by Vicki Delany
“Who’s here?”
“Luanne Ireland.”
I threw Dad and Chris a look. “Okay. Be right there.”
“Who’s there?” Dad asked.
“Luanne.”
Chris half rose.
“No!” Dad and I yelled at the same time.
“You are not,” Dad said, “to go anywhere near her.”
“She might be looking for me.”
“If she is,” I said, “I’ll tell her you’ve gone back to New York.”
“She’ll find out that’s not true.”
“Then I’ll say you’ve caught the chicken pox. Until we find out exactly where Luanne herself was around quarter after two this afternoon, we have to consider that she might have killed Jeff.”
“Surely you don’t think . . . ?”
“I don’t think anything. Neither should you. Not yet.”
“Merry’s right, son,” Dad said. “Stay well away from her.”
I downed the last of my wine and got to my feet. I grabbed my bag and headed out.
It was five thirty and the sun had set, but a soft pink glow lingered in the western sky and Jingle Bell Lane was bright and cheerful bathed in festive lights. I was not feeling at all bright or cheerful as I dashed across the street at a break in traffic.
As I’d said to Chris, I had to consider that Luanne herself killed Jeff. She didn’t want to marry him, but she appeared to be unable to simply tell him the wedding was off. Granted, killing him, rather than telling him she’d changed her mind, seemed a drastic step, but I didn’t know how her mind worked—other than that she didn’t seem to think about much other than what she wanted at any given time. Luanne had been at the inn around the time Jeff died. Jeff had been arguing with someone in the garden. Luanne had been with her mother when Chris and I emerged from the garden, but they said they’d arrived separately.
Before going inside, I took a quick peek through the windows of Mrs. Claus’s Treasures. Jackie staffed the sales counter, ringing up purchases, while Crystal tidied the display of Alan’s handmade wooden trains in the toy section. A bright red engine; a toothy, smiling caboose; and colorful railcars curled around a small table on their wooden track. The open cars were piled with tiny brightly wrapped boxes. We’d sold a lot of train sets this year.
Luanne fingered the jewelry, her back to the windows. She appeared to have come alone. Luanne spun around as the bell over the door tinkled when I came in. Her eyes were red and swollen, but she’d reapplied her makeup and tidied her hair. She wore the blue coat and gloves she’d had on at the inn earlier. She gave me a weak smile, and at that moment I truly did feel my heart aching for her. “Merry, hi.”
“Hi, Luanne. I’m so dreadfully sorry about . . . what happened. Can I . . . uh . . . help you with something?”
“No, not really. I guess I just wanted to see a friendly face.”
“What about your mom, Luanne? Or Jeff’s parents. Shouldn’t you be at home, with them?”
“My mom’s weeping and wailing as though she’s lost the love of her life, not me.” A tear leaked out of Luanne’s eye. “Dad’s locked himself in his study and is making business phone calls. That’s all he cares about! I had to get out of there. I don’t want to see the Vanderhavens. They’ll yell at me and tell me it’s my fault. I . . . I don’t have anyplace else to go.”
Jackie and Crystal were trying hard not to look as though they were soaking up every word. They might be trying, but they were failing badly.
“Why don’t we go into my office,” I said. “And you can sit down.”
“That would be nice.” Luanne gave me a crooked smile. “Is . . . uh . . . Chris around?”
Chicken pox. “No,” I said.
“Okay.”
I led the way through the curtain to the rear of the building. Mattie heard us coming and he was on his feet, tail wagging, tongue drooling, when we went into my office.
Luanne stopped dead. “You have a dog. I don’t much care for dogs.”
“That’s Matterhorn and he’s very friendly.” I gave Mattie a hearty pat.
Luanne held her arms stiffly at her sides and eyed Mattie warily. “Why don’t we go across the street for a drink and talk there?”
I thought of Chris and Dad sitting by the front windows in the bar. Not a good idea.
“No,” I said. “Luanne, I’m very sorry for your loss. Truly. I can’t imagine how upsetting this must be for you, but you need to be home, with your family. Detective Simmonds wants to talk to you, doesn’t she?”
Luanne lowered herself into the visitor’s chair, keeping one cautious eye on Mattie. I took the only other chair in the room, the one behind my desk. A mountain of paper, accounts receivable, accounts payable, vendors’ catalogs, advertising brochures, and lifestyle magazines stood between us.
“She did that already. She came to the house and spoke to Mom and me.” Luanne glanced at her watch. “I came here as soon as she left. She was going to the Vanderhavens’ hotel next.”
Interesting that Luanne would seek the company of someone—me—she scarcely knew rather than be with her prospective in-laws in their time of grief. Then again, after yesterday’s display, Louis and Margaret might not be too kindly disposed toward Luanne.
“Why did you say Jeff’s parents would blame you for his death? Surely they don’t think you had anything to do with it?”
“I don’t know what they think. Except that they don’t like me very much. They never have. Jeff’s mom doesn’t like me, anyway. Jeff’s dad doesn’t care. I’ve tried to get on with her, but she doesn’t think I’m good enough for her son.”
“That’s not uncommon,” I said, wondering if Margaret had a better reason not to like Luanne. Did she know Luanne wasn’t as much in love with Jeff as a woman should be with a man she planned on marrying in seven short weeks? I studied Luanne. She gave me a feeble smile in return. The tracks of tears and the marks of new grief were etched into her face. But, I knew, many a killer had acted and then regretted what they’d done.
I’ve been involved in police cases before. Never willingly, and never with the approval of Detective Simmonds, and I didn’t want anything to do with this one, either, but as long as my brother was an object of police suspicion, I had to do what I had to do. Dad could investigate potential business reasons for Jeff’s death. I’d look into the more personal ones.
“Both you and your mother had a terrible shock. Do you think it’s wise to leave her alone? You said your Dad’s locked himself away.”
“Mom’ll be fine. She likes the drama.”
Okay.
Luanne eyed Mattie. Mattie eyed Luanne. He put his big head on her lap. At first she recoiled and then she slowly reached out and tentatively touched his nose. He snuffled and, satisfied that he’d made a friend, went back to his bed.
I tried to think of a subtle way to ask what I wanted to know. Nothing came to mind, so I decided to come right out and ask it. “You told Detective Simmonds that you and your mom drove separately to the Yuletide this afternoon? Was that right?”
She sniffed into her tissue. “Yeah. Mom had some shopping to do in town, so we agreed to meet at the hotel at two thirty.”
Voices drifted in from the front of the shop. A customer asked a question. Jackie answered. The door shut as someone came or left. I checked the time on my phone, trying not to be too obvious about it. Almost six. Closing time.
“Did Detective Simmonds ask you about anything specific?”
“I don’t know! I didn’t have anything to tell her. I told her everyone loved Jeff. Well, maybe not Chris.” Luanne tittered. “Don’t worry, Merry. I assured the detective that Chris isn’t the type to act out his anger. Not like that.”
I gritted my teeth. Her “assurances” would have helped. Not.
She studied the pattern on the carpet with m
ore attention than it deserved.
“Someone killed him,” I said bluntly. “It might turn out to have been an accident, but we have to consider that it wasn’t. Which means not everyone loved Jeff. Naturally, the police have questions. Did you see anyone in the gardens at the Yuletide? You got to the inn early, didn’t you? Did you see Jeff’s car and go looking for him?”
“Yeah, I did. Get there early. I was surprised to see the Porsche. Jeff hadn’t had much interest in our wedding plans. I don’t mean he wasn’t interested, I just mean he trusted my taste completely.”
“I’m sure he did.”
“I thought he might be waiting for me in the lobby, but he wasn’t there. I stuck my head in the bar and the restaurant, but he wasn’t there, either. So I went outside again. I couldn’t find him.”
“You went outside . . .”
“I saw some little kids with sleds, so I went to watch them. They were so cute in their snowsuits and so happy playing in the snow. I’m hoping to have a whole lot of kids, Merry. Jeff and I had decided on four. Oh dear. I’ve just realized I don’t have a lot of time, now that Jeff’s gone. I wouldn’t want to wait too long.” She eyed me. “It gets harder to have kids as you get older, you know.”
I decided not to comment on that. The toboggan hill was behind the inn. The gardens were in front. If Luanne had been watching the children on their sleds, she would not have run into Jeff in the garden.
If that was what she’d done.
“Did you watch the children for long?” I tried to keep my tone casual, as if I weren’t too terribly interested in her answer. I tidied a stack of papers on my desk.
“A little while. I was dreaming about taking my kids there someday. I went back to the hotel as Mom arrived. She was late. She’s always late.” Luanne sighed. “Then we saw all the police cars arriving.”
Detective Simmonds would have questioned Luanne and her mother closely. She would now be asking witnesses if they could place Luanne at the toboggan hill around the time Jeff died. If they could, then Luanne would have a good alibi.
I wondered if Luanne realized she needed an alibi.
As for Luanne’s mom, I knew of no reason she’d want to prevent the wedding.
Which didn’t mean there wasn’t one.
“Let’s have dinner,” Luanne said. “My treat.”
“Luanne, I—”
“Please, Merry. There isn’t anyone else I want to be with tonight.”
I hesitated. I could think of plenty of people I’d prefer to be with tonight.
“Great.” Luanne pulled out her phone. “A Touch of Holly will be busy, but I bet we can get a table for two. I’ll check.”
“No! I mean, no. I . . . I’ve been there too much lately. I’m getting tired of the menu. Look, I have to take Mattie home anyway. He’s been in here all day and he needs a walk.” I’d brought my car to work after leaving the inn, but I could leave it and pick it up tomorrow. “Let’s go to my place. I can put together some pasta and open a bottle of wine. How’s that sound?”
“Oh, Merry. That would be wonderful!”
I stood up. “I have to go out front and close up. Then we can leave. But first, you should let your parents know where you are, Luanne. You don’t want them to worry.”
Chapter 11
Luanne didn’t say much as we walked through the winter streets to my place. She kept her head down and her hands in her pockets. I had Mattie’s leash, and he sniffed under lampposts and around tree trunks.
“I miss Rudolph sometimes,” Luanne said. “Particularly at this time of year. Jeff and his company have some business around here, so I suggested to Jeff that we consider moving to Rudolph once we were married. He laughed at me. He called it a hick town with pretensions. All he wanted from places like Rudolph, he said, was to grab their money as fast as possible and leave.”
“What sort of business interests?”
“Vanderhaven Development is a big company. Very important. They have projects all over Upstate New York.” A touch of pride crept into her voice. “Jeff’s family’s quite wealthy.”
“Is that so?” Was that the reason she hadn’t told Jeff the wedding was off, despite her not being in love with him anymore? I’d earlier thought that was possible, but now I realized that if she was planning to marry him for his money, Luanne wouldn’t have killed him. A fiancée has no right of inheritance . . . although Jeff might have rewritten his will before the wedding. I made a mental note to ask Detective Simmonds to look into that. I then erased the mental note. She didn’t need advice on running her investigation from me and wouldn’t be pleased if she thought I was interfering.
I was so deep in thought as we turned into my driveway, I forgot to be on the alert.
“Yoo-hoo! Merry Wilkinson! What’s this I hear about a murder at the Yuletide? My goodness, is that Luanne Ireland with you? Oh, you poor, poor dear. Come here and let me give you a hug.” I cursed myself for not remembering to sneak in the back way, through the loose board in the fence. I should have known Mrs. D’Angelo would have been standing by her front window, binoculars in hand, cell phone at the ready, waiting for me to get home from work so I could be questioned on the latest developments. Even better, I’d brought one of the main actors in today’s drama with me.
“Hi, Mrs. D’Angelo.” Luanne waved.
“We don’t want—” I spoke too late. Luanne was already turning down the front path. She climbed the steps to the porch and my landlady enveloped her in a hug. Mrs. D’Angelo was dressed in a baggy gray tracksuit with her coat thrown over her shoulders. Her ever-present phone was in a pouch tied to her belt, and earphones were in her ears. Mrs. D’Angelo and her network of gossips had probably known about Jeff’s death before Luanne.
“I simply couldn’t believe it when I got the call. Such a tragedy.” Mrs. D’Angelo took Luanne’s hands in both of hers and stared deeply into the younger woman’s eyes. “How are you holding up, my dear?”
Luanne wrestled her hands free, pulled a tissue out of her pocket, and blew her nose with vigor. “I don’t think I’ve fully processed what’s happened yet. I can’t accept that . . . that Jeff . . . is . . . gone.” She wept.
Mrs. D’Angelo fingered her phone. “And on the eve of your wedding, too. You were at the Yuletide to make plans for the celebration. Such a tragedy.”
I’d let Mattie off the leash when we turned into our street, and he was now sniffing at Mrs. D’Angelo’s slippers. He wasn’t an easy animal to ignore, but she managed to do just that. She never paid the slightest bit of attention to the big dog: he couldn’t provide her with any news, therefore he was of no interest to her.
“Why don’t you come in for a cup of tea? I’ll put the kettle on.”
“No!” I cried. “I mean, no thank you. Luanne needs to be alone.”
“Nonsense. What a woman needs at a time of grief is all the comfort around her she can find. Isn’t that right, dear?”
Luanne nodded, but she made no move to go inside.
“He was murdered, I hear. I can’t imagine what the town of Rudolph is coming to.” Mrs. D’Angelo’s eyes flicked toward me. “You found him, Merry. You and your brother.”
“We had nothing to do with it.”
“Of course. Of course. But didn’t I hear that last night there was a problem at your parents’ house? Louis and Jeff had to come to take Luanne home?”
Luanne flushed. She gave a sort of strangled giggle. “Oh, that. A silly little whim on my part. Things were getting so boring at my parents’ place, and Mom was already starting to hint that she wanted the guests to leave so she could go to bed. I thought the Wilkinsons would be having a fun evening. I didn’t realize I’d had more to drink at dinner than I should have. Isn’t that right, Merry?”
“Yeah. Right.” I’d have to warn Mom that one of Mrs. D’Angelo’s vast network of contacts lived on their
street. The information hadn’t come from anyone who’d been in the house. And that was definitely a good thing; we didn’t need word getting around town that Jeff and Chris had come to blows.
I remembered the car I’d seen sitting outside my parents’ house when Luanne was there and the rustle in the bushes as I’d arrived at the Ireland home on Christmas Eve. Was it possible Mrs. D’Angelo actually employed spies to keep an eye on goings-on in the town?
Now who was imagining things?
I took Luanne’s arm and gave her a tug. “Come on.”
“Bye,” Luanne said.
“How’s your mother managing, dear?” Mrs. D’Angelo said. “I hope she’s being a rock of support for you at this difficult time.”
“My mother’s devastated,” Luanne said as I dragged her off the porch.
“The poor thing. I’ll pay a call on her. Is this going to affect the Vanderhaven company’s plans for Muddle Harbor, do you think?”
“I don’t know,” Luanne said.
Mattie ran on ahead. As we rounded the house, heading toward the staircase that led to my second-floor apartment, I heard Mrs. D’Angelo say, “Dorothy, I’ve just spoken to Luanne Ireland. The poor girl is a total wreck! She wanted to come in for a coffee, but I told her she needs some alone time.”
I opened the door and Mattie preceded us up the narrow staircase. Once we were inside my apartment and we’d taken off our coats, boots, scarves, and gloves, I told Luanne to take a seat. I found a half-full bottle of wine in the fridge, poured two glasses, and checked for the makings of a quick pasta dinner. Luanne had followed me into my small kitchen, and I handed her a glass. She dropped into a chair at the table. “Your place is lovely,” she said.
“It’s not much, but it suits me right now. It’s close to the shop and I can walk into town. There’s another apartment next door. The people who live there have a little girl and they’re super nice.”
I fed Mattie, and while he dug in, I filled a stockpot with water, put it on the boil, and laid onions and garlic on a cutting board. Now that I’d invited Luanne for supper, I wanted to get it over and done with.