by Vicki Delany
Vicky: OMG everyone is talking about it. What happened? Need anything?
Me: All’s fine. Tell you later
Vicky: So no one was stabbed to death?
Me: ????
Vicky: Rumors are growing
Me: No one harmed. Plenty of broken dishes, though
I’d no sooner put the phone back in my pocket when it sounded again.
Jackie: Alan’s here. Customers have left. Candy left. Door locked
Me: Walking Mattie in the alley. Go home. I’ll clean up later. And thanks. You were good there
Jackie:
Alan ran around the corner into the alley. “Merry. Are you okay? It looks like a bomb went off in the store.” He wrapped me in his arms and I settled into the embrace. We stood together for a long time, while Mattie sniffed at the garbage cans and at yellow patches in the churned-up snow.
Finally I reluctantly pulled myself out of Alan’s arms and gave him a wry grin. “How’d you hear?”
“I was at the grocery store when Russ Durham called and told me there’d been some trouble.”
“That was nice of him.” Russ and I had tentatively dated when I first moved back to Rudolph. That hadn’t lasted long, not once I realized my heart still lay with Alan Anderson. Russ hadn’t taken rejection too badly. It hadn’t been more than a casual flirtation to him, and we remained friends.
I explained briefly what had happened in the store. “I have to go to the police station and give a statement. Jackie’s taken pictures of the damage so I can put in a claim for the insurance.”
“You should sue the pants off those two.”
“I might just do that.”
“It could have been a lot worse. Someone could have been hurt, even accidently. All that broken china. Jackie found some things on the floor that must have fallen out of someone’s pocket during the fight.” He handed me a tube of lipstick in a shockingly bright red color and a slip of paper.
“I’ll take these to the police station,” I said, putting them into my own pocket.
Alan walked Mattie and me to my office, and then he said, “I’ll pop into Cranberries for a coffee. Give me a buzz when you’re finished with the police, and I’ll help you clean the place up.” He gave me a wry grin. “Good thing I don’t make anything out of glass.”
I told Mattie to finish doing the accounts, and then Alan and I left by the back door. I didn’t want to go out front; I wasn’t ready to face the damage. Not yet.
We separated at the street. Alan turned right, heading for Cranberries, and I went left to the police station. As I walked, I took out the piece of paper he’d given me, the one Jackie had found, and read it. Interesting.
The Rudolph police station sits in the center of Jingle Bell Lane, next to the town hall and the library, separated from Victoria’s Bake Shoppe by a small brick-paved walkway. It was almost five, and the bakery was closed for the day, but lights shone from inside. I knew Vicky would still be at work, getting ready for tomorrow, but I didn’t go in. Simmonds was waiting for me, and Vicky would insist on serving me coffee and a tart or a piece of cake, and sitting me down to tell her the entire story.
Once I was sitting down, I didn’t think I’d be able to get up again.
I told the officer at reception I was here to see Detective Simmonds, and she came through immediately. She took me to an interview room and sat me down. She studied my face. “You look okay. Are you?”
“Yeah. A cuddle with Mattie and then a short walk did the trick.”
“Nothing better. Can I get someone to bring you a glass of water? Maybe a coffee run?”
“No, thanks. I’m fine. Where are Luanne and Madison?”
“They’re waiting patiently for me to decide what to do with them. Tell me what happened.”
* * *
* * *
I went over the story. It didn’t take long, and I realized the entire incident couldn’t have lasted more than a minute or two. “It was,” I said in conclusion, “weird.”
“Do you want me to charge them?”
“I think not. A man died. A man both of them seem to have been in love with. That doesn’t excuse their behavior, but no one was hurt. Except for Madison’s nose. Is it broken?”
“No. She says she thinks she has a brain injury. I told her she could see a doctor when she’s released. Her face will be bruised for a few days, and that’ll give her something to complain about.”
“If Luanne and Madison each agree to pay for half of the damage to my stock, I’m willing to let it go. It shouldn’t be more than a couple hundred dollars each.”
Light danced in her green eyes, and Simmonds gave me a soft smile.
“I haven’t had the chance to ask,” I said. “Did you have a nice Christmas?”
“I did. Thank you for not finding any dead bodies until the day was over.”
“I don’t—”
“I know you don’t go out of your way to find trouble. But trouble does seem to find you, Merry. In answer to your question, Mom, Charlotte, and I had a beautiful day. Christmas in Rudolph can be just about perfect. Presents around the tree in the morning, building a snow family on the front lawn in the afternoon, then hot chocolate and homemade cookies by the fire. Mom did a crown roast of pork and Charlotte helped her make a pecan pie. That’s a skill that seems to have skipped a generation.” Charlotte was Simmonds’s young daughter. Simmonds had moved from Chicago after a difficult divorce, and her mother came with her to help look after the little girl.
“Pie making skipped two generations in my family,” I said. “My maternal grandmother was a typical Italian home cook. Meaning fabulous. My mother was a singing sensation from childhood, and what with voice lessons and childhood performances, there was never time for her to learn any of the household arts. As for me, Nana died when I was very young, so she didn’t get the chance to teach me what she knew.”
Simmonds started to push her chair back.
“Wait!” I said. “This incident must mean something in regard to the killing of Jeff Vanderhaven. Both of those women are, to say the least, unstable.”
Simmonds hesitated.
“You know I’m not being nosy. As long as my brother’s under suspicion, no matter how slight, this thing is hanging over my family. As you might have noticed, even when I try to stay out of it, I’m dragged into it. I didn’t invite Luanne or Madison to my store today, but they showed up anyway. And here I am, once again”—I held out my arms to encompass the police station—“involved.”
Simmonds dropped back down. “Okay. Here’s what I’ve learned. Luanne Ireland claims to have been watching the children sledding on the so-called hill behind the main building of the Yuletide Inn at the time Jeff Vanderhaven died.”
“That’s what she told me, too.”
“No one has positively identified her as being there in the minutes in question, but no one says they saw her anywhere else, either.”
“What about Madison? She was mighty upset when she arrived at the Yuletide that afternoon. That might have been an act.”
“Ah, yes. Madison McKenzie. She has a nice sheet with the Rochester police.”
I perked up. “Good. Now we’re getting somewhere.”
“Unfortunately, we are not. All her charges and warnings have been traffic related. She gets a parking ticket a couple of times a month. Several speeding tickets. One court appearance for insulting the officer who stopped her. She got a fine for that.”
I pulled the slip of paper out of my pocket. “Jackie found this on the floor of the store after everyone had left, along with a tube of lipstick I was going to leave at the front desk for Madison. It must have fallen out of her coat pocket in all the kerfuffle. It’s a speeding ticket, issued by the Rudolph PD.” I squinted at it. “I can scarcely make out the writing, but it seems to have been issued on Saturday afte
rnoon.”
Simmonds grinned. “Do you want a job, Merry?”
“Got one, thanks.”
“That would be her latest ticket, unless she’s earned herself another since. It was given, as you noticed, on Saturday.”
“The day Jeff died.”
“At seven minutes after two Madison McKenzie was stopped by the Rudolph PD for speeding. Her license and registration were checked and nothing was found to be outstanding. She was issued a ticket. At two twenty-one she was told she could go on her way. She informed the officer that he’d taken a ridiculous amount of time writing up her ticket. He told her to drive carefully, that Rudolph is a family-friendly town. This happened on the opposite side of town from the Yuletide. Even if she’d chosen to disregard the officer’s warning and had exceeded the speed limit, it would have taken her fifteen minutes, at least, to get to the Yuletide.”
“Meaning she arrived after two thirty?”
“Meaning she couldn’t have gotten there before you found Jeff.”
I digested that for a minute. “Why was she in Rudolph, and how did she know he’d died?”
“She says she was coming to see Jeff. That she wanted to remind him he didn’t have to marry Luanne. After receiving the ticket, she was heading into town when she got a call from a friend who’d seen the news on social media, so she turned around and headed for the Yuletide. That is possible. The Vanderhaven family has a name in these parts, and the news of Jeff’s death spread quickly. Hard to keep it under wraps in such a public place as a hotel.”
“Hard to beat that alibi.”
“’Fraid so.”
“Did the autopsy happen this morning?”
“It did.”
“And . . .”
Simmonds shook her head. “You can be persistent, Merry. I’ll give you that. Jeff Vanderhaven died from a blow to the back of the head. He would have died almost immediately. The marks of the injury and traces of dirt in the wound are consistent with the rock that was found at the scene beneath him.”
“So it might have been an accident, despite his good boots and the lack of ice?”
“I will not be acting on that assumption. No other rocks of that size were found in the clearing. There was, however, a collection of similar stones beneath a tree not far away. The snow around the base of the tree was disturbed, as though someone or something had dug through it, but the path immediately next to it had been shoveled before we arrived. So no footprints. No fingerprints were found on the rock in question or any of the others.”
An image flashed through my mind. Jeff Vanderhaven entering the clearing, maybe wanting some alone time to think over his forthcoming marriage to Luanne. Silent footsteps following him, making a path through the snow. A figure bending down and a gloved hand reaching for a rock.
I shivered, and Simmonds noticed. “You can go, Merry. I’ll tell Luanne and Madison they can, too. I’ll also tell them you’ve been kind enough to ask me not to charge them, and you’ll work through my office to inform them as to what they owe you for the damage. I can’t run Madison McKenzie out of town, but I can politely suggest leaving might be a good idea. Luanne Ireland needs a good spanking. I can’t take care of that, either, unfortunately.”
Chapter 17
Simmonds walked me to the top of the steps of the police station, and I headed for Mrs. Claus’s. I didn’t want to be barraged with questions, so I decided not to go into Cranberries for a latte and Alan. I walked through town with my head down, moving quickly.
No one stopped me, and I let myself into the store.
It wasn’t as bad as I’d feared. Shattered glass and china littered the floor near the door, but there wasn’t much damage farther in. A couple of tables had been knocked over as customers ran for safety (or for a better vantage point), the contents scattered and broken, but the Christmas tree twinkled merrily in its stand, and most of the toys and jewelry and linens were undisturbed.
Mrs. Claus lay on her back on the floor, staring up at me through her big blue glass eyes. I picked her up and placed her on the sales counter, settling her glasses on her nose, combing out her curly gray hair with my fingers, and fluffing her green and red checked dress and red apron. A crack ran through her pink porcelain cheeks. I’d keep her on the shelf behind the counter as a reminder of the day’s excitement.
I texted Alan to say I was back and he knocked on the door a few minutes later. I let him in and he handed me a large take-out cup. I accepted it gratefully and breathed in the delicious scent of rich chocolate and heavy cream. “You brought me a hot chocolate?”
“Probably better for your nerves than a coffee.” He studied my face, noticed me calmly holding the cup steady. “Your nerves seem okay.”
“I’m fine. The whole thing was, now that I’m thinking of it, more funny than dangerous. Yes, someone could have been hurt, but if you’d seen Jackie with that place mat . . .”
I laughed. Alan’s eyes narrowed, but when he saw no signs of imminent hysteria, he laughed, too.
We laughed together.
Mattie barked, wanting to laugh also.
I went to the back and let him out of the office. Being the size of a small bull, Matterhorn isn’t normally allowed in my china shop, but I decided to make an exception while we didn’t have any customers. He greeted Alan warmly while I eyed the Christmas glassware and wondered if letting him in might have been a mistake.
I called Mattie to come and led him to the sales counter. “Sit,” I said. He sat. “Stay,” I said. He stayed.
While Mattie watched, and then decided nothing exciting was happening so he might as well have a snooze, Alan and I cleaned up Mrs. Claus’s Treasures. We swept the floor and gathered broken items off the tables. I sighed as Alan dumped a load of wreckage into the trash. “I liked that afternoon-tea display. I was thinking of doing something similar for Valentine’s Day.”
Alan coughed lightly. He kept his head down and his eyes focused on getting the broom into a far corner. “Speaking of February . . . I was wondering . . .”
I caught the hesitation in his voice and glanced over. His ears were turning pink. “Wondering what?”
“If . . . maybe you’d like to go away for a week or so over the winter.” He straightened up. “You’re not busy here in January or February. Jackie can manage. Can’t she?”
“Go away? Us? Together?”
“Yeah. I was thinking like really get away. To the Caribbean maybe. A nice resort. Sun and sand and sea. Both of us.”
I grinned. “I’d like that. I’d like it a lot.”
He grinned back at me.
We stood for a while, grinning. Then Alan said, “Almost done here. You’re going to need extra stock to fill in those empty spots.”
“I’ll get some things out of the back and we can do the best we can.”
Mattie’s ears pricked up when I headed for the curtain. “We’re not going home yet,” I told him. “Stay.”
He stayed.
* * *
* * *
By six o’clock we had Mrs. Claus’s once again ready for business. I hadn’t had a lot of spare stock in the back, it being the week after Christmas, but enough that the spaces on the tables and the shelves weren’t too obvious. I arranged a selection of table linens on the main display table—something unbreakable in case Luanne and Madison dared to return.
“Thanks for the help,” I said to Alan as we admired the clean, tidy store. “I’ll pay you for your time.”
“You most certainly will not.”
“Yes, I will. I’m going to bill Luanne and Madison not only for the broken goods but also for the loss of revenue this afternoon, Jackie’s pay, and for the wages of my helper. That’s you.”
“In that case, I’ll use my ill-gotten gains to take you out to dinner.”
“It’s six now. Do you still want to go to the p
ub night? What time’s that thing anyway?”
“It starts at seven. Most people probably won’t arrive until eight or so.”
“I have to take Mattie home. Why don’t we do that, and then we can grab a bite before going to the pub?”
“I need to make a run home myself and check on Ranger. How’s Italian sound? Meet at Giovanni’s at seven?”
“Sounds good.”
He gathered me into his arms and held me tight. Unfortunately, we couldn’t stand together like that for long, as Mattie had heard the words “Mattie” and “home” and knew that meant dinner was in the offing.
* * *
* * *
Over dinner, Alan and I huddled over our bowls of pasta and used Alan’s phone to check rates for Caribbean resort vacations. We decided the third week in February would be the best time. I’d—gulp—put Jackie in charge of the shop and open for limited hours. Dad could be on standby if Jackie needed any help.
Alan was settling up the bill when my phone rang. I checked the display and answered when I saw Chris was calling.
“Hey, Merry. Just wondering what time you’re going to be here.”
“Be where?”
“At Mom and Dad’s. We’re going to the pub, aren’t we?”
“Alan and I are finishing up dinner now. We’ll be there in about ten minutes.”
“Great! See you then.”
I put my phone away and said, “Sorry. I get the feeling Chris wants me to go with him. You don’t have to come if you don’t want to. I can run home and get my car.”
“It’s okay. I understand what Chris is feeling. He’s trapped at your parents’ house and wanting to get out and have some fun, but he’s worried people will look at him funny and wonder if it’s true that he killed Jeff.”
“How did you get so insightful about people?”
“Comes from working with wood,” he said. “I have lots of time to think.”