by Sarah Fox
Unsettled, I shut down my laptop and got up from the couch to finish making dinner, more appreciative than ever that I’d lucked out when it came to finding my husband.
* * * *
After our dinner of spaghetti and garlic bread, Brett and I drove to the local tree farm in Brett’s truck, its windshield now fixed. On the way, I told him what I’d learned about Henrietta Franklin. Brett’s thoughts mirrored my own—it was an interesting and tragic tale, but he still wasn’t convinced that there was a real ghost haunting the lake. By the time I’d finished telling him Henrietta’s story, we’d reached our destination.
Since we arrived at the farm after dark, we couldn’t head out to cut down a tree. Instead, we had to choose from the pre-cut ones in the lot near the entrance. That area was lit with bright lights, and Christmas music played through outdoor speakers. A few people stood by a fire pit, enjoying the warmth of the flames while chatting and sipping hot drinks.
A small building known as the Santa Shack operated as a seasonal café of sorts. It had hot drinks and sugar cookies for sale, with a few tables and chairs inside. I knew from the year before that the Santa Shack served delicious hot apple cider. Even though we’d just had dinner, Brett and I planned to make a stop at the Shack before leaving the farm.
First, however, we focused on the trees. We took our time, assessing each tree before deciding if it was in the running. After we’d looked at a dozen or so, Brett stood up a five-foot Douglas fir with full branches.
“How about this one for The Flip Side?” he asked.
I held off on judgement until I’d walked all the way around the tree, studying it from all sides. “It’s perfect,” I declared.
“One down, one to go.”
“Let’s make that two to go,” I said. “One for the living room and a smaller one for the family room.”
Brett had no objection.
One of the farm’s employees took the tree to shake off the loose needles and wrap it while we continued our search. After another half hour, we’d picked out a six-foot tree for the living room at the front of our house, where we had our family gatherings on Christmas Eve and Christmas Day, and a cute four-foot tree for the family room at the back of the house, where we spent most of our time.
I’d end up decorating four trees this year, but I didn’t mind. I loved decorating for the holidays.
By the time we’d paid for the trees, we were more than ready for something hot to drink. The temperature hovered around the freezing mark and the breeze, while slight, had me shivering.
“Do you want me to go grab us drinks while you finish up?” I asked.
Brett was in the process of loading the trees into the back of his truck.
“Sure.”
I rubbed my gloved hands together, hoping to work some warmth into my fingers. “Hot chocolate or apple cider?”
“I think I’ll go with hot chocolate this year.”
I jogged over to the Santa Shack and stepped inside, the warmth of the interior and the smell of spices from the cider hitting me right away. Christmas music played in here as well, and twinkle lights had been strung overhead. Evergreen wreaths and swags hung on one wall, available for sale. I stopped to admire them, and ended up picking out two, one for the front door of our house and the other for The Flip Side.
Over at the counter, I ordered hot chocolate for Brett, apple cider for me, and two snowmen sugar cookies that looked far too good to resist. I paid for the food and drinks, as well as the wreaths. While I waited for the woman behind the counter to get the drinks ready, my gaze strayed to the few tables off to my right, where a handful of people sat enjoying drinks and cookies.
My gaze snapped back to the first table I saw. Chloe sat there, a mug of something hot on the table before her. It came as a surprise to see Deputy Kyle Rutowski with her. I’d met the deputy several times and I knew he’d grown up in Wildwood Cove. He was out of uniform and also had a drink in front of him. I almost called out to them, but then I realized with another jolt of surprise that they were holding hands.
I remembered that Chloe had never confirmed or denied that she had a date planned. I wondered if that had been on purpose.
The lady behind the counter handed over the drinks I’d bought, along with a small paper bag holding our cookies. I glanced Chloe’s way again, debating whether I should stop and say hi. When I saw the way she and Kyle had their heads close together, talking softly and still holding hands, I quietly slipped out the door without saying anything.
As I walked past the nearest row of pre-cut trees, I noticed two girls gazing up at a tall one with awe. They appeared to be about eight years old, and I recognized them as the girls who’d been at the seniors’ center the first day I’d gone to pick a tree. I remembered the fair-haired one was named Emily.
“I wish I could have a big Christmas tree like this one,” Emily said to her friend as I passed them. “We always used to have a tall one, but my mom says we can only have a small one this year.”
She looked so sad, but hopefully she’d end up with a beautiful tree, no matter how tall or short.
Brett jogged over to greet me, relieving me of his hot chocolate and the wreaths. “Looks like we’re buying the place out.”
“Almost,” I said with a smile, knowing he was teasing.
I climbed into the truck and set my apple cider in the cup holder while I fastened my seatbelt. Brett climbed in too and started the engine, cranking up the heat in an attempt to dispel the chill that had seeped into the vehicle in our absence. As we drove along the farm’s driveway, heading for the highway, we passed a green pickup truck going in the opposite direction. The driver was a young man, but the truck reminded me of Dwight and his dinged windshield.
Thinking about Dwight led me to consider another one of my suspects—Rita. When I’d seen Lily on the beach, she’d mentioned that Rita had never wanted to expand Holly Lodge like Kevin had. Zahra had said that Rita was now the sole owner of the lodge, so its future was completely in her hands. Could that have been what she wanted all along?
There was no denying that Rita and Kevin’s relationship wasn’t perfect. Zahra claimed that they’d still loved each other, and maybe they had, but was Kevin’s hope to expand Holly Lodge a major point of contention between them? If so, could Rita have killed her husband to gain full control of the business and property?
It was a chilling thought, but one I couldn’t ignore. There didn’t seem to be a way to prove or disprove that theory, though. No one had mentioned seeing Rita after she’d supposedly gone to bed on Friday night. And since she’d been alone in the lodge’s private quarters, no one could confirm that she’d stayed in bed until morning.
I needed more information about my suspects if I was ever going to rule any of them out. That would have to wait, however. At the moment, I had something to tell Brett.
“You’ll never guess who I saw in the Santa Shack…”
Chapter Fourteen
“Chloe and Kyle Rutowski?” Brett said as we drove along the highway. He sounded like he was having trouble believing me. “Are you sure they were on a date?”
“Positive. They were holding hands and looking very cozy.”
“Holding hands on their first date?”
I tried to suppress a grin. “It’s not like Kyle was proposing. And…I have a feeling it might not be their first date.”
Brett frowned. “Our whole family knows Kyle. Why wouldn’t Chloe mention it if she’s been out with him before?”
“Probably because she didn’t want everyone sticking their nose in her business.”
“I wouldn’t do that,” he protested.
I nearly choked when I tried to hold back a laugh.
Brett sent me a sidelong glance. “What’s so funny?”
“You’re a great brother, Brett, but sometimes you do go into full-on big brother mode.”
“Besides,” I continued, “it’s not easy to have any privacy in a small town. Maybe they just want to see where things go between them before all of Wildwood Cove knows they’re dating.”
I figured that might be why they’d gone to an out-of-the-way place like the Santa Shack. Obviously, doing that didn’t guarantee that they wouldn’t be seen by someone who recognized them, but if they’d met up somewhere in town, it was pretty much a sure thing that at least half of Wildwood Cove would have known about it by the next morning.
“Okay,” Brett said after a moment. “I guess I can understand that.”
I patted his knee. “Kyle’s a good guy.”
“I know.”
“So you won’t give him or Chloe the third-degree next time you see them?”
“I don’t know about that,” he said.
“Brett…”
One corner of his mouth quirked upwards, and I knew he wasn’t as worried as he’d pretended to be. “I’ll do my best to play it cool.” He glanced my way, a full-fledged grin now on his face. “So, you’re not going to grill Chloe either?”
“I won’t grill her.” My smile matched his. “But I fully intend to request details the next time I see her.”
Brett laughed. “That’s my Marley.”
* * * *
We’d just arrived home when Patricia texted me with the news that the festival thief had struck yet again. More baubles and snowflakes had disappeared, but from trees that hadn’t been hit before. Whoever was behind the thefts was taking care not to steal too much from any single tree. Maybe the person responsible didn’t want to victimize any one sponsor too much, or perhaps the culprit’s method had more to do with the hope that the disappearances would go unnoticed if only a few decorations were taken from each tree.
I wondered what the thief’s motive might be. The ornaments weren’t particularly valuable, aside from possible sentimental value. Maybe the decorations had simply caught the thief’s fancy, or perhaps the culprit was trying to derail the festival for some reason. I didn’t see how anyone would think that a few missing ornaments would put a stop to the event, though.
While helping Brett unload the trees, I mulled over the problem, wondering if there was a way to catch the thief. Either the missing decorations would have to be found in someone’s possession, or the thief would have to get caught while striking again. Now that there’d been three separate incidents, I figured there was a good chance that there would be a fourth.
I texted Patricia back, asking for more details. She responded, letting me know that the theft had again taken place after she’d locked up for the evening and before she arrived in the morning. There were no signs of forced entry and nobody’s key had gone missing.
Patricia knew all of the board members and strongly believed that none of them were involved. She was probably right, but I didn’t think it was possible to know that for sure. Sometimes people did things that seemed wildly out of character.
A plan formed in my head. I shared it with Brett as he set the last of the three trees in a bucket of water on the front porch, where they would stay until we set them up in a day or two.
“You want to go over to the seniors’ center now?” Brett checked his phone. “It’s nearly nine o’clock.”
“I know, but the ornaments are most likely disappearing after hours. I want to see if I can catch the thief in the act.”
Brett didn’t seem convinced by my plan. “Were there any signs of forced entry into the building?”
“No.”
“Then it seems more likely that the thefts are happening during the day, maybe right when everyone’s leaving, or first thing.”
“That’s a possibility,” I agreed. “But maybe the thief got hold of a key to the center somehow and had a copy made. That’s possible too.” I unlocked my car. “I won’t be gone too long.”
“Hold on,” Brett said as he opened the front door to the house. “Let’s give Bentley a minute outside first.”
“You’re coming with me? You don’t have to.”
“Of course I’m coming with you.” Brett opened the door. “How else can I make sure you stay out of trouble?”
The illumination from the porch light allowed me to see his grin.
“Very funny,” I said, but I didn’t protest further. I was glad he’d offered to go with me. Sitting alone in my car in the dark and cold wasn’t a particularly appealing activity. Having Brett’s company would make it more bearable.
As I locked up my car again, Bentley came barreling out of the house. He greeted us with his usual enthusiasm and then spent some time sniffing at the bushes along the fence. He did what he needed to do, and then Brett ushered him back inside. A minute later, we were back in Brett’s truck and driving into the heart of Wildwood Cove. The street where the seniors’ center was located was deserted, all the shops and businesses closed for the night.
Brett parked across the road from the center and cut the truck’s lights and engine. Far too soon, the warmth inside the truck faded away, replaced by the cold air seeping in from outside. Nothing moved out on the street. That didn’t change over the next several minutes.
“What if the thief goes in through the back door?” Brett asked. “We’ll miss him sitting here.”
“The same thought was just going through my mind.” I reached for the door. “I’ll go have a look around back.”
Brett was faster at getting his door open. “I’ll go. You stay here where it’s warm.”
He was gone before I had a chance to protest. It wasn’t exactly warm in the truck now, especially since he’d opened his door, but I was glad I didn’t have to go creeping around the back alley in the dark. Maybe Brett should have taken a flashlight, I realized. Although, he had a flashlight app on his phone, and we didn’t want to alert the thief to our presence.
I knew there wasn’t much chance of Brett encountering anything dangerous while he checked out the back of the seniors’ center, but even so I remained tense while he was gone. The minutes passed by slowly. I zipped my jacket up higher, on the verge of shivering. The interior of the truck was probably the same temperature as outside now. I wished I had another cup of hot apple cider to warm me up.
A few more minutes passed. I wondered if I should go looking for Brett. Maybe something had happened. If he’d interrupted the thief…
I reached for the door, my worries escalating. I was about to open it when Brett emerged from the gap between the seniors’ center and the neighboring building. He jogged across the street and climbed into the truck. I breathed a sigh of relief.
“Anything?” I asked.
“Not even a rat.”
I shuddered. “Thank goodness.”
“We could sit here all night and most likely not see anything.”
“You’re right,” I conceded. “And we’ll turn into popsicles if we stay here much longer.”
“What this place needs is security cameras,” Brett said.
“Maybe if Patricia talks to the board, they’ll invest in some.” I decided to ask her about that soon.
Brett was about to start the truck’s engine when I put a hand on his arm.
“Hold on. Someone’s coming.” I’d spotted the figure in the rearview mirror.
A man walked along the sidewalk, on the other side of the street, heading toward the seniors’ center. I watched him through the mirror with tense anticipation. When he got closer, I twisted in my seat until I could see him through the driver’s side window.
“Isn’t that—” Brett started.
“Ambrose,” I finished for him. “Ambrose is our thief?”
“Or not,” Brett said as Ambrose walked right past the front entrance to the center.
We waited to see if he’d t
urn down the narrow pathway between buildings, but he stayed on the sidewalk. When he reached the corner, he crossed the side street and kept going in the same direction.
“Okay, so he’s not the thief,” I said. “That would have been really weird.”
He’d disappeared from sight now. With nothing else to focus on, I was suddenly aware of just how cold I’d become. My fingers and toes felt as though they’d turned to ice.
“Let’s go home,” I said, failing to stifle a small sigh of disappointment.
Brett started the engine. “Cameras are probably the best bet for catching the thief.”
I held my gloved hands up to the heating vent. “I’ll talk to Patricia about that.”
Brett pulled away from the curb and drove toward home. As we turned right onto Wildwood Road, I spotted Ambrose again as he passed beneath a streetlamp.
“Maybe I can talk to Ambrose for a second,” I said.
Brett slowed down and pulled over to the curb. I thought about asking Brett to lower his window, but decided it would be better to slip out of the truck quickly to prevent as little heat loss as possible from the interior. I shut the door as soon as I was on the sidewalk.
“Ambrose!”
He stopped in his tracks and looked in my direction, his stance wary.
“It’s Marley,” I called out as I crossed the street toward him.
He immediately relaxed.
“Brett and I were driving by and thought we’d stop to say hi,” I said.
Brett had followed me out of the truck and now joined us across the road.
“It’s a bit chilly to be out walking, isn’t it?” I asked with a shiver.
“It’s cold,” Ambrose agreed, “but I like fresh, crisp air. I’m heading down to the beach. There’s something about the ocean at night that sings to my soul.”
“I can understand that,” I said. And I could, although I wouldn’t have chosen such a cold night to hang out at the beach.
“What are you two doing out and about?” Ambrose asked.
“We stopped by the seniors’ center for a few minutes,” Brett replied.