestly, with Juni’s barely-there leather getup and Georgie’s neon green kaftan, it only adds to the visual. “Let’s get seated and see what’s on the menu.”

  “Oh”—the hostess holds up a finger—“we’re sort of famous for our bacon wrapped jalapeño poppers.”

  Juni makes an odd wailing sound as she stalks forward. “Jalapeño poppers and boozy boys? Something tells me this is going to be a night to remember.”

  I’m about to ask the hostess where I can find Warwick when I spot the stalky man himself at the bar, patting a patron on the back as they share a laugh together.

  Georgie and I follow Juni inside as a country version of a holiday song croons overhead. Macy is nowhere to be seen. For all I know, someone could have hauled her off to the alley and buried an axe in her. And seeing that she has a propensity to sleep with my prime suspects, this could be a very real possibility.

  We find a table near the bar, and it affords me a straight shot of the suspect at hand. Warwick has donned the requisite antlers and impossible to breathe through red rubber nose. He’s wearing a suit that stretches to accommodate his barrel chest, and a few of the buttons on his dress shirt look as if they’re being compromised.

  A waitress blocks my view momentarily, and Juni puts in four orders of bacon wrapped jalapeño poppers.

  “Four?” I balk as the waitress does a disappearing act.

  “You don’t know what Mama and I are capable of when it comes to spicy food.” Juni nods, and the bells attached to her antlers give a little jingle.

  “Georgie, I thought you had a sensitive stomach?”

  “Not when it comes to anything wrapped in bacon. How hot can it be? And don’t worry, Biz. If we have any leftovers, I’ll take some back to my cottage. I’ve got a backlog of mixed martial arts on my DVR just waiting for me to pair it with a spicy snack.”

  “Good idea,” Juni says. “I’ll take a few back to Sprinkles.”

  “You can’t feed that to Sprinkles,” I spit the words out in a flurry. “That’s like sticking a firecracker into a five pound piñata.”

  “Oh, honey”—Juni looks sick at the thought—“she’s not shooting candy out of her rear. I’ve been finding those Tootsie Rolls of hers all over the house.” She says Tootsie Rolls with air quotes.

  “That’s too bad,” I say. “Maybe you should take her out to go potty a little bit more?”

  Her face smooths out. “You mean I’m supposed to take her out?”

  The waitress comes back with four huge orders of poppers and a round of ice water.

  “Something stronger, sister,” Juni insists as she pushes the water aside. “Give me the house special.”

  “And I’ll take what she’s having,” Georgie says.

  The blonde in a tight little blue dress nods. “Two tequila slammers coming right up. And you, miss?” She offers to put one in for me and I quickly decline.

  The three of us dive right into those bacon-covered delights—some of us with far more vigor than others—and soon both Georgie and Juni are pounding their fists to the table and stomping their heels to the floor. Interestingly enough, their silent cries for help happen to coincide with the rhythm of the music, and soon the entire establishment seems to be joining in on the foot stomping fun.

  Both Georgie and Juni shove glasses to their faces, and water and ice alike go flying.

  “Elegant.” I wink over at them as they pant and gasp.

  “Danger danger, Will Robinson!” Georgie shouts.

  “I doubt anyone in here is old enough to remember that.” I shrug. “But I do and I can appreciate the warning.”

  “Don’t worry, Mama.” Juni gives a few hard blinks as the tears start flowing and her mascara melts into a muddy river. “I’ll box ‘em up. This will feed the dog for a month.”

  “What?” A choking sound emits from me. “What part of that firecracker in the piñata euphemism didn’t you understand?”

  “Never mind that.” Georgie swills her water my way. “We’ve got a proposal to plot.”

  “Oh, is it Emmie’s?” Juni bounces in her seat as if she were the one Leo was about to propose to.

  Georgie waves the idea off. “Emmie’s got this in the bag. I say we plot Hux and Mayor Woods’ budding fiasco. And get this—they’re both proposing to each other.”

  I nod. “And they’ve both asked me to plan out the mockery to matrimony. Juni, you’ve been married a few times. How did all your future exes pop the question?”

  “Let’s see”—she squints at the ceiling—“Junior flashed his knife my way and, of course, I said hell yeah. I just had my nails done and didn’t want to deal with having blood on my hands.”

  “His or yours,” I muse.

  “Both.” Her
head ticks to the side. “Then there was your daddy. I darn near fell out of bed when he asked.”

  “I did not need to know that.” Speaking of blood relatives, I glance around to make sure Macy is still alive and spot her doing a spicy version of the two-step out on the dance floor. “And number three?”

  Juni shrugs. “It was some guy I met at a bar in Edison. We were riding the mechanical bull together and he said, ‘If you don’t fall off, I’m marrying you.’ It was a threat he made good on.”

  “Smooth,” I say as the rhythmic clapping from the dance floor hits new heights.

  A loud whoop followed by chanting comes from the right and we see a girl doing a handstand on what looks to be a keg of beer. About three beefy men are holding her in the position while a young brunette who looks all of thirteen shoots beer into her mouth. The woman’s blonde hair dangles around her face, and I can’t help but notice she’s wearing a pair of silver spiked heels.

  “Hey, those shoes look familiar,” I say, standing up, and sure enough, my saucy big sis is having liquor streamed right into her pie hole.

  “Wait a minute.” Juni jumps to her feet as well. “Nobody outperforms me when it comes to keg stands.” She takes off like a leather-clad bullet as Georgie stretches by my side.

  “Welp. I’m ready,” she announces.

  “To leave?” Because so am I.

  “Are you kidding? We’re not leaving until we’ve cuffed the perp and roughed him up with a butter knife.”

  My lips twist. “I don’t think we’ll be assaulting anyone with a butter knife tonight. Besides, I actually like tonight’s mark. I think he has some information that might help me nail the killer. In fact, that’s my mark right over there.” I nod to the bar where Warwick sits ensconced with a blonde on either side of him.

  “Well hello, hot and hairy. I’m calling dibs on this one, Biz. I specialize in furry men with a little extra to hold onto at night.” She makes a beeline his way, and I quickly follow.

  Note to self: Clearly delineate to all parties I may have inadvertently hauled along with me, that under no condition are they allowed to hit on suspects. It’s bad enough Macy might have had her way with the killer, right after he had his way with Quinn by way of an axe.

  And I need Warwick willing to talk about suspects, not planning a covert op at Georgie’s cottage that may or may not involve nudity. And for the love of God, I pray it doesn’t.

  Georgie frowns over at the two blondes cuddling up to Warwick. “Justin Bieber just walked in and announced that he’s looking for a couple of golden-haired cuties to put in his next video. And he’s giving out free candy canes, too!”

  “I’m a golden-haired cutie!” The one on the right takes off in a blur.

  “How I’d love to take a bite out of his candy cane.” The girl on the left zips off so fast Warwick’s head is left on a swivel.

  Georgie and I plant ourselves on their stools, and my seat has been nicely warmed for me.

  “Well hello, ladies.” Warwick chuckles as he looks from Georgie to me, and I can’t help but chuckle back as I take him in with those reindeer antlers jingling softly on his head and that red plastic nose. “I can scoot over one so the two of you can sit together if you like?”

  Georgie balks at the idea, “Why would I want to sit with her when I can sit next to you?” Her head does an odd wobble as she gives his beard a pinch. “Have I ever told you I’ve got a weakness for men with a good Vandyke?”

  A warm laugh expels from him. “A woman who knows her beards. Please allow me to buy you a drink. I’m afraid we haven’t met before.” He holds a hand out her way. “Warwick Tully.”

  “Sounds to me as if we’ve been wasting time. With a beard like that, I bet you play an instrument, too. Let me guess, the tuba?”

  He belts out a full-bellied laugh. “Close. Saxophone. What’s your name, hot stuff?”

  Saxophone. I avert my eyes a moment. I dated a guy once in college who played the sax and he almost ripped my head off when I dared to touch it. He let me know the brass is sensitive to the oil from people’s fingertips. Turns out, I was sensitive to people almost ripping my head off and we parted ways soon thereafter.

  “Georgie Conner, superfan of fuzzy faces the world over. And that’s my keeper, Bizzy.” She makes a face my way, but I’m thankful she’s chosen to include me in her intro. Once Georgie starts to dominate a conversation, trying to interject is like trying to stick a post in dry cement.

  Warwick inches back as he turns to examine me. “Bizzy? Is that you?” Another warm laugh strums from him.

  I pull my nose off momentarily. “The one and only. But just between you and me, I’m really digging the disguise. I might just wear it around the inn for the rest of the month.”

  “You’ll catch an eye or two.” He gives a friendly wink. “What brings you out this way?”

  I wonder if this has anything to do with the reading of the will? Would Joe have contacted her?

  I nod out of reflex. I did receive a phone call from Joseph Goodyear, Quinn’s attorney. He officially requested I be in the room during the reading of the will. He tipped me off and said that Quinn had some kind sentiments toward me and a special message. I can’t wait to hear it. Even though we weren’t terribly close, I really do miss him.

  “Actually—” I glance back to the dance floor where a crowd has gathered around that keg once again. Only this time it’s not Macy doing a handstand while having hops and barley shot into her mouth. It’s Juni. A girl in a Dexter sweatshirt strides by and that’s my cue. “I went to Dexter.” I shrug over at him. “The alumni are always invited to these kinds of event. I was the official monitor of my dorm.” True story.

  Georgie pretends to retch. “That’s code for tattletale.” She rolls her eyes at him. “I bet that’s where she got the nickname Buzzkill Bizzy.”

  “That is not my nickname,” I’m quick to refute the less than fun-loving moniker.

  “So she says.” Georgie elbows him. “Don’t listen to her. Once Bizzy Baker Wilder heads into the room, the fun-o’-meter starts to spin in the wrong direction.” She leans a notch closer to him. “Don’t tell her I said this—they don’t exactly send her any invites to these shindigs. But you know how it goes, it’s hard to keep the party police off the scene of the crime.”

  A robust laugh bucks from him. “Oh, I’ve known a few people like that.”

  The bartender comes by, and Warwick has us each order up a drink.

  “Make mine a virgin,” I say. “I’m driving.”

  “Make mine a double,” Georgie calls out. “I’m having my good time and hers.” She gives Warwick’s beard a quick tickle. “And if you play your cards right, we can have a good time ourselves. I’ve got a cache of chocolate chip cookies back at my place and a bottle of moonshine I bought out of the trunk of some guy’s car down in Edison last week.”

  “Georgie,” I say as I shake my head at her. “That’s illegal and probably deadly. When did you pick this up?”

  “While you were showing off your stems in the kick line. You’re not the only one who knows how to break a rule now and then. Besides, Christmas is coming right up. I’ve got a naughty list to make my way onto. I had to start somewhere. Don’t worry, Biz. You might just find a bottle of white lightning under the tree on the big day yourself. He was running a special, and I needed to do a little Christmas shopping. He needed cash, and I needed a gift that would keep on giving. Talk about right place, right time.” Her fingers walk up Warwick’s arm. “Sort of like now.”

  Warwick nuzzles his nose her way, and my jaw goes slack.

  Has she lost her mind? She does realize this is my rodeo, right?

  “Don’t listen to her, Warwick,” I say. “If you play your cards wrong, they’ll be hauling you out of her cottage in a few hours, unconscious. And there’s a very good chance you won’t wake up after she gives you that rat poison.”

  He shakes his head as a silent laugh bumps through his chest.

&nb
sp; “You girls are a hoot.” He pauses a moment as he looks my way. “Wait a minute. Did she say your surname was Wilder? As in Detective Wilder?”

  Great.

  “Yes, actually.” I sigh because in the past, any mention of Jasper has even the most innocent of people clamming up. “We just got married this past September.”

  “Well, congratulations. Is there any news on the case? I can’t believe someone would so brazenly do something like this.” Brazen is as brazen does.

  “No word. I was hoping they’d solve this before Christmas, but the holiday is just about here and the case is growing colder by the day.” I don’t dare tell him what I learned about Arthur. “Did you happen to see Quinn after the show? I mean, I’m not implicating you.” I laugh at the thought. “But he must have had a disagreement with someone. That axe was a part of the show. Whoever did the deed acted out of spontaneous anger. Or at least that’s what it looks like.”

  He nods. “I thought the same thing.” He takes a deep breath. “You know, I had been thinking about it. Actually, I can’t stop. Quinn was my very good friend. We did everything together. I used to call him my partner in crime. We started a business way back when, and it took off like wildfire. He was my good luck charm in every way. I wouldn’t be the man I am today without him.” Isn’t that the truth?

  I’m about to ask about his business when he lifts a finger in the air.

  “There is something that I neglected to tell the detectives that night,” he offers. “In fact, I planned on giving your husband a call. I didn’t think it was important at the time, but I saw Quinn head out to the garden. I was heading out to speak with him myself, but I ended up stopping by the refreshment table and ate my weight in chocolate chip cookies and peppermint bark. Not an easy feat by any measure.” His chest shakes as he swallows down a laugh. “I had to apologize to the cute brunette who works for you for making her job so hard when she came back to replenish the supply.” Lord knows I’ve got the belly to prove I have a sweet tooth.