I spotted the lock on the front door from a dozen feet away. It was an industrial deadbolt. Steel. Five inches long and five inches wide with an enormous clamp across the middle.
“That’s an intense lock.” I climbed the stairs to the porch. “The kind of lock one might have if one were hiding from the law.”
Teeny nodded. “Or if they were hiding from a scary, bald neighbor in Pennsylvania.”
Miss May rang the bell. A harsh, industrial buzzer sounded. It was almost like the sound of an electric shock. No one answered the door.
“Why is it that no one is ever home when we come calling?” I asked.
Miss May shrugged. “We don’t visit people who answer their doors for strangers. At least not often.” Miss May gestured toward the far corner of the porch. “Check it out. Security camera.”
I walked toward the corner. Miss May was right. There was a small red light pulsing, and it was attached to a minuscule security camera.
“Great,” I said. “So whoever this house belongs to, they know we’re here.”
“This is Orville Starr’s house,” Miss May said. “I know that for a fact.”
I furrowed my brow. “How do you know that?”
Miss May squatted down and grabbed an envelope from the welcome mat. “I took a tip from that angry bald men. Checked out the mail on the doorstep.”
Miss May handed me the envelope. Sure enough, the letter had been addressed to Orville Starr. It was just junk mail but seeing his name there gave me a shiver. I took a deep breath. “Seems like he’s not home. Oh. That’s dumb. Of course he’s not home.”
“Because he’s dead,” said Teeny, in a helpful, upbeat tone.
“Still. Mrs. Claus might be around here somewhere. Clearly, someone has been home since Orville died.”
I looked around. “How do you know?”
Miss May sniffed the air. “Smell that? Wood. Someone had a fire here earlier today. I also noticed tire tracks out on the road before everything turned to mud. They looked fresh.”
Teeny turned down the sides of her mouth, impressed. “Not bad. You really are good at this.”
“Maybe we should leave a note on the doorstep,” I said. “I think I have pen and paper in the car. I could trudge back to get it.”
Miss May shook her head. “I’m uncomfortable with that. If we leave a note, it might get taken by the killer or somehow used against us. I don’t want anyone else to know we were here.”
I shrugged. “So what are we going to do?”
Miss May gestured back to the security camera. “Teeny. Those cameras record everything right? And you can play it back? That looks like the model you have at the restaurant.”
Teeny nodded. “Yup. That’s why we were able to watch Humphrey eat that entire pizza like a little pig. And if the owner of this house has the cameras set up right, they might be getting a live feed on their smart phone right now.”
Miss May nodded. “Good.”
I wrinkled my nose. “Good how? What’s good? What are you going to do with the camera?”
Miss May pulled a pen and pad from her purse. She scrawled a quick note on the paper. Then she crossed to the camera and held the note up in front of the lens.
Teeny nodded. “Smart move, May.”
“What does the note say?” I asked.
Miss May turned back to me. “The note says, ‘Come talk to me at the orchard. I want to find whoever killed Orville. And I think you can help.’”
25
The Missing Missus
The next morning, we had a line out the door of the bakeshop before we opened. At first, Miss May and I were confused. Business was always booming this time of year, but not this booming.
Then we learned that our apple pie truffles had been featured on a popular local social media account the previous night. The sudden demand for our custom baked goods made sense. The shop was so busy, KP even stopped in to help out. Normally, it was fun when KP worked beside us in the bakeshop. But he was still grumpy and insulted that the mayor had asked him to be Santa instead of Humphrey. He informed us he had been on a diet since the tree-lighting ceremony but couldn’t help himself from stress-eating a dozen chocolates in less than an hour. Fortunately, Miss May and I had a huge supply of chocolate ready. We had anticipated holiday demand. All we had to do was box the treats and sell them.
That might sound easy, but it was a lot of work. I tried to focus on maintaining my customer service smile all day. A friendly disposition was easy for Miss May. But I felt so anxious about that mysterious house and its mysterious inhabitant. My mind danced with questions about the home. I wondered who could be living there and if or when they would receive Miss May’s video message.
The stress I felt about the investigation showed in my work. I dropped a box of three dozen chocolates. I chain-chomped truffles without thinking, in an attempt to calm my emotions. And I accidentally rang a customer up for $12,000 when I should have charged them just $12.
Miss May hung an ‘out for lunch’ sign around 1 PM and we finally had a chance to talk.
Miss May shook her head and popped a truffle in her mouth. “Chelsea. You’re losing it in there. You need to relax.”
“But—”
“No but. Everything is OK. Whoever is staying in that house will see the note. They’ll be here.”
“That’s what I’m afraid of. What if the person who is staying in the house is the killer?”
“If you killed Orville would you take up residence in his house after the fact?”
I shrugged and mumbled. “I guess not. But maybe I would, if I had nowhere else to go. Or if I was his wife and I already lived there.”
“Anyway, even if this is the killer, it’s nothing we haven’t dealt with before.”
“We’ve never invited a murderer to the farm before.”
“We haven’t necessarily invited the killer to the farm,” Miss May insisted. “We don’t know who the killer is.”
KP emerged from the back room munching on a donut. So much for his diet. “If you to say the word killer anymore in this conversation I’m going to quit and move to Fiji.”
Miss May laughed. “You would be so out of place in Fiji. You hate the beach. You hate swimming. And I doubt they get any of your sports channels.”
“The Internet has all the sports I need. Fiji is perfect. Far away from this crazy town. A world away from these demanding chocolate-eating customers. Light years away from people who have come to know me as someone who is fat enough to play Kristopher Kringle in the town festivities.”
Miss May shook her head. “Why don’t you embrace it? The mayor isn’t calling you fat. She’s asking you to help in a time of need. And it’s probably because everyone likes you so much.”
“Anyone who likes me hasn’t met me when I’m grumpy,” said KP. “I’ve eaten a couple of these truffles. I hope that’s OK. Maybe about…twenty? Is that too many?”
“We’ve got plenty.” Miss May poured herself a cup of hot apple cider. I could smell the maple and cinnamon and I could feel the warmth of the spices all the way in the pit of my stomach.
I reached for the pitcher to pour myself a cup. But just as I started to pour, there was a knock on the door.
“Closed for lunch. Read the sign,” KP said as he took another bite of donut.
Miss May shot a look at KP. “KP. Do you need to take a nap?”
“Sorry.” KP trudged over to the door and plastered a big smile on his face. “Howdy. Welcome to the Thomas Family Fruit and Fir Farm. We’re here to meet your needs. Did you see the darn truffles on the Internet and now you want some?”
KP stepped aside and an older woman entered. She was pudgy. About five feet tall. And her cheeks were red and round. She spoke in a high-pitched, light whisper.
“I’m afraid I’m not here for chocolates.”
“What do you want then?” KP grumbled. “Donuts? Cookies? Cider? Christmas tree? We’ve got it all. Just make up your mind already.”
Miss May stood. “Please excuse KP. He’s delirious from too much sugar. Although he’s correct. We have all sorts of baked goods and we’d be happy to help you choose. We were just wrapping up our lunch.”
I stood beside Miss May. “That’s right. Can I offer you a free sample of one of our world-famous apple cider donuts?”
The woman shook her head. “No thank you. I’m not here for holiday treats.”
KP grunted. “Then why are you here? My goodness, this is like pulling teeth.”
The woman took a deep breath and let it out. She looked right at Miss May. “I want to talk about the message you left on my security camera.”
26
Cookie and Milk
“So you live on that house on Division Street?” Miss May poured another cup of hot apple cider and handed it to the woman.
The woman nodded. “My name is Cookie, by the way. Like a Christmas cookie.” Tears welled in the woman’s eyes. “Like the cookies you leave out for Santa.”
Miss May put a comforting hand on Cookie’s shoulder. I hung back because I always feel weird in emotional situations. I looked away, afraid that Cookie’s tears would be contagious if I kept looking at her. Mrs. Claus might be a killer, but I could catch tears from anyone.
Miss May spoke in a soft tone. “I used to go to camp down at that farmhouse, a long time ago. It’s been around forever.”
“Orville and I only lived there a couple months but it was beautiful. Wonderful place to spend our honeymoon stage.”
“You and Orville were married?” I asked.
Cookie sipped her hot cider. “It hadn’t even been one full year. Now he’s gone.”
Miss May pulled out a chair. “Please. Sit. Let me give you some sweets. Do you have a sweet tooth?”
Cookie gave a small smile. “It’s hard to be in the Santa business without developing a taste for cookies and treats. Though I’m wondering, could we maybe take a walk instead? I know it’s getting dark. And it’s cold but—”
“Of course,” said Miss May.
My stomach tightened. Cookie had a point. Cold, dark nights weren’t ideal for a walk. Especially not when your strolling partner could be a killer.
“But it’s so nice in the bakeshop.” I gestured around at the warm, cozy space. “Don’t you think you might like to rest a while in here?”
Cookie looked down. “I suppose. But I feel restless. I get that way when I’m upset.”
“I get that way too,” I said. “But then cold weather also makes me upset. And the dark night is scary. And we’ll give you lots of free cakes and pies and stuff if you stay in here.” OK, so I may have been overselling it.
Miss May glared at me. “Chelsea. Cookie wants to go outside. And that’s no problem.”
Cookie nodded. “Thank you.”
Miss May’s insistence frustrated me. I pushed in my chair a little too hard. I guess my discomfort was pretty transparent.
Cookie brought a hand to her mouth. “Oh. Oh no. You don’t want to walk with me because you think I’m the killer. Is that what’s going on?”
I threw back my head and winced. “No. I’m just a baby. I don’t like the cold. That’s all.”
Miss May stepped forward. “Chelsea always gets like this. It’s not about you. Give us two minutes to close up shop and we’ll be right outside.”
Cookie nodded and stepped outside. Miss May turned on me. She spoke with a harsh whisper. “Really, Chelsea?”
I held up my hands. So I didn’t want to go for a nighttime stroll with a potential murderer. So sue me!
Miss May continued. “That woman did not kill her husband. I don’t think.”
I shrugged. “Why take the risk?”
“Because we need information. Besides, there’s two of us and one of her. And you’re young and you know karate.”
Miss May grabbed her coat. I grabbed mine and pulled it tight. “Fine. A walk.”
Miss May led us down toward the Christmas tree field adjacent to the bakeshop. Although we’d had a great season, hundreds of trees still stood. They were silhouetted in the moonlight. Peaceful and quiet. Most of all, beautiful.
“This place is incredible,” Cookie said. “Of course, I’ve been to Christmas tree farms before. But never this late in the day.”
“It’s beautiful in the late afternoon. It’s beautiful during the day. It’s beautiful every season.” Miss May breathed in the fresh pine scent. “This farm is a gift every day.”
“I remember I worked as a tree cutter here when I was a teenager. It was me and a few other kids from my high school,” I said. “We walked around with saws and helped couples and families find the perfect tree for their home.”
Miss May laughed. “I forgot you did that.”
“One of the best jobs I ever had. Every family needed something different for their home. Sometimes it’s not a big, majestic tree. Me, personally? I always had a soft spot for the weird little mangled ones. The Charlie Brown Trees. But whatever their needs were, I loved helping families find the perfect fit. It was nice imagining each family taking their tree home, decorating it, setting cookies on a nearby table for Santa. How many objects in the world are more meaningful and special than a Christmas tree? They may be temporary, but they create lasting memories.”
Miss May nodded. “That’s why it’s upsetting that there’s so much drama about the town tree this year. I’m not saying we should cut down old Fred the Tree. But real Christmas trees have meaning and purpose. They have a little magic.”
Cookie buttoned up her coat. “There’s magic in everything during the holiday season, isn’t there?”
Miss May turned us down a long row of Balsam trees, tracing the path toward the brook that encircles the farm. “You’re right, Cookie. But you’re not here to talk about trees.” We walked a few silent steps. “I’m so sorry for your loss.”
I nodded. “Me too. I can’t imagine losing someone during the holiday season. It must cast such a pall.”
Cookie shoved her hands in her pockets. “Thank you. I’m a widow twice now, if you can believe that.”
Miss May shook her head. “So terrible.”
Cookie looked over at Miss May. Gave her the up and down. “Are you a widow?”
“I’m not. I’ve never been married, as it stands. Not to say I won’t find someone someday. But this farm has kept me busy.”
“And she’s been taking care of me since I was a little girl.”
“So you’ve never been married,” Cookie said. “Sometimes I think life might have been easier that way.”
“Tell me,” said Miss May. “How long have you been working with Orville as his Mrs. Claus?”
Cookie let out a little laugh. “Years and years. That’s how we met. Was it Macy’s? Was it that parade in Indianapolis? Hard to remember. We’ve both been doing the circuit so long. Then we worked one job together and another... Finally, we decided to hit the road. Be our own bosses.”
“Seems a fun job to do with your husband. But I’m confused... If you worked all the same gigs, why weren’t you at Pine Grove’s Christmas Village the night, ummm... That night?”
“The town wouldn’t kick in enough for our full freight as Mr. and Mrs. Claus. So a couple weeks ago, I started doing events by myself. Baking classes with Mrs. Claus. Gingerbread houses with Mrs. Claus. Up and down the coast. Stuff like that.”
I nodded. “Is that where you were the night Orville died?”
“Sort of. I didn’t go that night because I was driving up from a networking event down south. It was a Mrs. Claus convention. Where all the professional Mrs. Clauses in the area meet up at a hotel for a weekend. Talk costume tips, meet potential clients, stuff like that.”
Cookie pulled up a picture on her phone. It showed a dozen older women dressed up in their Mrs. Claus costumes in front of a hotel. She pointed. “See? That’s me in the middle.”
Miss May smiled. “Goodness. You all look so cute. That sounds like fun.”
�
�You think so, but those ladies can be mean. The Claus competition is fierce.”
Miss May laughed. The laugh settled down and she stopped and put her hands in her pocket. “Speaking of mean, do you know anything about this little elf running around town? Short, spunky guy. Name of Lincoln. Says he worked with Orville on the circuit.”
Cookie scrunched up her face. “We didn’t have an elf. We never worked with one. There was no point. Local city governments only pay one flat rate. They throw in more for Mrs. Claus, occasionally. But then me and Orville would’ve had to pay an elf out of our own pockets.”
Miss May let out a deep exhale and I could see the cloud of her breath in the sky. “That’s odd. That man was so insistent that he had worked with Orville.”
Cookie’s eyes widened. “Hold on a second. You... He didn’t have a big beard, did he? A big, long beard?”
Miss May nodded. “Actually... He did.”
Cookie’s face blanched. “I thought I saw a little bearded man at the bottom of my driveway last night. He was there when I drove up. He looked ominous but I shrugged it off. Thought it was someone out for a walk. But I didn’t like his energy. Then... I wasn’t sure if I was going to show you this, but... I received this note in my mailbox after he left.”
Cookie pulled a folded piece of paper from her pocket and handed it to us.
Miss May unfolded the note. There, in big black marker, was a simple message...
“You’re next. Get ready to die, Mrs. Claus.”
Miss May silently folded the note and handed it back to Cookie.
“You got a lot of messages yesterday,” Miss May said. “You believe that note was written by Lincoln?”
Cookie shrugged. “The little bearded guy, yeah. Whatever his name is.”
I stepped forward. “Why would he threaten you?”
Cookie shrugged. “I don’t know. I didn’t even know him.”
Miss May leaned toward Cookie and spoke in a quieter tone. “Cookie. You can tell us if you and Orville were caught up in something. We won’t make judgments. All we want is the truth.”
Candy Slain Page 10