As he put his hand on the doorknob, Claire had to ask, “What are you going to do?”
“I’m going to go find Dexter.”
Chapter 12
When it first started to snow, Claire didn’t quite believe it. Lacy bits falling on the grass outside her front window seemed like a Christmas miracle. It had been years since Claire had seen snow, and that had been when her husband had tried to teach her to ski on a quick trip to Colorado.
Within minutes the normal outdoor sounds, so unnoticed before, were hushed and softened by the layer of white flakes. Maybe Daisy wasn’t excited as Claire was, but she sure enjoyed watching Claire fling the door open and let her little dog out to romp in the snow. Roscoe was ecstatic, jumping and digging as the snowflakes started to fall faster, and burrowing his nose into the stuff until he came up smiling. Daisy would’ve sworn dogs couldn’t smile, but looking at Roscoe, she laughed and changed her mind.
Claire was just about to throw her first snowball at a nearby tree when her phone rang. She dug it out of her pocket, her fingers red and stiff with cold.
“Hello?”
“It’s Scott. I’m out at the Cable’s old cabin.”
“What did you find?” Claire asked, her words coming out as a breathless rush. She could hear the frustration in his voice.
“He’s not here,” Scott said, “But I can tell you one thing. Whoever was at the cabin last left in a really big hurry. There’s stuff thrown all over the place, like they packed and ran out of here.” He gave a deep sigh. “I’ll be back in an hour.”
Just the thought of him driving in the snow, now steadily falling, made Claire panic. “You can’t!” she said, alarm in her voice. “It’s pouring snow here. It can’t be safe.”
There was a deep chuckle. “I’ll be fine. I drive in it all the time, and this car handles great in snow. I’ve got chains if I need them. See you in about an hour.”
***
True to his word, Scott showed up almost exactly an hour later. Claire peeked out the front window and grinned as she saw him walking up the front steps. Whipping the door open for him, he was followed by a flurry of stray snowflakes as she shut the door behind him.
“You made it!” she said, her eyes lighting up. “I didn’t think you would.”
Laughing, Scott unwrapped the scarf from around his shoulders and tried not to drip melting snow on the carpet. “I told you I’d make it. You’re going to have to learn that about me,” he said. “When I tell you I’m going to do something, it almost always gets done.”
She reached up and helped pull off his damp jacket, hanging it on the small coat tree by the door. His eyebrows went up as he gave an appreciative sniff, then followed his nose into the warm kitchen.
“Soup?”
“Chicken noodle. Want some?” she offered, and at his answering nod she got a large bowl and started ladling chunks of chicken and broad noodles out of the pot on the stove.
After he’d had his fill, he got up and smiled. “Want to go sledding? This type of snow is perfect for that sort of thing, and I know Daisy has at least one sled stashed in her garage. Probably more than one, and I bet she’d love to go, too.”
“Sledding? Are you kidding?”
Scott stared at her. “I can’t tell if you’re horrified or excited. Which is it?” he asked, and Claire laughed.
“Maybe a bit of both. I’ve never been sledding before,” she said, and Scott gave a dismissive wave of his hand.
“It’s easy. There are lots of great hills around here but most people head toward the field out back of the elementary school. You up for it?” he asked, and Claire grinned.
“Why not?”
***
It was worth it. It was worth every bruise she got from falling off her sled into bushes and other sledders, while laughing hysterically as she did so. It was worth the two pounds of sodden snow stuffed under the front of her coat and down the back of her neck from an impromptu snowball fight with about a dozen other townspeople. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d squealed like that, or felt such a giddy sense of satisfaction when she finally hit Scott square in the back of the head with a good-sized snowball that stuck in his hair and exploded around him. It had taken her some time to figure out how to maneuver the sled, but no one seemed to mind. There was an unfortunate incident where she’d accidentally collided with a middle-aged woman who was streaking down the hill on a sled next to her, but they’d both come up laughing and no one got hurt.
Roscoe, it turned out, loved to go sledding. He wasn’t wild about being a passenger on the back of the sled, but he loved all the attention he got, and he made friends with every kid on the hill. After romping in the snow a bit, he got tired and cold, so Claire borrowed an old blanket Scott had in the back of his car and made Roscoe a little nest, where he could supervise the fun in cozy comfort.
Falling into bed that night, Claire was surprised to feel herself smiling in the dark. Roscoe was cuddled next to her side her side and she idly petted him, thinking back over her day. She was exhausted, and suspicious that she’d have some strained muscles the next morning, but she hadn’t had so much fun in a long time.
Yes, it was definitely worth it.
Chapter 13
“I appreciate your help, honey. I really do,” Mrs. Applegate said with a warm smile. “This close to Christmas I can use all the help I can get. I didn’t expect Abigail to go on maternity leave quite as quickly as she did, and with the Christmas orders and all, I’m way behind. You know, you’re doing a great job. No, I really mean it,” she said with a twinkle as she patted Claire’s shoulder. “I know a natural born baker when I see one, and you’re one of them. You’ve got the knack.”
Claire tried not to show how much the older lady’s praise meant to her, but her smile was genuine and wide. “Thank you, Mrs. Applegate. I really appreciate your feedback. I was so worried that I was going to screw something up. I didn’t want to make things worse by my trying to help.”
“You, screw things up?” Mrs. Applegate scoffed. “Not in a million years.”
Claire looked around the immaculate bakery. The equipment and ovens in the back were separated from the front counter by a wall with large windows so that customers could see everything that was going on. When Molly had called her and told her that her aunt needed help right away, at first Claire been really scared. She didn’t know how she’d be able to help such an experienced baker as Mrs. Applegate, but Molly had done her best to persuade her, and when Molly had driven Claire to the bakery to work a shift, the lady had been so thrilled that her niece had laughed out loud.
Mrs. Applegate leaned over and locked eyes with Claire. “Honey, you sure you don’t want a job? That offer’s still open, if you want it. It’d be a big help to me, and the more I get to know you the more I’m starting to think that maybe this place would be good for you, too.”
Claire couldn’t help but feel a pang of regret when she gave her answer. “I’m really sorry, Mrs. Applegate, but I just don’t think that would work out for me.”
The older lady’s face registered her disappointment, but she managed to smile. “I completely understand, honey,” she said. “You’ve got to do what’s best for you. It sounds like you’ve been through a lot. Molly told me about your late husband, and I know how hard that is. I’ve buried two husbands myself,” she said, and Claire looked at her in surprise. Mrs. Applegate went on. “I know how something like that changes you in ways you didn’t expect, and how it takes a while to figure out what your new life is afterwards. Just do me a favor, okay? When you do figure it out, you come on back to Brightwater Bay. We’ll still be here for you.”
“Thank you.” Claire went back to dumping butter cubes into the huge bowl of the industrial mixer, glad to have a moment to hide the emotion that was threatening to spill over her lashes. As she reached to switch on the mixer, Mrs. Applegate laid a gentle hand over hers.
“You know, Mr. Applegate and I are going to be having a b
ig Christmas day lunch. Molly will be there, and we’d love it if you could come. Starts at noon, not formal, and lots of good food. Do you think you’d be able to be there?”
Claire nodded, not trusting her voice to be steady enough to answer. Mrs. Applegate seemed to understand and walked off to attend to other things.
After working for a while she’d had a chance to talk with Sandy, the young woman working at the front counter. They talked about the snowfall, now stopped but still leaving a luxurious blanket over the grounds of the entire resort. Sandy was chatty and seemed to enjoy telling Claire the details about everyone in town. She wasn’t mean about it, but she did take a certain amount of delight in knowing everything about everyone. By the time Claire had carefully slid a tray of apple fritters into the front case, she’d been told details about Mrs. Freeman, some guy named Gregory Greenbaum, and the guy Sandy was currently dating.
Sandy was frying doughnuts in hot oil when she brought up her next topic of conversation. “You know who I feel most sorry for? I feel sorry for Officer Portman.”
Claire had been prepared to act like she was listening, even if she wasn’t, but the mention of Darryl Portman’s name brought her up short. “Why would you feel sorry for him?”
Shaking her head, Sandy expertly flipped two doughnuts at once. “Well, with everything going on with his wife and all. I hear that she’s not exactly thrilled that he turned down that job to be assistant police chief, near Seattle. Guess she’s been telling people all over town about how her time’s been wasted here in Brightwater.” She rolled her eyes expressively at Claire. “Doesn’t exactly make her popular with the people who live here, ya know.”
“Um, I need to wipe down the back table,” Claire said, glad for an excuse to be away from the chatty girl. She’d always tried to keep out of any gossip she heard, and felt a bit ashamed that she’d listened to Sandy babbling on as much as she had. Maybe it was wrong to listen, but the information about Officer Portman’s wife started to make some sense, when she thought back to things that had happened. He’d made a sideways remark about his wife once, and he certainly didn’t seem like a content man.
Mrs. Applegate breezed by her, a smile on her round face. “Those fritters look perfect. You just let me know if you have any troubles here, Claire,” she said. “I want to be sure you’re happy!”
Claire nodded.
Happiness. She’d been thinking about that a lot lately, and sometimes it seemed like a completely foreign word.
Maybe someday she’d learn what it meant.
Chapter 14
The light was starting to fade, but the bright snow added an extra glow to the late afternoon at Brightwater Bay. Claire had learned to enjoy walking in the snow, especially since Daisy had lent her a very good pair of snow boots that kept her feet toasty warm. Strolling down the deserted main street of Brightwater, Claire could tell that almost everyone had finished their shopping already. Most of the shops were already closed up for the day, and some were closed for the holidays, or even for the winter season. There were only a few leftover Christmas trees at the Boy Scouts’ tree lot, and a lone wreath hung forlornly on the chain-link fence.
Claire was glad she hadn’t brought Roscoe. The snow was deep enough he would’ve really struggled to walk so far, and even though he still enjoyed the novelty of rolling in the white stuff, she didn’t want him out in it too much.
As she was walking along, a single car parked in an alleyway caught her eye. She’d seen plenty of cars parked around the main street during the day, but with everything closed down this late it was unusual to see one with a hatchback that was cracked open several inches. The dome light was on inside the car, and Claire realized that the owner had left the door open. It was going to drain the battery within a matter of hours. She walked over and looked in the back window, hoping to find someone nearby or to get a clue of the owner’s identity so she could let them know their door was open.
There were a couple boxes in the back, and she could make out several tools in the first one, including a crowbar and a group of wrenches. Looking closer, she could see a dish sticking out partway from underneath a plaid travel blanket. When she leaned over, even closer, she could see something that made her heart catch in her throat. She blinked, trying to be sure she was seeing what she thought she was. The metal pie tin was stamped with the word BRIGHTWATER RESORT. In it was a single, leftover piece of pumpkin pie.
The voice came from behind her. “Hey, Claire. How’s it going?” With a sudden, sickening realization, she knew who the killer was, and she knew he was standing in the doorway, looking at her.
Calm, she thought. Must stay calm. Maybe I can find a way out of this.
Slowly, she turned and raised her eyes to look at Edgar, only to find him staring back at her. His eyes were flat and lifeless, like the eyes of the shark.
“I asked you how’s it going.”
Claire did her best to keep her voice calm and friendly. “Going fine. I’m just heading home.”
“I see you were looking in the back of my car.”
She stared at him, unsure what to say, as she slowly tried to edge down the alleyway toward the open Street. “You left your light on. I was worried your battery was going to die.”
He came out of the doorway and glanced in the back of his car, his voice slightly raised. “You saw the pie tin, didn’t you?”
“What pie tin?”
As soon as the words were out of her mouth, Edgar sprinted toward her with furious speed. With a small scream, Claire pivoted around, her feet pelting in the snow as she tried to run out of the alley, to where people could see her.
Only, there were no other people. The street was completely deserted. Even with as fast as she ran, she was a full yard away from being out of the alley when Edgar’s hand shot out and grabbed her scarf from behind. Slamming Claire into the brick wall, he gripped her throat with both of his broad hands, his face inches from hers.
Keep him talking, Claire thought desperately.
“You’re looking for something. You’re looking for the jewels, aren’t you?” She said, her breath coming out in frantic gasps. “It’s something about the bakery equipment, the equipment that Mrs. Applegate sold when she got new stuff, isn’t it? That’s why it was all tipped over…”
Edgar’s eyes were slits of hatred. “Just because Orrin didn’t tell me where he hid those jewels didn’t mean they weren’t mine, too! We got them together from the old lady and we should’ve split them together!”
“So, you followed him around when he got out of prison. He was trying to figure out where the equipment was that he’d stashed them in, wasn’t he?” Her eyes were darting sideways, hoping to catch any hint of motion from another person on the street. Claire took a deep breath, trying to maintain her composure as her mind frantically tried to find a way out of the grip that was slowly making her see spots swimming before her eyes.
“The Dogwood Café, then the resort bakery, in case you missed anything…” She was doing her best to keep conscious, her breath coming in wheezing gasps.
“I couldn’t search the Café during the day, when everyone was around,” Edgar muttered, but Claire almost didn’t hear him. “And Lucy won’t let me have a key. Says I haven’t proved myself yet.”
“But Daisy had bought the old equipment…”
“…for her new coffee shop. So now, I can finally leave this stupid town, with jewelry I can sell. Just one more little thing to do…”
Claire’s eyelids were fluttering closed, darkness swirling around her vision, as she heard a tremendous crack in front of her and the terrible tightness around her neck was suddenly, mercifully released. Her knees buckled, every ounce of her strength drained from her body, but someone caught her as she pitched forward, blood rushing to her oxygen-starved brain.
“I’ve got you,” a soft voice said in her ear.
Epilogue
From the moment Claire walked into Mrs. Applegate’s house, she knew she was
welcome. She’d been a bit intimidated by the sheer size of the Tudor home when she drove up with Scott, but he’d offered his arm as they’d walked up the snowy front walk, and that helped make her feel more at ease.
The front door had an enormous cedar wreath on it, and topiaries wrapped in white lights and red Christmas ornaments stood on each side. Scott rang the doorbell, and the heavy front door cracked open.
“Merry Christmas! You made it.” Mrs. Applegate drew them inside and gave each a huge hug. “Scott, thanks so much for driving her.” She looped a friendly arm through Claire’s. “I know you don’t feel comfortable driving in the snow yet, honey.”
“Thank you so much for inviting me,” Claire said breathlessly, handing her coat over to a young man standing behind Mrs. Applegate. She could feel the old shyness creep over her as she heard the laughter and talk in the next room.
As they walked into the huge front room, it became immediately apparent that everyone was wanting to talk to Claire. With a gift bottle of white wine still clutched in her hands, Claire was stunned at the warm welcome she was given. At first, she thought she was the object of so much interest because people wanted to learn more about what had happened with Edgar and Mrs. Freeman’s jewels, but she began to gradually understand that a lot of the friendliness aimed toward her wasn’t about the murder investigation or Edgar’s capture. It was simple pleasure at getting to know her, and the joy of Christmas Day. Both these things were new to her, and she drank them in like water.
When the dinner was finally served, she was seated at one of the elaborately-decorated tables, across from Scott and next to Molly. The food was sumptuous and the conversation full of laughter and jokes. Darryl Portman and his sullen wife were seated halfway down the table, and the gossiping baker, Sandy, waved at her from two tables over.
Three Carols of Cozy Christmas Murder Page 8