2 Mayhem in Christmas River

by Meg Muldoon

  Sarah ended with a sentence about not giving into threats and terror, otherwise, the instigators of such heinous acts win.

  I wanted to roll my eyes.

  It was becoming obvious to everyone that the fires were connected to this play somehow.

  Daniel had managed to keep the part about the arsonist dressed up as Santa from the local news sources, but there were a lot of rumors flying around that both women had been actresses in the play.

  When I had talked with Daniel the night before, he said that he had already spoken with the majority of the cast members, clearing just about all of them from being responsible for the fires.

  But something was going on here. That much was clear.

  There had to be something we were missing.

  “Hey, go get them out there,” a voice said, snapping me back to reality.

  I glanced back behind me. I recognized the face, but was having trouble connecting it with a name.

  Even in a small town where everybody knew everybody, a few still could get by you.

  He had blue eyes and dark red hair, and had one of those ageless faces that made it hard to guess his age.

  And he hadn’t been at the other rehearsal. I would have remembered.

  “Uh, thanks,” I said.

  “And don’t worry. I’ll make sure you get the best lighting up there come performance day,” he said. “Not that you need it.”

  I still couldn’t match the stranger to a name. But I gathered that he was in charge of the lights.

  I suddenly realized that Sarah was giving me a dirty look and had started pointing wildly at the stage. I figured that was my cue to go on.

  I took a deep breath, wiped my sweaty hands on my ugly velvet skirt, and stepped on.

  “What in tarnation is going on down here, Papa? What sort of devilish debauchery are the elves getting you into?”

  I couldn’t quite believe I was actually repeating these words—but there I was, saying the stupid lines. I could feel a pool of sweat gathering on the indentation of my upper lip.

  “Stop harassing me, Mama,” Ronald, who was decked out in his big red suit, said to me. “It’s my vacation. Me and the elves can do whatever we darn well please. You just go on home now.”

  I grappled for the next line, missing a few beats as I searched my memory for what was supposed to come next.

  “There’s… there’s no such thing as vacation in the North Pole,” I mumbled. “There’s always more work to be—”

  “Project, Ms. Peters!” Sarah yelled from the side of the stage, her obnoxiously high-pitched voice grating on me like I was a hunk of cheddar cheese. “I can hardly hear you over here!”

  I cleared my throat, pushed away the urge to go over there and kick her in the shin, and started again.

  “There’s no such thing as vacation in the North Pole,” I said again, louder than I needed to. “There’s always more work to be done. You know that above everyone, Papa.”

  I looked over at Ronald. It was his turn to speak, but he was distracted by something out in the seats.

  He looked out into the dark auditorium, squinting for a moment, and then he looked back at me.

  And suddenly I noticed that his face had gone as white as the mountains after the first snowfall of the year.

  And there was something else.

  Pure terror in his eyes. The way you look after seeing a car wreck happen right in front of you.

  “Ronald, are you ok—” I started saying.

  But before I finished, he dropped to the floor like a twenty-pound bag of flour chucked from off the top of a building.

  Chapter 29

  He waved his arms at the crowd of people surrounding him.

  “I’m perfectly fine. It was just this darn suit. I’ll be okay. Please, just continue the rehearsal without me.”

  Ronald was seated on a metal fold-out chair that I had grabbed from somewhere behind the stage. The cast was huddled around, peering at him with worried expressions.

  Everyone was concerned.

  Everyone but Sarah.

  She was standing off stage, acting distant. She had this strange look in her eyes. Something that looked like frustration. Like she was angry that Ronald’s fainting spell had gotten in the way of her play.

  I knew that she was a hard-ass when it came to her production, but I never realized how far her insanity actually went.

  Her husband looked as though he’d had a heart attack, and she was upset that it had ruined the rehearsal.

  “I still think we should get you over to the doctor’s,” I said. “You don’t want to chance these kinds of things.”

  “I just got a little overheated,” he said, shooing me away. “There’s no need for all of this fuss. I’m just going to get a little water in me and I’ll be as good as new.”

  “Maybe we should pick back up tomorrow,” I said. “We can’t really do much rehearsing without Santa anyway.”

  I looked around and the cast seemed to be onboard with the idea.

  “I could use a break from these elf shoes anyway,” Tom Porter, a retired teacher who was playing Santa’s right hand elf in the play, said.

  Sarah suddenly came strutting across the stage toward the group.

  “We only have a few short days left, and you all hardly know your lines. There’s no time to get sidetracked. We must all find the strength within us to carry on.”

  What was wrong with her?

  All the actors looked at each other sheepishly. Everyone had the look of a beaten dog about them—they were all scared of her.

  But I wasn’t.

  “We’ll pick back up tomorrow,” I said, patting Ronald’s back. “We’ll all be better if we’re rested anyway. There’s no need to put anyone in danger—right, Sarah?”

  I thought I could see steam coming out of her ears. She was looking at me like a bull about to charge. I half expected her to start digging at the ground with her hooves.

  But I stood my ground and didn’t break eye contact. The actors watched our staring war. Finally, Tom Porter spoke up.

  “Cinnamon’s right,” he said. “This is just a play, after all.”

  Sarah broke my glance and hurled a glare in his direction, but he had already started walking away by then.

  Olé, I thought.

  “Well, if you all want to make fools of yourselves up here Saturday, be my guest,” she said, dropping her clipboard. “And after all the work I’ve put into you…”

  She turned around and stomped away through the back exit.

  The only one who was making a fool of themselves was her.

  I turned back. The cast members looked relieved. They started peeling off their hot costumes and walked away toward the dressing rooms.

  Ronald was left sitting in the chair all by himself.

  He wiped away his sweaty forehead with the back of his Santa hat.

  “Her bark’s worse than her bite,” Ronald said, sighing and looking up at me.

  I wondered how many times he’d said that line about his wife over the years.

  “I’m beginning to think that they’re about equal.”

  “This play just means a lot to her. I don’t know why, but it does. I guess it’s her big moment to shine. The rest of the year, it’s all about the students she tutors. But when summer rolls around, she gets to finally do something, something for her. That’s why she gets so carried away. I know she must seem terrible. But she’s not.”

  “I’ll never know how the two of you ended up together,” I said. “I mean, you’re so different.”

  He got a faraway twinkle in his eye and was quiet for a moment.

  “Well, first off, she’s always been a much better person than me,” he said. “And it was love at first sight. I took one look at her, and I just knew that I was in for it. There was no turning back. No matter what.”

  “Well, they say opposites attract,” I said.

  “Sarah and I were always meant to be together. I believed it th
en, and I still believe it today. Even when she gets a big head and thinks she can boss people around.”

  I wondered if Sarah saw it the same way. If she did, that would mean that she had a heart. Which the verdict was still out on, in my opinion.

  “How are you feeling? Can I get you anything else?”

  “I’m perfectly fine,” he said. “But thank you, Mrs. Claus. You’re not as mean as all the elves say you are.”

  I smiled.

  He stood up and folded the chair. I took it from him, and placed it off to the side of the stage. He was about to start walking down the steps when I stopped him.

  “Did you see something out there?” I asked, nodding to the empty auditorium.

  He looked back at me. His face had gone pale again, and there was something in his eyes. It was only there for a split second, but I could tell what it was.

  Fear.

  “I don’t know what you mean,” he said.

  His eyes said something else entirely.

  “Right before you fainted, you were looking out there,” I said. “It seemed like you saw something.”

  “What would I have seen?” he said.

  “I don’t know. A ghost or something. That’s the way you looked.”

  There was a moment of hesitation.

  Then he started chuckling.

  “No. I’m afraid there are no ghosts in this auditorium,” he said. “And don’t you be spreading that rumor around. The kids here will never let us hear the end of it.”

  He smiled.

  He walked down the stairs and then through the door that emptied out into Christmas River High’s cafeteria.

  I suddenly realized that I was left alone in the auditorium.

  Even though it was hot and stuffy in there, a chill reverberated through me.

  I felt like I was being watched.

  Then suddenly, I realized that I was.

  “Doesn’t seem likely, does it?” A voice said from the audience.

  I jumped about fifty feet in the air.

  Chapter 30

  “Daniel?” I said, squinting out into the dark auditorium.

  He must have been somewhere near the back. I couldn’t see anything with the lights still shining down in my eyes.

  “Back here,” he said.

  I started down the stairs and followed his voice down the aisle. I found him sitting low in one of the chairs.

  “Have you been here the whole time?” I asked.

  He just looked at me with a broad, smug grin on his face.

  “I wouldn’t have guessed it, but you actually make a pretty good Mrs. Claus,” he said. “It’s not easy for most girls to look that pretty beneath an ugly wig.”

  I sat down next to him and punched him in the arm playfully.

  “Did you just come down here to make fun of me?” I asked.

  “Does Sarah really make you guys do dress rehearsal in this kind of heat?”

  “She says you channel the character better when you’re in the clothes they would wear,” I said. “Or some such theater BS. I think she really just likes to see us sweat.”

  “I don’t think it’d be so bad to have Mrs. Claus as a girlfriend,” Daniel said. “She’d make sure you’d eat right. Cook you some hearty North Pole food to keep you during the long winters.”

  “I don’t think you need any help in that department,” I said, lightly patting his gut.

  The extra pounds were hardly noticeable, but I always liked to tease him about it.

  He grinned at me.

  “Now you’re the one making fun of me.”

  I smiled, and for the first time in a long while, felt relief. We were talking like we normally did. It felt like that distance between us that had been created when he pulled out that ring was now closing.

  Last night had helped mend that distance. I could tell that he knew that I loved him. That I’d always be there for him.

  Maybe it would all just work itself out. Maybe we could just go back to the way it was. Like none of this had ever happened.

  “So what are you doing being a creeper out here in the audience anyway?” I asked.

  “Looking out for you,” he said. “If I can’t talk you out of this, which I can’t seem to because you’re damn stubborn, then I’m going to make sure that I keep you safe.”

  “Daniel, you don’t have to—”

  “Yes,” he said. “Yes I do. Because you’re right. Something’s going on here with these people. What just happened with Principal Reinhart is something I need to find out more about”

  “You saw the way he looked up there, didn’t you?” I asked.

  “Ebenezer Scrooge was less frightened after seeing old Marley’s ghost,” he said.

  “What do you think that was about?”

  “He was looking at me when it happened,” Daniel said. “But I think he thought I was someone else. Someone who must have scared the daylight out of him.”

  “But who?” I asked. “He’s just about the nicest old man there ever was. I can’t imagine he’d be mixed up in anything… anything like what you’re thinking.”

  “Don’t let the nice old man shtick fool you,” he said. “Just think of Warren.”

  “Hey,” I said. “What’s that supposed to mean? What are you trying to say about my grandpa?”

  “That old man can talk some shit, and you know it,” he said, smiling. “And I’m saying that the principal’s involved somehow. He knows something about those fires. I’ve got a gut feeling, and my gut’s never wrong.”

  I sighed and rested my head on his shoulder.

  “So much drama over a stupid play,” I said.

  Daniel grabbed ahold of my left hand.

  “So much drama lately in general,” he said.

  Chapter 31

  I was driving home from the grocery store when I put it together.

  I had the radio turned up loud, and I was going over dinner plans in my head. Stephanie was coming over later, and I had picked up ingredients to make some fresh Caprese salad, steaks, and some sangria.

  A couple of khaki short, sandal-wearing tourists were in the middle of a crosswalk downtown, so I hit the brakes and watched them walk across the road. They were going just as slow as a pack of turtles in the dead of winter.

  My eyes drifted over to the long line of people snaking away from the Christmas Coffee Hut on the other side of the street.

  And that’s when I realized who the stranger at the play rehearsal had been. The lights guy whose face I couldn’t line up with a name.

  Craig Canby.

  Of course.

  Why had it taken me so long?

  Though I didn’t know him well, I should have realized who it was sooner. Craig worked at the high school as a counselor, and occasionally, I’d see him at the Pine Needle Tavern. A school counselor frequenting a bar was pretty scandalous for a town our size. Town gossip said he had a thing for one of the waitresses who worked there.

  But I remembered when he had a thing for somebody else once.

  Last year, Kara had gone out on a date with Craig. And the way Kara had recounted it, the date had ended with Craig accidently spilling coffee all over himself, and Kara breaking out into a fit of uncontrollable laughter.

  Could that have been enough motive to burn down her shop?

  For most people, it wouldn’t have been. But it was clear that the arsonist was a very particular kind of lunatic.

  The car behind me tapped on the horn, snapping me out of my thoughts.

  The tourists were now long gone from the crosswalk. I waved apologetically behind me and pressed down on the accelerator, speeding to get home.

  I called Kara as I pulled up into the driveway.

  “Hey Cin, can I give you a call back? I’m in the middle of—”

  “How come you didn’t tell me about Craig?” I asked.

  “What?”

  “Craig Canby,” I said. “You know, the lights guy for the play? The Craig Canby you dated last year?”r />
  She didn’t answer right away.

  “Well, it just didn’t occur to me,” she finally said. “And for the record, we didn’t date. We went on one date.”

  “But it was a particularly bad date, wasn’t it?”

  “Yeah, but we’ve all had our share of those, haven’t we?”

  “I guess,” I said, deep in thought. “It just seems like an odd coincidence to me that he’s part of the play and the two of you have a history.”

  “What? You think he would have burned my shop down because of that one bad date?” she asked.

  She snorted.

  “No way. I mean, I might have hurt his feelings then, but the way he’s been chasing after Laurie Rollins, I doubt he even remembers that date.”

  “But how can you be so sure?” I asked. “Maybe he’s a wacko and he’s been holding a grudge all this time.”

  “But why burn down Valley Corson’s shop?” she asked. “What did she ever do to him?”

  She was right about that. As far as I knew, Valley didn’t have any connection to Craig.

  “I don’t know,” I said. “Maybe he got a taste for it or he just snapped or something.”

  “I just don’t see it,” Kara said. “I mean, he’s a school counselor. As docile and harmless as they come.”

  “Or maybe that’s what he wants people to think.”

  I wiped away a trickle of sweat rolling down the side of my face.

  It was getting too hot to sit in the car any longer.

  “Cin, I’ve got to go. The insurance guys are here to ask me a few questions.”

  “Okay,” I said. “Sorry to bring all this up.”

  “We’ll talk more later,” she said, hanging up.

  Maybe it didn’t make complete sense, but it was something to go on at least. A possibility.

  I got out of the car and grabbed the plastic grocery bags from the trunk.

  I reminded myself to tell Daniel about all this later after dinner. It might be important.

  Chapter 32

  I had no right to, but I was feeling pricklier than a young Ponderosa pine tree.