Whispering Pines Mysteries Box Set 3

by Shawn McGuire

  She pointed a warning finger at me. If she were a witch instead of a fortune teller, I might have been worried that I’d been hexed.

  “Attention, villagers.”

  The room quieted, except for the children chasing each other around in circles, as Laurel climbed a step ladder near the massive floor-to-ceiling stone fireplace at the far end of the room.

  “We’ve got five minutes until the official lighting of the Yule log. I wanted to go over a few reminders. We’ve designated the board room as a place for unruly animals. The employee lounge is full of playpens for unruly babies and toddlers. You all know this party goes until dawn.” She gestured outside. “Keep in mind that it’s snowing lightly, and the temperature is going to drop below zero again. You’re, of course, welcome to stay all night, but if you planned to leave early, you might want to do so before the snow or cold become issues.”

  She looked to her new assistant manager Emery for anything she might have forgotten. He joined her on the step ladder which looked a little awkward, not to mention precarious. “The guest rooms are open for anyone who wants to take a little breather from the action. Maybe catch a few winks. No hanky-panky, though.”

  Laurel’s jaw momentarily dropped. Seemed Emery’s promotion had emboldened him.

  The villagers finished whatever they were in the middle of—eating, crafting, conversing—and moved closer to the fireplace. Either Emery or Laurel had dimmed the overhead chandeliers, letting the mass of candles create an intimate feel in the large room.

  I looked around for Tripp, wanting him at my side for this. I saw his blinking tie first and waved him over. He stood behind me with arms wrapped around my shoulders and placed a kiss on top of my head.

  As I snuggled in against him, a gasp rose from the crowd behind us followed by murmurs that steadily grew in volume. I expected to see something fabulous and Yule-like as we turned around.

  “I take it that’s Suzette Thibodeaux,” Tripp said of the woman entering the dining room in a wheelchair.

  It was indeed Suzette. And many villagers were blatantly unhappy about her appearance. Great. Just when everything was going so well.

  Chapter 9

  Suzette Thibodeaux looked like she was days, rather than weeks, away from death. I’d heard the saying “living skeleton” but had never seen someone fitting that description until now. Even from across the room, it was easy to tell Suzette’s skin hung saggy and loose over her bones. As Alan pushed her through the crowd and she got closer to us, I saw she had on two or three wool sweaters in addition to a thick scarf, all in festive Yuletide colors. At least two heavy wool blankets covered her legs.

  Suzette’s eyes were still a bright, vibrant shade of blue. So unnaturally blue, in fact, she had to be wearing colored contacts. Since hair rarely retained a lustrous appearance in someone so sick, I assumed she was wearing a wig as well because it was perfectly styled.

  The deeper into the crowd they went, the more Alan looked like he wanted the earth to open up and swallow him. Nina trailed behind the two, letting the gap between them grow wider and wider. Villagers hurled taunts and glares that grew nastier with every step Alan took with Suzette.

  “What are you doing here?” someone called out to her.

  “You have some nerve showing up at a community gathering,” someone else yelled.

  “Aren’t you dead yet?” another villager asked, resulting in an audible gasp from the crowd that turned into surprised titters of laughter.

  Suzette held up a hand for Alan to stop. Then she twirled a finger, instructing him to turn her chair around.

  “Sorry to ruin your day,” she said in a voice that sounded as shriveled as her body, “but yes, I’m still alive. And I’m still a member of this community so have as much right to be here as any of you.”

  She directed Alan through a slow full-circle rotation, having him stop every foot or so as she scanned the crowd. When she found a target, she’d stare and point a bony finger at them until the person looked away or hid behind someone next to them. One man fled the dining room altogether. When they’d completed a full circle, Suzette started laughing. The sound started slowly, a chuckle of amusement, but steadily grew faster and louder until it filled the room like the cackle of a deranged witch.

  “Suzette!” Laurel emerged from the crowd. “That’s enough. This is an event of great importance to this community. If you’d like to participate, you’re welcome to, but The Inn is also my home. I won’t tolerate these kinds of disturbances here. If you’re going to cause a scene, I will ask you to leave.” Laurel glanced around at the crowd as a whole. “That goes for all of you. This is a drama-free zone tonight.”

  Suzette placed her palms together and touched her fingertips to her bowed head. “My apologies. There is no question that this will be my last Yule. It will almost certainly be my last opportunity to gather with the community.” She glanced around the crowd again. “I would very much like to spend it with the people who have added so much to my life.”

  The statement started sincerely but Suzette said the last part slowly and took on an expression that was either wicked or gleeful. I couldn’t tell which. Did she mean the villagers had added friendship to her life or a financial windfall?

  Laurel gave Suzette one last pointed look and returned to the front of the room. Instead of climbing up on the stepladder again, this time Laurel requested that the group part in two and create an aisle down the center.

  “There are a few in our community who have never participated in a Yule celebration.” She looked to Rosalyn, Tripp, and me as well as a handful of other villagers as she walked slowly up and down the aisle. “You already understand that Yule and the Winter Solstice are one and the same. The nights will now grow shorter, the hours of daylight longer. It is the time when the Oak King retakes the throne and the Holly King steps back to rest. The Goddess, just having birthed the Oak King, is transformed into the Mother again.”

  She held out a hand to Briar and Morgan who stepped forward to join her.

  “This year,” Laurel continued, “we are blessed to have our very own living representation of the Crone, Mother, and Maiden in Briar, Morgan, and Baby Girl Barlow. The Barlow trio will light the Yule log and candle for us and officially begin our celebration.”

  A gasp of happy emotion and quiet applause rose from the crowd this time.

  With a white cloth protecting her hand from the ash, Laurel held a charred stick, approximately ten inches long and two inches in diameter, high over her head so all could see it. “This is the remains of last year’s Yule log. Our tradition is to light the current year’s log with the remains of the prior year’s, thereby connecting us to those who have come and gone before us. Once this year’s log has burnt to the size of this one, the flames will be extinguished, and the log stored for next year. The ashes from this year’s log will be collected and scattered across the pentacle garden, ensuring that warmth and light will return and nourish us for another trip around the sun.”

  Using a small hatchet, she gently broke the stick in two lengthwise and gave one to Morgan, and the other to Briar. Briar went to the fireplace where this year’s two-foot-long Yule log had been decorated with greenery and pinecones. Morgan went to the candle waiting on the front desk in the lobby. At Laurel’s signal, they then held their pieces to the flame of a nearby candle. When their pieces had both lit, Briar nodded to her daughter and they officially began the celebration by lighting their respective objects.

  “That,” Rosalyn whispered, “gave me goosebumps.”

  A new voice behind us caught my attention. “Me too. This year’s opening is especially cool since Morgan’s pregnant.”

  I turned to find Martin Reed standing there.

  “Happy Yule, Sheriff.”

  “Same to you, Deputy.” To both Reed and my sister, I said, “Here’s a fun factoid.”

  Reed groaned and looked over my shoulder at Tripp. “Looks like I got here right in time for today’s trivia lesso
n.”

  “Right you are.” I pointed at him. “Did you know that goosebumps are formed by the raising of the individual hairs on our skin?”

  “Everyone knows that.” Rosalyn looked away, unimpressed.

  “Yes, but did you also know that each individual hair has a microscopic muscle called the arrector pili attached to it? When the muscle contracts, it raises the hair. This often happens when the body is cold and is an attempt to generate heat and help it warm back up.”

  Tripp made a little hmm sound, like he’d found that interesting. Rosalyn and Reed blinked at me.

  Reed turned to my sister and held out an elbow. “Would you like a mug of wassail?”

  “I would.” She took his arm and loud enough for me to hear said, “She’s such a nerd.”

  “But a loveable one.” Tripp mimicked Reed and held out his own elbow to me. “Should we get something to eat?”

  “Yes, please. I’m starving.”

  Every family brought a dish for the tables set up along the left side of the dining room next to the wall of windows. The spread, as they always were at Whispering Pines’ gatherings, was impressive. Lots of appetizers, soups, salads, and main course dishes. Another table held a variety of desserts.

  After eating our fill, Tripp and I wandered and chatted with villagers we didn’t get to see very often including Creed, Janessa, Igor, and Britta who had come down from the circus. Igor and Britta didn’t stay long. The snow wasn’t falling that hard, but Igor wanted to be sure they’d be able to get back to take care of the animals. Creed and Janessa decided they were staying all night.

  Around eight thirty, Sister Agnes appeared in the dining room doorway. She just stood there watching everyone, looking awkward. That wasn’t out of the ordinary for her, but she seemed more uncomfortable than usual.

  I was about to go over to her when Meeka appeared at my feet, looking completely disheveled. I’d seen her hanging out in the corners and hiding under the food tables, sticking out a paw to grab a dropped morsel every now and then, but it looked like she’d hit her people limit.

  “I’ll take her outside and then bring her to the board room.” Tripp picked her up and scratched her ears.

  “Good idea. She looks like she could use some quiet time.” Which might not happen in a room full of other animals, but at least she’d be with her own tribe and where no one would pull her tail or step on her paws. While he did that, I went to the un-nun.

  “Sheriff O’Shea. Blessed be.” Sister Agnes greeted me the same way every time.

  “I’m surprised to see you here, Agnes.”

  She tilted her head. “Why’s that?”

  “Because you’re not Wiccan. Don’t you follow Christian traditions?”

  “You’re not Wiccan,” she replied.

  “I’m not anything, but point taken. Aren’t you going to come in and get something to eat?”

  I followed her gaze as she glanced down at her own feet. The toes of her sturdy black boots poked out from beneath the skirt of her habit and were placed precisely on the line between the lobby and the dining room. She looked back up at me. “I haven’t been invited in.”

  “You entered the lobby without being stopped, didn’t you?”

  “I did.”

  “The entire inn is open for the gathering. If you were welcomed into part of it, you’re welcome in all of it.”

  It was like having a conversation with a socially awkward vampire.

  Agnes smiled. “Wonderful. I’d love to get something to eat.”

  I trailed her to the food tables, always curious to learn what Agnes was up to. “I haven’t seen you since Thanksgiving. What have you been doing?”

  She mounded food on a plate, took a big mug of the brandied wassail, and noncommittally said, “Various things. Still working on my project.”

  “What project?”

  “The one I was working on when you visited me last month.”

  I scanned my memory for a clue as to what she was talking about. I had stopped by the un-church after visiting Reed at his cottage . . . I didn’t go inside because Meeka was on edge about . . . Oh, yes. “You mean the ‘parishioner’ who is staying with you?”

  She held her wassail mug up to me in a toast. “Right you are.”

  “I didn’t realize this was a long-term project.”

  “Oh, there’s Mallory.” Her face lit up. “I’m going to say hi.”

  And she was off without another word. That Mallory and Agnes had become besties amused me.

  “The furry one is happy again,” Tripp reported. “There are four dogs, three cats, including Blue, and Pitch in the boardroom. Laurel has staff members rotating through to make sure they’re behaving themselves.”

  Reed came up to us then. “We might have a problem.”

  I shook my head. “Tell Laurel. She and her crew are policing the celebration. We’ve got the night off. Unless something illegal is going on.”

  He glanced into the lobby and back to me. “I think you should at least be aware of this. People are confronting Ms. Thibodeaux.”

  Not illegal, but it could lead there. I looked at Tripp and promised, “Two minutes.”

  “Probably more like twenty, but that’s okay.” He spotted a table of his guy friends near the fireplace. “I’ll be over there.”

  I followed Reed to the lobby and heard April O’Connor’s voice the second we got there. Remembering how she immediately shut down when I came across her and Alan by the negativity well yesterday, I pulled Reed to the side where she wouldn’t see us.

  “I don’t give a flying fig how sick you are. If you don’t quit harassing my husband, I will come after you.” April spun on Alan who was standing next to his aunt’s chair. “I told you before to do something about her. I couldn’t be more serious.”

  That sounded a bit like a threat, so I grabbed a piece of paper from the desk and started scribbling notes.

  “April.” Her husband Rourke appeared on the stairway. “Don’t give the old biddy any more attention.”

  Suzette started cackling again, although not as loudly as earlier. “Visiting one of the guest rooms, were you, Rourke? Have a friend with you up there?”

  Rourke sighed as though he’d never in his life been more tired. “Suzette, I’ve told you a hundred times. I’m not seeing another woman.”

  April and Rourke’s son, Sutton, entered the lobby as Suzette singsonged, “I told you, I’ve got proof. And I never said you were seeing another woman.”

  Sutton went pale and stared at his dad.

  April lunged at her. “You old bit—”

  Rourke hooked his arm around April’s waist. “Don’t do it. You know full well if you lay one finger on her, she’ll press charges. Don’t give her the satisfaction. Let’s go home.”

  As the O’Connors left, Reed and I watched someone else from the lineup of villagers waiting to give Suzette Thibodeaux a piece of their mind step forward.

  “I feel more threats coming.” Reed grabbed his own piece of paper and a pen from the desk. “I’ll write down the names of everyone in the lobby. You know, in case things turn ugly.”

  “Good plan. Is that Gil?” The marina owner, and Oren’s father, was unrecognizable to me in a suit and tie. I’d never seen him in anything other than cargo shorts, a T-shirt, and a baseball cap.

  “Cleans up pretty well, doesn’t he?”

  I tugged on the lapel of Reed’s suit jacket. “So do you.”

  “What could Ms. Thibodeaux have done to tick off Gil?” Reed mused.

  “That’s what I’m wondering. From what I’ve heard, it has something to do with Oren.”

  Gil Bailey had gone into full Papa Bear mode, ready to shred the enemy for making threats against his boy. Fortunately for Suzette, Gil was used to dealing with unreasonable customers at the marina and chose to fight with words rather than fists. He bent at the waist and leaned in until he was six inches from her face. With more menace than I thought possible from the always happy man,
he growled, “Leave Oren alone. If I hear that you’ve said one more word to or about him, you won’t have to worry about waiting for death to come naturally.”

  Alan reacted this time. “Are you threatening her?”

  Gil, an already big man, puffed his chest out and appeared even larger. “Sounded like April O’Connor issued one too. You’re going to let her go but come at me?” Gil jabbed Alan hard on the shoulder. “You want to worry about someone making threats? Deal with your aunt and this twisted game she’s playing.”

  A murmur of agreement spread through the small cluster of villagers gathered in the lobby.

  “Should we step in?” Reed asked.

  I wondered the same thing, but all I really wanted to do was sit down. I’d changed from my snow boots into two-inch heels when we got here, and my feet were aching.

  “No one has actually done anything,” I noted. “Emotions seem pretty raw all the way around concerning Suzette. The words are nasty, but they’re basically just blowing off steam. Let’s leave it alone for now. Besides, like I said before, this is Laurel’s jurisdiction tonight.”

  Gil’s anger was starting to fuel the crowd, though. Voices rose along with tempers. Suzette, overjoyed at the chaos she’d created, released another of her creepy cackles. As we watched, the cluster started to turn from a gathered group into something more closely resembling a mob. Along with the shift came a mob’s mentality. They surged forward, voices raising. Someone lost their balance or had been pushed, fell against the front desk, and knocked over the Yule candle, extinguishing the flame.

  Chapter 10

  No one in the crowd noticed the no-longer-burning candle, but Reed did. “That’s not good.”

  “It’s only a symbolic thing,” I offered in comfort. In this village, though, symbolism counted for a lot. A little tremor of trepidation skittered across the back of my neck. “We can relight it. Right?”