Yuletide Homicide

by Jennifer David Hesse

  I headed toward the shooting range, punching in Farrah’s number as I went. The call went straight to voicemail and her voicemail box was full. Dang it, Farrah. I searched through my telephone contacts list for Detective Rhinehardt’s number, but I couldn’t find it.

  The shooting range was in a long metal building, surrounded by an earthen berm for soundproofing. The door was open an inch. I pulled it open wider and called inside. “Hello?” There was no answer. I stepped inside, keeping one hand on the door, and called again. “Hello!”

  A dull clanking sound came from somewhere deep within the building. I took another step inside. The lights were off in the small lobby, but the door next to the check-in counter was wide open. “Hello?” I called again.

  I heard a muffled cry, then Crenshaw’s voice: “Keli! For the love of—” His words broke off.

  “Crenshaw!”

  I ran through the door and found a long narrow hallway. To the side was another open door revealing stairs leading down to a basement.

  After a brief hesitation, I hustled down the stairs and found myself in a dank utility room.

  This is crazy. It was time to go for help. I was about to turn and head back up the steps when a sharp object dug into my back. Gasping, I stumbled forward.

  “That’s it, Miss Milanni. You’re in the right place.” It was Tucker’s slow drawl, completely void of any charm.

  I tried to twist around, but he shoved me so hard I fell to my knees.

  “Steady there, missy. I need you to do me a favor. Open up that door, will you?”

  I looked up and saw a heavy steel door. I knew Crenshaw must be on the other side. In a flash, I grabbed the handle and pulled the door open. It appeared to be an old gun vault, empty of weapons now. Or possibly an ancient bomb shelter. A man lay sprawled in the middle of the floor.

  “Crenshaw!” I ran forward and knelt at his side. He groaned and turned his head.

  “Keli, run!” he said. It’s a little late for that, I thought. I looked up at Tucker, who stood in the doorway. He pointed a silver handgun directly at my heart.

  “Set your purse on the floor,” he said calmly. “Then back into the room.”

  I did as he ordered. Tucker picked up the purse and frowned slightly at its heft. I had scooped up almost all the items I’d dumped on the bed and dropped them back into my purse.

  “I’ve been quite interested in the contents of this here handbag. I surely do hope it contains a certain piece of paper I’ve been tryin’ to locate.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I said. “Why are you doing this?”

  Tucker laughed quietly. “No need to be coy. I know you been snoopin’ around. I also know you were up on the ridge this morning. I was on my way back to the top, ’cause I thought I dropped something. I saw you and sweet Farrah, and figured you must’ve seen me.”

  “We didn’t,” I said. “We didn’t know who was with Lonnie.”

  “Whoops. Guess you do now.” Tucker backed toward the exit and reached for the door. A rush of alarm flooded through me at the thought of being trapped inside the small, dark, windowless room. I had to keep him talking.

  “Edgar thought you were blackmailing him, didn’t he?” I blurted.

  Tucker laughed again. “You want to know the funny thing? I thought he was tryin’ to blackmail me that night after the ball. He said he wanted to meet me up in the hotel reading room. Then he started talking about Cornerstone and our investment arrangement, broken promises and betrayals and hush money. I figured it was his sorry attempt at extortion.”

  “So you killed him.”

  “I got angry. And rightfully so. I stalked off, but he chased me down. He kept yammering right there in the hallway, so I grabbed his shirt and pushed him to the edge of the railing. ‘Don’t you dare threaten me, old man,’ I said to him. Well, he lost his footing and tumbled right over. I thought that was the end of that, until I received a pretty little letter demanding sixty-K of my hard-earned cash. And it sure as hell wasn’t from Edgar’s ghost. That’s when I realized Edgar musta got a letter, too. We each thought the other was the blackmailer. It was a regular whatchamacallit—a comedy of errors.”

  “So you took it upon yourself to find out who the blackmailer was.”

  “Indeed I did. I remembered that damn fool agreement Edgar made me sign, and I figured somebody musta found it. Well, the most logical person was one of you lawyers, who were diggin’ into Edgar’s papers.”

  “That’s why you were following me.”

  “Naturally.”

  “You broke into my house, didn’t you? And forced Wes and me off the road? We could have rammed into you, you know.”

  “Nah,” said Tucker. “I had you in my sights the whole time. I sure thought you woulda flipped over, though. Or at least conked your heads.”

  “All that just to steal my purse?” He’s crazy. Dirty rotten, scary-crazy.

  “Well, that and to send you a message. If you were the one blackmailing me, I was gonna teach you a lesson. ’Course, then I left that stack of money in the trash bin as instructed. That’s when I discovered who the culprit really was.”

  “How did you know Lonnie retrieved the money?”

  “Why, I was watching, o’course. Hidin’ in the trees. I saw you and thought I’d caught you red-handed. Then, you skedaddled and poor Lonnie come along.”

  “So, you killed him, too.”

  “He was a fool. I shoulda realized it was him all along. Sixty thousand was the amount of his down payment on the Cornerstone deal. But I’m sure that wasn’t all he wanted. He would’ve been back for more.”

  “You’re not going to get away with this, Tucker. Don’t make it worse on yourself.”

  “I already have gotten away with it. Now, take a seat there next to your gentleman friend.”

  I glanced at Crenshaw, who appeared to be unconscious. “What did you do to him? He needs medical attention.”

  “Leave him be. It’ll be easier that way.”

  “Tucker, listen to me! Just let us go. Farrah will be looking for me. The police will be looking.”

  “We’ll see about that. You got a phone in here?” He reached into my purse and pulled out my cell phone. “I’ll just shoot off a text message to Farrah, so she won’t worry her pretty little head. Let’s see . . . ‘I left with Crenshaw. He needed some cheering up. All is well. You go home ’n have a merry xmas.’”

  I shook my head. Farrah would never fall for it. Would she?

  “Then,” Tucker continued, “when I come back from vacation in January and just happen to open up the vault, I’ll find the missing lovers. But it’ll be too late. Everyone will think you all snuck off for a secret liaison and got yourselves locked in. Your hideaway became your tomb. So sad.”

  With that, he backed out and slammed the door shut behind him, leaving us in complete blackness. Fighting panic, I turned back to Crenshaw and shook him gently. “Crenshaw! Wake up. We have to find a way out of here.”

  I heard him groan and felt him try to sit up. Feeling blindly, I reached for his hand to help him up. With my other hand I supported his back. “How bad are you?” I asked. “What did he do to you?”

  “I think I’m okay.” Crenshaw removed his hand from mine to rub his head. “Tucker held me at gunpoint and compelled me to call for you, to lure you down here. When I tried to warn you, he hit me on the side of the head with the butt of his gun. I fell, landing on the other side of my head.”

  I cringed. “How did you end up down here in the first place?”

  “Tucker showed up last night to rescue me from the side of the road. Some rescuer. He brought me to the lodge, and said he needed my help with an electrical issue. He said the fuse box for the lodge was in this basement. He led me downstairs and right into this vault, where he left me. Of course, he asked to see my cell phone first, which I handed right over. The con artist.”

  “So, you didn’t know he was the killer? I thought you found proof in
your research.”

  “I learned that American Castle Fund had failed to file any financial statements with the SEC. I realized any statements the company provided to investors must have been fraudulent. Putting two and two together, I assumed the blackmailer-turned-murderer was someone Edgar had defrauded—someone like Lonnie Treat.”

  “I thought the same thing at first. Did you tell Beverly or anyone else?”

  “No. I wanted to talk to you first.” Crenshaw paused. “It would seem our present situation is somewhat dire.”

  I tried to look around the room, but the darkness was impenetrable.

  “What’s in here?” I asked. “Did you look for a way to break out?”

  “Of course, I looked. I combed every inch of this place and found little more than dust and cobwebs. I’m afraid our best chance is for someone to find us. I trust you didn’t come here without informing someone.”

  I swallowed hard, and my head began to swim. My mind flashed back to the previous February when I’d found myself trapped underground with no way out. Suddenly, I couldn’t breathe. Wheezing, I ducked my head between my legs.

  “Keli? What’s happening? Are you hyperventilating?” Crenshaw reached out his hand and jabbed me in the ear.

  I lifted my head. “Ouch.”

  “I beg your pardon.” Fumbling in the dark, he managed to pat the top of my head. “Don’t fret now. You were with your friend Farrah at the lodge, correct? Based on my impression of your friendship, I’m certain she’ll scour the ends of the earth to find you.”

  I tried to smile, but then I had a terrible thought. Farrah’s in danger. Tucker thought we’d both seen him with Lonnie at the top of the ridge. When he discovers the incriminating paper is not in my purse, he’ll stop at nothing to track it down.

  Trying not to cry, I placed my face in my hands and forced myself to breathe slowly. I had to stay calm. I had to come up with a plan.

  With my eyes still closed, I pictured the platinum-haired moon goddess from the picture in Mila’s shop. She smiled at me and held out her hand. I felt a warm glow at my heart chakra. As if on autopilot, I began a whispered chant:

  “Have you gone mad already?” said Crenshaw. “Where’s the indomitable Keli Milanni I know so well?”

  “Shh.”

  “I beg your pardon. I didn’t—”

  “Hush! I hear something.”

  We both fell silent and listened. There was a muffled voice. It sounded as if it was coming from somewhere within the vault.

  I stood up, held out my hands, and reached to the wall for balance. Following the sound of the voice, I titled my head up. “There must be an air vent up there on the wall,” I said.

  “Ah,” said Crenshaw. “I noticed that when the door was open. It’s not even one foot wide. Not a viable means of escape.”

  “That’s Tucker’s voice,” I whispered. “He must be on the telephone.”

  Listening intently, we heard Tucker laugh. “All righty then, Ricardo,” he said. “You have a real nice holiday. I’ll see you when I get back.”

  There was silence once more. A moment later, Tucker spoke again. “Howdy there, Mr. MacIntyre. Sorry to bug you on Christmas Day.... Yes, well, I wanted to catch you before you flew back to DC. About that PAC of yours—I wanted you to know how flattered I am y’all are considering me. I’m very interested in winning your support. When can we get together?”

  Listening to Tucker laugh and make plans for his own bright future, after he had killed two people and left two more to die, made my blood boil. I couldn’t let him get away with this. If the only way out of here was through the locked door, I needed to get him back down here to open it. And my window of opportunity was closing fast.

  “That sounds just fine to me,” said Tucker. “You take care now.”

  I peered into the darkness, trying to locate Crenshaw. “Psst. Come over here. I need you to give me a boost.”

  He touched my arm, causing me to jump. “A boost to where?”

  I kicked off my shoes. “As close to the vent as possible. Just trust me and play along.”

  I stepped into Crenshaw’s cupped hands and pressed my palms on the wall. Then, as loudly as possible without sounding too ridiculous, I yelled toward the vent. “Don’t worry, Crenshaw! He won’t get away with this. There’s something he doesn’t know.”

  Catching on, Crenshaw projected his voice as if he were on a stage. “Do go on! I’m not sure what you mean.”

  “I have the proof! I have that paper from Edgar’s office. It’s hidden in my bra.”

  “Oh, my!” said Crenshaw.

  “When they find our bodies, they’ll know the truth.” I lowered my voice and tapped on Crenshaw’s head. “Okay, let me down.”

  He complied, grabbing my arm to steady me. “Have you forgotten our captor’s advantage?” he asked. “He’s armed, and we aren’t.”

  “He doesn’t want to use the gun,” I said. “It’s too messy. Too direct. Otherwise, he would have used it already. Think about it. We’re in a firing range. He could have tried to make it look like an accident.”

  “True,” Crenshaw conceded. “Using a firearm wouldn’t be consistent with his modus operandi. However, if he’s left with no other choice . . .” Crenshaw trailed off.

  “We’re just gonna have to overpower him. It’s our only hope.”

  We heard a dull scraping sound from outside of the vault. It might have been the door opening at the top of the stairs. Quickly I pulled off my leggings and stretched them taut.

  “Here,” I whispered, handing them to Crenshaw. “Hide in the corner. I’ll distract him. When his back is to you, use this around his neck. I’d do it, but you’re taller.”

  “Good Lord, Milanni.”

  “Just take it!”

  The door handle turned. Crenshaw retreated to the corner, and I ran to the back of the room, picking up my shoes along the way. Pressing my back against the wall, I faced the door. Besides the element of surprise, I realized we had something else going for us. Our eyes had adjusted to the darkness. I edged into the darkest corner of the room.

  The door swung open. Tucker stood at the threshold, his gun held out in front of him. I needed him to come inside the room. “Forget something?” I asked.

  “Come here,” Tucker said.

  “Why? Have you decided to let us go? Crenshaw needs a doctor.”

  “Stop flappin’ your mouth and get over here,” said Tucker.

  I silently willed him to come inside: Step in the room, step in the room, step in the room. By all the powers of the ancient universe, I command you to step into the room.

  He stepped into the room.

  “Catch!” I threw a shoe at him.

  Taken off guard, he fumbled to catch the shoe. It bounced off his arm. I tossed the other shoe, and Crenshaw made his move. With lightning speed, he had the leggings around Tucker’s neck. The cowboy’s knees buckled. I ran forward and grabbed his gun.

  Crenshaw pushed Tucker to the ground and released his hold. We rushed out of the vault, slamming the door behind us.

  * * *

  A short while later Crenshaw and I huddled by the side of the lodge with a small but growing crowd of people, all eyes fixed on the firing range entrance. The hushed group consisted of the hunting lodge staff, including Ricardo, the handyman-turned-deejay, as well as the few remaining guests who hadn’t yet checked out. I sensed a movement out of the corner of my eye and turned to see Zeke sidle over and stand next to me. I nodded at him, then turned back to stare at the solid, motionless door. It had probably been only a few minutes since Detective Rhinehardt and his officers went inside, but it felt like eons.

  After locking Tucker in the vault, Crenshaw and I had raced back to the lodge until we were distracted by the roar of a snowmobile. It zoomed toward us from the valley behind the ski shed, kicking up powdery snow in its wake. It took me a second to recognize Farrah holding on to the burly form of Detective Rhinehardt. We waved frantically at them as they s
ped up to us and cut the engine. The moment they dismounted from the vehicle, we all started talking at once.

  “Keli, oh my God!” Farrah shouted, breathless.

  “What’s this I hear about—” Rhinehardt began, until Crenshaw interrupted with what was sure to be a long-winded explanation, beginning, as he did, with the night of Edgar’s ball.

  “Detective!” I said, cutting off Crenshaw. “Tucker is locked in a windowless room in the basement of the firing range. He admitted he killed both Edgar and Lonnie. He also attacked Crenshaw and threatened to kill the two of us.” I held out Tucker’s gun like it was a gift. With the slightest raise of an eyebrow, Rhinehardt took the weapon and radioed for assistance.

  Farrah grabbed my arm and pulled me aside. “Are you okay? After you went upstairs for your potion, I tried to track down Rhinehardt. I found out he had left on skis to investigate the scene of Lonnie’s death. I thought I could catch up to him pretty fast on a snowmobile, so I borrowed this one from the lodge. I was already halfway up the bluff when I saw your text.”

  “I’m fine,” I said, hoping I’d feel the same when the adrenaline wore off. As it was, my legs were starting to feel rubbery.

  When two police officers joined Detective Rhinehardt at the edge of the firing range building, and people started trickling out of the lodge, word soon spread about what was going on. Crenshaw took a moment to slip inside and call Beverly. By the time he rejoined us, there was quite a little crowd waiting for the officers to emerge from the firing range. At last the door burst open.

  The first thing I noticed was how unconcerned Tucker appeared. With Rhinehardt in front of him and one officer at each elbow, he carried himself like a dignitary being escorted to a high-class function. Never mind that his hands were shackled behind his back. He lifted his chin high and squinted into the sunlight. But the stony façade didn’t last long. As the somber procession made its way up the sidewalk, Tucker caught sight of the gawkers—including Farrah who stood front and center with her arms folded across her chest. Suddenly, the cowboy seemed to shrink before our eyes. He slumped his shoulders and cast his head downward, staring at his boots all the way to the parking lot. He didn’t even look up when the officers hustled him into a waiting squad car.