“You’re okay.” Ophelia tucked my head under her chin and rocked me gently. “Don’t look. You’re okay.”
Would I ever be okay?
In the distance, I could make out Clive’s voice screaming for towels and someone to call 911.
“Let’s move a little ways down the stage,” Ophelia suggested. “Move away from where you got sick.”
I scooted on my butt farther away from the horrific scene unfolding behind us. Ophelia sat back down next to me and gathered me close.
“I don’t understand,” I whispered. “What happened?”
I felt Ophelia shake her head. “I don’t know. But it looks bad.”
“How can sliding down a chimney do that kind of damage?” I sniffed. “It looks like his face is gone.”
Ophelia smoothed down my hair with her hand. “Shh, Holly. I don’t know anything more than you.”
“Will he die?” I whispered.
Ophelia said nothing for a few seconds. “I don’t know. But he’s losing a lot of blood.”
Tears stung my eyes. While I didn’t particularly care for Andrew as a person, I didn’t want him to die.
“Are you guys okay?” Bitsie asked as she and Helen sat gingerly down behind me.
“No,” I moaned. “I’ll probably never be okay.”
“They’ve called the police,” Bitsie informed us.
Helen started to cry. With my head still tucked under Ophelia, I reached out and found Helen’s hand and gave it a squeeze. She cried harder.
“Where’s Margot and Chloe?” Ophelia asked.
Bitsie gave a sardonic laugh. “When Chloe saw Andrew’s body after it was lifted out of the chimney, she fainted and went down pretty hard. Not to be outdone, Margot tried with all her might to faint. It would have been funny if the circumstances were different.”
“They’re with some people they know that work at the chateau,” Helen added.
I heard sirens in the distance and forced myself to stay calm. I’d seen enough police shows to know there’d be a long night of questions ahead. There was no doubt this would be one Christmas Eve I’d never forget.
Chapter 6
“We’re going to separate you,” the young deputy said to the four of us as we huddled together on the platform, “so Sheriff Morgan can speak to each one of you.”
By the time the ambulance had arrived and gotten Andrew stabilized enough to get him in the ambulance and transported to the nearest hospital, a half an hour had gone by. The whole time, Ophelia, Bitsie, Helen, and I had sat quietly together, burrowed deep inside the blankets the EMTs had given us, not saying a word. We could hear the conversation between the EMTs and the police regarding Andrew, and it didn’t sound good.
“If you four wouldn’t mind,” the deputy continued, “I’d appreciate it if you could follow me into the chateau.”
We all stood and followed him silently into the chateau. Clive was wringing his hands and pacing back and forth in the foyer. When he saw us, he visibly shuddered and drew in a deep breath.
“Deputy Swanson,” Clive acknowledged. “I have six rooms blocked off like you requested.”
“Thank you. If you’ll—”
“I don’t understand why we have to be questioned,” Margot’s shrill voice echoed in the foyer as she and Chloe stomped into the chateau. “We had nothing to do with this.”
“Could you please give it a rest,” Chloe snapped. “I’ve had about all I can take of you right now.”
My mouth dropped open.
“How dare you speak to me that way!” Margot shrieked even louder. “I’m your best friend!”
Chloe let out a very unlady-like snort and wrapped her arms around herself. “You’re walking a thin line right now.”
I don’t know for sure, but I think Margot’s mouth was hanging about as wide open as mine. Evidently she wasn’t used to Chloe having claws.
Deputy Swanson narrowed his eyes at Margot. “Ma’am, you are being questioned because you not only witnessed the incident, but we’ve been told you’ve been in close contact with the victim recently.”
Victim? Did that mean Andrew was dead?
“It’ll be okay,” Ophelia said as she wrapped her arms around me. “Just answer the questions, and we’ll go back to our rooms and have a stiff drink or two.”
I tried to smile at her, but my teeth were chattering too much.
Deputy Swanson separated us at the end of the hall.
My room was the manager’s office. Clive had it crammed full of papers, filing cabinets, and Christmas paraphernalia. I sat down woodenly in one of the chairs.
“Sheriff Morgan should be with you shortly, ma’am.”
I nodded my head but remained silent.
Deputy Swanson shut the door and left me to my thoughts.
Unfortunately, they weren’t good thoughts.
The way everyone acted when they lifted Andrew out of the chimney, it was pretty clear Andrew’s death—if he was indeed dead—wasn’t accidental. I started wracking my brain trying to figure out who would kill Andrew and why. It wasn’t a pleasant thought, but I needed something to keep me occupied. Maybe a husband caught wind of Andrew coming on to his wife? Andrew struck me as the kind of guy who would do that. Maybe he owed someone money? But that didn’t make sense. Usually you don’t get killed if you owed money, you get broken bones.
Could it be someone in our immediate group?
That thought brought me up short. I started to panic at the thought that someone in the condo may have killed Andrew. I closed my eyes and did a breathing technique I’d taught my students when calm heads needed to prevail.
I wasn’t even sure if Andrew was dead, and if he was, maybe it was an accident. I didn’t need to start jumping to conclusions.
I was so caught up in arguing with myself that I didn’t hear the door open.
“You doing okay there, miss?”
My eyes flew open, and I leaned forward in my seat. “You scared me.”
“Didn’t mean to. I’m Sheriff Morgan.” He yanked off his hat and set it on the desk. He then walked slowly to the other side of the room, grabbed an empty chair, and carried it over to where I was sitting. “Mind if I sit here?”
I shook my head. “No. Go ahead.”
The sheriff lowered his tall, wide frame into the chair and stared at me. He was graying around the temples of his short, black hair. His face was pale and gaunt. I couldn’t tell if it was because of what had happened tonight, or if he always looked like that.
He took a small notebook out of his front shirt pocket and clicked his pen.
“Your name?”
“Holly. Holly Anderson.”
The sheriff smiled. “That’s a nice name, especially around Christmas. I bet you hear that a lot.”
I nodded but said nothing. There was something about this man that scared me. I expected any minute for him to arrest me and haul me off to jail.
Stay calm. Don’t let him see how nervous you are.
“What do you do for a living, Miss Anderson?”
“You can call me Holly. I’m a teacher. I teach first grade at a school in Kansas City.”
Sheriff Morgan smiled. “Sounds like a great job.”
“I enjoy it a lot.”
“How did you know the victim, Andrew Bishop?”
“Victim? He’s really dead?” I whispered.
Sheriff Morgan stared at me for a full five seconds before answering. “Yes. He died en route to the hospital.”
I slapped a palm over my mouth so I wouldn’t cry.
“Your hand is shaking,” Sheriff Morgan observed.
Now I was angry. “Of course it’s shaking. I’m upset!”
He nodded sagely. “I see. How did you say you knew the victim Andrew Bishop?”
I took a deep breath. “I didn’t really know him. I just met him last night.”
Wow, had it only been a day since I met him?
“I see. And how did you meet him?”
“He came up to the refreshment table last night here at the chateau and started making small talk to Ophelia, Bitsie, Helen and me.” I frowned and tried to think back. “And I guess Margot and Chloe were there, also.”
“These are the girls you are staying with this week at the condo?”
I nodded. I didn’t like how he made it sound like we were all together. Like we were all friends on holiday together.
“Yes, technically. But we don’t know them. I mean, Ophelia and I don’t know them. The chateau does this thing where you rent a room and meet other people.”
Sheriff Morgan nodded. “So the first time you’d ever spoken with Andrew Bishop was last night?”
“Yes. Pretty much the first time I ever spoke with anyone in our talent show tonight, outside of Ophelia, was last night.”
“And what did Andrew say to you girls last night?”
“He said we should sign up for the talent show. Then Margot and Chloe came over and he knew them, and they were excited, so we all said yes.”
I could hear myself rambling, but I just wanted this to end.
Sheriff Morgan didn’t say anything for a few seconds, just looked over his notes. I couldn’t help it…I started to squirm in my seat.
Finally the sheriff looked up and cleared his throat. “Can you tell me where you were today between twelve and four?”
I caught my lower lip between my teeth. “How did Andrew die?”
Sheriff Morgan didn’t answer me.
“Holly,” Sheriff Morgan said more sternly, “where were you today between twelve and four?”
I blinked. “Well, after my skiing lesson from Andrew, it was probably noon. I stayed and skied down the bunny slopes for a while, grabbed a sandwich inside the chateau, and then I came back to the condo to rest.”
“Was anyone with you? Can someone corroborate your story?”
I saw up straighter in my chair. “Excuse me? Are you saying you think I killed Andrew?”
I could hear the hysteria in my voice, but I couldn’t help it.
“Again, I’m just trying to establish a timeline and your alibi.”
I thought back to my afternoon. “Well, I guess people could have seen me on the bunny slope. And maybe even the person who made my sandwich might recognize me. But then when I came back to the condo, I went straight to my room and stayed there until Ophelia came back and woke me up.”
Sheriff Morgan frowned and looked over his notes.
“I’m probably going to have more questions for you tomorrow, Holly. I suggest you stick around your condo, don’t venture too far. If you do need to leave, make sure you have someone with you.”
“You think I’m in danger?”
Sheriff Morgan smiled and his eyes twinkled. “No, ma’am. I think you need to have an airtight alibi.”
I felt like I’d been punched in the gut.
Sheriff Morgan stood. “Like I said, I’ll probably stop by the condo tomorrow around one to talk with everyone. Please make sure you’re available.”
“But it’s Christmas. Won’t your family be upset?”
Sheriff Morgan’s mouth lifted in a sad smile. “Murder doesn’t stop for the holidays. My family will understand.”
I sucked in a breath. “Murder! So Andrew was deliberately killed?”
“Yes, ma’am. It looks that way.”
“Are you sure? Maybe he just fell down the chimney wrong and…”
I trailed off, frowning. Now that I thought about it, sliding down a chimney didn’t mesh with the injuries Andrew had sustained. Andrew had massive damage to his face.
“Was something inside the chimney?” I asked. “Because now that I think about it, sliding down a chimney wouldn’t get you the injuries Andrew had to his face.”
Sheriff Morgan donned his hat, staring intently at me. “Merry Christmas, Holly. You’re free to go. We’ll talk more tomorrow.”
He turned and walked out of the room, leaving me shaking in my chair. Had I said too much? Did the sheriff think I had something to do with the murder just because I mentioned Andrew’s injuries?
Chapter 7
“Wake up, Holly. Merry Christmas.”
I was still on the cusp of a dream and didn’t want to leave. I tried burrowing down further into the covers, but my intruder wouldn’t stop pushing my shoulder.
“What?” I mumbled. “I’m tired. I’m trying to sleep.”
“It’s after eight on Christmas morning. Get your lazy bones up.”
After eight on Christmas? How could I have slept so long?
Then I remembered. Andrew was dead.
Murdered.
And we were all suspects.
I flipped over on my back and faced Ophelia. “I’m scared.”
“Oh, honey.” Ophelia reached over and brushed a stray curl off my forehead. “We’re all worried. In fact, I’ve been think about it all morning, and I think you and I need to get a jump on this thing.”
I sat up, the covers pooling around my waist. “What do you mean?”
“First things first. Let’s exchange Christmas gifts.”
I clapped my hands and gave a tiny squeal. “I love exchanging gifts.”
“I know! I don’t think anyone else is up yet,” Ophelia said. “I’m going to go make us some coffee, then we can sit upstairs in front of the big window and drink our Christmas coffee and exchange gifts.”
“Sounds great! I’ll meet you up there in about five minutes.”
After Ophelia left, I ran to my bag and pulled out her Christmas gift. I couldn’t wait for her to see what I had gotten her this year. Now that Ophelia and I had finished our Master’s degrees, we each had a very small increase in pay from the school. I’m not ashamed to say I used my increase to benefit both of us this year.
I threw on a clean pair of yoga pants, my favorite Christmas t-shirt, and Ho-Ho-Ho Santa socks. Reaching for the hairbrush, I quickly yanked it around my head. Satisfied I was rocking the Christmas spirit, I grabbed Ophelia’s gift wrapped in gaudy Santa with dancing elves wrapping paper, and headed upstairs.
“Perfect timing,” she sang out as she carried over a tray with two coffees and a tin of assorted Christmas cookies she’d made earlier in the week. The closer she got, the more excited I was for her to open her gift.
“Coffee first,” Ophelia said as she handed me a steaming cup.
I took a sip and my eyes crossed. “Good night! What’s in this?”
Ophelia gave me a sly smile. “Secret.”
“C’mon. Tell me.”
Ophelia laughed. “A little bit of Kahlua, Irish cream, and Rye. You pour it into a glass then light it on fire for about twenty seconds, then pour it into a glass of either chicory coffee or regular black coffee.”
“That’s such a crazy combination,” I said as I took another sip. “But it sure works.”
“If I were home, I’d whip up some homemade brandied whipped cream to spread on top.”
My mouth dropped open. “How do people drink this and still function?”
“It’s a special occasion coffee. It’s not like you drink it in the morning to get you going.”
I chuckled. “Too bad. I could probably get used to this.”
I dipped one of my cookies in the coffee and bit into the soft dough…and couldn’t help the moan. I sometimes think Ophelia missed her calling.
“Want your gift first?” I asked excitedly.
Ophelia laughed and set her mug on an end table. “You must be proud of it.”
I grinned. “I am. You’re gonna love it.”
“I’m not gonna lie,” Ophelia said. “My gift to you benefits both of us.”
I laughed. “Mine, too!”
“We’re so good together!”
I snorted. “I think that means we’re selfish.”
“Nah,” Ophelia said, picking up her coffee. “Good together.”
I thrust my gift-wrapped box with attached envelope at her. “You first. Box, then the envelope.”
“Lo
ve the wrapping,” Ophelia said sarcastically.
I don’t wrap well. My theory is the person is just going to rip it open, so why worry what it looks like. Ophelia shook the box and smiled when she heard a rustle inside. She grabbed hold of a Santa’s hat and ripped off his face and the face and body of the elves around him.
“Nice,” I laughed.
I grabbed another cookie and munched, watching her wrestling with the box.
A few seconds later, she pulled out a black apron that declared in bright pink letters that Mornings Were For Mimosas! “I love it!”
“Now the envelope.” I put my coffee down on the tray and leaned in close, anxious to see her face.
Ophelia carefully slid her finger under the flap and lifted. Reaching in, she opened the paper and read. “Holly! This had to cost a fortune!” She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. “I can’t believe you did this! You got us cooking classes for a year!”
“It’s once a month for a year. Each month will be a different chef, specializing in a cultural dish, dessert, and drink from that area. All the participants make it together, and then we can take the recipes home.”
“Oh, Holly,” Ophelia catapulted herself off her chair and practically jumped in my lap. I was knocked backward from the force.
“So you like it?”
“Oh, please,” she swatted me playfully on the arm. “You know I love it.” She looked back down at the paper. “I just can’t believe you did it.”
“I’m not gonna lie. I got on one of those sites where they offer these daily outrageous coupons, and I got a pretty good deal.”
“I don’t care,” she said. “I’m just so excited I can’t even tell you.”
“Our first class is in January.”
Ophelia gave me a big, slobbery kiss on the cheek then sat back down in her chair. “It’s funny, but my gift to you sort of revolves around this, too.”
I held out my hands. “Then give it to me!”
She thrust the Christmas bag into my hands and laughed as I tossed out the tissue paper and reached for the gift wrapped in pink glittery ribbon. I pulled the gift out of the bag, lifted the ribbon, and started laughing. “No way!”
The ribbon bound ten different gift cards to various places in Kansas City that specialized in food and wine pairings, along with a few breweries that served food.
Killer Christmas Cozies Page 4