by Traci Wilton
“You thought that might be the case when you went to have coffee with Linda.” Jack sat in the chair across from her. “What happened?” He draped one leg over the other. His face was animated, eyes bright and alert.
“We know that Kyle and Linda have alibis; the neighbors heard them at home. Plus, both Linda and Kyle had more to gain by David living than his dying.” Charlene folded the afghan over her lap. “Freddy had motive to kill David, because he’d been framed for the vehicular homicide that put him in jail all those years ago. I think he’d resent David’s new wealth. But he doesn’t have a car. I doubt he had the money or the time to find someone to do the dirty deed for him.”
“Unless he planned this and hired someone before he arrived in Salem, or met someone at that bar his first night in town. It wouldn’t take much cash to get a junkie to do something despicable . . . even murder.”
Charlene thumbed the crease between her brows. “He seemed genuinely sorry about David’s death. Said he loved the guy and wanted to forgive him, even though David had framed him.”
“He’s dying—what if he wanted hush money from David?” Jack tapped his lip with a long, ghostly finger. “Enough to buy the latest cancer treatment?”
“Yeah . . . And if he didn’t get it, maybe he hired one of those creeps at the bar to wait outside Bella’s until David came out. Maybe Freddy lured him out with Doug’s ghost and the other guy ran him over?” The idea made her sick.
“We won’t cross Freddy off our list,” Jack said. “And if Tori actually checked out Kyle and Linda’s alibis in fear of her own life, then she probably didn’t do it.”
“I don’t think so, dang it. I’d like for her to spend some time in jail to reconsider her sins.”
“Your mother is wrong. And not for the first time.”
They shared a smile. “I don’t think Tori plans on keeping her good buddy Zane around.”
“So where does that leave Zane?” Jack stood up and paced, not making a noise as he crossed the room. “He knew Tori planned on leaving the next day, running away with her husband and his money. That had to be very disappointing. . . perhaps motivating.”
“I know,” Charlene said, remembering how he’d looked at his watch. “He’s the biggest loser in all this. He has twelve alibis that say he was with them that night. A dozen people wouldn’t swear to it, no matter how good of friends they were. So, it can’t be Zane.”
“And that leaves . . . who?” Jack faced her, the television on behind him, the sound on low. She could see shadowy movement through him and averted her gaze from the reminder that Jack was not human.
“Vincent! Vincent took off angry, saying that the amount of the check wasn’t enough. David claimed it was and that Vincent knew why.” She stood up, feeling agitated.
Jack watched her, his arms crossed. “Why would Vincent be unhappy about the check David gave him?”
“Not sure—but Vincent loaned him the start-up costs to be a partner in the restaurant. Why would David pay back less than what was owed?”
Jack shrugged.
Charlene reached for her notepad and pen. “Both Tori and Linda told me that Vincent had been acting strange lately, and when I stopped in I saw it for myself. He seems about ready to fall apart. He had poker chips on the desk, next to his key chain, so I checked the parking lot after I left. Brand-new tires on a dark truck, Jack.” She gave a short laugh. “That’s why I texted Sam—once he gets back to Salem, I bet he’ll arrest Vincent for hit-and-run felony.”
Jack considered this. “He gambled, you say?”
“Yes, at the Provenance Casino. Linda told me that he’d been losing a lot, and his temper has become volatile. If he has a really bad gambling debt, he might have set David up by saying he had his hand in the till, to cover his own hide.”
She could see it so clearly.
Jack rubbed his chin, his blue eyes shining. “It’s a solid motive.” His form began to shimmer and fade, and she knew this mental exertion had tired him. “Promise to . . .” he whispered, “stay away from Vincent.”
“I am not going anywhere tonight, Jack. Tomorrow we’ll celebrate Christmas Eve with Vincent’s arrest and David’s killer caught. It’ll probably be on the news when we wake up.”
He grinned and then he was gone. She caressed the chill from her arms.
Her mother knocked. “Charlene? Why is your TV so loud? Can I help you get dinner started?”
She opened the door to her sitting room and her mom peered in with a shiver. “Is your heater broken?”
“I think this room is just colder because of the shade from the oak,” Charlene said. “Ready?” She urged her mom backward.
“Don’t you want to shut off the television?”
To keep her mother from worrying about high power bills, she used the remote on the coffee table to turn it off. “Better?”
“Sorry to nag.” Her mom gestured to the counter and the ribs covered in foil.
Charlene set the oven to 350 degrees. She pulled her phone from her back pocket and set it on the kitchen table. Nothing from Sam.
Her mom put the ribs on a tray in the middle rack and closed the oven door. She caught Charlene looking and asked, “Any news?”
“Not yet. I have a good feeling, though, Mom.” Sam would come home safely to Salem, and arrest Vincent for murder. “How about a Christmas martini?”
“Ooh, that sounds interesting. Why not? I like to live dangerously.”
“I think we should celebrate.” Charlene flipped through her cookbooks and found a thin laminated recipe book for fancy cocktails. She’d bought it on a whim, after moving here, in case her guests might like something different.
“Here’s one. It has vanilla vodka and white crème de cacao. How does that sound?”
“Delicious. Better make one for your dad as well.”
“I will.” Charlene showed her mom the picture. “Can you crush a candy cane for me? We need to decorate the rim, and then I need three more to use as stir sticks.” She grabbed three martini glasses from a cabinet that she used for her special glasses. “I’ll get the liquor from the wine cellar downstairs.”
“Aren’t we fancy?” her mom teased, primping her short white hair.
“For my mom and dad? Only the best. And if we like them, we can have them again tomorrow night for Christmas Eve. Or try another,” she added with a laugh.
She ran down to the cellar knowing she wouldn’t see Jack—if she was lucky, he’d be back tomorrow. What would the holiday be without him? She found the two bottles of alcohol and carried them upstairs, where her dad, awake, read the instructions out loud as her mom crushed the candy canes.
She plunked the bottles on the counter and gave her dad a hug. “How was your nap?”
“Glad I had it, so I can party tonight.” He waggled his brows.
“Mom’s got the candy cane done, so why don’t you dip the rim and let’s hope it sticks.”
“How does that look?” Her dad held one up in the air to admire.
“Good job! It’s perfect.”
Using a shaker, she added ice, four ounces of vodka, two ounces of crème de cacao, and a splash of cranberry, then gave it a good shake. She strained the cocktail in all three glasses and made a toast. “To having a very Merry Christmas, my first in my new home, with my wonderful Mom and Dad. I love you guys.”
“Love you more,” they said in unison, and then clinking glasses, they each took a sip.
Smelling the ribs, she turned off the oven to let them sit. “I’m kind of glad it’s just the three of us. You’ll only be here for a few more days.”
“We could always stay,” her mother offered.
Charlene choked on her martini. “Maybe you should come back in the summer when the weather will be nice and we can do more outdoor activities.” She sipped on her cocktail, thinking up plans for the summer. “We could do Plymouth Rock then.”
“That’s a nice idea.” Her father got the beans and the coleslaw out of the re
frigerator, while her mom set the table. They decided on a date in July when they’d return, then enjoyed a family dinner of barbecue ribs and baked beans, with a tasty slaw on the side.
A perfect ending to a hectic day—killer was no doubt caught, David’s family could be at rest, and the fund-raising had gone well. She and her mother weren’t at each other’s throats. If only she’d heard from Sam.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Charlene dreamed of Jared, at their last Christmas, smiling warmly at her as he gave her the heart-shaped diamond earrings. He had loved her, and she’d loved him, and the memory comforted her without sadness. She turned over in her bed, snuggling into her pillow.
Her blanket flew off her and she woke abruptly.
Alarmed, she sat up straight and searched for Silva, but the cat had been caught in the covers and now poked her silver head out with a disgruntled expression. It would be funny if she wasn’t freezing.
Freezing—the chill that usually accompanied Jack. “Jack? What are you doing?”
Charlene’s forest-green plaid flannel pajamas were no match for Jack’s cool energy, and she leaned down for the comforter. She couldn’t see Jack, but the cold gave him away. This was breaking the rules—he was not to be in her bedroom unless invited. The door separating her sitting room and the bedroom was open, when she knew she’d shut it.
“Jack!” she whispered loudly.
“Get up, Charlene. Look at the news.”
“The news?”
“I’m sorry for waking you.” Jack had the television on, the sound low. His form wasn’t as solid as he usually made it for her—she noticed that he hadn’t visualized the details of his buttoned shirt, and the outline of his jeans was blurry.
“What is it?” Charlene hurried from her bedroom to the sitting room love seat and wrapped the afghan around her. “Did Sam arrest Vincent? We called it, didn’t we, Jack?”
The weather was on—more snow predicted for a white Christmas. Yes!
Jack’s frenetic energy made his voice crack. “Tori is missing—Zane appealed to the news station—look! This is from twenty minutes ago.”
Charlene couldn’t tear her eyes away from the screen as the buff blond body builder was interviewed live. The brunette reporter had streaks of gold in her hair and kept peeking at Zane’s biceps straining his tight leather jacket.
The reporter finally looked at the camera. “We have here Zane Villander, who claims that the newly widowed lottery winner Tori Baldwin is missing.”
Zane jumped in front of her to talk to the camera. “The cops won’t do nothin’ because she hasn’t been gone long enough. How stupid is that?” He gestured to the camera as if expecting an answer. “That wacko Freddy Ferguson’s gonna kill her—you hear that, Freddy? The whole town’ll be after you now.”
The reporter put her hand on Zane’s arm. “Why don’t you tell us what happened? And please remember, you can’t accuse someone of murder—it’s defamation of character, all right?” she chirped brightly.
Zane wasn’t impressed. “But that’s who came by yesterday afternoon, Freddy Ferguson, threatening Tori that he was going to the police if she didn’t ‘help’ him out. Said he had evidence on her, but that’s bull, man.” He rubbed his thick, bulky fingers together in the sign of money. “Everybody wants something from my baby, and will the cops do a thing about it?” He grimaced. “No.”
“Poor Sam.” Charlene tucked the crocheted blanket tight around her lap. “He has to deal with this soap opera drama.” Had he gotten home safely? Her phone was by her bedside.
“When was the last time that you saw Tori?” the reporter asked Zane.
“I worked at the gym last night til seven, and when I came back later, she was gone. Cops say there’s no sign of a struggle, and she probably left herself, but I know she didn’t leave ’cause her jewelry’s all in the safe.” He poked another finger toward the camera. “Take that, Salem PD!”
Jack, now fully filled in so that he had buttons on his shirt and loafers on his feet, took a seat to her left and laughed so hard his image wavered. “Is he for real? Sounds dumber than a doorknob.”
“That’s Zane. I bet Tori slipped away under the radar. But he’s right; she wouldn’t leave her jewelry behind.” Charlene glanced at Jack. “Should I go by the motel and see if Freddy is there? I know where he’s staying—not exactly what room, but . . .”
“It’s too dangerous. Tell the police,” Jack suggested. “You don’t know what this guy is capable of. Freddy’s a drunk, he’s dying, and desperate.”
“You’re right. I’ll call Sam. I still think Vincent killed David, but Freddy frightens me, because he has nothing to lose.” She would be smart this time around, rather than act impulsively as she had before in these situations.
Zane beseeched the camera. “Tori, I won’t stop looking for you, babe.”
“How are you related to the missing woman?” the reporter asked with a sniff. “Her husband was the man killed a week ago today by a hit-and-run driver. Are you a relative, a friend?”
“Say what you want, but that hit-and-run ain’t solved either,” Zane snorted angrily. “The cops in this town are useless!”
“Tori Baldwin, please call this station if you hear this report.” The reporter turned to Zane, putting a hand on his chest as if she had to touch it to see if it was real. “It would be an awful tragedy if something happened to her too.” The camera zoomed in on Zane as she asked, “She was a fitness trainer. Did you work together?”
“Yes, yes we did. We’re good friends.” Zane crossed his arms, daring the reporter to probe any deeper than that.
With a smirk, the reporter cleared her throat and faced the camera and her viewers. “Well, if you have any news on the whereabouts of Tori Baldwin, please call this number.” A sequence of numbers ran the length of the screen, and an image of Tori popped up on the lower right. Zane must have been inside Tori’s house because it was David and Tori’s wedding photo. “There is a reward.”
The camera panned out.
Holy smokes. “You know, I wonder if this is Tori’s get-out-of-Salem plan? She’d said she was going to leave after David’s service.” Which was today. “Maybe she decided to leave early and avoid the drama. She didn’t have any friends here, other than Zane.”
“I almost feel bad for Freddy, who’ll likely wake up to the cops at his door,” Jack said. “Unless he has her, and then Zane’s gambit worked.”
“Freddy didn’t kill David, although he was there that night. David saw Doug’s ghost, which made him run out of the restaurant. He was hit within minutes. How could anybody have planned that?”
“A crime of opportunity,” Jack agreed.
“Vincent was waiting for him, I know it.” Charlene warmed her feet beneath her rear on the love seat. Every fiber of her being screamed the restaurant owner was lying. So why hadn’t Sam arrested him yet?
She didn’t know what to think about Tori missing. If Freddy had threatened Tori, and now the young woman was gone? It didn’t look good. What could Freddy want from her?
Charlene got up for her phone and read the waiting message. “Sam texted—he didn’t get home until four in the morning, yikes. I hope he’s sleeping.” It was just seven. She wouldn’t bother him until at least noon—he knew she wanted to talk to him.
“The man’s a detective,” Jack said. “He should be fine on an hour of sleep and coffee. Let him arrest Vincent, and then he can crash.”
She rolled her eyes and changed the subject. “I get to drop more items off at Felicity House today. I understand why David had wanted to play Santa. It feels good to give.”
“I’m sure the kids are excited,” Jack said wistfully.
Charlene waved toward Jack—careful not to actually touch him or she’d be cold for hours. “I wish you could come. Doug travels with Freddy. I wonder how?”
Jack smoothed his dark hair back from his pale forehead. “Maybe I’ll find out in the research I’m doing on ghosts. You know
I feel stronger after watching television? I saw a documentary which suggested that ghosts were electromagnetic waves.”
“A documentary? I’d like to see that too.”
Jack grinned—was that a ghostly blush? “Fine. It was really Paranormal Investigators, which is not quite as legitimate as a documentary.”
Charlene burst out laughing. “I’d still watch it with you, Jack.”
A knock sounded on her door and she gasped—had she been talking too loudly with Jack?
“Coming!”
She jumped off the love seat and opened the door. Her mother, wrapped in a red robe, handed Charlene a cup of coffee. “Merry Christmas Eve,” Mom said. “I could hardly sleep, I was so excited for today.”
“Thanks, Mom. Let me get ready—I know exactly what you mean.”
Charlene hated to disturb Sam, who had to be exhausted. She tried Officer Horitz’s number and left a message about Freddy staying at the Sleep Inn. She showered and dressed festively for the day in a sage-green sweater that brought out the green in her hazel eyes, and gathered her long brown hair in a loose twist with a sage-green clip. She put in her earrings with a smile, warmth spreading through her as she remembered her dream.
She gathered the money and items for Felicity House and jumped when her phone rang. Salem Police Department. Not Sam.
“Hello!”
“Good morning, this is Officer Bernard, returning your call about Freddy Ferguson and Tori Baldwin? Officer Horitz is away from his desk.”
“Yes, I’m not sure if you saw the news or not, but Zane Villander has offered a reward for Tori Baldwin’s return.”
“We’re well aware,” the officer said glumly. “‘Take that, Salem PD!’” He sighed. “We have no information regarding Tori Baldwin or Freddy Ferguson. I will send a car to the hotel you mentioned to see if he’s there.”
“I worry that other people might go looking for Freddy too. I don’t suppose you could let me know what happens?”
“No, ma’am. I can’t do that.”
It was hard to accept that answer, but she would not, she told herself, under any circumstances, go to the Sleep Inn herself.