Yuletide Homicide

by Jennifer David Hesse

  “I’m sorry,” I said. “It’s just that I don’t have a lot of time. I’m having dinner with my boyfriend’s family tonight, and then I have a late-night flight to Omaha.”

  “Tonight? It’s only one o’clock now. You have plenty of time. Can’t you spare a few minutes for your old Micky Bear?” He peered at me from beneath his long eyelashes and gave me a small, hopeful smile.

  Oh, God. What was he up to? In spite of my reservations, I returned his smile. “Of course,” I said. “I can spare a few minutes.” I dragged a chair over and sat down across from him. “So . . . you’re back in town. Is your PAC vetting Tucker now?”

  “Mm-hmm.”

  “I’m surprised Edindale was even on your radar. Wouldn’t the mayor of a bigger city be more influential?”

  “This is a progressive college town, a county seat, and a popular vacation spot. The current Edindale mayor was tapped for a position in the governor’s cabinet, so this position could be seen as a stepping-stone.” Mick shrugged. “Besides, I’m the boss. I get to decide who we consider. The committee will make the final vote.”

  “So, it wasn’t so much Edgar Harrison personally, as it was the position itself?” I was still confused about why a national PAC would be so interested in Edindale’s political scene.

  Mick hesitated. “No. It was Edgar more than anything. But after Edgar’s untimely death, I decided to check out Tucker Brinkley. Also . . . I like this town. I was glad for an excuse to come back.”

  “I see.” I had a feeling he wasn’t being entirely truthful. And what about his cell phone? If he’d forgotten it, why didn’t he just say so? I decided to press him. “Wasn’t that kind of a hassle to go all the way back to DC, then turn around and fly back here a few days later?”

  “I fly all the time. It’s not a big deal.” He raised his hand as if to halt my interrogation. “Hey, I have a question for you. Do you remember that time we went for a walk on campus and snuck inside the old gymnasium? We made a game of trying out every single piece of equipment.”

  “Uh, yeah. I guess so.”

  “We were both so sore the next day we couldn’t move.” Mick laughed. “I still think about that every time I work out.”

  Every time he works out? For the past ten years?

  “So, Mick, just out of curiosity, are you seeing anyone, or—”

  “Nope,” he interrupted. “I’m completely available.”

  “What I mean is, since college, hasn’t there been anyone special in your life? Anyone you considered a serious girlfriend?”

  “Oh, sure. I’ve had plenty of girlfriends. But none have been as sweet and special as you.”

  That does it. I couldn’t let this go any further.

  “I’m sure you’ll find someone,” I said, “that is, if you’re looking. I know I feel really lucky that I found Wes. I’m in love with him, and we’re really happy. I wish that for you, too.”

  Mick closed his eyes and sat back in his seat. I waited for him to say something. Finally, he opened his eyes and spoke softly. “I’m glad you’re happy. I was just wondering . . . do you ever think about me? Wait. Don’t answer that. I—” His voice hitched.

  Good grief, were those tears in his eyes?

  He took a breath and seemed to pull himself together. “I’m sorry. I’ve just been doing so much thinking lately, you know? I realized I made a huge mistake in letting you go. Probably the biggest mistake of my life.”

  “Oh, don’t say that! We went our separate ways, that’s all. Don’t romanticize the past.” Looking into Mick’s sad eyes, it finally hit me. All that business about supporting local politicians was just an excuse. “Did you really come to Edindale just to see me?”

  “Maybe. Sort of,” he said, looking down at his hands. “It’s true I was considering Edgar for my PAC. But you being here might have factored into my decision. Then, when I saw you at the ball, that sealed the deal. It opened up all these feelings.”

  I looked away, as a group of people strolled into the common room. They admired the pictures on the walls and laughed at the holiday balls someone had hung from the antlers of a deer head. All I could think was, poor Rudolph.

  Then I noticed a woman walk by outside the room, and I started as I recognized her. It was Allison Mandrake. I wondered if Tucker had invited her to his holiday party. They did seem to be acquainted with each other, so I shouldn’t have been surprised. All of a sudden, I remembered the question I had been most eager to ask Mick.

  “Hey, so what happened to you the night Edgar died? You asked me to come to the hotel, so I did. Then I never saw you or heard from you after that.”

  Mick mumbled a reply about how hectic it was that night with all the people and the commotion. But I didn’t buy it. His face was turning red.

  “Edgar fell right outside your room. Did you hear anything? The police said one of the guests overheard Edgar arguing with someone.”

  Mick smoothed his hair and refused to meet my eyes. I leaned forward. “Mick? What aren’t you telling me?”

  His Adam’s apple bobbed up and down, and I was reminded of my attempt to wheedle information out of Bob the driver. Come to think of it, I still had some of Mila’s truth serum in a vial in my purse. I would totally use it on Mick if I had to. I was about to suggest we go have a drink, when he finally spoke.

  “It was me,” he said in a small voice.

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “I’m the one who overheard the yelling. It was shortly after I got off the phone with you. I heard raised voices outside my room.”

  “You did? Why didn’t you say anything before?”

  “Because . . . I was ashamed. I heard the yelling and thought about opening my door or calling the front desk, but I didn’t. I wanted to take a shower and fix myself up before you arrived.”

  “Oh.” I was beginning to understand.

  “So, I ignored the yelling. The fan in the bathroom was so loud, I didn’t hear anything else until I got out of the shower. Then I heard all this screaming. When I found out what had happened, it really freaked me out. I realized I could have prevented the accident.”

  “You don’t know that,” I said.

  “I still feel guilty. I felt so terrible that night, I just checked out and left. That’s when I came out here to the lodge.”

  “You never went back to DC?”

  He shook his head. “I still wanted to reconnect with you. But I couldn’t call you, because I accidentally left my phone at the hotel, I had left so fast. Your number was in my phone. I actually saw you walking downtown one evening and almost flagged you down, but I chickened out.”

  “Was that Tuesday night, near the health club?” I remembered the noise I’d heard behind me, scaring me half to death.

  “Yeah, that sounds right.”

  “What about Wednesday? Did you see me that day? Did you follow me?”

  “What? No. I never followed you.” He appeared genuinely perplexed, but I wasn’t sure I believed him considering all his other stalky behavior. I wondered what the police made of his confession. He must have lied to them that night before he checked out. Who was to say he wasn’t lying now?

  I glanced over at the crackling flames in the stone fireplace. For a moment, I allowed myself to take a slow breath in and out as I consciously honed my intuition. I recalled the clarity I had received from the Goddess following my moon ritual. With this sharpened awareness, I turned to Mick again. I regarded him closely with an intensity that made him squirm.

  “I promise you, Keli,” he said, “I’m telling you the truth. I admit I hid my real motive for coming here. But I’m through being childish. And I feel terrible about what happened to Edgar.”

  About what happened to Edgar. My inner voice nudged me to ask one more question.

  “Mick, about that argument you overheard. Can you remember any details at all? Any words you might have overheard? Think really hard.”

  He shook his head. “Like I told the police, I didn’t
make out any specific . . .” He trailed off, as a look of astonishment washed over his face. “Hold on. I just remembered something. I did hear some actual words amidst the muffled arguing.”

  I leaned forward. “What did you hear?”

  “A man’s voice, maybe Edgar’s. I can’t believe I forgot this. I distinctly heard him say, ‘You were never my partner!’”

  Chapter 22

  I stood in the foyer of the Stag Creek Lodge waiting for Farrah to either show up or reply to my text. I was eager to tell her about the revelation from Mick. I wasn’t sure what to make of the exclamation he had overheard. There were a few different angles I could think of, but I wanted to go over them with Farrah.

  I checked my phone again, then roamed back and forth through the carpeted lobby. I clutched my newly recovered book to my chest. As soon as I had been satisfied that Mick had told me everything he knew about the night Edgar died—and made him promise he would tell the police what he had remembered—I let him know I needed to go. I shook his hand and wished him well. Fortunately, he seemed to understand there was never going to be the “us” he had hoped for. To his credit, he remembered the book he had promised me, and he handed it over before I left.

  Now I rubbed my finger along the spine of the book and read its title once more: Johnny Appleseed Was a Friend of Mine. It was a whimsical, colorfully illustrated children’s book, with historical facts about the real Johnny Appleseed. Mick had borrowed it for a class he had taken on American folklore. He hadn’t kept the book on purpose, but when he found it among his college things he’d held on to it as a memento of our time together.

  I opened the book and reread the girlish handwriting on the inside of the front cover: Property of Josephine O’Malley. I was so happy to have the book back. I looked forward to reading it cover to cover when I had more time.

  I tucked the book in my purse and tried calling Farrah again. Still no answer. Where was she? If we didn’t leave in the next few minutes, I wouldn’t be ready when Wes came to pick me up for dinner. I decided I had better go find her. First I checked the dining room, which was starting to fill up already. The hostess said she hadn’t seen Farrah or Tucker. Neither had the guy at the check-in desk or the valet. I wandered farther into the lodge, peeking into every room I passed, including the game room, the small exercise room, and the sauna. Not knowing what else to do, I climbed the stairs to the second floor and strolled down the hall past the private rooms.

  This is ridiculous, I thought, checking the time again. When I reached the end of the hall, I looked out the window. It provided a nice view of the grounds behind the lodge. In the foreground were the ski rental shed, outpost building, and indoor firing range. Beyond that, white rolling hills led to the edge of the forest, where little wooden signs marked half a dozen trailheads.

  But the thing that really caught my attention was the weather. Snow flurries whirled in the wind like mini-tornadoes. Farrah, where are you?

  I took the back stairs down to the first floor. Toward the bottom, I glanced down and caught sight of a tiny blue bead. On the next step was a tiny green bead. What is it with all the beads I keep finding? I picked them up and held them in my palm up to the light. They were the same type of beads as in the broken buckle I’d found. Fern had confirmed the buckle was one of her creations, but she hadn’t taken it back. It was probably still buried in the bottom of my purse. I wasn’t going to dig it out now.

  I looked at the floor again. At the foot of the stairs was a tiny red bead and a few feet ahead was a yellow one. I picked them up as I went, following the trail of beads down the narrow corridor until I came to a door marked EMPLOYEES ONLY. I paused. What would I find on the other side? Was Fern skulking around the lodge? For that matter, had she been in the hotel cloakroom the night of the ball, or in Edgar’s conference room at some point during our short audit? If so, why?

  Beverly was convinced Fern had it out for Edgar. And Fern was definitely an unusual woman.

  My gut told me Fern wasn’t dangerous. Maybe I was biased because of her connection to Aunt Josephine, but I had no qualms about running into Fern Lopez. More than anything, I just wondered what she was up to.

  I turned the knob and slowly pushed open the door. The room was dark, so I felt along the wall for a switch and turned it on. Inside were vending machines, a kitchenette, a couple of tables, and a vinyl sofa. On the floor were the trusty little beads showing me the way. I continued to pick them up until at last I reached the final bead and the source of the whole mess. On the floor next to the sofa was a blue backpack. Attached to one of the straps was a tasseled key chain missing half of its beads.

  I glanced back at the door, which I had left ajar. Well, I’ve come this far. As quick as a cat, I shut and locked the door, then unzipped the backpack. Trying to touch as little as possible, I took a peek inside and saw bunches of pamphlets. I pulled one out and read the boldfaced words: VOTE FOR TUCKER. The backpack contained campaign materials?

  This isn’t Fern’s backpack. I unzipped another pocket and found a library card issued to one Zeke Marshal. Huh. Zeke had been the one dropping all the beads.

  The doorknob rattled, causing me to jump. Crap. I reclosed the backpack and moved toward the door. When the lock clicked, I planted my feet and prepared to face the music. The door swung open, and I found myself looking at none other than Zeke himself.

  His eyebrows shot up when he saw me, and he took a step back. “Whoa! You scared me.”

  I decided to go on the offensive. “Hello, Zeke. What are you doing here?”

  “Me? I told you. I work for Tucker now. What are you doing here?”

  So much for my offensive strike. “I’m looking for my friend Farrah. Have you seen her?”

  He gave me a suspicious look, then nodded. “Yeah, actually. I saw her with Tucker a while ago. They were headed for the firing range.”

  “I need to go find her,” I said. “But first, can I ask you a question?”

  “Sure, why not?”

  “I suppose you heard the police are treating Edgar’s death as a murder investigation now.”

  “Yeah. Heavy, huh?”

  “Do you have any theories? Who would do such a thing?”

  Zeke hesitated a second, then shrugged. “He was a public figure. Rich and powerful. I imagine he probably made a few enemies on his road to success. Not that I think he deserved to die or anything, but, you know. When you make your bed, you gotta lie in it.”

  Hmm. What an odd thing for him to say. He moved past me and flopped down on the sofa. “Are you staying for the holiday party?” he asked. “Maybe this time I can finally have that dance you promised me.”

  “I never promised you a dance. Anyway, I’m not staying. I need to get home.” I looked at the beads in my hand and gave them a squeeze. “But, first, I do have one more question.”

  Actually, I had many questions. Why did Zeke have handcrafts made by Fern? Did he know her? And why had he been sneaking around Edgar’s office? Did he set off the fire alarm?

  “Shoot,” he said. “I’m all yours.”

  “Okay. What I want to know is . . . why did you think Edgar’s daughter would be taking over his real estate business? I found out that’s not true. His wife inherited the business.”

  For a brief moment, Zeke furrowed his brow. Then his face became impassive again, and he shrugged. “I guess I heard wrong. We don’t always get accurate information.”

  “‘We’? What do you mean ‘we’?”

  Zeke looked down at his cell phone, a small smile tugging at his lips. “Stick around tonight, and maybe I’ll tell you.”

  Ugh. I’d had enough of Zeke’s boyish games. I was out of there.

  * * *

  After leaving Zeke, I proceeded down the hall and around the corner where I found myself in the foyer again. A small crowd milled about the front desk, including Farrah and Tucker. Farrah rushed over when she saw me.

  “There you are! I’ve been looking all over for you.” />
  “I was looking for you, too! Why didn’t you pick up your phone?”

  “I wasn’t allowed to bring my phone into the firing range. Tucker was showing me how to shoot a hunting rifle. I’m so sorry I missed your calls.”

  “That’s okay. I had my own little diversion. I’ll tell you all about it on the ride home. We gotta get going.”

  “Uh, Keli. Have you looked outside lately?”

  “What do you mean?”

  Just then, the front door burst open and Lonnie Treat blew in with a gust of wind and snow. “Jiminy Christmas! It’s a blizzard out there!”

  Farrah squeezed my arm. “That’s what I was trying to tell you. I don’t think we’re going anywhere, anytime soon.”

  Tucker walked over, holding a walkie-talkie. “Just heard from my guy down the way. Roads are impassable. County sheriff is closing Rural Route Three. They already have at least a dozen stranded motorists between here and Edindale.”

  “Oh, no.” I groaned. There went my holiday travel plans.

  Tucker flung his arm over Farrah’s shoulder and gave me an encouraging grin. “Now, don’t you worry. I’ll put you up for the night. We have nice rooms, hot food, and a full bar. Might as well enjoy the party.”

  “Yeah,” said Farrah, her eyes twinkling. “We might as well make the best of it. It could be fun!”

  Yeah, right, I thought. Being trapped in a hunting lodge, surrounded by the stuffed carcasses of so many wild animals, was not high on my list of fun. Of course, Farrah would find it exciting. She got to hang out with her romance-hero of a cowboy. Besides that, Farrah’s mom didn’t live far from Edindale, so Farrah could see her anytime. I saw my parents only a couple of times a year.

  I headed to a quiet corner of the common room to make my phone calls. Mick was nowhere in sight, thank goodness. First I called Wes to tell him the bad news. He was just relieved I was okay. He had been afraid I’d been caught in the storm. He told me his mom promised we’d have our Christmas Eve dinner another time.

  When I called my parents, they said they had been expecting to hear from me. They’d been watching the weather reports and knew that flights had been canceled all across the Midwest. Like Wes’s folks, they said they would celebrate with me any day of the year. They were also just glad I was safe.