Season of Danger: Silent Night, Deadly NightMistletoe Mayhem

by Alexander, Hannah; Alexander, Hannah

  “It’s okay. I don’t mind.” Strangely enough, she didn’t at this moment. “My fiancé broke it off with me last Christmas. He preferred a high-society heiress to life in the sticks with a woman who wears jeans.”

  Matt sat up stiff, gaze darkening. “Some fool opted for country club and caviar when he could have had you?”

  “Thank you.”

  “For what?”

  “For calling Blake a fool.”

  “If the shoe fits.”

  Kelly sipped her cocoa, savoring the richness. Strangely, talking about her ex-fiancé wasn’t turning her stomach to acid like it usually did.

  “Up until my parents’ deaths, Christmas was the happiest time of year for me,” Kelly said. “I didn’t lose my faith after the car accident that took their lives, but the excitement of the holiday vanished. Then my sister was diagnosed with breast cancer shortly after Felice was born, and I left school to provide support and look after the baby so her husband could keep working. That was another black Christmas.” She grimaced. “Fortunately, Brenda survived, and I returned to school. When I met Blake, I dreamed of creating new family traditions. Then that idea blew up in my face with a Dear Jane letter in the mail a few days before Christmas last year.” She let out a snicker. “I was feeling pretty sour this season. What your dog shredded were my hypocritical attempts at the holiday spirit.”

  “Blake sent a letter to break off an engagement? What kind of coward does that?”

  Matt’s scowl reminded Kelly of her father’s when he saw hurt in, or a threat to, one of his daughters. The men didn’t resemble each other physically, but they were both as protective as the day was long. Warmth filled her that had nothing to do with the cocoa.

  “It had seemed so right.” She laughed and set her mug on the side table. “We met at veterinary school in Memphis. Since we both came from small-town roots, we talked of returning to the simple life. Starry-eyed, I took him at face value. Then, boom! After I came back here to start a practice I expected him to join, Blake met a cute Memphis socialite. Her family connections offered him a taste of the high life, and he decided that a small town didn’t have ‘the proper scope for his talents.’” She bracketed the last phrase with finger quotation marks.

  Matt snorted. “A heart of gold as pure as the tinsel on a tree.”

  “I hope he’s happy with his choice.” Kelly shrugged. “If that’s what he wants out of life, we would have been miserable together.”

  “Good attitude. But you’ve been guarding your heart ever since.” That intense blue gaze narrowed on her.

  Kelly squirmed but met his look. “Guilty as charged. There isn’t much of a field to play around here. A few farmers’ sons. But I’ve turned down every date I’ve been offered. It’s more comfortable to socialize in groups instead of one-on-one.”

  “It’s not a bad idea to start a relationship on a friendship basis rather than with romance. That’s how Carrie and I first came to know each other.”

  Kelly’s throat tensed. She should have known. Just because Matt wasn’t wearing a ring didn’t mean he wasn’t in a relationship. She picked up her mug and studied the marshmallows melting in the pool of chocolate. Why should Matt’s attachment status matter to her when she was determined not to be interested? Maybe Brenda wasn’t the only one in denial.

  She swallowed the silly lump that had formed in her windpipe. “What did Carrie think of your move to Abbottsville? Doesn’t that place you in a long-distance relationship?”

  A flicker of deep emotion passed over Matt’s face. Pain?

  “Carrie’s in the best place possible but out of my reach.” He studied his hands folded around his mug. “She passed away four years ago. Brain aneurysm. We’d been married twenty-three months and fourteen days. I’d just gotten off the phone from making reservations at an exclusive supper club for an anniversary surprise when I got the call…” His voice trailed away.

  The air vacated Kelly’s lungs. “I’m so sorry.”

  This man knew loss as deep as hers. Was he ready to move on? Was she?

  His gaze lifted. “It’s been a long haul. Relocating to Abbottsville is my starting-over statement.”

  Kelly’s heart jumped. And Providence had placed him next door to her. Did that mean something? Her parents had taught her that God had a good plan for her life. Was Matt in it?

  “Can I ask you a question?” he said.

  “All right.” Kelly held her breath.

  Matt cleared his throat and shifted as if the chair had grown uncomfortable. “Is there any reason one of the Miltons would sic their dog on you on purpose?”

  She exhaled. Whatever personal question she’d half expected, this wasn’t even close.

  He laughed. “You should see the look on your face. Sorry for blindsiding you, but that was a serious question.”

  Kelly envisioned Nick Milton’s red-eyed glare over the counter of her reception area. Her scalp tingled. “There was no one in the yard when the dog escaped, though I have to admit that Nick likes me a little less than he dislikes most folks.”

  Matt chuckled at her wordplay, but Kelly grimaced. What she’d said was sadly true.

  He opened his mouth, but his cell phone began to ring and he pulled it from a holder at his belt. “It’s the office. I’d better answer.” He listened to the person on the other end, lips thinning to a slash. “Right. I’ll be on it in the morning.” He holstered the phone with his gaze locked somewhere on the far wall.

  “What’s the matter?” A prickly sensation crept up Kelly’s arms.

  Matt heaved a long breath and met her stare. “An elderly victim has died of complications subsequent to the poisoning. His heart couldn’t take the strain of the acute gastrointestinal distress. Evidently, he went into convulsions, and his heart gave out.”

  She gasped. “Who?”

  “Bill Clemson. I assume you knew him?”

  “Bill!” Kelly closed her eyes against a sweep of anguish. “Sweet old guy. Lived at Eunice and Amelia Simms’s boarding house. A regular at Brenda’s Kitchen.” Kelly’s eyelids popped open as a thought jolted through her. “Whoever put mistletoe in the food at my sister’s restaurant is now a murderer!”

  FOUR

  Matt stepped into the Simms Sisters Boarding House early the next morning and stopped short just over the threshold. Mistletoe everywhere! No fewer than three doors led to the interior from the spacious foyer of the old Victorian house, and every ornately carved lintel sported a generous spray of the infamous plant.

  “Come in!” gushed Amelia, the sixtyish-looking woman who met him at the door. Probably the same person he’d talked to on the phone to ask if he could drop by. “Our home is your home.” Her words chirped like an often-repeated jingle.

  She whisked his jacket from him, hung it on a wooden wall hook, and then bustled through the central door. Her old-fashioned floral housedress swished around her stout form. Matt trailed Amelia into a parlor decorated with vintage furnishings. The clean but faded area rug on the hardwood floor could be genuine, from early last century. But his attention was arrested by yet another spray of mistletoe hanging from a massive brass chandelier in the center of the room.

  “Grandpapa had that piece shipped over from Italy when he built the house,” his hostess said. “At one time it held candles. We’ve had it modified for electricity.”

  “Impressive,” Matt said.

  Amelia beamed. “How about a nice cup of coffee and a bowl of grits? Eunice is taking the pot from the stove.”

  Matt suppressed a wince. Until the poisoner was caught, he wasn’t eating a bite anywhere except at home—or Kelly’s, if he had another opportunity. He sniffed the air. The place smelled more like apple pie than coffee and grits. The doorbell rang, saving him the necessity of formulating an answer.

  Amelia rustled into the foyer, and Matt’s ears perked up at a familiar voice. The woman returned with Kelly beside her.

  Kelly’s eyes widened. “You’re here, too?”
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br />   “I might make the same observation.” Matt grinned.

  She colored. “I stopped to pay my respects on my way to the clinic.”

  Amelia repeated her invitation to share coffee and grits. Kelly declined, stating that she needed to get to work.

  “I can’t stay, either,” Matt said. “The matter of your boarder’s death is for the police to investigate. I only have a couple of questions for my report.”

  “Pooooor, dear Mr. Clemson!” The words came from an angular woman who rustled into the room bearing a tray of steaming cups and bowls. She set the tray on the coffee table and fanned her face with one hand. “It’s hard to believe he’s gone.”

  Amelia clucked. “But a mercy, though, I expect.”

  “A mercy?” Matt canted his head.

  “His rheumatoid arthritis bothered him something awful.”

  The sisters nodded to each other.

  “He was in constant pain. Now he is at rest,” Eunice added to her sister’s analysis.

  The doorbell rang again.

  “Oh, dear,” Amelia said. “We’ll have to deal with a lot of company today.” She didn’t sound sorry.

  Eunice answered the door and returned with the chief of police and a pair of uniformed officers. Amelia went white, then red, and wrapped plump hands together in front of her heart.

  “Arthur, I knew you would come. Your timing is perfect. We were about to share a bite of delicious breakfast. Please, join us. I made it myself.”

  Eunice glared toward her sister, and Matt bit his lip against a chuckle. Kelly’s gaze dropped toward her feet. She made no sound, but her shoulders quivered. The deputies exchanged grins behind their chief’s back.

  Art scowled. “No time for socializing. This is official business.” He handed a piece of paper to Eunice. “This search warrant gives us the right to look for evidence of mistletoe extract on the premises. We will also examine the room where the deceased resided.”

  Eunice glanced at the sheet then sent her sister a broad smile. “How exciting, Amelia! We’re suspects.”

  “I didn’t say that.” Art lifted his palms.

  “You don’t have to explain a thing, dear Arthur,” Amelia said. “We’ve seen enough mystery shows on television. How can we cooperate? As you’ll notice—” she waved an arm “—our establishment is adorned with an abundance of mistletoe. May I take you on a tour and show you all the places we’ve hung—”

  “You may contribute nothing to the search whatsoever.” Art’s words were brisk. “It’s too cold to make you wait outside, so you will have to stay in this room until we’re finished.”

  The chief and his deputies dispersed toward different areas of the house. Amelia pouted her lower lip and plopped onto a claw-footed love seat covered in pink velvet.

  Eunice perched beside her and patted her hand. “All is not lost. Arthur will smell the pies. You know what a sweet tooth he has. And you did make those.”

  “Pies?” Kelly spluttered a sound between a laugh and a gasp. “Why did you bake? Brenda’s Kitchen won’t need any today. The restaurant is closed indefinitely.”

  Matt looked from Kelly to the sisters. “You mean not all the baking is done on the restaurant premises?”

  Kelly shot him a disgusted glance. “Lighten up, Mr. Government Employee. The Simms sisters’ kitchen is licensed.”

  “Indeed it is,” the women chimed in harmony.

  Matt frowned. No wonder Art lost no time getting a search warrant for this place. Not only did the dead man live here, creating an opportunity to develop motive, but his landladies could have had the means to do him in. Were the other poisonings a smoke screen for the real target? But what about the break-in at the vet clinic? The missing biological samples seemed to connect that crime to the poisoning. Who else but the culprit would have reason to steal the biological samples? Matt couldn’t picture these two senior citizens clobbering Tim head-on or overpowering Kelly.

  “I see those wheels turning.” Kelly poked him in the arm.

  Matt allowed himself a small grin. Lighten up, indeed. It wasn’t his job to catch the crook, but to wrap up his report for his boss.

  He turned toward the sisters. “Let me ask you a few questions, and then I’d better go.”

  “Me, too,” Kelly said. “Go, I mean. Not ask questions.”

  Smiling, Matt pulled a small notebook and pen from his shirt pocket. “How long has Mr. Clemson resided here?”

  “Eight years,” Amelia piped up.

  “No, sister, it’s been at least nine.”

  “Eight. I remember distinctly. Mr. Clemson moved in the year the blight took our favorite apple tree.”

  “Yes, but that was nine years ago.” Eunice’s tone sharpened.

  Matt cleared his throat. “So Mr. Clemson moved into your boarding house eight or nine years ago. What meals did he take here, and what meals did he eat out?”

  “Breakfast here,” Eunice said. “That’s all we offer.”

  Amelia bobbed her chin. Matt hid an inner sigh of relief. No disagreement on that point.

  “Then noon at Brenda’s Kitchen,” Eunice continued. “The restaurant is close by and has the only decent home cooking in town. In the evening, he generally heated soup on a hot plate in his room or made a sandwich.”

  “Except when you slipped him a serving of our supper,” Amelia inserted.

  “I never!” Eunice sprang to her feet and began dipping spoonfuls of sugar from a server onto the cooling bowls of grits.

  “Did too.” Amelia glowered.

  “Thank you, ladies,” Matt said.

  “We’ll see ourselves out.” Kelly touched his arm. Her green gaze danced.

  Matt looked away before any chuckles could escape.

  “You know who poisoned the food, don’t you?” Eunice leaned toward them, gaze darting right and left as if a murderer lurked around the corner to overhear her.

  “It was Chelsea.” Amelia lifted double chins. “Had to be. Chelsea serves the food. That no-good son of hers gets his hands on the dishes after they’ve been used, and we would never suspect Brenda in a million years.”

  The sisters exchanged one of their nods.

  “We could have been among her victims.” Eunice continued where Amelia left off. “Every afternoon at precisely two o’clock, we go out for our daily constitutional and end up at Brenda’s Kitchen for a glass of sweet tea and a slice of our own home-baked pie. What a stroke of Providence that we received unexpected company that day and didn’t go for our walk.”

  “Quite right, sister dear.” Amelia nodded.

  “I’m late for work.” Kelly’s tone could have frosted a polar bear. “Share your theories with the police and no one else.”

  She marched toward the exit. Matt followed with the sisters close on his heels.

  “Excellent advice,” Amelia gushed. “I’m sure Arthur will be fascinated.”

  “And impressed that we’ve given the matter such thought,” Eunice said. “You can even take the credit, if you’d like, sister dear. I know how much you want to attract the notice of our handsome police chief.” The woman giggled.

  Kelly flung open the door. Matt was amazed that a surge of cold air made it past the heat rolling off her. If her hair could burst into flames, it might. Leaving the sisters to their chatter, he followed Kelly up the sidewalk toward their vehicles parked at the curb.

  “Are you all right?” He caught her elbow.

  Emerald sparks snapped in her eyes. “The sisters’ antics sometimes make me forget what gossips they can be. They fanned the flames across town when Tim was going through his divorce, and now they’ll blacken Chelsea’s name to everyone who will listen.”

  “How could anyone take them seriously?”

  Kelly scowled. “Folks are looking for a scapegoat. Bill Clemson was well-liked.”

  “Sounds like the sisters feel his passing was for the best. You know what thought crossed my mind?” He flashed a grin. “Arsenic and Old Lace.”

&n
bsp; A hint of a smile formed on Kelly’s lips. “The sisters did away with Bill as a mercy killing? If I was the gossipy kind, I’d spread that idea around. It might catch on.” She looked at her watch. “Yikes! Tim is going to think I forgot to come to the office.”

  As they closed the distance to their vehicles, Matt studied her fine-featured profile and the gleam of her hair. Suddenly, Kelly halted with a cry and grasped his arm.

  “Your tires! Who would do such a thing?”

  Matt tore his attention away from her and looked at his car. The three tires within his view—both rear tires and the front passenger side—were pancake-flat. No need to wonder how. From the near hind tire, a knife hilt protruded.

  Who would slash his tires? Matt’s hands wound into fists. Try anyone among the fearful, angry public venting their frustration on the guy who’d closed Brenda’s Kitchen.

  Or the culprit could be a nervous killer sending him a message: Back off or else!

  Tim’s face wound into a scowl. “This town has gone insane. Poisoned pets and people, a break-in, someone dead and now slashed tires.” He stood from the computer station behind the clinic reception desk and snatched a printout from the machine. “The craziness started when this Matt character moved to town. There’s got to be a connection.”

  Kelly took the printout without glancing at tomorrow’s appointment roster. They were about to close after another hectic day. Tim couldn’t quit gnawing on the bizarre happenings in Abbottsville over the past week. She hadn’t done much better at keeping her mind on work.

  “Are you saying Matt slashed his own tires while standing beside me in the sisters’ boarding house?”

  Tim touched a pair of fingers to the patch of bandage on his forehead. “My brain isn’t that discombobulated. I’m saying the timing has got to be more than coincidence.”

  Kelly laughed. “The guy came to our aid, and you don’t like him.”

  “I don’t like the way he looks at you.” He sniffed.

  Kelly’s heart warmed. Eeyore her assistant might be, but he meant well. Over the past year, they’d commiserated with each other about their wounds in the relationship arena. Maybe it was time he allowed himself to move on. A fresh start at romance was becoming more attractive to her each time she encountered Matt.