by Meg Muldoon
Daniel left the podium and ducked into the Sheriff’s station amidst another flurry of flashing lights.
Vicky took his place and reporters began firing off questions left and right, acting like starved sharks fighting each other for a bucket of chum.
I didn’t stick around to hear any more.
I slipped past the crowd, skirting the parking lot and headed around the side of the large beige building. I stopped at the back door – the place where Sheriff’s station employees took their smoking breaks.
I only had to wait a few minutes before the door popped opened.
He knew I’d meet him back here.
“I’m sorry about that editorial, Cin,” he said, stepping out and hugging me. “I’m not done with Marla. I promise you. I’ll make this right.”
“Are you okay?” I said, pulling away and looking up at him. “Were you in that car chase?”
“No – Vicky and Owen responded to that call. I was here, sitting at my desk, eating a powdered donut and drinking coffee like every cliché there ever was about a cop.”
I patted his abs.
“If being a cliché keeps you safe, then I’m all for it.”
He smiled for a half second, but it faded quickly.
“Listen, Cin – I’m having Billy keep an eye on you again today. I want you to be extra careful out there. We don’t know what this guy’s capable of or where he is right now.”
Daniel’s expression was deathly serious as he spoke.
“You said this guy – Kent Utley – is a felon?”
Daniel nodded.
“What’d he do?”
Daniel ran a hand through his dark hair and didn’t answer right away.
I didn’t take that as a good sign.
“Well, when he was 20, he was involved in a burglary in Spokane. It went bad and… he killed someone.”
The hair on the back of my neck stood straight up on end.
It wasn’t from being out in the cold all morning either.
“So he’s already a murderer,” I mumbled.
“There’s more, too. The person he killed during that burglary in the 70s? He was an elderly man going out to get his mail.”
I bit down on my lip.
It was similar to Moira’s murder.
And I knew that couldn’t have been a coincidence.
“Jeez.”
“Utley got a life sentence, but you know how things are. Prisons are to capacity and a parole board released him back in November for good behavior.”
“So you think he was trying to rob Moira that morning?”
“That’s the working theory,” he said, leaning back against the wall. “We don’t know what he was doing in town or why he was waiting outside of Pam Dallas’ lodge – maybe casing the place. Maybe Pam was his intended target, but Moira got on this guy’s radar when she honked at him. Maybe he followed her home that day.”
I shuddered.
“Is Moira’s wallet still missing? Can you track him down that way?”
“We’re pretty sure he took Moira’s wallet, but he hasn’t used any of her credit cards – which is a little strange. Moira made some decently-sized cash deposits a month or so before her death. There was plenty of money to steal in her account.”
I furrowed my brow.
Moira didn’t strike me as someone who had a lot of money. Kara said she often complained that she was on a very strict fixed income.
“Do you know where that money came from?” I asked.
“We’re working on finding out, but it was enough where it did raise a few red flags.”
I scratched my chin.
“Maybe she kept all her money in her house over the years,” I said. “Maybe she didn’t trust banks. I could see her squirrelling her money away in the attic or something. She wouldn’t be the first elderly person to do that.”
Warren had kept his money in a safe at our house for the majority of his life. It was only until he got the brewery up and running that he’d given in and gotten himself a business account at the Bank of the Cascades.
“Hey – just because your grandpappy’s a loon doesn’t mean other old people are, too,” Daniel said.
I crossed my arms and clicked my tongue against the roof of my mouth.
“You better get those low shots in while you still can, Sheriff. Come January, that new law’s going into effect and you won’t be able to get away with such insults.”
He just smiled.
It was a nice break from the somberness of the day so far.
Even if it was at Warren’s expense.
But it didn’t take long for the levity to fade again as the sound of reporters shouting more questions at Vicky echoed through the parking lot.
I let out a long sigh.
“How did someone like Kent Utley end up in Christmas River?” I said. “Of all the places this guy could have gone. Why here?”
Daniel looked past my shoulder at the mountains in the distance, covered by a bank of low-hanging fog.
“Sometimes the world still gets in, Cin,” he said, reaching for my hand and squeezing it. “No matter how safe you think you are, the ugly things in life are still out there, just on the other side of the door. Waiting…”
A chill crawled down my spine when he said that, and I suddenly realized how very cold it was out here this morning.
“Promise me you’ll be careful today?” he said, looking at me suddenly.
I nodded and squeezed his hand back.
“Good,” he said, looking again at the distant fog. “Because I got a real bad feeling about this guy.”
Chapter 46
“Don’t worry, old man. Seriously. Who reads that rag anyway?”
I pressed the phone to my ear while whisking the silky, spice-colored filling for a batch of Pumpkin Gingersnap pies with my free hand. I was making them as a special treat for the folks at Alpenglow Assisted Living today. I’d already been there earlier in the week, but I’d been short on pies then and I figured it wasn’t the time of year to be shortchanging folks on their sugary treats.
“I tell you, Cinny Bee, I have half a mind to call The Christmas River Weekly publisher and get Marla Browning fired. She can’t go around making accusations like that against my granddaughter. Or my grandson-in-law. It’s plain irresponsible.”
I bit the flesh of my lower lip.
Warren sounded more upset than I had even been when I’d first caught sight of the weekly’s cover in the newspaper dispenser. I imagined he was red in the face right about now, the veins in his neck bulging a little, the way they did on the very rare occasions when something got under the old man’s skin.
“Listen, Grandpa. Daniel’s going to take care of it all. And when they catch Moira’s murderer, the whole town will see just how foolish Marla Browning is. I wouldn’t be surprised if she quit out of shame.”
I didn’t know Marla that well, but I didn’t think shame was a feeling she was familiar with. I said it anyway, though, just to make Warren feel a little better.
“It just gets my giblets. To think anyone could think that my Cinny Bee could do something that heinous. And then to go publish it and put that ridiculous idea in other people’s heads. It all just makes me so—”
“Say, did you drop the money from the fundraiser off at the food bank this morning?”
I figured the only thing to do in a situation like this was to change the subject. Warren had to watch his blood pressure. He couldn’t afford to get so upset.
“Yes,” he said, clearly a little reluctant to move on. “I did.”
“How’d it go?”
He let out a long breath.
“Couldn’t have gone better,” he said. “The folks at the food bank were mighty grateful. Mighty, mighty grateful. It’s not often they get a check that’ll keep them stocked through the spring.”
I felt my lips turn up.
“You practically saved Christmas, old man.”
“Well, I can’t take all the c
redit. Without your delicious pies, I doubt anybody would have showed up.”
The timer went off just then, alerting me that I would need both hands free to take the Apple Cinnamon Green Chile pies out of the oven.
“Speaking of pies, I better get back to work here. I want to get to Alpenglow before the sun goes down. But thanks for calling, old man, and don’t worry. Oh, and before I forget, is Lars Claus working yet?”
The big sigh coming from the speaker said it all.
“No, and I tell ya, I’m getting nervous. The big day’s coming up and it’s looking more and more like my friend Lars Claus has given up the ghost.”
“Well, there’s still time for a miracle,” I said. “Always room for a miracle. You know who taught me that?”
“My memory’s a little hazy these days, but wasn’t it that youthful, beer-loving feller that folks around here refer to as the most intelligent man in the world?”
I let out a laugh.
“You know? That was exactly the way I was going to describe him, too.”
Chapter 47
I placed the pan of apple pies on the counter to cool and then gazed at my phone, thinking about doing something I probably shouldn’t have.
I should probably stay out of it – leave it to Daniel to handle.
But he had so much on his plate now – trying to catch Moira’s killer and keeping Christmas River safe and dealing with those reporters. Plus finding out who stole money from The Sheriff’s Office – which I knew was weighing on him heavily.
I wanted to help – anyway that I could.
So I dusted my hands off on my apron and picked up the phone.
She answered on the second ring.
“Pohly County Sheriff’s Office, this is Liv. Please state the nature of your call.”
I didn’t answer right away, taken aback by the sharp, no-nonsense edge to her tone.
Maybe I should have hung up.
But since Daniel had told me about the money going missing at the Sheriff’s Office, I’d been doing some thinking about who could have possibly stolen it.
And something Liv had said to me the last time I was at the station had been playing over and over in my head.
I’ve done my share of bad things.
She’d said it offhandedly and there was nothing incriminating about it.
But still… I couldn’t get those words out of my head.
And after Vicky, Liv was the newest hire in the department.
She was as good a place to start as any.
I cleared my throat.
“Uh… hi, Liv. This is Cinnamon.”
“Oh. I’ll transfer you to the Sheriff—”
“No. I mean – I didn’t call to talk to him.”
I realized that I was actually nervous. My hands were perspiring.
“I mean, I called because I wanted to talk to you.”
“To me?”
The way she said it sounded like me calling solely to speak to her was about as likely as reindeer landing on the station’s roof.
“I’ve been… feeling a little unsettled about everything since that rumor went around about you and Daniel. And I just want to make sure you know there are no hard feelings on my end. I was wondering if I could take you out for a coffee sometime. Maybe tomorrow, if you’re free?”
There was a long pause.
“Only if you want and only if you have time. I know things are busy—”
“Yes,” she said quickly. “I mean… sure. That would be nice. I guess.”
I could sense the hesitancy in her response and it was clear that having coffee with me wasn’t something she was exactly excited to do. But I gathered she understood that when the boss’s wife asks you to coffee, it’s only a foolish person who turns her down.
“Great,” I said. “Meadow Plaza, around noon?”
“Fine. See you there.”
The line went dead in Liv’s typical abrupt fashion.
I tossed the phone on the counter and let out a long, anxious breath.
Chapter 48
I walked through the parking lot of Alpenglow Residential, holding tightly onto a big stack of pink boxes while navigating the treacherous patches of ice clinging to the asphalt.
Though it was the late afternoon and should have been the warmest part of the day, the temperature had taken a severe dip in the last hour or so. Thick, dark clouds had rolled into town, and the birds had all but fallen silent. The smell of snow was in the air.
Before going into the nursing home, I stopped by the Sheriff’s cruiser that had followed me over from the pie shop. I tapped on the glass of the driver’s window.
Billy Jasper, who’d been looking at his phone with his lips fixed in a deep frown, glanced up. He rolled down his window, his full cheeks flushing slightly.
“Oh, hi, Mrs. Brightman. Can I help you carry those?”
Billy always had a way of making me feel like I was 89 years old. When he wasn’t drinking too much, he was the absolute picture of politeness.
“No, I got ‘em. Thanks. I’ll only be in here a couple of minutes. In the meantime, I thought maybe you could use a little pick-me-up.”
I reached for the smaller pastry box sitting on top of the others and handed it to him.
“There’s a fork and napkin already in there. It’s a slice of Mocha Pecan. I know that’s your favorite.”
Billy’s thick eyebrows lifted.
“This is for me?” he said, as if he couldn’t possibly fathom the idea.
“I think it’s well-deserved. You’ve been keeping me safe all day.”
He looked genuinely touched by the gesture. He took the box and placed it on the passenger’s seat.
“Mrs. Brightman, there’s been something I’ve been meaning to say to you.”
He cleared his throat awkwardly.
“I’m sorry about the way I acted at your grandfather’s fundraiser the other night,” he said. “I, uh, I don’t normally drink. It was an unusual evening for me, for many reasons, and I’m sorry if I made you feel uncomfortable. I can’t quite remember what I said to you, but I feel like I may have said something… foolish.”
“No need to apologize, Billy,” I said, patting his elbow. “We’re all entitled to cut loose every now and then. And like I already said, Warren’s beer goes down too smoothly sometimes.”
Billy looked down sheepishly.
“Oh, yes, ma’am. It surely does.”
I chuckled.
“I’ll only be a few minutes in here,” I said. “Thanks for keeping an eye on me.”
“It’s no problem, Mrs. Brightman.”
I left the cruiser and headed inside. When I walked through the front doors, a certain pair of old timers were making their way to the front of the building, out for their afternoon stroll. Their eyes lit up in their old heads when they saw me.
“Well it’s about time, ain’t it, Ike?”
“I’d say so, Jessup. What took her so long?”
“Don’t know. Suppose she has a life and a business to run. Suppose it’s a miracle she comes by at all.”
“Suppose you’re right, Jessup. Suppose you’re right.”
“Hi, boys,” I said, pretending I hadn’t heard anything they were saying. “What’s shaking?”
“Not too much, pie lady. Is it Sunday again already?”
“Nope. Just thought you guys might like a few more pies this week. I shortchanged you last time.”
“Don’t think I didn’t notice, either,” Ike said, leaning on his walker. “What’s on the menu today?”
“I went classic. Some Pumpkin and some Marionberry. Sometimes it’s the simplest things in life that are the best.”
“Speak the truth, sister,” Ike said in a preacher’s voice, lifting an old, blue-veined hand upwards. “Speak the truth!”
I laughed.
“Well, I better drop these off at the front—”
“Say, just so you know Cinnamon, Jessup and I are on your side when it comes to a
ll this Moira business,” Ike interrupted. “It’s a damn shame what that brassy New York broad said about you in the paper.”
It definitely wasn’t a politically correct description in this day and age, but I had a feeling Marla herself wouldn’t have taken offense at being called a brassy New York broad.
“Thanks, boys. I’m trying to not let it get to me.”
“The Sheriff any closer to catching the real killer?”
“They’ve identified him, so Daniel tells me it’s only a matter of time.”
“Good,” Ike said. “You ask me, that Marla Browning’s asking the wrong questions. Because if this feller they’re after didn’t kill Moira, then it’s got to be somebody else she pissed off. Moira was a regular stirrer-up of cow doo-doo in this town and she probably turned over the wrong turd.”
“Ike,” Jessup rasped, holding onto his oxygen tank. “You know it isn’t wise to speak ill of the dead. ‘Specially when we ain’t too far away from that doorstep ourselves.”
“Oh, who cares? Moira was mean and everybody knows it. All those terrible things she’s said about people over the years…” Ike continued. “You know, I’ll never know how she turned out that way, because the Stewart family was always—”
“Damnit, Ike. Let sleeping dogs lie.”
Jessup seemed agitated and was sucking in great big breaths through his nostrils.
Ike looked over at his pal and shrugged.
“No use in lying about who a person was just because they’re six feet under.”
“No, but there’s no use in digging up things for no reason, either,” Jessup said, catching his breath.
Ike shrugged again, but didn’t say anything more.
I felt the hairs on the back of my neck prick up and was about to ask Ike what he was going to say, but Jessup quickly interrupted.
“Anyway, Cinnamon, glad to see you haven’t forgotten about your old buddies here. Can’t wait to try that Pumpkin.”
“Not if I get to it first,” Ike said.
I smiled warmly.
They nodded goodbye and both rolled on with their walkers.