Like Bethany on Saturday night, Val saw only a dark mound near the bush ahead of her. But she could tell the shape was shifting. She’d suggested he mimic the act of emptying a pebble from his shoe. The mound got lower and then she was close enough to glimpse Bram’s bare hands tying his shoe.
Val repeated the question Bethany had asked the ghost. “Are you okay?”
“Happy Holidays,” Bram said in his own voice. He uncurled himself and stood upright. “Did you see me take off the gift bag?” When she shook her head he continued. “I bent over, slipped off the bag with one hand, and pulled up my hood with the other hand. All in one motion.”
“The magician’s hands are quicker than the eye. But I spotted those hands when you were tying your shoe. Bethany didn’t see that. Could the ghost have kept his gloves on while tying his shoe?”
“No way. I wore gloves to untie my shoe, take it off, and put it back on, but tying the shoelaces was impossible with gloves. If I couldn’t do it, neither could the ghost. The elongated fingers on his skeleton gloves would have gotten caught in the knot as he tied his shoes. But maybe he didn’t need to tie his shoes because he didn’t remove a pebble from them, or he wore loafers.”
“The Ghost Wore Loafers would make a good book title, but I glimpsed the back of the ghost’s shoe as he left the CAT Corner. It looked like a white athletic shoe.” Val felt a tug on the leash as Muffin headed back toward the intersection, perhaps in hopes of another treat. Her two human escorts followed. “Let’s assume the ghost had bare hands and was afraid Bethany had seen a distinguishing feature on them. In one of Granddad’s favorite Hitchcock films, The 39 Steps, the villain is missing part of a finger. Something like that, or a scar, a birthmark, or a tattoo on the hand, could be the reason the ghost poisoned Bethany.”
“As Sherlock Holmes says, ‘There is nothing like firsthand evidence.’ In this case, there’s nothing like hand evidence. Am I right in guessing that you’ll study the hands of all your suspects?”
Val laughed. As a fan of Arthur Conan Doyle’s detective, Bram could find a Sherlock quote to fit any occasion. “I won’t be able to stop myself from looking at their hands. But even if I see someone with a missing finger, the chief wouldn’t consider that evidence because Bethany didn’t see it.” Muffin stopped and sniffed around a tree under a streetlamp. “Most people with motives to kill Jake were in plain sight at the tea and couldn’t have poisoned him. And the people who could have dressed as the ghost and delivered the poisoned cookie don’t have an obvious motive. It seems like an impossible crime.”
“Sherlock to the rescue. ‘When you have eliminated the impossible, whatever remains, no matter how improbable, must be the truth.’ ”
“Chief Yardley has sometimes dismissed my reasonable theories as improbable. If I came up with a really improbable solution, he’d call it wacky or, even worse, ditsy.” A word Val hated because it was sexist, only ever applied to women. She looked up at Bram. “Got any other words of wisdom from Sherlock?”
Bram pointed to Muffin. “There’s ‘the curious incident of the dog in the night-time.’ ”
Val had heard that one often enough to recite the next line. “ ‘The dog did nothing in the night-time.’ And Muffin did nothing during the night between Sunday and Monday, when the killer left poisoned chocolates for Oliver. The curious incident was why the killer didn’t leave the chocolates for Bethany that same night.”
Muffin circled the tree twice, so Val did the same to unwind the leash. She felt as if she was going in circles on the poisonings too. After deciding that none of the victims were random, she was now second-guessing that. Could Oliver have been a random victim, meant to obscure the connection between the ghost and Bethany?
When Val circled back to Bram, he said, “I want to explain why I left your house so quickly on Monday night.”
So his claim of not feeling well that night hadn’t been the whole truth. “I’d like to hear your explanation. I was afraid it was something I said.”
“It was. You described all the bad things Jake had done. Then you said that his worst act was jilting his fiancée right before the wedding, exactly what you’d expect from a jerk like him.” Bram took an audible deep breath and released it. “I couldn’t decide what to do. Admit being a jerk too? Defend what he did? Hide the truth and mislead you? I had to think before saying anything, so I left to do that.”
Val took a moment to digest his words. They could mean only one thing. “You jilted your fiancée too?”
He gazed at the ground, where the roots of the tree stuck out. “Six years ago I got engaged. It was like getting on a train that made no stops. As soon as I realized I’d made a mistake, I pulled the emergency brake, but that wasn’t until—”
“Until she was walking down the aisle?”
He looked up. “I’m not that much of a jerk. It was two weeks before the wedding. It was the right thing to do, but I felt terrible about how I’d treated her. I threw myself into work and avoided getting involved with anyone. The only girlfriends I had were as driven as I was in the workplace. They were no-risk relationships.”
Why was he telling her this now, in his last few weeks before picking up his old life? She shrugged. “So you have commitment issues because of a previous relationship. Lots of people do, including me. That doesn’t make you a jerk.”
His face lit up with a big smile. “I’m glad to hear it, because I think I’m getting over my reluctance to commit.”
And now he would tell her about the woman he’d left behind when he came here in October, and how absence had made his heart grow fonder. “Good to know commitment phobia doesn’t last forever.” Val tugged gently on the dog’s leash. “Time to head home, Muffin.”
Main Street was less deserted than Dixon Lane. Couples came out of restaurants, singles went into bars, and families with children peered at the decorated shop windows. But it was a smaller crowd than Val remembered from last year’s holiday season, either because of tonight’s raw weather or the effect of three poisonings on the holiday spirit.
As they made the final turn onto Grace Street, Val shivered in the cold.
Bram held out the cloak he’d been carrying. “This will protect you from the wind.”
“Thanks, but I’ll make it the three blocks to Granddad’s house without freezing.” And without looking like a tent with feet.
“This afternoon I got a text from a real estate agent about a house that’s going on the market after New Year’s. She’ll arrange for me to get a sneak preview of it. Then, if I like it, I can jump on it when it’s listed for sale.”
Val hadn’t expected him to go away quite so soon. “So you’ll fly to California before Christmas to see the house?”
“The house isn’t in California, Val. It’s here.”
What would he do with a house here if he was moving away? “Are you buying it as an investment, a rental property?” Or maybe to replace the tiny house his mother was renting.
He peered at her as if she’d just spoken in Swahili. “I’m buying the house to live in. When I came here to help Mom open the bookshop, the two rooms over the shop were fine as temporary lodging, but it’s too cramped to stay there long-term. I thought I told you I was moving.”
But he hadn’t said where, and that was her fault. “You told me, and I jumped to the conclusion that you’d changed your mind about staying here and were returning to California.” And she’d cut off discussion of his plans to spare herself pain. Now that Val knew he wasn’t leaving after all, she felt a warmth inside her that the north wind couldn’t penetrate. She reached for his hand. “I’m glad you’re staying. Tell me about the house.”
“I don’t know much about it, but I’d like you to look at it with me and get your opinion.”
“I’ll give you my opinion. When have I ever not?”
Muffin picked up the pace, and Val felt as if she was floating behind the dog. It wasn’t going to be the miserable Christmas she’d feared. She would get to
introduce her parents to Bram after all. She envisioned them all at the table and the food they’d share.
As they approached Granddad’s house, the chief’s car pulled up to the curb, and Val came back to earth. A cloud still hung over the holidays. Only one thing would lift that cloud—solving the murders so Bethany could have a happy Christmas, free of fear that a killer would target her again.
The chief climbed out of the car. “I’m glad to see you two out walking Bethany’s dog. She’s inside with your granddaddy?”
Val nodded. She’d planned to ask Bram to come in, but he said a quick good night and left. Just as well. The chief might not be as forthcoming with another person there as he would be with only her, Granddad, and Bethany present.
Val sensed he’d come to deliver bad news.
Chapter 22
Val felt the tension in the sitting room. Granddad sat on the edge of his favorite chair, feet on the floor, instead of lounging in it as he usually did. Val perched on the arm of his chair. Bethany sat stiffly on the sofa next to her squirming dog. Everyone’s attention was on Chief Yardley.
He took the armchair near the fireplace, but he didn’t lean back. “I have some updates. Chemical test results show the residue in Jake’s flask, teacup, and water glass contained nothing unusual. Everyone at the table ate the same food he did without ill effects. Unless Jake consumed something else that no one noticed, the gingerdead man must have contained the poison.”
Val exchanged a look with Granddad. Nice that science confirmed the assumption they’d made from the beginning. She understood why the chief was updating them. He was now convinced Bethany had talked to Jake’s murderer. That was why she’d been poisoned. “Did the police hear from anyone else who spotted the ghost?”
The chief nodded. “Two people. One of them saw the masked individual not far from Bethany’s house on Saturday evening, soon after she walked home from Dixon Lane.”
Bethany’s face puckered up with worry. “The ghost followed me home.”
Granddad said, “If Bethany was such a threat, why didn’t the ghost get rid of her right away? By strangling her if he had no other weapon.”
The chief said, “Choking the life out of someone is harder than using poison.”
Bethany clutched her throat. “Also, people were walking home from the festival on the streets around Dixon Lane. Someone could have come along at any moment.”
“Where did the other person see the ghost, Chief?”
“In the festival parking lot around seven o’clock.”
Fifteen to twenty minutes after running into Bethany on Dixon Lane, the ghost was still wandering around in a costume. Though that information didn’t tell Val who had dressed as the ghost, it told her who hadn’t. Franetta had been only a few minutes late for tea. She wouldn’t have had the time to follow Bethany home, walk to the parking lot halfway across town, change costumes, and get back to the bookshop in time for tea.
Granddad leaned forward. “Did the witnesses talk with the ghost?”
“The one in the parking lot did. He said, ‘Good evening’ to the ghost, who replied, ‘Happy Holidays.’ ”
“In a woman’s voice,” Val said.
When the chief didn’t contradict her, she told him Bram’s theory about an audio clip. The chief sat back and heard her out, but she couldn’t tell from his face if he would accept or reject the theory.
When she finished, he said, “Canned audio matches this killer’s style. This is a belt-and-suspenders person, overcompensating for anything that might go wrong. He limps to disguise his walk and plays canned audio to hide his voice. He uses a mask, a hood, and a gift bag to hide his face, and two sets of eyeholes in the bag to obscure his height. And, on the slight chance that Bethany saw an identifiable feature, the ghost poisons her.”
Bethany rubbed her forehead as if she had a headache. “Are you ruling out that a woman did it?”
The chief shook his head. “I’m not ruling out anything. Someone with this killer’s personality will try again after failing the first time. The ghost knows where you live, Bethany. Don’t go near your house until we catch this person. If you need anything from your place, an officer can pick it up for you.”
Muffin snuggled up to her owner. Bethany spoiled her pet, but she derived a lot of comfort from the dog. She stroked Muffin. “What’s important to me is already here. I can manage, at least for a while.”
Val said, “You came face-to-mask with a killer, Bethany. So did the other people who reported seeing the ghost, but they didn’t get poisoned. Why you? You either saw something they didn’t, or the ghost thinks you did. When you first described the ghost bending down, you said it looked like someone tying their shoes. Did you see the ghost’s feet or hands?”
“Not the feet.” Bethany squinted like a nearsighted person trying to make out a distant object. “I saw a hand for a second before the ghost pulled a glove over it. The person had light skin. It was so dim that I’m not sure if the hand was a woman’s or a man’s.”
The chief said, “Did you notice any jewelry or a tattoo?”
“No. I had a side view, like you’d see from above if someone was going to shake your hand.” Bethany held out her hand with only her thumb and index finger visible.
Val wasn’t ready to abandon the idea that the ghost’s hand had an identifying feature. Though Bethany hadn’t observed anything unusual in the dark, the ghost had no way to know that. “You just stuck out your right hand, Bethany. Was it the ghost’s right hand that you glimpsed?”
Bethany nodded.
“Call me if you remember anything else, Bethany.” The chief turned to Granddad. “One other thing before I go, Don. You’ve been to Jewel’s house a couple of times and the evidence you acquired there will be useful, but I want to warn you against seeing the woman again.”
Granddad was taken aback. “I’m not seeing her. She hired me to do a job at her house.”
The chief continued as if Granddad hadn’t spoken. “She’s been involved in frauds, including at least one sweetheart scam. She got gifts and loans from a widower who was convinced she loved him. She would have emptied out his bank account if the family hadn’t stepped in.”
“She may be trying that, but she’s not my type,” Granddad said.
A few months after moving in with him, Val had worried that he would fall for a sweetheart scam, but this time she was sure he could see through it. With Dorothy around Val figured he was immune to Jewel’s “charms.”
The chief stood up. “You all have a good night. Sit down, Don. I’ll let myself out.”
Granddad ignored him and levered himself out of his chair. “I get stiff if I sit too long. By the way, did Jake have any history of blackmailing folks?”
“We didn’t find any record of it. Blackmailers and their victims don’t usually report their dealings to the police. You have a reason to think Jake was blackmailing someone?”
With the two men now in the hall, Val couldn’t catch every word they said, but she heard enough to know Granddad was telling the chief about the drowning incident Oliver had mentioned involving the Frosts’ son. Granddad suggested Jake might have heard about the drowning while hobnobbing with town big shots. If he’d tried to blackmail the Frosts or their son, they had a motive for murdering him, as well as Oliver.
The chief thanked Granddad for the information and left.
As the heavy front door closed behind him, Muffin perked up. She settled down when Granddad returned to his chair.
Val glanced at the dog snuggling next to Bethany. “Does Muffin usually bark when people walk near your house?”
“Not if they stay on the sidewalk or the street. But as soon as they approach my door, she barks. That’s her territory to guard.”
“Did she bark at all Sunday night?” That would have been the earliest someone could have left the chocolates that Oliver found the next morning.
“No, and there was a lot of activity. My neighbor across the street was hav
ing a big football watching party. Muffin had no problem with people coming and going or standing outside smoking.”
Val suspected the poisoner had more of a problem with the neighbor’s guests than the dog did. “Whoever left chocolates at Oliver’s house that night probably planned to leave them at your place too, but was afraid the party-goers would spot him. That’s why the poisoner postponed your delivery.”
Bethany nodded. “Until one in the morning on Tuesday. Muffin barked then.”
Granddad frowned. “Makes more sense for the killer to return later the same night. Why wait another twenty-four hours before doing the dirty deed?”
Val shrugged. “The poisoner didn’t wait to stay up or had to be somewhere else.”
Bethany shifted her position on the sofa, rousing Muffin from a snooze. “I’ll say good night and head upstairs. I need a rest from talking about murder.”
And probably from the sagging sofa. Val stood up. “I’ll look again at Monique’s festival photos in case I missed something.” She started toward the study, stopped, and turned back toward Granddad, remembering that he too had a photo. “I’ve been so busy following leads that I forgot about the picture you took of the table right after Jake keeled over. I was there and saw the table, but so much was going on, I didn’t concentrate on it.”
Granddad took his phone from his shirt pocket and brought up the photo. She sat back down on the arm of his chair so they could both look at it. By the time he’d snapped that picture, everyone had left their chairs to cluster around Jake, but Val had no trouble recalling where they’d sat. Jake had been at the head of the small rectangular table and Jewel on the side to his right, with Shantell next to her. Holly had been on Jake’s left with Franetta next to her, and Granddad at the foot of the table.
“Irene and I set the table the same way for every tea,” Val said. “Cup and saucer above the knife on the right side of the plate and the water glass to the left of the saucer. Look where Jewel’s cup is.”
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