Dying in a Winter Wonderland

by Vicki Delany

  “Whew!” Tiffany said, “I’m glad to hear that.” She grabbed her husband’s arm and skipped, as lightly as her extra weight allowed, down the steps.

  Alan took my hand. “Are you okay, Merry?”

  “I’m fine, why do you ask?”

  “You’re suddenly a thousand miles away. What’s on your mind?”

  I shook my head. “Nothing. Let’s go.”

  We fell in behind the laughing, chattering line heading down the path to the gardens. Lights in paper bags shone brightly, marking the route around the rose garden and across the lawn toward the pond. Led by Mark and Vicky, the cheerful procession passed through the gap in the holly hedge, and I couldn’t help glancing around me, wondering if anyone was standing silently in the dark, watching us. I walked with Alan, scarcely noticing where we were going. Something was on my mind: that overheard scrap of conversation between Luanne and Scott.

  It sounded almost as though Scott had been suggesting Luanne take advantage of the wedding booking.

  To do what?

  To marry him?

  They were walking ahead of us. As I watched, Scott let go of Fran Ireland’s arm and increased his speed to catch up with Luanne and Amber. He reached for Luanne’s hand, but she shook him off with a sharp comment I didn’t catch, and she fell back.

  The moon was almost full, the sky empty of clouds, and the air cold and crisp. Chairs had been set up on the lawn, and on the far side of the duck pond I could see people moving about, setting up the fireworks. A couple of security guards walked behind the group of partiers, no doubt keeping an eye on those who might have had more to drink than perhaps they should have.

  Yesterday’s rise in temperature had melted most of the snow, but then the temperature dropped, and the pond froze over again. The fresh ice glimmered in the moonlight and a crusty rim of frost covered the grasses of the lawn. People spread out, heading for the blankets and chairs or to get a good view.

  “Gimme a sec,” I said to Alan. “Someone I want to talk to.”

  “Sure,” he said.

  I searched for Luanne and Amber in the dark and among the crowd. Amber had put on a coat but not buttoned it up, and the sequins on her dress reflected light from someone’s phone. Scott stood with Fran Ireland. Luanne’s mother was talking to him, but he wasn’t paying her any attention. He was focused on Luanne, standing next to Amber, her stiff back pointedly facing away from him.

  I slipped up to her. “Luanne. I have to ask you a question.”

  “When are they going to get this show started?” Amber said. “This is so lame.”

  “Five minutes to midnight,” Mark yelled as if in answer to her question. Amber wandered away. Fran, once again clinging to Scott’s arm, followed her.

  I kept my voice low. “You said Scott’s always been a pest,” I said to Luanne. “What did you mean by that?”

  She shrugged. “I meant he’s always been a pest. I’ll admit that I wasn’t very nice to him when we were in school. I treated him almost like my little pet. He had a major crush on me, and my girlfriends and I made fun of him because of it. He was such a nerd, always hanging around, never quite getting up the nerve to ask me out. Which is just as well, as I never would have gone out with him, and I probably would have been darn rude about it.”

  “Have you seen him much since school?”

  “Why are you asking all these questions?”

  “No reason.”

  “I don’t want to talk about Scott, Merry. The fireworks are about to start.” Luanne let out a long sigh. “This wasn’t how I expected to spend my New Year’s Eve.” She rubbed at the third finger of her left hand, feeling the diamond beneath her gloves. “Jeff and I were supposed to be going to a party at a country club as guests of one of his clients. Instead, I spent the night listening to Amber whine and Margaret trying not to cry, watching Louis drink, and telling Scott to back off.”

  “I’m sorry for all you’re going through, Luanne. Truly, I am. But, please, indulge me.”

  “Might as well. This night can’t get much worse. I’ve seen Scott several times over the past few years. He always seemed to know when I was visiting my folks and would drop in to say hi. We went to lunch in Rochester when he was in town, occasionally, and he came into my bank a few times. He said he moved his account to the bank where I work, because if I work there it must be a good bank. Does that seem weird to you? It did to me. I’m a teller, I don’t run the place. He’s been really supportive since Jeff’s death, and I’m trying to remember that, but he is starting to get annoying. He’s being too supportive, if you know what I mean. I can barely breathe without him checking up on me.”

  “I couldn’t help but overhear some of your conversion in the hallway earlier. About the deposit on the banquet room?”

  “Yeah. Talk about getting annoying. He suggested that, rather than waste the money we’ve already spent on the wedding, he and I get married.” She snorted. “As if.”

  I melted back into the crowd.

  “Two minutes,” Mark shouted.

  I needed to call Diane Simmonds. I patted my coat pockets before I remembered that I’d put my phone into my evening bag and I’d left the bag on our table.

  It might not matter; Simmonds would be unlikely to answer. It was minutes before midnight on New Year’s Eve. She might be at a party like this one, counting down the seconds.

  “One minute,” Mark yelled. “Fifty-nine seconds.”

  Everyone began to chant. Alan had joined Vicky and Mark at the front.

  Once we were back in the hotel, I’d tell Alan what I needed to do, and we’d call Simmonds. Even if she was at a party or fast asleep, she’d not thank me for keeping what I’d learned to myself.

  I took a step forward, ready to join my friends. I was brought up short as a hand gripped my arm and something sharp pricked my neck. “Nice night, isn’t it, Merry?” Scott Abramsky said.

  Chapter 22

  Let’s go for a walk.”

  “I don’t want to go for a walk.”

  “Sure you do.” Scott tightened the grip on my arm, and the pressure on my neck increased. He put his face up to mine. His eyes were narrow and his breath foul. “I had the steak for dinner. It was good, done medium well, the way I like it. It came with a proper steak knife. I thought I might need the knife, so I borrowed it.” He illustrated his point with a touch more pressure to my neck.

  My blood turned as cold as the thin veneer of ice on the duck pond. “I don’t know what you want from me, Scott. I’m here to see the fireworks and ring in the New Year.”

  He jerked my arm. The knife didn’t move. “Walk, Merry.” I felt a small prick of pain and something wet on my neck and, with a burst of horror, I realized he’d stabbed me. “Don’t try to attract any attention to us, or the next cut will go all the way in.”

  I walked.

  Scott half pushed, half dragged me away from the circle of people.

  “Ten . . . nine . . .”

  “I saw you talking to Luanne just now,” he said. “You don’t know when to quit, do you?”

  “I have quit. Anything that happens between you and Luanne is none of my business, but she won’t like it if you hurt me.”

  “Be quiet. I’ve had more than enough of you. At first I couldn’t believe my luck when Chris, of all people, found the body and the cops thought he’d done it.” Scott chuckled. “But that had you poking your nose in and asking Luanne questions about things that are not your concern.”

  The ground and the grass were frozen, and I had trouble walking in my tall, thin heels once we’d stepped off the paved path. But Scott’s grip kept me upright, and pure terror kept my feet moving.

  The sky above us exploded. Streams of red and yellow fire streaked through the night and people cheered. Someone blew a horn.

  “Happy New Year!”

  The
colored lights bursting above us threw deep shadows across Scott’s face and emphasized the madness in his eyes.

  “Killing me won’t solve anything,” I said.

  “Sure it will. Luanne likes you. She thinks you’re good friends. She’ll be devastated at your death. Another death, coming so soon after the first. So sad. So tragic. Don’t worry about Luanne, Merry. I’ll be there to console her. Again.”

  “You plan to kill me like you killed Jeff?”

  “He was no good for her. She didn’t love him. She didn’t want to marry him.”

  “I don’t believe she told you that, Scott. You made it up.”

  “She didn’t tell me in so many words, but I could tell. She and I have always had a strong mental bond. I caught up with her in town on Christmas Eve, after she’d had breakfast with you. With you and your brother. She told me she was getting married, but I could tell her heart wasn’t in it. Marrying Jeff wasn’t what she wanted. It wasn’t what she needed. I’ve always known what Luanne needs, even when she doesn’t.”

  “So you started following her. Watching her house.”

  “I had to watch out for her, Merry. I was right to worry. She ran away from him on Christmas night. I wanted to console her. I wanted her to come to me. Instead, she went to your house. She went to Chris.”

  I stumbled on a patch of rough ground and would have fallen had Scott not jerked me back to my feet. We were a good distance from the New Year’s revelers, rounding the small pond. A line of trees marks the end of the Yuletide property and a patch of thick woodland lies beyond. I had absolutely no doubt Scott was taking me there to kill me and dump my body. I tried to look over my shoulder, but the prick of the knife put a stop to that.

  Surely Alan would soon be wondering where I’d gotten to.

  Fireworks continued to explode overhead, throwing lurid shadows beneath my feet.

  How long before Alan came looking for me?

  Too long.

  For once, I thought, I could use Officer Candy Campbell’s help, but she was watching the fireworks and happy being in Russ’s company.

  I had to keep Scott talking until Alan could find me. “It was you outside my parents’ house that night.”

  “I followed Luanne. I have to look out for her, Merry. I need you to understand that. I’ve always looked out for her. She shouldn’t have been driving in that state.”

  “You were watching Chris and me outside McGinley’s. Why?”

  Keep him talking. Keep him talking.

  “I was the one who had the idea for the reunion. Luanne needed to get out and be with her friends. She needed to stop brooding about Jeff and get on with her life. With our life. The reunion would be a great chance for me to show everyone, including Luanne, that we deserve to be together. That we’re meant to be together. Let everyone see what a great couple we are. I took her to the party, but as soon as she saw Chris she was all over him. Chris! Not me. I shouldn’t have told him about it, but Luanne asked me to. That was a mistake. When I saw him go outside, I knew it was time to get rid of him once and for all. But you came out and then the cops arrived. Chris told that detective he was going back to New York City.” I felt Scott’s shrug. “No need for me to do anything about him. Luanne’ll forget him once he’s gone and she realizes I’m the one for her.”

  “If you kill me,” I said, “my brother will come back for the funeral. He and Luanne will console each other.”

  Scott hesitated. Clearly he hadn’t thought this through. I took a deep conscious breath and prepared myself to run, but before I could move, he gave me a shove and we started walking again. “I’ll have to keep them apart, then, won’t I? One way or another.”

  I was out of time. From where we stood, a gentle slope led down to the pond and up to the line of trees. I couldn’t let Scott take me into those trees. No one would see us there, no one would think to come looking for me there.

  Until it was too late.

  I breathed. Now or never. In a matter of moments it would be too late. We stepped on a patch of icy grass, and I stumbled and collapsed against Scott. He wasn’t wearing boots, either, and although his loafers weren’t useless high-heeled things, they didn’t have treads that could grip the ground. He lost his footing and began to fall away from me, up the slope. The knife was lifted off my neck, and the grip relaxed on my arm. I yelled and shoved at him, hard, and he lost his footing and fell. I turned to run, but my shoes, useless high-heeled things, slipped on a patch of ice. I screamed as I hit the ground.

  I kept screaming as I slid on the slippery grass and went downhill to crash through the weak ice of the duck pond.

  Chapter 23

  A couple of days ago, the ice on the pond hadn’t been judged safe enough for skating. Since then, the temperatures had risen and the ice had melted. It had refrozen today, but not enough. The soft, thin layer simply crumbled under my weight, and freezing water closed around me.

  Water flooded my coat and the weight of it dragged me farther down. I was chilled to the bone instantly and began to lose all feeling in my limbs. I flailed my arms, trying to swim, but I didn’t know which way was up. The pond couldn’t be too deep, but my feet couldn’t find purchase. My lungs filled with cold water. At the initial shock, my heart simply stopped pumping.

  Then it started again. I gasped and swallowed more water. My lungs screamed for air but I couldn’t find any.

  I’m a good swimmer, and I grew up swimming in lakes, rivers, and ponds just like this one. But this water was too cold, my coat too encumbering, the shock too great.

  I was drowning, and there was no daylight to show me the way to the surface.

  Alan and I had danced one dance together in our entire lives. Would he remember that dance forever? I hoped he’d be able to move on. To have a good life, a loving wife, a happy family.

  My parents’ hearts would be broken, but they had three other children. They’d be fine.

  My bare foot touched the soft, muddy bottom. I pushed down hard and propelled myself upward, kicking as hard as I could, pulling back the water with my arms. My head broke the surface, and I sucked in air. Cold, precious air. My coat acted as an anchor around me, pulling me down. I had to get to shore, but I wasn’t sure where the closest shore was, not in the all-encompassing dark. I didn’t know where Scott had gone. Was he waiting on the bank, ready to hold me down until I stopped struggling?

  Brilliant red light lit up the night. People cheered. They were still watching the fireworks.

  In the burst of light I was able to see the outline of the shore. I started for it. I strained against the thin ice and the thick water, while the mud on the bottom sucked at my feet. I’d lost one shoe, and the other wasn’t helping. I tried to kick it off, but it wouldn’t let go. The shore was so far away and I was so cold.

  I thought I heard a shout, and I hesitated. Was Scott watching me, waiting for me? Bright white lights hit me full in the face. I was surrounded by light.

  Was I dead already? Heaven, if I was in heaven, was much colder than I’d expected it would be.

  Then something splashed next to me and a large and heavy object hit the ice and broke through it. Arms wrapped around me, holding me fast, and I was too cold to resist.

  “I’ve got you. I’ve got her!”

  Alan.

  Hands reached for us. Alan half dragged, half pushed me into them. And then I was on the ground. The good solid frozen ground of Rudolph, New York. My stomach heaved and muddy, icy water came up. My sodden coat was peeled away from me and blankets were piled on me.

  “We’ve got to get her inside,” Vicky said.

  “I’ve called for a golf cart,” Mark said. “And an ambulance.”

  I coughed and spat out more water. I tried to sit up. “Scott. Scott Abramsky. He killed Jeff. He tried to kill me.”

  “Don’t worry about him,” Alan said.

>   “I’m okay,” I said. “I’m a bit sleepy. I think I’ll have a short nap.”

  “Probably not a good idea.” Vicky peered into my face. “Come on, you need to stand up. Get yourself moving.”

  “In a minute.”

  I was hauled to my feet. Light shone from Mark’s Maglite and from dozens of cell phones. A circle of worried faces peered at me.

  “I’m okay,” I repeated.

  The soft engine of a golf cart sped toward us. Strong arms helped me into the back.

  “I’ll drive,” Mark said. “You go with him.”

  I didn’t know who him was. Alan climbed in beside me. He clutched a blanket patterned with red and green checks around himself. His face was wet and ice crystals were forming in his fair hair. “Have you been for a swim?” I asked.

  “Nice night for it,” he replied.

  “Hold on,” Mark yelled as the golf cart jerked forward. As we sped away, I saw Russ Durham and Candy Campbell push through the circle of onlookers. His tie was askew and his hair mussed. Candy’s coat was half on and she was struggling to get her arm into the right sleeve, without noticing that it was inside out. I gave them a wave.

  By the time we got to the inn, I’d recovered most of my wits.

  My parents were there, arms wrapped around each other and eyes wide with fear. Behind them, the steps were crowded with partygoers, some of whom wore funny hats or had streamers wrapped around their heads. Some held champagne glasses. Mable D’Angelo was standing at the front with her phone pressed to her cheek. “She’s alive!” I heard my landlady say. “But she looks perfectly dreadful.”

  Murmuring platitudes, Vicky helped me out of the cart and checked that my blankets were tightly wrapped around me. Mark helped Alan.

  An ambulance arrived, lights flashing and sirens screaming. A police car tore down the lane after it.