Tidings of Joy

by P. Creeden

  “We’re having a 50% off sale for Christmas!” a woman said as she drew closer to them. “Only a few days left before the big day! Maybe your wife could use this coupon and gift bag!”

  Heat rose to Joy’s cheeks. “Oh! I’m not... I’m—”

  Jeremy ran a hand up to her shoulder and squeezed it. “Honey, it’s fine. Go ahead and take the coupon.”

  Blinking at Jeremy, Joy took the coupon and gift bag from the woman and thanked her.

  Then Jeremy kept the hand on her shoulder while he asked the woman, “Is this a special promotion this weekend? I noticed that there’s a few businesses on the street giving out coupons and stuff.”

  “Yes! It’s the last weekend before Christmas, so it’s a push for people to pick up last minute gifts if they still need them.”

  “So, were you giving out gift bags and coupons earlier today?” Jeremy asked.

  The woman nodded. “Yes! I’ve been here giving out coupons from ten to three! And you wouldn’t believe how often you can run into a celebrity here on this street. I ran into three famous people this morning. Recognized them on sight. But only two of them would give me autographs.”

  “Really?” Jeremy asked, his grip tightening a bit on Joy’s shoulder. “Who did you see?”

  “That actress from the sitcom that’s really famous right now, she was on a ski trip with her husband, the director. I would have recognized him, too, even though most people wouldn’t because I’m always reading that biography magazine. It’s how I recognized that comic strip artist, too, but he claimed it wasn’t him.”

  “Comic strip artist?” Joy asked.

  “Yes, the one who does the strip about the boy in fashion school... what’s his name? Elliot Fromme.”

  “Elliot’s the name of the comic strip character,” Joy whispered.

  “That’s right! It’s not Elliott, it’s Roger. Roger is the artist’s name.”

  “And he claimed it wasn’t him?” Jeremy asked.

  “That’s right. He was adamant. I was trying to get him to give me an autograph, but he wouldn’t. Then I accidentally knocked the bag of sandwiches out of his hand onto the sidewalk. I apologized profusely and helped him pick them up. He said it was fine though, looked at his watch and then headed into that same house you all came out of.”

  “He looked at his watch?” Jeremy asked. “Any chance you know about what time it was then?”

  The woman nodded, her smile unfaltering. “My shift had just started, so it had to be right about ten.”

  Chapter 9

  On the drive back toward Christmas Tyme, Joy and Jeremy discussed every aspect of the case they had learned from their visit with the alibi. Before they reached their exits get on the highway, Jeremy called Officer Sean and told him to pick up Roger Fromme for further questioning and to hold him until the two of them got back.

  When they got to the police station and out of Jeremy’s sedan, Joy lagged behind. Jeremy turned back toward her. “What’s wrong? Aren’t you coming?”

  Slowly, she shook her head. “Isn’t it wrong for me to join in? Even though we’ve been having a lot of fun talking about the case, I’m really still just a civilian.”

  He rushed to her and took her hands in his and then squeezed them. “You had fun, too? I thought it might just be me. But I need you to stay and see this through. You can be in the observation room while I go into the interrogation. You’ll be able to see and hear everything that goes on without Mr. Fromme seeing you. I’d like for you to see how this case ends, too. You deserve to see this man arrested after what he did to Mr. Carter. Especially after how much you explained Mr. Carter meant to you.”

  His hands felt so warm in hers. She squeezed them back. “If you’re sure I won’t be in the way.”

  “You’re definitely not in the way. And besides, I couldn’t have solved this case without you. I don’t even know if I would have followed up on the alibi except that you wanted to.” Jeremy’s eyes were fixed on hers and he still held her hands. “I owe you one. How about dinner tonight?”

  “Dinner?” Her eyes went wide.

  Slowly he nodded, his expression softening as if he suddenly realized what he’d asked and feared she might not accept.

  She nodded. “I’d love to have dinner with you.”

  A wide grin split his face as he shifted his hold on her, weaving his fingers into hers. Then he tugged her toward the police station. “Come on, then.”

  Once he got Joy set up behind the one-way mirror in the observation room, Jeremy nodded and then left her alone while he stepped out to go to the interrogation area. Roger sat at the table, chewing his nails. The moment Jeremy came in, Roger leapt to his feet. “What’s going on, detective? The officer said you had a few more questions?”

  “Yes,” Jeremy said, a bored look cultivated on his face. “Have a seat.”

  Nodding, Roger sat back down while Jeremy sat in one of the chairs across from him.

  Jeremy cleared his throat. “Where did you say you were at nine a.m. this morning?”

  “At Marianne Dalton’s house.”

  “That’s funny, since we have a witness that places you just outside her house before you visited with the comic strip artist at ten a.m., not nine.”

  Roger blinked and swallowed. “Your witness must be mistaken. I was leaving the house close to ten, not coming in. Marianne looked at her clock. It was nine when I arrived.”

  Jeremy shook his head. “No. We believe that you drugged Ms. Dalton last night and this morning with the meals you brought. Most likely with sleeping pills. Because Ms. Dalton isn’t the best when it comes to cleaning up after eating, most of the food you brought in was still there, sitting on her counter... in her trash can. We have forensics going through the trash right now to determine if there were drugs added to her food. It would be a simple thing to change the time on her clock after dinner and after breakfast when you’d drugged her to be sure she was asleep and unable to see.”

  Roger’s face was like stone. “You can’t prove that I drugged anyone. Even if there are sleeping pills in her food, it doesn’t mean that I put it there.”

  “Hmm...” Jeremy said, “It’s a good thing we have that witness then.”

  Roger shook his head. “What witness? Like I said they saw me leaving, not coming to the house.”

  “No, at the time the witness saw you, you were still carrying the breakfast sandwiches with you. In fact, when she asked for your autograph, you dropped them. Remember?”

  Roger paled as his eyes widened.

  “That’s right. The witness helped pick the bag up and the sandwiches. So, if we’re right about the time and it was ten a.m. and you were coming to the alibi’s house, then forensics will also find our witness’s fingerprints on the trash from the morning’s breakfast.”

  Roger huffed. Then he chuckled and shook his head, but he didn’t say a word, and his gaze was cast down.

  “So,” Jeremy said as he leaned in toward the man. “I’ll ask again. Where were you at nine a.m.?”

  Roger didn’t answer.

  “How about I guess,” Jeremy said, “and you can tell me where I’m wrong.”

  No answer. Roger didn’t even lift his head.

  “Just before nine a.m., you walked past the construction site where you’d already seen some of the metal pipes there and decided it would make a good weapon. Then you came in through the side door of the newspaper building because you knew the camera had been faulty for weeks. You headed directly to the second floor, avoiding Mr. Jenkins, the security guard. You went upstairs and beat Mr. Carter over the head three or four times with your pipe. Then you wiped it all clean and left the pipe by the side door of the building as you left.”

  No answer.

  "Then you went over to Marianne's house in Soda Springs, arriving at ten a.m. but you'd set her clock an hour behind the night before so she would believe it was nine. Easy to do since she has very little contact with the outside world, no phone, no television. After
your sleeping pills kicked in this morning, you changed the clock back and returned here to Christmas Tyme and the newspaper office, going in through the front door so that Mr. Jenkins would see you arrive. You went upstairs for a short while, spending time with the already dead Mr. Carter, while you most likely made the phone calls to the TV stations to make sure that they arrived to interview you later. And then you promptly went downstairs and across the street to the church where you found me and confessed to your version of the murder, knowing fully well that the coroner would find that your story wouldn't match the scene, clearing your name. Though I don't quite understand how you found me at the church."

  "I wasn't looking for you. I was going to confess to the pastor," Roger said, finally looking up. "Then he would have been there to give me sanctuary and tell the reporters what a good and honest man I was for confessing to my crime, as well. I just happened to run into you first, standing there, wearing a badge. And I knew that I had to tell you instead."

  Jeremy peered over toward the one way mirror, practically looking straight into Joy's eyes as he nodded. Then he turned back to Roger. "Then you admit it. You admit to both committing the crime and covering it up later with a false confession?"

  Roger looked up, meeting eyes with Jeremy. "Yes. I confess, again."

  Chapter 10

  Joy collapsed into the chair behind her in the observation room. It was over. Roger confessed. Mr. Carter's killer would be brought to justice. Relief flooded over her harder than she expected it would. On the other side of the one-way mirror, two uniformed officers came into the room and they began recording Roger's confession on paper for the purpose of having him sign it. Jeremy left the two officers to their work and a moment later opened the door to the observation room.

  First, Joy leapt to her feet, only to have her knees buckle a bit. Jeremy rushed forward and caught hold of her. "Are you okay?"

  She nodded, putting a little more strength in her legs. "I'm okay... now."

  But when she tried to pull away from him, Jeremy held tight. A smile spread across his lips. "I couldn't have done this without you. I'm really glad you were there with me through all of it today."

  Her heart fluttered in her chest. "Thanks."

  "I'm supposed to take the kids to the tree lot and pick out a tree for Christmas this afternoon. Then we're going to decorate it. Do you want to come along and join us? We could get that dinner afterward," he asked, getting that wide-eyed innocent, please-don't-hurt-me look in his eyes again.

  She wondered if she'd ever be able to tell him no. "Okay, I'd like that."

  "Good," he said as he smiled. Then he leaned in and kissed her lightly, brushing his lips against hers.

  Electricity ran through her body from her head, straight down to her toes and fingertips. She licked her lips, and that action made his eyes fix on the movement. He leaned in and kissed her again, earnestly this time, and she responded, her arms slowly wrapping around him for balance. He kissed her again and again for several long minutes and when he pulled away, both of them were breathless.

  One of the officers opened the door right then, making the both of them jump back from each other. "Oh! Sorry. Hope I'm not interrupting anything, but we have the statement from the culprit. Do you want to process him?"

  "Sean, I'll let you do the honors. I've got plans this afternoon," Jeremy said, weaving his fingers into Joy's. Then he gave her hand a small tug.

  She couldn't help but let a small giggle escape her lips as he pulled her past the officer in the doorway of the interrogation room. He led her directly down the hall and out of the station, straight for the passenger side of his sedan. When he turned back toward her after opening the door and releasing her hand, a bit of a blush colored his cheeks. "Sorry, I didn't mean to make you follow me all over the place."

  She laughed and shook her head. "Don't worry. I think I'm happy to follow you anywhere."

  He smiled, leaned in and brushed her lips with his again. This was a habit Joy decided she could get used to.

  The end.

  About the Author

  P. Creeden is the sweet romance and mystery pen name for USA Today Bestselling Author, Pauline Creeden. Her stories feature down-to-earth characters who often feel like they are undeserving of love for one reason or another and are surprised when love finds them.

  Animals are the supporting characters of many of her stories, because they occupy her daily life on the farm, too. From dogs, cats, and goldfish to horses, chickens, and geckos -- she believes life around pets is so much better, even if they are fictional. P. Creeden married her college sweetheart, who she also met at a horse farm. Together they raise a menagerie of animals and their one son, an avid reader, himself.

  If you enjoyed this story, look forward to more books by P. Creeden.

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