“Clever girl.” Morrie grinned. Figuring out motive was his favorite part of solving crimes. He loved delving into the seedy and easily corruptible minds of humans.
I underlined Bertie’s name three times. On the rug in front of me, Grimalkin darted and danced between the two catnip-soaked spots. Even though Quoth had scrubbed the stains with industrial cleaner and the place no longer smelled like a sewage-treatment plant, Grimalkin’s sensitive nose was still attracted to the lingering residue. She’d roll around on the carpet for a few minutes, then shoot up one of the bookcases, knock down an avalanche of hardcovers on our heads, tumble off the end, land on her feet and start the whole cycle again.
“Anyone else with a key?” I asked, dodging a falling Dickens as Grimalkin tore along the Classics shelf.
Morrie shrugged. “Not that I can think of. Didn’t you give a key to that lady making the calendar?”
“That’s right!” I scribbled Tabitha’s name. “We’ll have to find out where she was last night, see if she has an alibi. She also heard Heathcliff bitching about the tree, so she knew he’d be the perfect person to pin the robbery on. But what I don’t get is her motive—what are you doing? You’re disturbing our crime scene!”
Morrie had risen from the chair and was scrambling around under the windowsill on his hands and knees. He held up something between his fingers that glittered in the light. “What I’m doing is finding the clue that will blow this case wide open. Will you look at this?”
“Bring it over here. I can’t see.”
Morrie dropped the object on the desk in front of me. I held it up to inspect it. An earring – an enormous chunk of polished black crystal wound with wire and fixed to a silver butterfly. It looked handmade. And familiar, but I couldn’t think of where I’d seen it before.
“It’s not mine, and I don’t think this was left behind by a customer. No one would have been able to get around that side of the tree without some serious acrobatics. This was dropped by our tree thief!”
“Which means it probably wasn’t Bertie,” Morrie pointed out. “He doesn’t look like an earring sort of guy.”
“Maybe not, but we can’t rule him out yet.” I slipped the earring into my pocket. It was the first serious clue we had so far. “I’ll ask around about it at the market tonight. The village gossip train will be hard at work. I bet we’ll be able to find the owner of this earring and clear Heathcliff’s name.”
Chapter Six
All day, villagers arrived in the shop bearing armloads of gifts for the charity tree. Over and over again I had to tell the story of how the tree had been stolen overnight. Faces pinched. Mothers and children exchanged knowing looks. The accusation hung in the air, unspoken but heard loud and clear – Heathcliff stole the tree. Heathcliff hates Christmas. Heathcliff hates the village.
“You can leave your gifts with me,” I begged David Hyde and his son. “We’re organizing a replacement tree. I’ll make sure everything is locked away and makes it to the animal shelter.”
“Sorry, Mina.” David – a regular customer and British canal history buff who loved to haggle over the price of books so fervently Heathcliff now priced every canal history book £2 more than he expected to profit from it in expectation of David’s protests – shoved his son toward the door. “I think we’ll just deliver these to the shelter ourselves this year.”
Despite the beautiful displays I’d put together and the Christmas book specials we’d advertised in the local paper, we had hardly any sales. I heard people muttering as they left the shop, watched them whisper together out on the street, pointing to Nevermore’s windows with judgmental frowns. Heathcliff didn’t emerge from his study all day. I didn’t know if that was for the best or not. The village had turned on him again. It was vital we put in an upbeat appearance at the market and didn’t do anything to further cast suspicion on Heathcliff.
I thought I’d have a battle to get Heathcliff out the door, but just as I was shutting up the shop, he emerged, looking every bit as sullen and bitter as he had that morning. “I’m showering.” He slipped past me without meeting my gaze and trudged up the stairs.
The three of us gathered in the front hall to wait for him. I was pleased Heathcliff was making an effort to dress up, since everyone else had. For Morrie that meant an exquisitely-tailored black suit with a black wool coat. I donned a crimson bodycon sweater dress I’d studded with glittering rhinestones over black leggings and knee-high laced boots. Quoth remained in his raven form – apparently, feathers were more insulating against the winter chill than anything else in his closet. He’d freshly preened and had even donned a tiny Santa hat for the occasion.
“Are you sure it’s a good idea for Lord Sourpuss to go tonight?” Morrie whispered.
“I think his absence will be noted,” I whispered back. “Besides, maybe the twinkling lights and music and food will knock him out of his Christmas funk and he’ll—”
“He’ll what? Apologize to Quoth? Suddenly express goodwill to all mankind? Be visited by three obnoxious ghosts that help him realize the true meaning of Christmas? That’s what I love about you, gorgeous. Your undying belief in the goodness in people, despite all evidence to the contrary. Heathcliff—”
“What about Heathcliff?”
I glanced up. At first, all I saw was shadow, but then my brooding anti-hero descended the stairs like he was attending his own funeral. He’d donned a pair of black cargo pants that at least had no noticeable holes, a white shirt, red vest, and his black wool coat with the frayed fur trim. With his filthy boots, wild eyes, and unkempt hair (the way it was still unkempt after just showering was one of the many mysteries of Heathcliff) he looked every bit like the hellion who’d just stepped off the moors.
“Let’s just get this ordeal over with,” Heathcliff muttered as he helped me wind my scarf around my neck.
“You might not be excited, but I can’t wait.” Every year since I could remember, I’d attended the Argleton Christmas market. Usually, I went with my best friend Ashley and her family, because Mum would be behind a stall trying to hawk smoothie packs or ugly leggings or whichever wacky pyramid scheme she was involved in at the time. I felt a faint twinge of sadness that Ashley wouldn’t be there this year – she’d been murdered only a few months ago. Even though we were no longer friends at the time, I still felt her loss like a punch in the gut.
But it was quickly replaced by a sizzle of excitement. For the first time ever, I’d be going with my boyfriends. I linked arms with Heathcliff and Morrie. Quoth hopped onto my shoulder as we walked out the door of Nevermore Bookshop and were transported to a new world.
Mrs. Ellis and her committee transformed the town green into a Christmas wonderland, with strings of colored fairy lights looped between the lamp posts and bedecking the statue of the town’s founder. Delicious Christmassy smells wafted from a line of food trucks parked opposite the pub, which had a license to serve drinks on the green for tonight only. I breathed in deep the mingled scents of mulled wine, fruit mince pies, hot roasted nuts, roast beef smothered with gravy, and Yorkshire puddings as big as my head.
Stalls around the perimeter sold Christmas goodies – wooden toys, baby clothes, knitted beanies and scarves covered with rows of jaunty reindeer, dollhouse furniture, teddy bears of all shapes and colors, homemade fudge and artisan cheeses. I waved to Mum, who was busy showing off her fancy wrapping papers to a gaggle of excited women. In the stall next to her, my eyes picked up the twinkle of jewelry. As my eyesight got worse, I discovered I derived a kind of visual joy from seeing sparkles and twinkles. I dragged the boys over to the jewelry stand.
“Look at these!” I held up a pendant containing an amethyst set into three bird claws. “This is really cool.”
“I make all these myself,” a familiar voice said. I turned to see Elizabeth, Bertie’s wife, grinning at me from behind the counter.
“Wow, I had no idea. You’re so talented.” I swung the necklace rack in a slow circle, leaning c
lose to make out the details of the intricate pendants.
“Thank you. Can I help you pick out something?” She winked at the guys. “Perhaps whichever one of these lads is your boyfriend might like to buy you an early Christmas present?”
Please, not more presents.
But it was too late, Heathcliff had already pulled out his wallet. Grinning, Elizabeth held a necklace up beside my face.
“I think this brings out the color of your eyes.” She handed me a mirror and unclasped the necklace. “And I’ve got matching earrings, but they’re not on display. I’ll show you after I’ve secured this…”
“Let me.” Heathcliff took the necklace from her hands and draped the chain around my neck. I squinted at the mirror while Elizabeth hunted around in the back of her stall. Morrie spun an earring rack. As colors and stones whirled past, something caught my eye.
“Wait.” I stopped the earring rank mid-spin. “Look at these.”
I held a pair of enormous black stone earrings up to Morrie. He shook his head. “Those are totally wrong for your coloring. They’re perfect for Heathcliff, though. They’d bring out the rage in his eyes.”
I shoved them closer to Morrie’s face. “Look closer. They’re the same as the earring we found in the shop.”
“Croak?” Quoth tapped the earrings with his beak.
Elizabeth stared at us, her smile frozen, not sure how to react. “Did you want those hematite earrings, Mina?”
“No thanks. I noticed them because we found an earring on the floor of the shop that’s identical to these. They’re so beautiful, I’d love to be able to return it to its owner.” I flashed a sweet smile as I pulled the earring out of my pocket. “Can you help us find the owner? If you keep a record of who buys from you—”
Elizabeth shook her head. “I’m afraid I’m not as sophisticated as all that. Although I’m sure Bertie will get his way eventually and I’ll have my whole business online. He’s always going on about the power of cloud computing for small business—”
“I think Bertie’s going to bring this whole village kicking and screaming into the 21st century,” I laughed. “But back to these earrings. Do you sell many of this particular design?”
“Not really. They’s a little large and dark for most people. Most ladies prefer the daintier styles they can wear every day.”
As Elizabeth turned, I noticed a few sparkly beads sticking out of the back of her sweater. “It looks like you’re using yourself as a display stand.” I pointed to the rogue craft supplies.
“Oh, silly me. I must’ve leaned back over my craft table again.” Elizabeth laughed, pulling off the beads. “It’s these winter woollies – everything sticks to them, especially jewelry. Why, often my husband will leave the house with one of my earrings stuck to his suit and he won’t even notice!”
A thought occurred to me. “You haven’t noticed any of your own supplies of these earrings gone missing?”
“Why, yes, actually.” Elizabeth frowned. “It was those black earrings you’re holding. I had two pairs on my craft table, and this morning when I packed up for the market one earring was missing. I bet Bertie snagged it on his sweater and dropped it when he visited last night. I always tell him to check himself before he goes outside, but he never listens. If it’s not numbers or spreadsheets, he’s completely hopeless.”
“Bertie came over to the shop… last night?” Morrie leaned forward, his eyes twinkling with the scent of an important clue.
“Yes. It was probably around 11:30PM. He left an important piece of paper in Heathcliff’s office, and he wanted it so he could finish the accounts last night. I said you’d all be asleep and he needed to wait for morning, but he swore he’d just pop in and out, all quiet-like.” She lowered her voice. “Between you and me, he’s been under a lot of stress lately, what with me losing my job and Princess’ new puppies. He was going to give you the accounts today so he could get paid and we’d have a bit of money over Christmas, but then we heard about the terrible robbery, and he didn’t want to bother you all.”
I bet he didn’t. If Bertie had accidentally snagged the earring on his coat, and he’d been in the shop last night after Heathcliff got home, he could be the Christmas thief.
“It’s just horrible,” Elizabeth continued. “I can’t imagine who would commit such a heinous crime. It must’ve been someone who truly hates Christmas…”
Her voice trailed off as Heathcliff’s eyes bore into her. She straightened up. He’d come to the same conclusion as I had about Bertie, but Elizabeth had also just realized who would be the likely suspect, and she mistook Heathcliff’s suspicion for guilt. She straightened up and her voice took on a businesslike tone. “Well, anyway, I hope they catch the bastard who did it. I’ll wrap up the necklace for you and you can be on your way.”
While Heathcliff paid for my necklace, Morrie and I exchanged a look. We needed to find Bertie and wrestle the truth from him somehow.
As I accepted my wrapped necklace, Tabitha bustled over. “Hi, Mina. Hi, boys. Elizabeth, I’m so pleased to see you. I wondered if you might be able to help me. I’ve lost one of your lovely hematite earrings.”
“You have?” Elizabeth turned to me. “Mina, isn’t this fortuitous? I remember now that Tabitha purchased a set of those exact earrings from me six months ago. So maybe the one you found in the bookshop wasn’t mine after all.”
Tabitha lost an earring? Interesting.
“You found an earring in the bookshop?” Tabitha backed away, her eyes darting from me to Heathcliff. “Er… it can’t possibly be mine. I lost my earring a week ago, so I definitely wasn’t wearing them yesterday when I visited the shop. I’ve got to go – I need to get my beauty sleep if I’m to be up bright and early for the shoot tomorrow.”
Oh, she must not have heard. “Actually, Tabitha, the tree was—”
But Tabitha cut me off before I could finish. She backed away, her eyes darting toward the pub. “Elizabeth, I can see you’re busy, so I… I’ll talk to you later.”
Watching Tabitha dash across the green, a nagging feeling prickled behind my eyes. I remembered why those earrings looked familiar to me. Tabitha had been wearing them when she came to talk to me in the shop yesterday. Normally, I’d be too blind to notice, but those stones were so big they stuck out.
Which meant Tabitha was lying. And she was acting very cagey. But why?
Bertie or Tabitha? We still had two potential suspects. But how to figure out which one of them had taken the gifts?
Chapter Seven
“It’s got to be the accountant.” Morrie frowned at the wine swirling in the bottom of his glass. “I never did trust him. He always looked far too happy about spreadsheets.”
“Of course you don’t trust him. You run a criminal empire out of Nevermore Bookshop and you don’t want to get caught. I’m not sure your opinion counts for much in this case.”
Morrie pushed his glass away in disgust. I didn’t know why he kept ordering wine from the Rose & Wimple – it never lived up to his exacting standards. “On the contrary. It takes one to know one, and Bernie Robinson has the cold, dead eyes of a villainous Christmas thief.”
“Croak!” Quoth nodded his head vigorously as he plunged his beak into the peanut bowl.
The four of us crowded around a table at the pub, sipping drinks (mine was a hot toddy, of course) and listening to Mrs. Ellis warble along to “I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus” on the village karaoke machine. Hardly anyone spoke to us, and villagers shot daggers at Heathcliff across the room. Word about the robbery had already spread, and Argleton wasted no time in acting as judge and jury.
“Speaking of Bertie,” Morrie gestured out the window. “He’s walking his motive around the green.”
I had to cup my hands on the window in order to see. I could just make out a figure being dragged along by a large golden retriever and five adorable puppies. Excited barks and yips penetrated Mrs. Ellis’ song. Bertie had the means and the motive, but I can’t i
magine him stealing from a charity.
“It just doesn’t seem like him.” I watched Bernie stopped to chat with Mrs. Ellis’ granddaughter Jonie. Jonie’s face lit up as she bent to pet the puppies, transforming her from a sullen pre-teen into a pretty, happy animal lover. Bertie lifted one of the dogs into her waiting arms, and Jonie laughed as it licked her cheek. “I can’t see him stealing presents meant for a charity. And if he did take the presents, why take the tree as well? Do we really think Bertie dragged that heavy thing outside all by himself? I’m more interested in Tabitha and her missing earring.”
“She has no motive. Right now we don’t even have proof she was in the shop that evening. And she doesn’t smell like catnip.”
“Neither does Bertie. Besides, we do have proof.” I dropped the earring on the table. Quoth picked it up and dangled it from his beak. “She lied about losing her earring a week ago. I saw her wearing these when she came in to speak to me about the calendar. She didn’t leave it then because you found it near the back of the tree. No one could have got around the tree unless they were the ones carting it off.”
“But the earring could also have been attached to Bertie’s jacket,” Morrie said. “We know from Curmudgeonly Cathy Lover over here how easily things can stick to clothes.”
I glanced over at Heathcliff, remembering all those pine needles stuck to his clothes. Of course, he’d have that many needles stuck to him if he staggered into the tree. It doesn’t mean he carried it outside.
It doesn’t.
“Don’t use that name,” Heathcliff growled. He referred, of course, to Cathy – his great love from Wuthering Heights. The woman who had rejected him shortly before he found his way into the real world and my arms. His ex. Even though she didn’t exist in our world, I’d found Cathy a little threatening in the beginning – Heathcliff and Cathy were literature’s greatest lovers – but now I was confident enough in myself to know that when Heathcliff said he was over her, he meant it.
How Heathcliff Stole Christmas: A Nevermore Bookshop Mysteries novella Page 5