“Well, that’s something. He was certainly a disturbed man. It makes me think that he probably poisoned himself,” Marci said, chewing her bottom lip.
“Quite possible, especially if he was already ill or guilt was finally catching up with him,” the sheriff added. “Now for the present-day crimes.”
She quickly explained that Kristin had broken down and confessed her entire plan to lure Cleaver to the B & B event. She’d created a fake email account to con Marci into inviting him. The sous chef originally intended to just make the man incredibly ill with the eye drops. An online article she’d found stated that a tetrahydrozoline overdose caused violent diarrhea. Kristin had thought it a fitting punishment since the man already had that same affliction of the mouth. He’d been instrumental in ruining her partner’s business and was working to end her career and Flambeau’s career on TV.
The first dose was administered in the glass of dessert wine after dinner when she was serving guests in the library. Cleaver had followed her into the kitchen when the others were going to their rooms for the night. He’d begun haranguing Kristin about her partner, who struggles with a serious addiction to cocaine. The critic had also revealed her partner’s problem in a recent blog, that had seriously damaged the couple’s restaurant business.
“Flambeau roughed up the man, who gave back in kind.” Sheriff Hotchkiss adjusted her position on the settee.
“That was the altercation Marc and Gracie heard,” Marci said.
“Right. The dust had just settled between the two men when Kristin decided to give the deceased another dose. She apologized for Flambeau’s outburst and sent the chef on his way to the carriage house. She then offered to grill Cleaver a steak and let him check out the wine cellar where the skeletons were found. According to Kristin, the victim had been fascinated with the find and the house’s history.”
“How did she manage the next dose?”
“In a glass of wine. She took it down to him while he was still exploring the basement. He was beginning to feel sick from the first round of eye drops, and she convinced him a glass of wine would settle his stomach. Flambeau reappeared in the cellar and threatened Cleaver again, telling him to leave or he’d finish what he’d started. Cleaver grabbed a brick from the pile in the wheelbarrow down there and clobbered Flambeau. The chef was stunned, falling back against a post, which explains the injury to the back of his head. He didn’t pass out for some reason, and Kristin managed to help him back up the stairs. He sat on the floor and then passed out. She says she was going to call for help, but heard Cleaver moaning and retching below.”
Marci slowly exhaled. “That’s a fairly difficult situation.”
“Absolutely. By the time she’d checked on Cleaver, he was having spasms or convulsions. He died in front of her.”
“Why didn’t she get help?”
“She was terrified at what she’d done, but upon reflection was confident it would appear that the men had fought and accidentally killed each other. Flambeau was practically comatose, and Kristin was sure he was dead or at least close to it. Self-preservation instincts can make people do stupid things.”
“Like leaving the scene of an accident, or in this case, a poisoning accompanied by a fight.”
The sheriff nodded in assent. “Cleaver’s death was unexpected as well. She really didn’t understand the consequences of the second dose. At least that’s my gut instinct after listening to her.”
“So in the end, two men died, and my house was used as a tool.” Marci felt so incredibly fatigued. “What about the ipecac? Who did that belong to?”
“Kristin told us it was Carl who was using it. He was desperate to look good for television.”
“How awful.”
The sheriff stood to leave, her eyes sympathetic as she shook Marci’s hand. “This is not your fault. It was a fairly sophisticated plan in the beginning. And they would both probably be alive if Kristin hadn’t decided to give Cleaver that second dose of poison. She escalated the consequences by her own choice. Not yours.”
The fact didn’t make Marci feel any better, and her mind whirled with what the best course of action would be. Should she sell the property? Rent it? Bulldoze it? Her plans of happily hosting year-around Christmas had vaporized over the weekend.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Pastor Minders swiveled his chair around to glance at the open calendar on the desk. His last appointment had come and gone on this final day of office hours. Everyone had wanted to talk with him privately in the last few weeks and his schedule had been full of back-to-back appointments. Even Jim Taylor had requested some time, a rather surprising event. The grudge Jim had carried against God since Michael Andersen’s tragic death was showing signs of erosion. Jim’s concern for Josh appeared to have placed some cracks in his resolve to stay angry. Anger was exhausting and toxic. It never accomplished what people thought it would.
Gloria expected him home soon to help with packing their things. The move to Florida was only three weeks away. She was on a mission to downsize their possessions, and it had become an excruciating process. He was an avowed pack rat, but the condo wouldn’t hold the accumulation of over three decades. One more Sunday to preach, the Christmas pageant, and then the farewell reception. Over three decades of ministry in Deer Creek was coming to a close. He’d prayed for a successful conclusion to this part of the journey. The nativity theft had almost destroyed the possibility, but the “miracle” leading to its restoration had the church buzzing with an energy he hadn’t seen in many years. He could confidently leave the reins in someone else’s capable hands. The church family was thriving, despite the perennial personality clashes and family issues. He sighed, smiling to himself, remembering a seminary professor’s dry comment from long ago, “Church ministry would be great if it weren’t for the people.”
Two candidates were coming to speak after the New Year, after he and Gloria would be well on their way to a modern condo in a gated community. No lawn to mow, no repairs to make, just relaxation. The care of their rambling century-old home was getting beyond his ability anyway. However, Florida wasn’t quite as attractive to him as it was to Gloria. He enjoyed the snow and the change of seasons. The effort to make new friends overwhelmed him. But Gloria had sacrificed much over the years, and he needed to allow her some control over their life together. It was only right.
He locked the study door, still contemplating the future. Putting himself out to pasture wasn’t what he really wanted. Gloria was anxious for more time together and taking trips. He wouldn’t mind the absence of midnight phone calls though. The thought of a schedule under his own control was also pleasant to contemplate. The conversations he’d had with both Jim and Marci this afternoon unexpectedly converged, and an idea percolated under the silver roof. He needed to talk to Gloria first and then Jim and Marci.
The carolers had split into two groups after the retirement reception to share the joy of the season throughout the village. Gracie hadn’t ever seen such a crowd at her church. The ushers had set up two rows of folding chairs in the back of the sanctuary to accommodate the overflow.
Bill and Audra Evans had played Joseph and Mary, their four-week-old daughter filling the role of Baby Jesus in the manger. The platform had been decked out with plastic palm trees, papier-mâché rocks, and plywood facades of the Bethlehem inn and stable. They’d used the same staging since Gracie was in high school. Dan and Darlene Evans, who owned the hardware store had beamed with delight, watching their son’s family take center stage, and tiny Elizabeth Marie had slept in heavenly peace through the entire program.
The presentation to the Minders of a gift certificate for a cruise had pleased and surprised the couple, which was a relief. Gloria had even waved the envelope around and then kissed her husband right on the mouth. That had brought boisterous applause from the crowd.
Now it was over, and Gracie felt like a discarded birthday party balloon, tired and deflated, wondering what would happen next for the
church. She searched for Marc, who was in the corner talking with Jim and Marci. It was a real Christmas miracle Jim had attended the pageant. That he was so engaged in conversation with Marci was also surprising. Bob and Theresa stood chatting with the Minders, while the rest of the fellowship hall emptied out.
“Hey, Gracie,” Marc called, gesturing for her to join him. “Jim and Marci have some news.”
She arched her eyebrows with curiosity. What was this unlikely alliance up to? Had romance budded? Both had been committed to the single life, or so she had believed. Her parents and the Minders drifted over behind her.
“What’s going on?” she quizzed them, hands on her hips.
“Actually, it was Pastor’s idea,” Marci started. “And we think it’s an excellent one.”
“What is it?” Gracie looked at Jim and then Marci.
“A retreat,” Marci said simply.
“Huh?”
“Come on, Chief. Let’s sit down and we’ll explain.” Jim led the way to an empty table.
Marci went first, outlining her dilemma with a high-end bed-and-breakfast. She either needed to sell the property or find an alternative use for the renovated mansion. The previous weekend had cured her of any desire to be a fulltime B & B host or even live there. She’d return to her apartment over the antique store in the village.
“It’s a very expensive lesson learned,” Marci said drolly.
“But not a waste,” Pastor Minders rejoined. “There is a real need for pastors and their wives to get away from the stresses of ministry. They need time to reconnect and relax. A little pampering would also help. Marriage issues was one of the biggest topics at the last ministerial conference I attended. Marci’s property is ideally located since it’s near Letchworth State Park and out of the hustle and bustle.”
“There’s also a need for at-risk foster kids and troubled teens to learn skills and trades to improve their chances to finish high school and find decent jobs,” Jim added.
“How does this all fit together?” Gracie was confused.
“It’s going to be a process, but since I have no debt on the property,” said Marci, “I’m going to pursue setting up a foundation that will work with the foster-care system and ministerial organizations to make the property into a retreat for pastors. It might even expand to military couples who are in need too. But one thing at a time.”
“What about the foster kid element?” Bob asked, looking at Jim.
“Marci has a pretty large barn and a good-sized workshop. The gardens need a lot of attention, and since she’s buying the two horses she’s currently leasing, they need care. I have Steve Linden, the woodcarver, and a couple of other people lined up to volunteer their time to work with a select number of at-risk teens in their junior and senior years of high school. We’ll design a rigorous process to evaluate these kids. We don’t want to make it too easy, or it’ll defeat the purpose. Marci’s maintenance guy Devon is willing to help too. He was in the foster-care system after his parents were killed in a car accident in high school. He has a real heart to help these kids. They’ll have a chance to learn some carpentry skills, how to care for the horses, and how to garden and landscape. I also have a dairy farmer who’s willing to take one or two on to teach them about farming. College isn’t for everyone, and this might help these young men and women get on the right track.”
“Wow! This is quite a transformation from a B & B.” Gracie was trying to process the news.
“Oh, but we saved the best for last,” Marci said, looking over at the pastor.
“I don’t know about that, Marci,” the pastor demurred.
“Oh yes, it is,” Theresa confirmed. “Albert and Gloria will be the part-time chaplains on the property. They’ll spend the winter in Florida, but the rest of the time, they’ll be here. I couldn’t be happier.” She beamed at her dearest friend, tears spilling from her eyes.
“I second that motion.” Gloria patted Theresa’s arm. “To top everything off, Marci has graciously offered the carriage house as our new home, which is lovely by the way. You know, Albert, we do have more sorting and packing to do.” She rose from the chair and jabbed a thumb toward the door. “Come on, there’s work to do.”
“You see how retirement goes? No rest for the weary,” the pastor teased.
The open house at the Mistletoe Mansion was well attended, a steady stream of curious villagers coming to inspect the renovation and share stories of adventures from years past. Marci had removed Stephen’s portrait from the library, deciding the man would no longer preside over the house. She’d donated the melancholy painting to the Deer Creek Historical Society. Isabelle’s ostentatious Victorian wreath now hung in its place. Gaudy had triumphed over gruesome. Isabelle had already made sure that her gift was properly noticed by everyone who passed through. A new history was about to be written for the house, one that Marci was elated to have start so soon after the horrific weekend. If the house kept any other secrets, they would remain hidden. She no longer had any interest in probing into the dark corners of the basement or anywhere else. Music, food, laughter, and friends filled every room, which was what she’d always truly wanted.
The handsome Haflingers, Sherlock and Watson, pranced eagerly, bells jangling on the shiny harnesses. The black sleigh with crimson upholstery was jammed: Devon took the reins in the front seat with Jim riding shotgun and Marc, Gracie, and Marci sitting in the rear, bundled in parkas and warm mittens.
“Come on, Dude, get in here,” Jim called to the terrier running around the sleigh. It had been decided that the dog would be vermin control in the barn of the new retreat. When he wasn’t on the property, he’d live with Devon, who’d taken an instant shine to the energetic terrier.
The dog jumped lightly into the seat between the men, whining with excitement. Devon slapped the reins lightly on the backs of the geldings. The sleigh lurched forward, and minutes later, they were gliding over the fields deep with pristine snow toward Letchworth.
Thank you for taking the time to read The Mistletoe Murders. I hope you’ve found it an entertaining read. If you enjoyed this Gracie mystery, please consider telling your friends and posting a short review on Amazon. You can help other mystery readers discover Gracie!
–Laurinda Wallace
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Laurinda Wallace lives in the beautiful high desert of southeast Arizona where the mountains and night skies inspire risk taking. A native of Western New York, she loves writing about her hometown region including Letchworth State Park. A lifelong bookworm and writer, she made her foray into the publishing world in 2005. She’s contributed to a variety of print and online magazines, and along the way created the Gracie Andersen mysteries, and more.
Visit www.laurindawallace.com for more information and be sure to sign up for the Mystery Mavens Society. Subscribers receive free short stories and insider book news. Your email is never shared or sold.
OTHER BOOKS BY LAURINDA WALLACE
The Gracie Andersen Mysteries
Family Matters, (Book One)
By the Book, (Book Two)
Fly by Night, (Book Three)
Washed Up, (Book Four)
Pins & Needles, (Book Five)
Inspirational Books
The Time Under Heaven
Gardens of the Heart
Historical Fiction
The Murder of Alfred Silverheels
Digital book only
A short story based on an actual 1904 case near Letchworth State Park.
True-Crime Memoir
Too Close to Home: The Samantha Zaldivar Case
Co-authored with Stephen C. Tarbell
Historical Mystery
The Disappearance of Sara Colter
Available at Amazon.com in paperback or Kindle.
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The Mistletoe Murders Page 16