Dying in a Winter Wonderland

by Vicki Delany

  “You don’t want to make any decisions yet,” I said as I peeled garlic and chopped onions. “About what you’re going to do. You need to give it all some time.”

  She dabbed her eyes with a tissue. “I’m supposed to be back at work tomorrow. I’ll have to call them and tell them I need bereavement leave.”

  “I’m sure they’ll understand.”

  “I don’t much care if they do or not. I’m going to quit soon.”

  “Like I said, don’t make any important decisions right away.”

  “I’ve been planning to leave the bank for a long time. I was waiting until the wedding was over, and then I’m going to start work at Vanderhaven Development. I hope they’ll still want me.”

  I poured olive oil into a frying pan and added the onions and garlic and stirred them while they gently browned. There’s no better smell in all the world, I think, than frying onions. “Will the plans the company has for development in this area continue?”

  “Don’t know. Don’t much care. Although Dad sure does.”

  “What does that mean?”

  Luanne held up her empty glass. I took the bottle out of the fridge and poured the last of it. Unfortunately, there was another bottle, unopened, on the counter. I wouldn’t be able to tell her I was out. “My dad’s desperate for money. Like really, really desperate. My parents think I don’t know, but I have ears, and the walls between his study and the kitchen are mighty thin. After dinner on Christmas Eve, Dad and Louis and Jeff went into the study to talk business.” She deepened her voice. “‘Man talk. You little women don’t need to worry about it.’” Back to her normal voice. “No matter how much of my dad’s scotch he put away that night, and then a heck of a lot of wine with dinner, Louis can always talk business. He doesn’t talk about anything else even though Jeff runs the company these days and Louis’s been pretty much sidelined. Jeff pretends to be considering his father’s advice, then he goes ahead and does what he wanted to do in the first place.”

  I eyed Luanne’s rapidly emptying glass and said nothing. “I offered to do the dishes while Mom and Mrs. Vanderhaven talked about guest lists for the wedding. I overheard Dad ask Louis to help pay the additional expense of the wedding. Louis said no.”

  “What did Jeff say?” I snipped a handful of basil leaves off the plant in the window, chopped them along with four ripe tomatoes, and added them to the sizzling pan. I have a black thumb, meaning nothing lives under my care, but Mom had given me the plant at Thanksgiving and it seemed to be doing fine. So far.

  “Nothing. Jeff never, ever contradicts . . .” Luanne’s voice broke. “. . . contradicted his father. Not in front of outsiders, anyway. He contradicts his father plenty of times in private or when he thinks I don’t understand what they’re talking about. Jeff is . . . I mean Jeff was the one who ran the company. They pretended Louis was in charge, but I don’t think they fooled anyone. This afternoon, after Detective Simmonds left, Mom and Dad went into the study and started yelling at each other. I’d gone upstairs, to my room, but I crept back down to listen at the door. I needn’t have bothered. They were yelling so much, I bet the neighbors could hear. Dad’s worried he’s going to be up the creek without a paddle now that Jeff’s not going to be his son-in-law, meaning Louis has no reason to cut Dad in on any deal. He told Mom to call the hotel and ask if we could get the deposit back on the wedding, considering the circumstances. That’s all he cares about. And Mom’s no better. I’ve lost the love of my life, and she’s upset that without the Vanderhavens as her in-laws, she won’t have the access to Rochester society she wants so much.”

  Love of her life. Yesterday, she was ready to dump Jeff for my brother, and tonight Jeff was the love of her life. Whether she was trying to convince me of that, or herself, I didn’t know.

  I needed a touch of wine for the sauce, so I opened the new bottle and added a generous splash to the frying pan. Luanne hopped off her chair and grabbed the bottle out of my hand. “Thanks.” She took it back to her seat. “After the funeral, I’ll ask Louis about my new job. I’m sure they’ll still want me at the company.”

  “What about your idea of moving back to Rudolph?”

  “Oh, I wouldn’t want to live here if I’m single again. No, better to be in the city. Rudolph’s okay if you’re married and planning a family.” She giggled. “Sorry, Merry. I mean, I guess it’s okay for some single women.”

  I emptied the pot of boiling water and added the sauce to the cooked spaghetti, stirred it around to get the noodles nicely coated, and then I served two plates and took them to the kitchen table. I didn’t bring my own wineglass with me, and before sitting down, I took the bottle off the table, put the cap back on, and put the bottle in the fridge.

  “Now that Jeff’s gone, is Louis going to be able to run the company?” I asked.

  “Don’t know. Don’t much care. As long as they still give me a job.”

  “What do you know about some development in Muddle Harbor, the one Mrs. D’Angelo mentioned?”

  “Only that Dad owns this piece of useless property over near Muddle Harbor he’s been trying to sell for ages, but no one wants it. I overheard him and Jeff talking over an idea about Vanderhaven Development buying his land as well as some other parcels around it and turning it into some sort of tourist destination. Like a theme park or something. Poor Dad, he was so excited about making a couple of thousand bucks. Once upon a time, that would have been chump change for him.”

  Luanne twirled strands of pasta on her fork and took a mouthful. “This is nice, Merry.”

  “Thanks. Easy and simple, but delicious.”

  She nodded toward her glass. “I’ll have a top-up.”

  “I don’t think so. Luanne, you’ve had enough. Finish up and I’ll drive you home. Your parents will be wondering where you are.”

  “They don’t care.”

  “I’m sure they do.”

  She shook her head. Her eyes filled with tears. “What am I going to do without him, Merry?”

  I put down my fork. “You’ll find a way, Luanne. I know it doesn’t seem like it now, but you will.”

  She stared over my shoulder toward the window. All was dark outside, but I didn’t think Luanne was seeing anything in any event. I ate my dinner silently, letting her have her own thoughts. The pasta was delicious, although it could have done with a sprinkling of freshly grated Parmesan cheese. Finally she sighed, wiped her eyes, tucked the tattered tissue into the sleeve of her blouse, and said, “Is Chris still planning to go to the city tomorrow?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “I never did get his phone number.” She put down her fork, opened her bag, and took out her phone. “Why don’t you give it to me? I might be in New York soon, and we could have dinner or maybe even see a show. He works on Broadway. I bet he can get tickets to the hottest shows.”

  I took a deep breath. “Luanne, you’ve involved me in your business, so I’m going to give you a piece of advice. Jeff’s death has been an enormous blow to you. I understand that you’re confused, maybe even feeling guilty about the way you treated him the last night you spent together. That’s natural. You need to spend some time seriously thinking about where you want to go next with your life, and I’m here if you want to talk things over, but you have to know that my brother does not want to get into a relationship with you.”

  She studied her fingernails for a long time, and then she said in a very low voice, “I understand that, Merry.”

  “Good. Glad to hear it.”

  “I loved Jeff. I thought I loved Jeff. But then I saw Chris again after all this time and . . . and I don’t know what. I’ve thought a lot about Chris over the years. That’s got to mean something, doesn’t it, Merry? I want to be with Chris now. Is that so bad?”

  “It is if Chris doesn’t want to be with you, Luanne.”

  “You don’t know he doesn’t
.”

  Actually, I do.

  “He was respectful of my engagement to Jeff. That’s one of the things I admire about Chris. He’s so kind and considerate. Even to Jeff, who wasn’t very nice to him. But Jeff’s gone now, isn’t he? So maybe Chris—”

  I stood up. “Time to go.”

  “I haven’t finished eating.”

  “Yes, you have.”

  Chapter 12

  You need to warn Chris that Luanne might try to contact him. I don’t think that would be a good idea.”

  “Agreed,” Dad said. “Diane Simmonds isn’t one to pay much attention to common gossip, but we don’t need anyone saying Chris had a motive to want to break up Luanne’s wedding plans. Is there any reason in particular you’re calling to tell me this?”

  “Yes.” Mattie and I were on our way to work. As we walked, I called Dad to fill him in on what had happened last night. “Luanne’s alternately telling everyone Jeff was the love of her life and she’ll never find happiness again, and making plans to see Chris.”

  “She’s a basket case,” Dad said.

  I smiled. My dad was usually the most charitable of men. He saw the good in everyone. Today, it was my turn. “I think she’s just confused. I’m starting to get the impression that her parents were pushing her into this marriage. She might have willingly, even eagerly, agreed initially, but when she started getting cold feet, they wouldn’t hear of it. They probably told her she was mistaken about her own feelings. Then, when she ran into Chris, she didn’t know what her feelings were.”

  “If that’s so, the death of Jeff hasn’t benefited Harvey or Fran.”

  “We don’t know what else was going on, if anything. Luanne and her mother arrived at the Yuletide yesterday in separate cars.”

  “That’s interesting.”

  “It is, isn’t it? On the other hand, we can’t forget that Jeff’s death might have nothing at all to do with Luanne and her family or even Rudolph. Maybe someone followed him from Rochester. Maybe it was a random killing.”

  “Other than the ‘random killing’ idea, you might be right, honeybunch. I find it hard to believe some killer was lurking in the gardens of the Yuletide Inn waiting to pounce on the first person who came along.”

  I suppressed the thought that the second person who came along was Chris. And the third was me.

  “Still, it can’t hurt to find out what we can,” Dad said. “Things are quiet at the town offices this week, and Ralph’s away until after the New Year.” Ralph Dickerson is our town’s financial officer. “I might not be able to learn too much of what they know about these plans for the development over in Muddle Harbor. If I do learn anything I’ll share it with Diane.”

  “And me?”

  Dad chucked. “Yes, I’ll fill you in, too. What about the woman you say you saw making a scene at the inn yesterday? Did you find out anything about her?”

  “No. Sometimes this detecting stuff isn’t easy, Dad. Other than asking Detective Simmonds who she is, I don’t know what I can do. I saw her, but I didn’t even get her name, much less understand what her relationship was with Jeff. I could ask, but Simmonds isn’t going to give me the name and phone number of a witness.”

  “She’s due here in a few minutes to talk to Chris.”

  “Simmonds is? Do you think she’s learned anything? Maybe she’s going to tell Chris someone’s been arrested.”

  “Don’t get your hopes up, Merry.”

  “If you get the chance, ask her about the woman I saw. Maybe she’ll tell you the name.”

  “I’ll keep you posted, honeybunch.”

  I tied Mattie to a lamppost and went into the Cranberry Coffee Bar for my morning treat. The line was long and I waited patiently. I caught drifts of conversation, and a lot of it was to do with the death of Jeff Vanderhaven.

  A group of elderly men had taken a table in the center of the room. Some combination of these men gathered here most mornings around this time, huddled over their coffee and muffins or bagels, discussing the news of the world, complaining about the running of Rudolph, and exchanging the local gossip. I suspected some of them had Mable D’Angelo on speed dial. “Muddle Harbor will be looking for someone to blame, mark my words,” a man said.

  “Muddle Harbor is always looking for someone to blame. Other than themselves, that is,” replied one of his companions.

  “Ridiculous idea anyway. An amusement park. I heard they want to be known as the Disney World of the North.”

  The men chuckled knowingly.

  “Hey, Merry,” the first man said.

  “Hi, Norm. Gentlemen.” Norman Sinclair had been on the town council when my dad was the mayor. “Happy New Year to you all. What’s this about Muddle Harbor? Do you think Jeff’s death will have an impact on the project?”

  The men shrugged. “Might. Might not. Folks say Jeff and Harvey Ireland were keen on the idea, Louis Vanderhaven, not so much.”

  “Then again, folks say a lot of things. Some of them might occasionally even be true.”

  “You can tell Chris we’re rooting for him, Merry.”

  “What does that mean?” I asked.

  “Word is the police are mighty interested in what Chris might have had against young Vanderhaven.”

  “He had nothing against Jeff,” I said. “Nothing at all. They barely knew each other.”

  “That’s what I said. Isn’t that right, Ed? I said that very thing.”

  Ed nodded and sipped his coffee.

  The line moved forward, and I wished the men a good day. When it was my turn to be served, I ordered a large latte and a cranberry muffin.

  Back on the sidewalk, I found a woman fussing over Mattie. Mattie smiled up at her. He liked to be fussed over. “What an adorable dog. Although, I have to ask,” she giggled, “is it a . . .”

  Please don’t ask if he’s a pony.

  “. . . dog or a pony?”

  She laughed at her own wit, gave Mattie a final pat, and walked away. I untied him and we headed down the alley to the back door of Mrs. Claus’s Treasures, where I spent some time while I finished my drink doing my least favorite job—paying the bills—before it was time to open the store for the day. Jackie was due to come in at ten and Crystal at noon. The town was still full of holiday visitors, so I was expecting us to be busy.

  Promptly at nine thirty, I told Mattie to finish double-checking that dubious invoice from the china supplier, went through to the front, flipped the sign on the door, and unlocked it.

  The door flew open and a woman came in. I blinked in surprise.

  Maybe this detecting business was going to be easy after all.

  It was the woman I’d seen yesterday afternoon at the Yuletide Inn, showing a great deal of interest in what had happened to Jeff. “Oh, good. You’re here. I hoped you would be.”

  “Can I help you?”

  “I certainly hope so.” Today, she wore a black leather jacket with a heavy fur collar, leather gloves, and high black boots over shredded jeans. Her makeup was perfectly applied, her long black hair pulled back into a high, sleek ponytail. She studied me with large dark eyes.

  “Uh?” I prompted her.

  She reached out and laid a glove on my arm. “You were there.” Her voice was soft and low.

  I stepped back. “Where?”

  “At the Yuletide Inn. Yesterday.”

  “Yes, I was. I saw you.”

  “You spoke to me, but I didn’t pay any attention. I was too distraught, and I’m sorry. Later, after I recovered some of my wits, I asked the receptionist if she knew who you were. She told me I could find you here. I came by last night but the store was closed.”

  “Is this about the death at the inn?”

  “They say you found him. Jeff. My Jeff.”

  “Your Jeff?”

  “Jeff Vanderhaven.
We were engaged to be married.”

  I stared at her. My mouth might have flapped open.

  The woman walked past me into the shop, her heels clicking on the floor. “This is a nice store. I like it. Christmassy.” She picked up a Mrs. Claus doll and studied it. Her shoulders moved as she took a deep breath. When she put the doll down and turned to face me again, her eyes were wet, the long black lashes rimmed with tears. “I’m sorry. Let me introduce myself. I’m Madison McKenzie. I know you’re Merry Wilkinson. They told me you were with Jeff when . . . when he died.” She dug in her pocket and pulled out a scrap of tissue. She blew her nose. “I guess I wanted to meet you, to ask you if he . . . said anything before he died.”

  “Who told you that?”

  She shrugged. “Some of the staff at the hotel.”

  “I’m sorry, Madison, but that’s not what happened. He . . .” I struggled to find the right words. “I wasn’t with Jeff when he died. He said nothing to me.”

  “Was he in pain, do you think?”

  “I don’t know. I told you. You should be asking the police these questions, not me.”

  “I tried.” Madison sniffed into her tissue. “She won’t tell me anything. All she did was bark out questions.”

  “Detective Simmonds?”

  Madison nodded. Her eyes filled with tears, but the tears didn’t fall. I found myself wondering if she was able to control them so they wouldn’t spoil her makeup. I pushed that thought aside. I had questions of my own. The best way of getting answers, I decided, was to tell her what she needed to know. “Jeff was unconscious when I got there. He didn’t regain consciousness. The medics and the police arrived and I left.”

  “He was in a garden, they said. I wanted to see it, but the police wouldn’t let me past. I hope it was a beautiful place. Is it?”

  “Very beautiful. A quiet little clearing surrounded by a hedge of holly. It’s near the rose garden and there’s a statue of a child and a dog in the center of the clearing. It’s a place for children to pretend to hide from their parents.”