Trouble Under the Tree (A Nina Quinn Mystery)

by Heather Webber

  A minute later, her eyes widened as Kit appeared in the doorway. “Who’s ready to say cheese?”

  Jenny said, “I’ll go find that hat.”

  Maria plopped Gracie on Mr. Cabrera’s lap and adjusted the tiny Santa hat atop the dog’s head. Then she adjusted Mr. Cabrera’s hat and tried to smooth down his crazy eyebrows. Frowning, she quickly gave up that task and backed away.

  “Quickly, man,” Mr. Cabrera said to Kit.

  Gracie twisted and squirmed, trying to get the hat off her head.

  “Quickly, quickly, quickly!” Mr. Cabrera cried through tightly clenched teeth.

  Kit said gleefully, “Say cheese.” He clicked the camera.

  Just in time because Gracie snarled, then started to snortle. She tucked her tail.

  “Oh no,” I mumbled.

  Brickhouse scooped up the dog, and I was already dreading seeing the stain on that lovely red velvet when she looked into Gracie’s eyes and said firmly, “Control yourself.”

  Gracie blinked.

  And amazingly, there was no piddle.

  “How’d she do that?” Maria asked.

  “No idea, but you might want to go before the magic wears off.”

  Maria snatched Gracie and ran.

  I realized I was still holding a pen in my hand. Nancy had left before I was able to take her down her address.

  ***

  As I walked through Christmastowne, I surveyed the work my crew had done. Indoor landscapes were not my specialty, but I had to admit, the village looked wonderful. There really was a lot to love, and if Christmastowne could escape the bad press of the murders and stop the troubling mishaps, I didn’t doubt that it could be a success.

  I followed my nose to The Gingerbread Oven. The place was packed and Glory bustled around with a smile on her face. She caught sight of me and wandered over.

  “Did you need something, Nina?”

  I really needed to banish the image imprinted on my brain of her with Benny, but I didn’t think she could help me with that. “Just admiring your work.”

  “Thank you! It’s a passion.”

  “Your family must be so proud of you.”

  A cloud of suspicion crossed into her eyes, and for the first time I questioned whether her ditziness was an act.

  “Of course they are!”

  “Do they live nearby? Will they be able to see you at work here?”

  She fluffed her hair. “I’m sure they will.”

  A little girl tugged on Glory’s skirt. “I’m done.”

  “Wonderful! Just wash up now, and we’ll box up your house.”

  The little girl skipped away. “You’re good with kids. Do you have any of your own?”

  “Miss Glory!” a little boy called to her.

  “Nina, I have to go.” She scrunched up her nose. “It’s been lovely talking to you.”

  She spun around and hurried across the room.

  Was it my imagination or had she been completely evasive?

  What was Glory hiding?

  I stole a gumdrop on my way out and headed upstairs to the third floor. I sat on a bench and watched people pass by. I couldn’t help but think about the sabotage that had been happening here. And wondered if it, too, was related to the deaths of Fairlee and Fairlane.

  It would be nice if Kevin could narrow down a motive.

  I kept an eye on the hallway that led to Jenny and Benny’s office. I needed to have my timing right if I was going to sneak in and take a peek at the employment files.

  I had seen Benny go in a few minutes ago, but he’d yet to come back out. Jenny was downstairs, supervising Santa’s Cottage.

  Taking out a pad of paper, I began a Christmas list as I waited. I had a few vague ideas what to get everyone, but I hadn’t bought anything yet. I was a last-minute shopper to the core, but Christmas was a little less than a week away, and I was starting to get a vibration of anxiety that I wasn’t going to be able to get my shopping done on time.

  My pen hovered next to Riley’s name. No way was he getting the brother or sister he wanted, so I was going to have to resort to video games, clothes, and gift cards. Poor kid.

  My cell phone rang, and I fished around in my backpack until I found it buried at the bottom. It was Ana.

  “What are you doing tonight?” she asked in a breathless whisper.

  “What are you suggesting in that 1-900 tone of voice? I’m not that kind of girl.”

  “That’s not sexy you’re hearing. That’s panic. I have another appointment at the tattoo parlor tonight. I need moral support.”

  “Don’t you mean you just need support, period? For when you pass out?”

  “You’re so not funny.”

  “Why do people keep telling me that?”

  “Nina!” she cried.

  I spotted Benny coming out of the office and head toward the escalator. “Yes, I’ll hold your hand.”

  She breathed a deep sigh. “Thank you.”

  Keeping an eye on Benny, I said, “Do you think you’ll be up for some Christmas shopping after?”

  “Will you buy me some of those little mint things from Hickory Farms?”

  “Only if you’ll share.”

  “Deal.”

  We set a time and hung up. I watched as Benny, a floor below, went into The Gingerbread Oven.

  Hmm.

  I suddenly questioned all those times Glory had been so “distracted” that her gingerbread burned, setting off the fire alarms. I’d bet my last roll of cookie dough that it hadn’t been the fault of “forgetfulness,” but rather horniness. No wonder Benny had always been first on the scene.

  Poor Jenny.

  As inconspicuously as possible, I inched my way to the office and opened the door. There was still no one working the reception area, thank goodness. I crept down the small hallway to Jenny and Benny’s office. The door was wide open. Practically an invitation for a snooper like me.

  I quickly crossed to a filing cabinet and started opening drawers. I found the employee files pretty fast. Thankfully, they were filed alphabetically.

  I went to Glory’s file first and jotted down her social security number. I was backtracking to Nancy’s file to get her home address when I heard the click of the door in the reception area.

  Quickly, I shut the drawer, raced over to a chair and sat down. I pretended to be working on my Christmas list when Benny walked into the room.

  He stopped short when he saw me, then a smile bloomed across his face. “Well, isn’t this a nice surprise. What’re you doing in here, Nina?”

  I jumped up. I didn’t like that look in his eye. It reminded me a little too much of Kevin’s this morning in the kitchen when he was eyeing the mistletoe.

  “I was waiting for Jenny. I need to get Nancy Davidson’s address...” I backed up as he slowly approached.

  “Nancy? Why?”

  “A camera,” I mumbled, darting looks left and right.

  “You look nervous,” he said, taking another step closer. He was still smiling.

  I was now pinned against the wall, nowhere to go. “I really don’t like the way you’re looking at me.”

  He laughed. “You’re a very pretty woman.”

  “Now, see, if you’d said ‘cute’ I might have bought that line, but ‘pretty’ is stretching it.”

  “Your eyes,” he continued on, “are like...”

  “Swampland?” I provided. They were a murky green.

  “Dust-covered emeralds.”

  Oy.

  He reached out a hand to touch my cheek. I slapped it away. “I suggest you back off.”

  His eyes darkened, his face hardened. “Or else?”

  His breath was hot against my face. Adrenaline surged, and I fought against a rising panic.

  “One little kiss, and I’ll let you go.” It wasn’t a request.

  “No,” I said loudly. I looked into his eyes and saw that he didn’t care what said. He was intent on getting what he wanted. My panic slowly changed into
anger. Who did he think he was?

  “What’s going to stop me from taking one?” He moved in, his muscled arms trapping me against the wall. “Not you, surely.” His hand went for my breast.

  I did a little spin move Kevin had taught me years ago, elbowed Benny in the stomach, spun back and kicked him in his jingle bells. He groaned and collapsed onto his knees.

  “Steel-toed boots help,” I said, stepping around him. My heart pounded, and my whole body was covered in goose bumps. I wanted—I needed to get out of here.

  I headed for the door and gasped when I saw Jenny standing in the doorway. Her cheeks were aflame but her eyes were blank.

  “What are you doing here, Nina?” she asked.

  Benny moaned and groaned.

  Her tone threw me off-guard. I stammered, “I was waiting for you. I need to get Nancy’s address...”

  She stomped over to the filing cabinet, grabbed Nancy’s folder and thrust it at me. “Go.”

  I took the file and ran as fast as my steel-toed boots could carry me.

  Chapter Sixteen

  “You kicked him in the ’nads?” Ana asked as we walked into The Ink Bottle tattoo parlor.

  She said that last part just as we approached the counter. The very nice-looking young man at the counter blanched.

  “Don’t worry,” I said to him. “I changed shoes.”

  He didn’t look appeased.

  Ana gave him her name, then picked up our conversation. “And his wife didn’t do anything?”

  “Nothing. And I had the feeling she’d been standing there a while, watching us. I mean, would she have stopped him if he attacked me?”

  “He did attack you!” Ana said. “You should call the police.”

  “Technically, he didn’t touch me. I did all the attacking.”

  “Even still,” Ana said.

  “I’ll let Kevin know.” I hated the thought that Benny might be forcing himself on women who didn’t willingly return his attentions. “Maybe there’s something he can do.”

  “Benny better buy himself a steel cup, because Kevin kicks a lot harder than you do.”

  As much as the thought of Kevin kicking Benny’s ass appealed to me, he couldn’t do it. Not without risking his job, at least.

  I took a look around the tattoo shop and was surprised—in a good way. It wasn’t the seedy little hidey-hole I imagined, but rather an immaculately clean salon. Beautiful artwork covered the walls, and it was brightly lit. I moseyed over to the beverage cart and poured myself a Dr Pepper. I checked for something to calm Ana’s nerves, but I didn’t think chamomile would work in this case. Unfortunately for her, there was no hard stuff.

  “By the way,” Ana said, eyeing me with a wary look.

  “What?” I asked.

  “What’s with that scarf?”

  I fingered the soft purple yarn. “Maria.”

  “She bought that? Doesn’t seem her style.”

  I sat down next to her on a leather couch. “She made it.”

  Ana’s eyes widened. “Holy shit.”

  “I know.”

  “So something is seriously wrong with her?”

  “Definitely.”

  “You think Nate left her?”

  “Only at my house last night.” He was getting coal in his stocking, too. “He adores her.”

  “Did she lose her job?”

  I frowned. Maria worked at a fancy PR firm and now that I thought about it, she hadn’t mentioned her job in a long, long time. Which was strange, because she loved her work.

  My mind started whizzing. If she’d lost her job, then she and Nate lost a huge income. Would they be able to afford the McMansion? The fancy cars? Maybe that’s why Maria had taken up baking and knitting—to save money. I needed to find out for sure. I’d more than willingly loan them money if it prevented Maria from learning how to sew.

  A busty woman came out from a room in the back and smiled when she saw Ana. “Again?”

  “I’m not going to pass out this time,” Ana said, standing up.

  She swayed a little bit, so I grabbed onto her elbow. She was totally going to pass out again.

  Busty looked like she knew it, too, but kept the encouraging smile on her face as she led us back to a private room.

  Inside, a colorful palette of ink pots sat on a rolling cart, and I tried really hard not to look at anything that resembled a needle in any way. There was a foot pedal thingy on the floor, and I realized that fed the ink into the needle.

  Yikes.

  Ana immediately hopped onto a table and laid facedown. She wiggled her shirt up to reveal the micro-constellation on her lower back. “Go ahead.”

  Busty slipped on a pair of gloves, and I took hold of Ana’s hand. “So,” I said, “it’s a good thing I’m done working at Christmastowne, because I don’t think I’m going to be allowed back.”

  Busty shaved the area with a fierce looking razor, then cleaned the skin with rubbing alcohol.

  “Mmm-hmm.” Ana’s eyes were closed tight.

  “Ready, Ana?” Busty asked, stretching Ana’s skin.

  “Sure,” Ana said in a reedy voice. She squeezed my hand so tight I thought my thumb was going to break.

  “Ow! Ow! Ow!” I screeched.

  “Moral support!” Ana cried.

  “Physical abuse,” I countered.

  Meanwhile, Busty had managed a curve of the heart done in a vibrant red.

  Ana suddenly froze. “Oh my God, is that needle touching me? I feel it touching me! I don’t feel so good.”

  I spared another look. “She’s almost done,” I lied.

  And with that, Ana’s hand went slack as she passed out.

  “Shit,” Busty said, putting aside the needle contraption aside. “She should just get a rub-on and be done with it.”

  “Can’t you finish while she’s—” I motioned to Ana, who was out cold.

  “Nah. That’s frowned upon.”

  “How about some vodka?”

  Busty shook her head. “I wish. I could use a drink about now. We’re not allowed to work on anyone who’s clearly impaired.”

  “So, it’s going to take a year and a half to get this tattoo done?”

  She slipped off her gloves. “Thereabouts.”

  “Good to know.” I bit my lip and looked around. “Do you sell rub-ons?”

  ***

  “Your tattoo looks good,” Ana said as she admired the sunburst on the back of my neck. “If only real tattoos were so easy.”

  The moon was high and bright as we made our way to Nancy Davidson’s house, my GPS unit leading the way. The roads were still a bit of a mess, and I had my four-wheel drive activated.

  Busty, at the tattoo parlor, had assured me I could remove the rub-on with a little rubbing alcohol when I was ready to take it off. I just wanted to see my mother’s reaction first—a little Christmas present to myself.

  “How am I ever going to get mine finished in time for Christmas?” she asked. “Think I can learn self-hypnosis in a couple of days?”

  “Anything’s possible. I think you just need to relax a little bit and try not to think about it.”

  “Needles, Nina.”

  She had a point. Even I, who didn’t mind needles too much, had issues in that shop.

  Ana adjusted the heat in the truck and leaned back on the headrest. “This present was the worst idea ever.”

  It certainly ranked up there with the time my dad bought my mother a new cordless screwdriver. “Don’t give up yet. There has to be a way.”

  “Maybe if I’m medicated.”

  I snapped my fingers. “That’s it! You need a sedative, is all.”

  “And I’ve got those laying around.”

  “Maybe you don’t, but I know who does.” And it would give me the perfect chance to show off my phony tattoo. I explained to Ana about my mother’s sleep aids.

  “Your mom is just full of surprises, isn’t she?”

  “Always.”

  My GPS unit told
me to turn right. It was bossy like that. I had tried calling Nancy but the call kept going to a voice mail box that hadn’t been set up yet so I couldn’t even leave a message. I hoped she wouldn’t mind me dropping in.

  I felt my tires slip a little when I crested a hill on the narrow two-lane country road.

  “Whoa,” Ana said. “Ice?”

  Pricks of adrenaline suddenly coursed through me. I didn’t know this road well, it was dark, and apparently not well-salted. My anxiety didn’t ease the least little bit when I passed a small white cross on the side of the road, a Christmas wreath draped over it.

  I shuddered and focused on driving, slowing to a crawl.

  “Are we close?” Ana asked.

  “I think the address is on this road.”

  My GPS chirped. “You have reached your destination.”

  Slowing to a stop in the middle of the road, I looked around. There was nothing but trees and road.

  Ana shifted in her seat nervously. “Stupid technology. Maybe the house is up ahead?”

  “What’s the address again? Maybe I entered it wrong.”

  She took out the file Jenny had thrust at me and flipped through it. “8280 Winding Brook.”

  I was thankful the street was deserted as I drove on, practically leaning over the steering wheel to peer along the sides of the road looking for any sign of a driveway. I’d had to turn off the GPS since it was having a fit shouting, “Recalculating.” About a mile down, I pulled up alongside a mailbox.

  “4420,” Ana said, a puzzled look on her face.

  I drove on. The next house, another half mile down, was 3310.

  “We missed it?” Ana asked.

  I was starting to get a bad feeling about this. I pulled into a driveway and backed out again.

  Going back the way we came, the truck slid left and right on patches of ice. I had broken out in a cold sweat. These were steep hills, some with sheer drops. “I think it’s time to go home. We can Christmas shop some other time.”

  Ana didn’t argue, which told me how nervous she was, too. She loved those little Hickory Farms mints.

  Right before my turn to get back on the main road, we came across a house tucked deep in the woods. I slowed at the mailbox.

  Ana said, “9873.” She frowned. “That would put 8280 back at the top of the hill. There’s nothing up there but trees.”