Eggnog Trifle Trouble

by Addison Moore

  “You know?” She shakes her head. “I can’t tell you how hard it was for me to keep that secret for her. But she’s gone now. Oddly enough, it was Suze who told me about it. And as soon as I hinted at it with Gloria, out came the threats. So when I found myself in a financial pickle, I knew who to call.” She chuckles. “And boy, was Gloria ever glad to help out. But she warned me that it would be the first and last time.”

  “The money is running out, isn’t it?” I say, taking a step in close. “And that’s why you’ve been dipping into the Christmas Angels fund, isn’t it? You’re a shopaholic, Elodie, and you can’t keep two dimes together without finding something to exchange them for. It’s an expensive problem to have. Gloria knew, and she was going to turn you in for stealing wasn’t she?”

  Elodie leans my way, and she’s right back to squinting. “What?” She shakes her head. “I might be a shopaholic, but I’m no thief. In fact, that’s what Gloria and I were bickering about before she went off and got shot in the back. She accused me of stealing, and I set her straight. Then I had to get a zinger in. I told her I’d rather be a thief than a murderer if I had the choice, and she slapped me a good one.”

  “But she didn’t murder her ex-husband. It was an accidental discharge.”

  She shakes her head. “Nope. Gloria told me all about it over drinks one night. That man was two-timing her, and she let him have it. She said she got away with murder, and she would wear that banner as her crowning glory until the day she died. She said she went skiing in Vail to celebrate.”

  Kringle pretends to faint.

  “Okay.” I shake my head. Maybe I need to rephrase the question. “But why did you break into the Christmas Angels’ accounting software and use Chris’ initials when making withdrawals?”

  “I never did that. I’m not proficient with all that computer stuff.”

  “You didn’t share a login with Suze?”

  “Nope. Wasn’t me.” She heads over to the dessert table without missing a beat.

  “Now what, Lot Lot?” Kringle does his best impersonation of Carlotta.

  “I don’t know. I’m truly stumped.” No sooner do the words leave my mouth than Suze stalks this way with a rather dowdy Mrs. Claus costume on and a white curly wig, along with something that looks like a shower cap on over that.

  “Out of my way,” she grouses as she attempts to steamroll past me.

  “Not so fast,” I grouse right back. “You killed her, didn’t you?”

  “I’m not a killer.” Her jowls keep moving long after she’s said the words.

  “But you stole the money from the Christmas Angels, and you put Chris’ initials in after each transaction. And you had the gun, Suze. You were at the crime scene!”

  “You were at the crime scene, too, missy,” she riots back.

  Kringle crouches near my neck. “Boy, she really doesn’t care that you’re with child, does she?”

  I shake my head.

  “Suze, how do you explain any of that?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe the killer knew what kind of a gun I carried and they wanted to pin this on me so they went out and bought the very same model?”

  “Right.” I roll my eyes to the ceiling. “And how would they know what kind of a gun you carried?”

  “I showed it to everyone at the Thanksgiving potluck. We were talking about self-defense and how unsafe it is to live in a town that is quickly becoming the murder capital of the world, no thanks to you and your magnetism to corpses.”

  A choking sound emits from me. “Aren’t you forgetting a little detail in there? Such as the killer? I’m the least important variable in that equation.” I give a hard blink. “And really? You showed people your gun?”

  “Yes,” she says wild-eyed. “I’m a big proponent of women defending themselves. And I let several women in the organization hold it.”

  “Suze, what about the money? Why did you log into the accounting software?”

  “I’ve never done that in my life. I’ll swear on a stack of Bibles to prove it.”

  Kringle makes a face. “They might sizzle.”

  Or she might melt.

  “Fine,” I say. “You’d better call Noah to tell him all of that.”

  “I will. And you had better call him, too, and let him know the two of you are kaput so he can go on with his life.” She speeds out of the ballroom and toward the foyer.

  “Battle-axe,” Kringle calls after her, and I’m tempted to do the same.

  “So who killed Gloria?”

  “I don’t know.” Kringle all but collapses on my shoulder. “But I could sure use a ski week in Vail to figure it out.”

  “Vail?” I pull out my phone. “I think you’re onto something. Vail is in Colorado.” I do another quick search of Ethan Lionel Markus, and this time dig a little deeper until a picture of his first wife pops up. A woman by the name of Crystal Brighton.

  And just like that, I think I know exactly who the killer is.

  Chapter 17

  No matter if you’re a tourist or a townie, the residents of Honey Hollow have a way of making everyone feel like family.

  That’s exactly how I try to treat every single customer that steps through my bakery door, and when they take a bite out of my scrumptious desserts, I want them to feel as if they had a bit of comfort food from home. But during this special season, I do my best to take extra care when baking my sweet treats. I strive to set the gold standard—to make each bite taste as if it was made with the utmost love and attention—because it was.

  But the one person this cozy town isn’t so welcoming to, the one person I don’t want anywhere near my bakery is a cold-hearted killer. And unfortunately for both the residents of Honey Hollow and me, that’s exactly who has been darkening our doorway.

  Kringle and I speed out to the front of the Evergreen Manor where the air is crisp, a light peppering of snow is falling, and somewhere out here, a killer is lurking.

  “To the left, Lottie, next to the snowman,” Kringle whispers as if he might be heard, and I look that way to see Candy Brighton loading up six different elves with giant baskets filled with holiday goodies. The elves quickly scuttle past me on their way back into the Evergreen Manor, and Kringle and I quickly scuttle in the direction where Candy is shutting the trunk of her car. The back door to her car is still open, and I can see a few more baskets taking up residence inside.

  “Need some more help?” I call out, trying my best to sound as friendly as I can.

  “Lottie?” She dusts the snow off her hands before pulling back on her gloves. “Oh goodness, let’s get you back inside. It’s freezing out here. And I wouldn’t dare think to ask you for help. You’ve done enough with your desserts.”

  She cinches the belt of her coat as she takes a few steps my way, and I note the pattern her shoes are leaving in their tracks, a triangular print with a neat square in the back.

  She glances behind her. “Did I drop something?”

  “No. Actually, I was just admiring your shoes.” I glance to her footwear, red velvet heels with squared-off heels, the exact heels I remember admiring the night of the murder—and those are the exact prints I saw in the snow. They didn’t belong to an animal after all—not in the traditional sense.

  “These old things?” She kicks up her left foot. “I have real designer shoes at home, believe it or not. But these are the only heels I can stand in all day.”

  “Home? As in Colorado?”

  Her eyes flash my way. “How did you…?” Her mouth opens and closes. “Cormack.” She shakes her head. “We were talking about skiing, and she dragged it out of me. Have you heard her news yet? Because just wait until you do. You’ll get a laugh out if it.”

  “No, but I’m sure I will get a laugh.”

  The shadow of a man about ten feet tall floats up behind Candy, glowing a deep shade of electric blue.

  “It’s him!” Kringle does a little backflip in the air between Candy and me, leaving a trail of sparkling st
ars in his wake. “Wait a minute.” He stops cold. “If she’s Crystal Brighton’s daughter and he’s Crystal Brighton’s ex-husband, that makes Candy his kid.” Kringle shoots me a look. “Sorry, Lot. This could go either way.”

  I think he’s right. I might just have one ornery papa bear to deal with on my hands in a moment.

  I nod over to Ethan, acknowledging his presence, and he nods back. The look on his ghostly face is as stern as can be. It’s impossible to tell what he’s thinking, but I’d bet good money whatever it is, he isn’t happy about it.

  Candy attempts to stride past me, and I step over, blocking her path.

  “You’re from Plum Creek, Colorado,” I pant as my adrenaline picks up. “Your father’s name was Ethan Lionel Markus, and Gloria shot him by accident—or so she claimed.”

  Candy takes a staggering step back, her left foot gliding out a few inches as she slips in the snow.

  “Lottie, help.” Her other foot glides out as she holds a hand out my way and I quickly grab it. But instead of steadying herself, she yanks me over and pushes me up against her car while she fumbles with the keys.

  Ethan growls from behind her and Candy screams.

  “Is that a bear?”

  “You’re holding my hand,” I say, trying my best to break free from her grip on me. “It’s your father you hear. He’s not hiding his disappointment in you, Candy.” I push her off of me, only to have her cage me in with her arms.

  “How dare you try to use my father against me! My father was a beautiful person. A sharp businessman who made his own way in this world. He bought up all the cheap no-tell motels until he was able to trade them for bigger and better, and once he gained enough credit, he bought his first luxury hotel right here in Vermont. He was on the road to owning an empire, until that monster came along and ruined it for him.”

  “Hotel?” I look to Kringle then Ethan himself. “Wait a minute. He owned the Grand Lux Hotel out in Fallbrook, didn’t he? Of course, he did.”

  Kringle gasps. “That seedy lounge with the sinful Santas!”

  I nod over to the woman before me. “The Candy Cane Lounge was named after you.”

  A short-lived smile pumps on her lips. “Yes, it was, Lottie. Cormack and Cressida were right. You are tenacious in your pursuit of justice.”

  “That’s the nicest thing they’ve said about me.”

  Her chest vibrates with a quiet laugh. “They didn’t mean it as a compliment.”

  Our eyes lock for a moment, and Ethan groans as he lands his hand on his daughter’s shoulder. I know what he’s thinking.

  “You didn’t have to kill her,” I say it softly into the wind.

  “But I did.” Her voice seethes with anger. “She took my father away. And she wasn’t even punished. Nobody believed that ridiculous defense she used with the exception of the judicial system. My mother and I both knew she was wicked. Gloria and my father fought all the time. My father wasn’t teaching her how to use the gun—he was trying to take it away from her.”

  I glance over her shoulder, and the handsome poltergeist gives a solemn nod, affirming it so.

  “I’m sorry,” I say it directly to him. “And I’m sorry for you, too, Candy. Look, you were young when it happened. I’m guessing a preteen? You’re clearly under duress, acting out within some form of post-traumatic stress disorder. They’re going to go easy on you. There are a lot of people who will defend your character. You’re a good person. You just need some help.”

  Ethan nods in agreement with a heavy look of grief on his face.

  “No, Lottie.” She opens the car door and gives me a hard push inside, but I spring right back out and make a run for the snow-covered lawn in front of the Evergreen.

  Candy bolts after me and latches onto my wrist, spinning me around.

  “How did you put it together?” she seethes. “I covered my tracks perfectly. All roads led to that beast of a woman I thought was your mother-in-law. And believe me, Lottie, I was doing you a favor. I knew you’d be my biggest hurdle, but I was up for the challenge.”

  Kringle blows over his fingernails and rubs them against his fur. “Guess she didn’t bring her A game.”

  My lips twitch with a smile. “You wore the same shoes the night of the murder. You left the same pattern in the snow tonight that you did that night. A very unique squared-off heel. That alone should have put you immediately in the running that night. But you’re right. You covered your tracks with expert ease. You framed Chris. You framed Suze twice over—once with the replica of her gun, and once with the money you were lifting from the Christmas Angels. I should have been tipped off the day you brought me a check that was signed by you. Chris was the only one authorized to handle the money. And you knew your way around the software. You knew enough to go through the back door, using Suze’s login and to sign off using Chris’ initials.”

  A laugh sputters from her. “You really shined with that one, Lottie.” She does her best to pull me close, but I continue to resist. “I left that tidbit for the detectives. I had no idea you would squirm your way into the Christmas Angels’ office. Who let you in?” Her eyes narrow over mine in a mocking manner. “Or did you break and enter? You do realize that’s a serious offense.”

  “Not as serious as murder.” I yank my wrist out of her hold and warm it with my hand. “You tried to point the finger at Elodie, too, and that’s what worked against you. Elodie knew Gloria’s secret, and eventually she shared it with me. That haunted painting? It was yours. Somehow you convinced Chris to donate it to the auction. You did it as a means to taunt Gloria one last time, didn’t you?”

  “That’s right.” Her nostrils flare, the moon shines down over her, and her eyes glow like pale stones. “I wanted her to see my father’s face one last time before she took her last breath. I wanted to shake her up, make her feel his presence, make her remember how she made him suffer, because soon she would be suffering the very same fate. I lured her out to the parking lot and told her I had something for her to bring in for the event. Then I let her know who I was. The little girl locked in a boarding school that she met but once. And I told her I had an early Christmas gift from my father. That’s when I pulled out my gun and she tried to run. But she didn’t get very far. It was over in a flash.” She closes her eyes a moment too long as if she was reliving it. “And that’s when I went in and found Suze and Elodie. I told them I needed some help with the trees we were auctioning off, and that we needed to find Gloria to help with the logistics of it.”

  “And that’s when you asked Suze to check outside. You had seen her gun a few weeks back, and you made sure to use a replica. Suze was the prefect suspect for a crime she didn’t commit.”

  “She worked well enough—until she didn’t.”

  Kringle swims between us. “Lure her back inside, Lottie. Your teeth are chattering. That can’t be good for the baby.”

  “Come on, Candy.” I take her by the hand. “We have to go inside. We’ll talk to the sheriff’s department together. I promise you’ll get the help you need.”

  Ethan offers a tempered nod my way as if thanking me for the endeavor.

  “I’m sorry, Lottie.” Her hand dips into her purse, and within seconds I’m staring down the barrel of a gun that looks suspiciously like the one Suze owns.

  My breathing grows erratic. “What? No silencer on tonight? That is what you used, isn’t it?”

  “I see you’re proficient in your weaponry as well.” She takes a breath. “I’m sorry, Lottie, but you’re going to have to come with me.” She gives me a hard yank toward her and I swipe for the gun, but she holds it up over her head, and then we’re struggling for it.

  “Lottie!” Kringle darts around us in a hot pink blur. “Oh, you’ve gotten yourself into a pickle this time—and one you can’t eat yourself out of.” He leaps onto Candy’s head and does his best to claw her eyes out, then he dips his tail into her mouth before he squeals directly in her ear, but it’s to no avail.

  The
n, from seemingly nowhere, Ethan lets out a growl as he pries his arm between us.

  “NO!” he thunders as he pushes Candy away from me with all his might, causing her to stumble backward, and just as she turns to run, she trips over a mound of snow and lands facedown in the frosty white stuff.

  Kringle scampers down to her hand where she’s still clutching at the gun and he does his best to bite off her finger.

  Candy lets out a howl as she pulls her hand away and I quickly scoop up the gun she’s just abandoned.

  “Freeze!” I call out, just the way I’ve seen Noah do dozens of times before.

  Ethan’s ghostly frame begins to shimmer like the deepest part of the ocean as he sheds a mournful smile my way.

  “Tell her I’ll always be with her.” His voice strums from him, sorrowful. “Tell her that this too shall pass, and that she will be whole again.”

  And just like that, the ghost of Ethan Lionel Markus dissipates into thin air.

  I quickly relay to her the words of her father and Candy lets out a mournful groan.

  “What about me?” Kringle begins to rise into the sky. “Oh dear, this is it, Lottie. I’m going to bite the big one. I’m going to meet my maker. I’ll be dead as a doornail—and oh, wait. I’m all of those things and more.” He floats higher, easy and light like a helium balloon. “And what am I saying? I’ve already met my maker. And He throws one heck of a party this time of year. Have a merry Christmas, Lottie Lemon! Enjoy Sugar Cookie!” A sprinkling of red and green stars swallows him whole just as a tall, dark, and unstoppably handsome homicide detective and his partner Ivy Fairbanks stride by.

  Noah does a double take my way. “Lottie?” His voice rises with a note of panic as he draws his weapon. “What the hell is going on?”

  Ivy runs over and I quickly give her the weapon in my hand.

  “It’s Candy Brighton. She did it. She killed Gloria.” I rattle off as many details as I can while Ivy lands some cuffs on Candy and helps her out of the snow.

  Noah swoops over and wipes the snow from my shoulders before pulling me in.