by Ami Diane
“Jimmy, leave the poor man alone.” Rose’s eyes fell onto the dark tree, her crimson lips thinning into a line. “It’s such a shame the power’s out. It’ll be odd not having a lit tree for Christmas.”
“Also the heat,” Ella said, in case anyone forgot about the lack of furnace. “My room’s already turning into the North Pole.”
Jimmy grabbed a fire poker and nudged the logs around, causing shadows to flicker along the walls. “We’ll probably have to sleep in here or the study tonight.”
“I can’t do anything about the furnace, but….” The inventor strolled over and inspected the power cord for the Christmas lights. “I might be able to rewire the lights to an alternative source. If you’re not too attached to them, that is. I can rig them up to some batteries then return it to the plug-in after the holidays. It’ll be a little worse for wear but should still work in an outlet.”
Rose shrugged. “I’d be fine with that, but we’re out of batteries.”
“Jimmy and I found some flashlights with batteries earlier,” Ella said.
Jimmy rubbed a hand over his thinning hair. “They’re almost dead, though.”
They fell silent, thinking through the problem.
Ella snapped her fingers. “Of course. I don’t know why I didn’t think of it before. Be right back.”
She raced up to her room and retrieved the “C” batteries from her Bluetooth speaker. They clanged together and rolled over her palm as she bit her lip. Listening to music and podcasts through the speakers was one of her last connections to home. However, she could still use the small, built-in speaker on her cell phone.
She darted back to the staircase, nearly bowling Edwin over. She informed him they were all in the parlor, then she hollered down the dark hallway for Flo to join them too.
A small pop, not quite an explosion but something in between, answered followed by Flo’s rusty voice carrying out a litany of swear words.
Ella winced. “Give it a break, will you? If I don’t see you downstairs in the next five minutes, I’ll…” She couldn’t think of a good threat, so she changed tactics. “Will’s downstairs. He’s going to be spending Christmas with us.”
“I’ll be right down. Soon as I put out this fire.”
“Son of a—” Ella took a step towards Flo’s room, shook her head, then backed towards the stairs. No smoke came from the crack under the door. Flo would holler if it was serious.
Ella stopped on a stair. Wouldn’t she?
“What is with everyone here and fires?” she mumbled to herself and resumed descending the grand staircase.
Back in the parlor, Will had already stripped the wires and had a roll of electrical tape standing by. Edwin settled onto the chaise lounge sofa while Jimmy and Rose sat on the couch across from him, discussing the mayoral candidates for the upcoming election.
The hardwood floor felt cold beneath Ella as she sat next to Will. His eyes widened when she handed him the precious batteries.
“Where did you get these?” When she told him, his mouth turned down. “Ella, I can’t take these from you.”
“You can, and you will. I’d rather have the tree lit for Christmas. I just hope they’ll last long enough to enjoy them tomorrow.”
“They will. We’ll only turn them on for a little bit tonight, save most of the juice for tomorrow morning.”
While she helped hold the batteries in parallel—or succession to each other, ensuring that the positive electrode touched the negative of the next—their conversation drifted from her telling him about rechargeable batteries to the research she’d been conducting before her arrival in Keystone. It had been some time since she’d talked linguistics, and she became more energized the longer she spoke. By the time they were ready to test the lights, her heart felt light, a million miles away from murders and break-ins and Vikings.
“Okay, let’s give it a go,” Will said.
“Wait.” She grabbed his arm “Just like that with no pomp? Let me give you a drumroll at least.”
She attempted to make the noise with her mouth, but it came out weedy and more like she was having a stroke. So, she switched to drumming her hands on the floor.
With great ceremony, he touched the exposed wire to the positive node of the first battery.
“Ta-da!” Ella called out.
The tree came alive with large Christmas bulbs and bubble lights, reflecting in the dark windows. Reaching over, Ella grabbed Will’s hand and forced it into a high five.
“See?” she said, referring to the high five. “Doesn’t your hand feel just so—” she breathed in “—satisfied?”
“Kind of hurts. Should it be tingling?”
Jimmy and Rose clapped at the tree while Edwin nodded his approval. Flo, who’d just come in, took one look at the decorations. “This what I came down here for?”
“And Will,” Ella reminded her. The older woman shot her a death glare, her cheeks tinting more than the clown rouge she usually wore.
“Nice to see you, Flo,” the inventor said, full of 1920s charm. “It’s ever a mystery to me how you have friends.”
Ella spoke out the side of her mouth in a loud stage-whisper. “She doesn’t.”
Flo’s mountain of hair shivered as she dropped into a wing-backed chair. “Quite the change of tune from a bit ago, poodle head.” Her voice rose a full octave and turned nasally. “‘Oh, Flo. I’d just cry if you didn’t join us—’”
“I don’t sound like that.” Ella turned to Will. “Do I sound like that?”
“‘—we’d be lost without you. You’re so pretty and funny. You’re my best friend.’”
“I did not say that,” Ella protested then said louder so the whole room could hear. “I never said that.”
Flo turned her back so only Ella and Will could see her face as she gave a vicious wink. “It ain’t right to lie. Not on Christmas. What would the good Lord say?”
Ella’s voice dropped so Rose wouldn’t overhear. “You know you’re going to hell, right?”
“I’ll save you a seat.”
CHAPTER 21
FOR A LATE dinner—Ella’s second, which she failed to mention to anybody—they had turkey and cranberry sandwiches on the parlor floor, picnic style. Half the meal was filled with Rose fretting about what to do for food the next day if the power wasn’t restored.
“Honey, if you haven’t noticed, we’re not picky eaters,” Jimmy said, a red cranberry stuck on his chin.
“Speak for yourself,” Flo said.
“Just so long as we’re all together,” Jimmy continued without acknowledging the old coot, “warm and safe. That’s what matters.”
Rose’s eyes narrowed behind her cat eye glasses. “This isn’t a Dickens novel, for heaven’s sake. You can’t have a proper holiday without proper holiday food.”
Ella leaned back, her belly finally reaching its capacity after a second sandwich. “I’m sure we’re supposed to argue that point… something about the birth of Christ or what have you. But I like your priorities.” She rubbed her hand over her belly.
Rose laughed, then Jimmy pecked his wife on the cheek.
A knock came from the front door proceeded by Wink’s voice in the entrance hall.
“We’re in here,” Ella yelled causing Rose to wince and cover her ears.
Wink strolled in, her electric pink bob standing at odd angles and an old-fashioned picnic basket in her arms different than Flo’s from their luge down the mountain.
She set the basket on the sofa and peeled off her hat and gloves. “I could barely see a foot in front of my face. I swear, if this weather keeps up, we’ll be snowed in by tomorrow morning.”
Ella prodded the basket lid, but the diner owner smacked her hand away.
“I think you’ve had enough.” Flo looked pointedly at Ella’s bulging stomach.
“You can’t blame a girl for wanting dessert.” She turned to Wink. “I thought you went home after you dropped off Scrooge over here. It’s dangerous to go
anywhere in this weather.” Ella pictured Wink traversing Twin Hills’ dangerous curves on Betsy.
“I was at Stewart’s Market—”
Ella made a catcall noise which everyone ignored.
“—when the power went out. I don’t have enough firewood to last me through the night. So, I checked on old Shorty then came straight here.” She settled onto the chaise couch, staring across at Rose. “I hope it’s not too much trouble…”
“Not at all.”
“I don’t want to be a burden.”
“Nonsense. I’m offended that you even think so. There’s plenty of room here.”
“I’m not sure if we can hike next door, but if our food situation gets desperate enough, we can always send someone to the diner.”
“I volunteer Flo,” Ella said.
“Seconded,” said Will.
Rose shot them both dark looks.
Ella held up her hands. “Hey, I’m just saying what everyone’s thinking.”
“Keep talking,” Flo said. “Just remember where we’re both headed.”
Ella closed her mouth.
“Anyway,” Rose continued, “there’s plenty of food in the pantry.”
After she had Wink settled with a plate of food, Rose said, “So, Ella, how’s your investigation coming along? Have you figured out who ruined my kitchen?”
Jimmy leaned over to his wife and whispered loudly, “And hurt Wink, dear. Don’t forget Wink.”
Ella swallowed. There was no use in denying that she’d been trying to figure it out. “I’m just as clueless as you are. There’s not much to investigate.” Her eyes flitted to Edwin’s shoes. They appeared large, but she couldn’t get a look at the tread. “The most I have to go on is the shoe size and tread of the intruder. My guess is they’re from a man’s boot.”
“Could be a woman with big feet,” Flo suggested.
“I figured that was a given.”
“Well, it wasn’t.”
Ella hissed out a breath between her teeth. “Yes, so either a man or a female Sasquatch, yes.”
Flo blinked at her. “What’s a Sasquatch?”
“Oh, boy.” Ella bit her lip, unsure if she wanted to go down that rabbit hole of a topic with the conspiracy theorist.
Wink spoke up before she had to decide. “It might help narrow it down if we knew how they got into the diner.”
Ella shook her head. “I’ve been racking my brain. Only three people have a key. You, me, and Horatio.”
Wink became engrossed in the crumbs on her plate. “Five.”
“What’s that?” Ella bent her ear forward.
“Five people have keys.”
“Who else has a key?”
“Stew and Flo.”
Ella whirled around, turning accusatory eyes on the crazy old lady in the chair.
Flo returned the shaded look. “Come now. You can’t think I did it.”
“Bitter grapes and all that.”
“I hit my best friend?”
“Wouldn’t be the first time,” Wink said. The corner of her mouth turned up, indicating she wasn’t seriously considering Flo the perpetrator.
“One time,” Flo said. “I warned you I had a good right hook and that we shouldn’t be sparring.”
“Sparring?” Ella, who’d been reaching for her teacup, stopped, and she leaned forward. She mouthed sparring to Will who shrugged. Meanwhile, Edwin’s snores whispered from the sofa by the fireplace.
She shook away the barrage of questions tumbling around in her head. “Okay, Muhammad Ali and Floyd Mayweather. Sparring aside, no I don’t think Flo did it. Her shoe size doesn’t match for one. And even if she’d worn a larger pair, I think she’d have a hard time running in them. Remember? I ran after the vandal. Flo only runs if there’s food involved.”
The old woman sniffed. “True.”
“What are the chances Stewart is…” Ella searched for the least offensive turn of phrase.
“Less than honorable?” Rose helped.
“I was going to say a maniacal stain on humanity hell-bent on destruction with an unhealthy hatred of pies that should be treated by a professional. But sure, ‘less than honorable’ sounds better.”
“Lord have mercy,” Flo muttered, staring at Ella. “You need help.”
“Wink?” Ella asked.
“Stew’s as straight as they come,” Wink said.
Ella sipped at her tea before saying, “That means something different where I’m from, but go on. What’s his shoe size?”
Wink seemed taken aback by the question, slightly defensive, but then answered in a slow voice. “Ten and a half. I’d stake my life on him not being involved.”
Rose nodded, her blonde pin curls quivering. “She’s right. Mr. Benson could no sooner hurt Wink than himself. His world revolves around her.”
The color in Wink’s cheeks turned several different shades of pink.
“Did you check to see if he still had the key?” Will asked. “It’s possible someone could’ve stolen it.”
“I did. That was part of my reason for going over there. He still had it. Saw it with my own two eyes. Flo, do you still have yours?”
“Honestly,” Flo bit out. Her hand dived under her blouse, and several heads turned followed by a chorus of protests.
“Holy inappropriate, Flo.” Ella’s hand shot up to shield her eyes, hoping the image burned into her retinas would be forgotten before she died. “Do you want to be alone or something?”
“Keep your pantyhose on. Look.”
“I don’t want to.” Ella elbowed Will. “You look.”
“Me? Why me?”
“I’m showing you the key, for heaven’s sake.”
“Is your top on?”
Flo retorted in a mock voice. “Yes, my top is on. Sheesh.”
Slowly, Ella lowered her hand and told the others the coast was clear. “A little warning next time would be appreciated.” Her eyes fell to the key, and she let out a frustrated sigh. “Back to square one.”
“Did you figure out how the intruder broke in here?” Will asked.
Rose pursed her lips, throwing a shadowy glance at her husband.
“I know, dear,” he said. “We’re locking up from now on.”
For the month that Ella had lived there, the inn had always had an open-door policy because it was an inn, after all. If a local found themselves in a scrape and needed a place to stay, they had it. If an outsider traveled through the town, well, that was less than ideal, but at the very least the innkeepers could pump them for information about the surrounding area without having to send out a volunteer.
“So, it could’ve been anyone,” Rose said. Her petite shoulders sank.
Ella sat on the couch between Wink and Will, the two people she least suspected in both break-ins. In a low voice only they could hear, she said, “Except I checked the entire perimeter of the mansion. No footprints. Whoever broke in either flew and came down the chimney St. Nick style or….” She let the sentence die, leaving the other two to draw their own conclusions.
Neither spoke, but both their heads swiveled the room. Ella saw doubt then suspicion in their eyes amidst the reflection of firelight.
Flo sat up so suddenly Ella thought she was experiencing a seizure. “Got it.” The old woman smacked her lips and beamed, waiting for someone to say something.
Ella bit. “You going to tell us or do we have to read your mind?”
“Huh? You can’t read my mind. Not when I wear this.” Her hand dived into the beehive and came out with a chunk of tinfoil folded into a diamond.
Ella opened her mouth.
She snapped it shut.
“Hey, cotton head,” Wink said, “what is it you’ve got?” Flo blinked at her.
Ella took a deep breath. “You just said, ‘I got it’.”
“No, I didn’t.”
“Yes, you did. You literally just said that. Quit messing around with those stupid ghost repeller weapons. They’re frying what’s left of
your brain.”
Flo snapped her fingers. “That’s right. I was just sitting here, thinking how nice it’d be to make a device to walk through walls.” Her eyes slid to Will expectantly. When he didn’t so much as blink, she shrugged and continued. “Anyway, I thought, ‘Hey, Flo, you ol’ genius you, I think you’re on to something.’ Maybe that’s how the perp got in.”
“You think the vandal walked through the diner wall?” Wink said, her voice overlapping with Ella’s as she said, “Perp? Really?”
“Of course not. ‘Cause such a device hasn’t been invented yet.” The batty woman’s eyes slid again to Will, this time lingering until he shook his head in confirmation. “But maybe they picked the lock.”
Ella was unclear of how Flo had arrived at that conclusion from walking through solid matter, but she didn’t belabor the point.
Will’s hand ran down his jaw. “Hm, those things are a standard tumbler. Easy to pick.”
All sets of eyes—save the snoozing Edwin’s—turned towards the inventor.
“William Whitehall.” Rose peered at him over her glasses. “How would you know that?”
He shrugged. “Hey, I was young once.”
“So were we all,” Wink said, “but I can’t say as I ever learned how to jimmy a lock.”
Will’s hands fidgeted with the roll of tape in his lap, his eyes darted to Ella, and she got the sense he was gauging her reaction.
She shot him a thumbs up. “I expect you to teach me everything you know.”
“Planning on breaking and entering in your future?”
“Plan? No. But if I keep bumming around with these two, I anticipate that skill will come in handy.”
As the storm continued to rage outside, the hours grew long, Edwin awoke, and the conversation shifted to favorite Christmases of past. Will’s was around age fourteen when he received his first tool set. Rose’s was her first time ice skating. And Edwin’s was the last one he’d spent with his wife.
While the elderly man spoke, his voice creaked, not with years, but memories. His arthritic fingers brushed over his ring finger and the indentation of naked skin.