Purring Around the Christmas Tree

by Liz Mugavero

  “It’s for Char. We’d both do anything for Char, right?”

  “Absolutely. I wish we could solve this whole thing for her. Jake, seriously. Who do you think it could’ve been? Who would’ve wanted to kill Harold?” Stan pressed. “If it really was directed at him. I mean, you knew him pretty well, right?”

  “I did, but only as well as you know someone who comes to town every few months and does some work for you.”

  “Seems like most people felt sorry for him,” Stan said. “I mean, I’m sure he could try people’s patience, but sounds like people understood his limitations and tried to keep them in mind.”

  “Most people did.” Jake parked the truck and turned off the engine. “Really, Stan. I think you should put it out of your head and enjoy the evening. Okay?” He reached over and squeezed her hand.

  “I guess.” She didn’t feel very festive, though. She shoved open the door and got out of the truck.

  Kyle parked next to them and hoisted Eva out of the back seat, taking her hand once he’d deposited her on the ground. “Ready?” he asked, slinging his other arm around Caitlyn’s shoulders.

  Caitlyn slipped her arm around his waist. “Ready,” she announced.

  “We’re gonna get the biggest tree, Auntie Krissie,” Eva told Stan.

  “Oh yeah? What if I want the biggest one?”

  Eva looked horrified. “You can’t have it.”

  “Good evening, folks,” Lester Crookshank said, coming out of the little shed he used for his office. “Welcome to the Christmas tree farm.” Lester embodied everything Stan had always thought a New England farmer would be. Tall, rugged, a head of thick silvery-gray hair. He had to be in his late fifties, maybe even older, but she could still see how solid he was from years of hard outdoor work. His face had permanent lines around his eyes and mouth, and his complexion was that of a man who’d spent too much time in the sun over the years. Still, he had kind eyes. Tonight, they looked sad despite the festive atmosphere he’d tried to cultivate around him.

  “Hi, Lester,” Stan said. “This is my sister, Caitlyn, and her fiancé, Kyle, and my niece, Eva.”

  “Good to meetcha,” Lester said. “What kind of tree are you looking for?”

  “A big one,” Eva piped up.

  Lester grinned. “You’ve come to the right place. We have a lot of different kinds of trees. Balsam fir, blue spruce, Douglas fir, white pine …” He led them away, still listing trees.

  “Guess we’re on our own,” Jake said, taking Stan’s hand. “Let’s go see what strikes our fancy.”

  They wandered around the rows of trees, enjoying the smell of the firs and the Christmassy atmosphere. Stan felt herself relax for the first time since Friday. This was how she wanted to spend the Christmas season—with Jake, doing festive, homey things, holding hands and being happy. Not arguing about potential murderers and crazy family members. The place was packed, with families and couples all traipsing through the snow to find their prized tree, while Lester’s workers helped drag trees over to the netting machine to wrap them for the ride home. That made Stan think of Harold, which brought all the drama of the past two days rushing back to her head.

  “You’re thinking again,” Jake said, squeezing her hand.

  She sighed. “I am. Thinking about Harold.”

  “I thought we agreed you weren’t going to think. About that, anyway.”

  “I’d love to shut it off, believe me.” She pointed. “How about that tree?”

  Jake assessed the tree she’d indicated, walking around it, looking at it from all angles. “I think it’s perfect,” he finally pronounced. “I’ll get cutting.”

  “Okay. I’ll go find someone to grab it and net it for us.” She headed back toward the pay area. Lester was sitting at a small table when she arrived, counting out some cash.

  He glanced up when she came in. “Hi, Stan.”

  “Hey. We found our tree.” She smiled. “You have a great farm here, Lester.”

  “Thank you.” He rose slowly, as if his body hurt, still arranging cash in a pile. “I’ll send one of the boys over.”

  “Thanks.” Stan hesitated. “How are you doing?”

  His hands stilled, then he shoved the rest of the cash back in the box and locked it. “I’m fine.”

  He so wasn’t. And she didn’t blame him. “Look, Lester. I know Jessie talked to you today. I also know she’s feeling some pressure about this case. She knows you wouldn’t—”

  “She doesn’t know anything of the sort,” he interrupted. “That’s why she was here asking me. In full view of the whole town. I’m surprised people are here tonight.” He smiled a bit sadly. “Although I think some are here to be nosy.”

  “Lester.” Stan grabbed his arm and pulled him into the corner, where people coming in to pay for their trees couldn’t hear the conversation. “Did you give Harold that black eye?”

  Lester pressed his lips together. “I don’t know how that’s any of your business. I talked to the police. I don’t need to say anything else.”

  “It’s not my business. But if you didn’t, that takes a lot of the suspicion off you.”

  “You don’t think I know that?” He folded his arms across his chest and glared at her. “Listen. Harold could be one of the biggest thorns in my side on any given day. He was also a good worker when he had his act together. Did we have our problems? Sure. I also felt sorry for him. And I did a lot for him.”

  “What were you fighting about?” Stan asked.

  “Who said we were fighting?”

  “You’re avoiding my answer about the black eye. That says to me that maybe you two were fighting.”

  “You didn’t even know him, did you?” Lester asked.

  Stan shook her head.

  “Then why are you so worried about it?”

  Stan looked around the small room, wondering how much to say. “Because I don’t believe you or Izzy would do such a thing, and you guys are at the top of the list,” she said finally. “Because I don’t think anyone knew that he was the one in the Santa suit.” She looked at Lester. “Did you?”

  Lester shook his head slowly. “I knew he blew me off for work that night, which made me mad because that’s a big night for us. But I didn’t know why. Look, Stan. I appreciate you worrying for me. I didn’t kill anyone. I can’t believe anyone would think I could. That’s what makes me the most sad.”

  “Dad?”

  They both turned to see a young man, almost as tall as Lester, with the same build. He wore a cap pulled low over his forehead.

  “What, Edward?”

  “We’re almost out of net. Where’d you put the new order?”

  Lester looked at Stan. “I have to go.”

  “Can I pay for my tree?” She pulled some cash out of her pocket.

  Lester waved her off. “It’s on the house this year.” He walked out, putting his arm around his son on the way. The boy turned back to look at Stan as they walked out.

  “Thank you,” she called. He didn’t answer. Stan watched them go. She still believed Lester would never harm anyone, but something about their conversation bugged her. Just a feeling, really, but she got the sneaking suspicion he wasn’t telling her the whole truth. On her way out, she slipped a twenty under the register.

  Chapter Twenty-eight

  When they got back with the tree, the house was full. Stan could hear the voices, rising and falling in tone, all the way from the front hall. From the sounds of it, the topic was—no surprise—Seamus. Jake looked at Stan. “So much for a quiet night of decorating.”

  When they reached the kitchen, they found Liam, Declan, and Jake’s parents crowded around the kitchen table, eating Chinese takeout. Kevin wasn’t there. The four dogs were sitting at attention around the table, watching them all intently. Or rather, watching the food intently. Nora McGee was making a point to Liam, pointing a chopstick at him as she did so, as her husband watched with amusement.

  They all turned when Jake and Stan
walked in. The dogs hadn’t even noticed, they were so focused on the food potential.

  “Hello you two,” Nora said, getting up to give them each a hug.

  “We hope you don’t mind us invading your space,” Paul said once his wife had released them. “We did save you some food. Although Henry tried to convince us you weren’t hungry.”

  “Of course not. We’re happy you’re here,” Stan said, and realized she meant it. She liked Jake’s parents, though she’d been cautious about getting too close to them too quickly. At first she’d been worried they wouldn’t approve of her. She wasn’t a small-town girl, after all, and Jake’s heart had been broken in the past by someone who didn’t want to settle for small-town living. She’d anticipated they would try to talk him out of being with her, citing the argument that she’d eventually want to go back to her corporate public relations life—the travel, the expense account, and all the rest that went along with it.

  But they’d accepted her without question from the beginning. And she’d realized recently she had been the one keeping them at arm’s length, not the other way around. Now she was making a concerted effort to change all that. They were both lovely people. And Nora was so different from her own mother. Not bad, she thought now, a bit surprised at her change of heart about Patricia. But different, all the same. Nora was warm and loving and didn’t hide her emotions. What you saw was what you got. And Paul, well, he reminded her a lot of her own dad, gone more than ten years now. Solid, levelheaded, always willing to lend an ear or give advice.

  “Help yourself,” Declan said, motioning to the food. Paul got up and grabbed some extra plates. “We didn’t feel like cooking. Or eating anything healthy.”

  Jake nodded. “Dad, want to give me a hand bringing the tree in?”

  “You bet.” Paul grabbed his jacket off the back of his chair. “Be right back.”

  “Sit,” Declan said to Stan, pulling out a chair for her. He looked exhausted. His hair, cut short compared to his brother’s, stood up in tufts—he’d been running his hands through it when Stan walked in. His eyes were bloodshot. Liam hadn’t said a word yet. He was picking at some rice on his plate, just moving it around, really. For two guys so angry at their father, they appeared to be losing a lot of sleep over the situation. She knew all too well how it was to love someone but not like them. And to lose sleep over them.

  “Any news on Seamus or Ray?” Stan asked lamely into the silence.

  “Nothing,” Nora said with a sigh. “Margaret and Frankie are going to stop by. Hope that’s okay. The rest of the clan has taken over Jake’s pub for the night. They want to spend some time with Brenna.”

  “I can’t believe she’s working there tonight.” Stan shook her head. “She’s been putting in more hours than me, trying to get the shop open and running smoothly. I have no idea what I’d do without her.”

  “She loves working with you,” Nora said. “I’m glad of it. She struggled with what she wanted to do. I don’t think she wanted to be away from home, but wasn’t finding a lot of opportunities to do something she cared about. You came along at exactly the right time.” She winked at Stan.

  “Oh. Wow. Thank you,” Stan said, not sure what to say to that. “I love having her. She’s great at what she does.”

  The front door banged open as Jake and Paul maneuvered the tree inside. “Hey, Stan,” Jake called. “Where are we putting this again?”

  She hurried out to the hall and surveyed the tree, which looked a lot larger in here than it had on the farm. “I think probably the living room,” she decided. “Let me grab the stand.”

  She hurried to the basement to grab it. When she returned and set it down, Nora joined her to watch the proceedings. “Are we having a decorating party?” she asked gleefully, rubbing her hands together. “I love decorating trees. If I could have one in every room, I would. But my husband can be a party pooper on that front.”

  Paul shot her a look through the branches as he and Jake wrestled the tree into place. “One is more than enough,” he said. “Especially when you get to just watch this part and do the fun stuff, like hang things on it.”

  “Where are the ornaments?” Nora asked, ignoring him.

  “Mom. We have to let it set for a bit.” Jake laughed. “Go finish your dinner. Maybe we let it settle tonight and do the ornaments tomorrow. What do you think of that?”

  Nora pouted a little. “I guess. As long as you don’t do it without me. This is a big year for you, Jake. I want to see you decorate your first tree in your new home.”

  Jake cringed. “I’m not in fifth grade, starting a new school, for crying out loud.”

  Stan hid a smile. They were so different from her own family. And she was smitten.

  They all trooped back to the kitchen to pick up where they’d left off with their food. Liam had given up on the rice. Instead, he fidgeted in his seat, looking like he was about to jump out of his skin. He kept checking his watch, like he was expecting someone. Declan was reading the paper. He kept cracking his knuckles, a sound that threatened to drive Stan out of her skin.

  She tried to ignore it and filled her plate with some rice and broccoli.

  “So,” Paul said, “we’ve decided to keep our McGee party on schedule for Wednesday night.”

  Liam looked at him, surprised. “Yeah?”

  Paul nodded. “We have all our relatives here. I think it makes sense. Do you boys feel differently?”

  Liam shook his head. “No. Just surprised.”

  “Declan?”

  Declan looked up, clearly not paying attention. “Yeah?”

  “The party,” Paul repeated. “Are you okay if we go forward with it?”

  “Why wouldn’t I be?” Declan asked.

  “Well, I know it’s hard, not knowing. About your dad.”

  Declan snorted. “Oh, you know, Uncle Paul. You’re just too nice to admit it.”

  Stan wondered what the heck that meant.

  “Declan.” Paul sighed. “No one knows anything yet. We shouldn’t pass judgment on your dad when we have no information at all to go on.”

  “It’s the same story and you know it,” Declan said flatly. “My dad is the least dependable person on the planet. He’s proven it time and again.” He jerked his shoulder in a shrug, his foot tapping a staccato beat on the floor. “Something—or someone—obviously came up and he had a better opportunity than hanging around here for the weekend. And since he’s thoughtless, he wouldn’t think to tell anyone before he took off. I’m just sorry he took the other bloke along for whatever ride he’s on. You know, I may skip the party this year. I should get home to my family.”

  Before Paul could formulate a politically correct answer to that, the front door banged open. All of them jumped. Jake was out of his chair and in the hall before Stan could even move. But it was only Jessie, who’d taken full advantage of the unlocked door to make a dramatic entrance. She stormed past Jake and into the kitchen, pointing a finger at Stan.

  “What do you think you’re doing?” she demanded.

  Stan glanced down at her plate. “Eating dinner?”

  “You know what I mean. Why were you poking your nose into my business with Lester Crookshank?”

  “Jessica,” Nora commanded. “What’s wrong with you? You don’t come into your brother’s house and—”

  “Not now, Mom,” Jessie said, holding a hand up, still glaring at Stan. “I’m serious, Stan. You need to mind your own business on this one.”

  Stan stood so they were on an even par. “I’m not sure what you’re so upset about. I had a conversation with Lester when we were there buying our Christmas tree. I didn’t realize that was against the law.”

  “Talking about an ongoing investigation—my investigation—is against the law!”

  “Jessie.” Jake stepped in front of his sister. “Can you relax?”

  “I won’t relax. I’m trying to work on a murder case and your girlfriend has some crazy notion that she knows better than me wh
at’s going on.” Jessie peered around Jake to focus on Stan again. “I’m telling you. Forget my uncle. Stay away from Lester Crookshank. And any of my suspects. Are we understood?”

  Stan felt a flare of anger at this unreasonable demonstration of control, but she didn’t want to add fuel to the fire by arguing with her in front of her entire family. “Fine,” she said coolly.

  “Great.” Jessie turned and flounced out of the kitchen, almost slamming into her aunt Margaret and uncle Frank, who’d walked in during her meltdown.

  On second thought, Stan didn’t want to give her the last word. She started out of the kitchen after Jessie, just in time to hear her say, “Who are you?”

  Rounding the corner into the hallway, she saw Jessie face-to-face with Kevin, who’d also just walked in. Stan had almost forgotten all about him.

  “Kevin,” he said, taking off his cap and offering his hand. “And you are?”

  “The police,” Jessie said. “Are you one of my uncle’s crazy friends?”

  “Jess. Please,” Stan said. “What is going on with you?”

  Jessie ignored her and jabbed a finger into Kevin’s chest. “If you’ve come here to cause trouble, or drum up sympathy for my uncle, you can just leave now,” she said. “We’re all on to him. He’s off doing something insane. And probably illegal. But he’s still managed to convince some people that he’s a poor, innocent victim. Well, if you see him, tell him it’s not going to fly this time. Got it?” And she shoved past him and out the door, slamming it behind her.

  Kevin watched her go with wide eyes, then turned to Stan. “Well then. Fiery one, she is. And she’s got the hair for it.” There was a touch of admiration in his voice.

  “Yeah,” Stan muttered. “Fiery, all right.”

  “I hope you don’t mind I’m back. I spent the day walking around, visiting with people, and decided I didn’t want to go back right away. If you’ll have me for a bit longer, that is?” He smiled winningly at her.

  “Sure,” Stan said, suddenly too tired to care. “The couch is yours. Enjoy.”