Dude had sniffed around the room and jumped on the bed to join Josh. Petting the dog, Josh shrugged. Dude, not satisfied with the attention, began licking his face.
“Hey, you’re kind of a pain,” Josh said, pushing the dog away, but he allowed the terrier to nestle under his arm. “I like dogs, but I don’t know anything about kennels.”
“I’m sure you’d catch on. And we’d train you. Maybe you could check it out for a week to see if it’s something you’d like to do.”
Josh rubbed Dude’s ears, considering the offer. “I’ll think about it.”
“Fair enough,” Jim conceded. He needed time to talk to Gracie about it anyway. “The dinner invitation is still open too. I’ll give you my number, and you call me if you change your mind.”
“Sure. Thanks.”
“Well, I’ll let you get back to your homework. Come on, Dude, let’s go.”
Nancy Damon stepped out on the front porch with Jim. “Thanks for stopping by. Even though he doesn’t show it, he appreciates you taking the time.”
“I’m glad to do it,” Jim said. “He’s got a lot of responsibility coming his way in a few months. It’s gotta be tough. Wish I could help more.”
He explained his job offer, and the woman asked for his phone number. He hurriedly scrawled it on the back of a receipt that was in his coat pocket.
“It would be good for him, but after his problem with the church doing some community service in the fall, I don’t know if he’ll stick around the area.”
“Was that why he left the Lindens?”
“It was part of it. One of the men who supervised him at the church accused him of stealing. Josh still denies everything, but there was some heavy-handedness, in my opinion. He’s a pretty troubled boy, but if we can get him through high school, I’ll feel like we accomplished something.”
Jim shifted his weight, uncertain if he should ask the pressing question on his mind. Dude was anxious to get back to the truck and kept straining against the leash.
“How long has Josh been with you?”
“Oh, about three weeks now.”
“Does he have access to a vehicle, or is he allowed to drive anywhere?”
Nancy’s expression changed from friendly to wary. “Why? Has he been seen driving around?”
“No. Not that I know of,” Jim replied casually. “I was wondering if he had his own transportation if he had a job.”
She looked relieved. “My husband has an old truck that Josh has used a couple of times to run errands for me.”
“So it’s available most of the time?”
“All the time. My husband just uses it for hunting or hauling building supplies. He’s working on restoring an old barn on some family property closer to Deer Creek than Castile. We’d provide that truck for him if he went to work for you.”
Jim smiled. “Good to know. I hope he decides to take me up on the offer. Thanks a lot for letting me visit.”
CHAPTER TEN
Gracie listened to Jim’s story with interest. Offering the teen a job might be a way to help him and gain his trust. It might also be the key to finding the nativity, but Jim’s theory looked like a long shot. She wasn’t even sure how the pastor would feel about the nativity showing up again. It might cause some heartburn between the church and him.
“I’d like to find the property where Damon is rebuilding this barn,” Jim said, scowling as he moved Dude from the recliner for the second time. “This dog is sure pushy.”
Gracie chuckled. “You’ve grown attached to him from what I’ve seen.”
“I thought he’d be good for Josh or maybe even the Damons. They have an ancient basset hound that looks like he’s not long for this world.”
“Let’s not rush finding him a home. He’s pretty happy here.”
Gracie was finding herself becoming a little more attached to the charming canine. Even though she was practiced at avoiding emotional ties to other people’s dogs, this one needed new people. Dude showed he was quite content to have the run of the kennel and her office. His confident personality made him an entertaining addition to the place. She was okay with that at least for now.
“Ha! You think I’m getting soft. I’d say someone is already pretty squishy.” Jim smirked and sat in the chair.
“Maybe,” she agreed. “Getting back to the Josh project, I say bring him on for no more than five to ten hours a week, if he wants to work. Minimum wage and you will need to supervise him all the time. We’ve tried this Good Samaritan thing before, and the results weren’t so great.”
Jim scratched his head and frowned. “Yeah, I know. I’ll give Josh a few days and then approach him again. If he’s involved with stealing the nativity, it’s got to be eating at him.”
“Maybe. Some kids aren’t bothered by wrongdoing, or he could be too afraid to say anything. If he had trouble at the church before, this is way beyond a simple misunderstanding. It’s a crime.”
Jim had to agree, but he wasn’t about to give up. That gut feeling was still there, and it had all started when he remembered seeing Josh raking leaves at the church.
“Before you get back to things,” Gracie said, interrupting his train of thought, Let me tell you about what happened at the Mistletoe place this afternoon.”
She launched into the details of Marc’s find in the woods along with Marci’s decision to make the weekend a true mystery-solving adventure.
“And I’ve been doing some research on Stephen Mistletoe.” Gracie tapped the laptop screen, bringing it to life. “I found a historical newspaper site that has our local papers from the early 1800s to the present.” She read quickly through the thick inky print of an old newspaper on the screen. “The interesting thing about newspapers from the 1800s was that they were full of gossip. Lots of social clubs, dinners, dances, and church meetings were all reported on. Mrs. So-and-So visited Mrs. XYZ and took her an apple pie. The Smiths visited their friends in Buffalo on Sunday. All kinds of stuff like that.”
“The Mistletoes made the paper then?” Jim leaned back in the recliner, and Dude immediately jumped on his lap.
“On a regular basis and not in a good way usually.”
Gracie had learned plenty about the infamous family in a very short time. Thank goodness for people willing to sit and scan old documents into a database. The history of the Mistletoes in Deer Creek was an unhappy one. Mysterious deaths and disappearances plagued the family tree. The first murder or suspicious death was that of Serena Mistletoe’s fiancé in 1881. Her parents, Edward and Agnes, had hosted a Christmas Eve party, which was well attended by the community, to celebrate the engagement as well as the holiday. Since her father was about to give a toast to the happy couple, Serena went to find her fiancé, Douglas Meacham, who had disappeared from the festivities. Serena returned to the ballroom a few minutes later, incoherent in a blood-stained gown. The men dashed outside and searched the grounds, finally discovering the bludgeoned Douglas in the stables.
“And was Serena accused of the murder?” Jim asked.
“Well, it looks like her social life tanked after the event. A drunken stable hand was accused but wasn’t convicted after a lengthy trial. There were plenty of whispers about Serena killing him in a jealous rage over an indiscretion with a maid. You should’ve seen the catty comments in one paper. Serena became a recluse after her parents died a few years later.”
“She’s the one found in the pond, right?” Jim accepted a mug of coffee from Gracie, who had warmed up her own cup.
“Right. After her death, which the papers reported as a suicide because of her burden of guilt, the property was put up for sale. There was no mention of relatives lurking around for an inheritance or even showing up for the funeral. The paper actually used to print the names of attendees. Serena had accrued quite a few debts, and consequently the house was sold to Ziba Parkhurst, the banker. He was married to the notorious Lily, who quickly became a popular hostess once she was enthroned at the mansion. There were many
parties and political meetings held at the house before Ziba became ill with TB.”
“A popular disease of the time.”
“Yes. And poor Ziba succumbed to it quickly.”
“A lot of death in just a few years.”
“No kidding. It really makes you wonder if there was or is a curse on the property.”
Jim removed his Yankees baseball cap and smoothed his black hair before replacing it. “Makes you think, that’s for sure.” He finished off the coffee and went to refill it from the carafe.
Aggressive barking interrupted any further conversation. They could hear Cheryl yelling down the corridor.
It was Dude, attempting to attack a new arrival through the fencing of the run. The Rottweiler was having none of Dude’s attitude and lunged against the door, snarling. Jim grabbed the terrier, tucked him under his arm and whisked him back down to the office.
“Jeez Louise, Dude. What is your deal? You must have a death wish or something.” Jim glowered at the squirming dog.
A look of innocence returned to the terrier as he stopped growling and barking. Gracie reentered the office, trying to keep her temper under control.
“He needs to go somewhere,” she stated flatly. “Cheryl told me he’s done that same thing to a couple of other dogs today. I thought he was settling down. I wish she’d told me earlier.”
Jim set Dude on the floor and made him lie down. Submission and obedience were definitely not in this canine’s repertoire.
“You’re right. He’s a troublemaker and is probably tired of his lodging at this point. I’ll take him home with me tonight.”
“There’s a crate in the storage barn. You’re probably going to need it.”
Jim nodded, still holding Dude in the down position. As much as he wanted to find a good home for the homeless boarder, he didn’t want a dog himself. His lifestyle wasn’t conducive to pets of any sort.
“I’m going to give Kelly a call. She may know of someone who’d like him.” He picked up the dog and scratched behind the terrier’s ears.
“Good idea,” Gracie said, wondering why she hadn’t thought to contact her sister-in-law, who was also her veterinarian. At least Jim was thinking.
Marci sat down to a test dinner of epic proportions. Flambeau and Kristin had prepared samples of the two dinner entrees to be served over the weekend. A beef tenderloin wrapped in pancetta and crab-stuffed shrimp swimming in the most divine sauce of wine and butter. Total contentment reigned after she managed to finish both. She closed her eyes and savored the last bite.
The chef hovered, his face expectant for praise. “Perfection, yes?”
“No question. It’s perfection. The shrimp is Friday, and the beef is Saturday, right?” She dabbed at her mouth with a white linen napkin and looked with satisfaction down the length of the table. The china service and crystal were perfect. The centerpiece for the large dining room table that seated twelve had arrived in the late afternoon. Evergreen branches and magnolia leaves were accented with old-fashioned red roses and strands of small gold beads draped throughout the arrangement. It was all coming together.
“Oui. Kristin will do the final shopping on Thursday morning for the produce. The meat will be delivered tomorrow from one of your local farms.”
“Everything is under control then?” Marci asked hopefully.
“Of course. Now that I am free to cook and create in this wonderful rustic place without the interference of a certain villain, all is well.”
Marci wasn’t sure what he found rustic about the house, but maybe he meant the apartment, which had a cozier country theme. At least he hadn’t complained about it. As for Rush Cleaver, she hoped he’d truly left town. A niggling in her mind made her uneasy. She decided to check Midge’s Restaurant to scope out the news. If anyone had a line on a stranger in town, it would be Midge. Two days until opening wasn’t far away. The clock was ticking down.
It was later than she’d planned when she found a parking space close to the entrance at Midge’s. Main Street was quiet, and she glanced over at the church’s lawn, strangely empty of decoration. A few stragglers lingered at the counter, and Marci slipped onto a stool to gaze at the pie shelf near the large flattop. Not much was left from what she could see, but a meringue pie was visible. Whatever it was, she’d take a piece.
A waitress quickly brought her a slice of the lemon meringue and a cup of decaf.
“Is Midge around?” she asked the young server.
“No. She’s out.”
“Out? I don’t think I’ve ever known Midge to be anywhere but here.”
The young woman laughed. “Me neither, but she’s been out all afternoon with some magazine writer.”
Marci’s desire for the delectable pie vanished. She placed the fork on the plate, deciding that she’d take it home rather than eat it now.
“Dark-haired guy, medium height, kind of weaselly looking?”
“Hey, you’ve got him pegged. Yeah. He’s going to write a big article on the restaurant and really promote Deer Creek. Said he loved it here and was really impressed with our cuisine.” She winked at Marci.
“I see.” This was the worst thing possible. Cleaver had left the B & B a little too easily. Now what?
CHAPTER ELEVEN
A pounding rain fell steadily from sullen skies. Gracie wondered if the B & B’s special guests would have problems with flights. Sleet alternated with the raindrops, sizzling like bacon in a pan against the windowpanes.
The small suitcase lay empty on the bed, and she still hadn’t decided on the appropriate outfits to take for the weekend. The plan was to stay Friday and Saturday nights, returning home on Sunday morning. Marc’s suitcase was ready to go, taunting her from the doorway. Men had it easy, just pants and shirts, although his suit was in its zippered bag hooked over the top of the door. Pulling a face, she tossed in undergarments, pajamas, a robe, and warm slippers. The weekend forecast wasn’t promising. The chance of a rare December ice storm was predicted, and conditions could turn dangerous quickly if it came. Ice storms usually arrived around March, and the last one had left them without electricity for three days. Trees weighted down with a disastrous layer of ice had cracked and broken under the weight, ruining many beautiful old specimens throughout the countryside. Worries about the kennel had her almost call off the second night’s stay, but Jim had assured her that since he was staying at the house, she shouldn’t worry.
Gracie surveyed the closet offerings once more before pulling out a navy-blue sheath dress and matching jacket. It had stood the test of time and was ready for another season, starting Saturday night. Jeans and a pullover sweater were next. She threw in an extra sweater just in case she dumped food on the cream-colored one and a pair of warm leggings. It would have to be all right. She hung the dress over the door next to Marc’s suit and finished packing. Jewelry and toiletry articles were all that remained to be gathered. Her folder of Mistletoe information was also on the bed, ready to be used at the mystery dinner on Saturday night. The patter of rain on the roof slowed; she went to the window to check the skies. It looked like the storm was breaking up, and pinpricks of sunlight shot through fast-moving clouds.
Marci paced in the front parlor where a welcoming fire in the massive black marble fireplace crackled brightly. So far, flights were on time, but that could all change if the rain turned to snow, or heaven forbid, ice. It could mean no electricity on top of travel issues, which made her thankful for the generator backup system she’d dropped a load of cash on. It might be put to the test.
The fragrance of fresh-baked muffins and scones filled the house. Kristin was also making several loaves of artisan bread and a huge pot of corn chowder for those who arrived in time for lunch. Marci peered through the rain-drenched window again and saw the glimmer of headlights coming up the driveway. The first guests were here.
Gracie and Marc finally pulled in to the B & B just before four o’clock. Giving out Christmas bonuses and dealing with Dude had tak
en longer than anticipated. Dude was back in the kennel for the weekend since he did not care for Max in the least and couldn’t stay in the house. Max wasn’t exactly fond of Dude either, so the decision was made to keep him two more nights in the suite, but that only happened after Jim returned from some mysterious errand that was still bothering her. It was unlike him to leave the kennel without letting her know. And then he hadn’t answered his phone. It must be because of the foster kid he was trying to help.
They were about to be late for the wine and cheese pairing that was the kickoff event. Marc drove her RAV4 to the end of the parking area, pulling in next to a white sedan. She noticed Isabelle’s vehicle was parked next to two black SUVs at the upper end. Her cousin was probably already the queen bee, buzzing around the guests. Social events were Isabelle’s element.
The shrubbery and trees were fully decked out in twinkling lights, and despite the drizzle that continued and the absence of snow, the estate looked quite festive.
It sounded as if Marci was fully engaged with the guests when they came through the door. Laughter and the sound of pleasant conversation drifted from the library.
“Sounds like everything is going well,” Marc said, pulling off his wet overcoat.
“That’s good. Marci’s been a wreck.”
Sheila came to meet them in the foyer and took their coats.
“I’ll take everything up to your room,” she said. “You’ll be staying in the Yule Bedroom at the front of the house. You’ll see a sign on the door.”
“Nice,” Gracie replied. “We can just join the party in the library?”
“Sure. I think everyone is here now. Enjoy.”
The library was lively with conversation, chamber music playing softly in the background. Gracie looked around at the group of mostly strangers, quickly locating Isabelle, who was deep in conversation with a man leaning on a cane. She did recognize Chef Carl Flambeau, who was out of uniform, chatting up an older woman with long grayish-blond hair, who looked like she’d stepped out of the sixties. Marci caught Gracie’s eye and smiled, waving them over to where she stood by a stately Christmas tree. It was decked out in pearls, red and silver globes, and white brocade fans, with baby’s breath tucked in lacy bundles. A brooding portrait of a man in Victorian dress watched the event from above the fireplace. It had to be the infamous Stephen Mistletoe.
The Mistletoe Murders Page 9