Hark the Herald Angels Slay

by Vicki Delany

  “Positive. Obviously, Muriel lied to me. She was nothing but a common thief. Pure and simple.”

  “So it would seem.”

  “And a snoop. I bet she was poking around where she shouldn’t and discovered something, so the killer decided they had to get rid of her. Which brings us back once again to the question. What did she know and who killed her because of it?”

  • • •

  It was long past midnight when Simmonds dropped me off at the police station. I said good night, and Mattie and I got into my car and drove home.

  Poor Muriel, indeed. Did greed do her in? I couldn’t help but think so. There might be another reason someone would have killed her, nothing to do with Max or Erica or the magazine, but it didn’t seem likely, not so soon after Max’s death.

  My phone had been buzzing all evening with incoming texts. I ignored the ones from Russ Durham and called my mom as soon as I got home.

  “Grace phoned earlier,” she said. “One of the magazine people was found dead at the inn?”

  “Yup,” I said. “Muriel Fraser, Erica’s PA.”

  “Do the police think it’s related to what happened to Max?”

  “They don’t see how it could not be.”

  “Grace said you were with the police. Why?”

  I explained about being with Simmonds when she got the call and going along for the ride.

  “I don’t like this, dear. That brings it too close to home.”

  “I know, Mom.”

  “Let me know if you hear anything more,” she said.

  We hung up. I wanted to call someone, someone I could talk to about my feelings, but Vicky and Alan both got up very early in the morning, so they’d be sound asleep by now. Russ Durham was obviously still up, but he wouldn’t want to talk to me as a friend. He’d want to find out what I knew about the killings. Simmonds had asked me to keep everything we’d talked about to myself.

  I figured she didn’t mean Vicky or Alan.

  I was far too restless and disturbed to sleep, so I plugged in the kettle and made myself a pot of tea. I found a pad of paper and a pen and sat at the kitchen table. I sipped hot sweet milky tea and doodled on the page. I had planned to write up a list of suspects, possible motives, and my observations, in an attempt to put my jumbled thoughts in some sort of order, but I got no further than writing down names. Erica. Willow. Amber. Jason. James Claymore. And POPU, meaning person or persons unknown. Reluctantly, I added Russ Durham.

  I studied the list for a long time. No brilliant insights came to me, so eventually I sighed and put down my pen. “Come on,” I said to Mattie. “Let’s go to bed. Everything will be clearer in the morning.”

  Chapter 14

  I dreamt that I was trapped in a maze of tall American holly. I ran and ran in ever-decreasing circles as sharp thorns reached toward me. Whenever I managed to break through the hedge, I fell into another, more confusing, section of the maze. Mattie also tossed and turned all night, and when I got up for a glass of water I saw that his legs were moving in his sleep as though he dreamt he was running.

  In the morning, I glanced at the list of names on the kitchen table as Mattie and I got ready to head out for our walk. I turned away. Nothing was clearer in the light of day. If anything, it was jumbled even more.

  Russ was standing by the front door of Mrs. Claus’s Treasures when I arrived for work with Mattie and a large latte.

  “Another killing.” His voice was grim as he gave Mattie a rub behind the ears.

  “Yup.”

  “I saw you last night at the Yuletide. With Simmonds.” He took the cup out of my hand while I fumbled with my key.

  “She wanted someone with her when she told Erica what had happened.”

  “How did Erica react?”

  “I’m not going to tell you, Russ. That wouldn’t be nice.”

  He gave me a rueful grin. “Fair enough. Simmonds has, once again, ordered Erica and the people from Jennifer’s Lifestyle not to leave town. I doubt that order can stick for much longer. Erica’s lawyer issued a statement this morning to the effect that she should be permitted to grieve in the comfort of her home, surrounded by her loved ones.”

  “Did he say anything else?”

  “Other than Muriel was a valued, trusted, even loved employee? That she and Erica were more like best friends than personal assistant and employer? Nope.”

  “I have no comment about that. Are the vultures of the press, present company excepted, gathering once again?”

  “Some. But there’s unlikely to be the mass onslaught we had last time. You heard about that senator?”

  “What senator?”

  “Never mind. You’ll be hearing more about it soon enough. The press pack has gone to hound him and his wife. What’s a little murder when there’s a juicy political scandal to report? You’ll let me know if you hear anything?”

  “About the senator?”

  “Very funny.”

  “If I hear anything about Erica and her group that is suitable for the press, I will let you know, Russell.”

  “Fair enough.” Russ gave me a quick peck on the cheek and a light hug. I hugged him back. “I don’t like you being involved in this, Merry. Look after yourself.”

  “Don’t I always?”

  “No, you do not.”

  I’d kept a firm grip on Mattie’s collar while Russ and I talked. A young frisky Saint Bernard and my delicate ornaments are not a good combination. Once Russ left, I took Mattie into the back, settled him down for the day, and opened the shop for business.

  The morning passed swiftly, and I was starting to think about lunch, when a text arrived.

  Willow: We’ll be there at six as planned. Remember: dress for pix.

  Me: What?

  Willow: Photo shoot in your shop tonight. Not as though we’ve got anything else to do in this miserable town.

  Me: Ok.

  One of the first customers of the day had scooped up Alan’s entire Santa’s village, right down to the little wooden trees. My next text was to him.

  Me: Magazine people coming at six. Village sold already. Can you bring another?

  Alan: It’ll be tight.

  Me: Hold off toy store.

  Alan: Already gone. I’ll try. Paint might be wet.

  Jackie arrived for work a few minutes early. That was so unusual it deserved to be written down in the record books. I suspected she’d be on her best behavior for a few days, not wanting to remind me of how she’d skipped off work on Saturday, leaving the shop deserted for a man and his killer to walk in unobserved. I doubted the good behavior would last any longer than a day or two, but I was determined to enjoy it while it did.

  I didn’t want to say anything to her about tonight’s shoot, but I didn’t see how I couldn’t. I had to go home and put on my decorating-diva clothes, and she’d certainly ask why. It would no doubt be a major battle to get her out of the shop before the crew arrived.

  “You okay?” I asked. “Suffering no aftereffects from hiding out in my shed?”

  “I’m fine. Your accommodations leave something to be desired, Merry.”

  “You’re lucky it was summer. You would have frozen to death in there in the winter. I would have found your desiccated body in the spring when I decided to cut the lawn for the first time.”

  She shivered. “Don’t even joke about it.”

  “The magazine people are coming in at closing. You don’t have to stay.”

  Her eyes lit up. “They’re going to take more pictures, you mean?”

  “They might.”

  “Great. Is this outfit okay or should I go home and change?”

  “You won’t be in the pictures, Jackie.”

  She pouted. I was starting to get very tired of that pout. I considered telling her it made her look like the nex
t kid in line for Santa after the candy canes ran out. But I didn’t. “The store will be crowded with all their equipment, so you can leave fifteen minutes early today. Are you seeing Kyle after work?”

  “Nope. He’s gone away for a couple days.”

  “What!”

  She eyed me. “What do you care, Merry? He’s been under a lot of pressure lately. His art’s not going well, and he needs to spend some time alone in the woods. Getting his soul back to center. His cousin has a cabin on Lake Oneida, so he’s gone there for some private time.”

  “When did he decide to do this?”

  “This morning. He’s very spontaneous. It’s the artistic spirit. He has to respond when it speaks.”

  Of all the stupid moves. I hadn’t told Simmonds Kyle was the one buying stolen jewelry off Muriel, because she hadn’t asked. If she did ask, I wasn’t going to lie. And if Simmonds did then want to question Kyle, she’d find he’d skipped out of town right after the woman’s murder. He might as well have hung a guilty sign around his neck.

  The bells tinkled, customers came in, and we talked no more about either Kyle or the magazine shoot.

  I went home in the middle of the afternoon to get changed. I’m not entirely sure what a doyenne of holiday decorating wears, and after all that had happened, by now the magazine article seemed so minor that my heart wasn’t in it. It was hard for me to maintain even a shred of enthusiasm for this project in the face of two deaths. Willow and the crew might as well be working as hanging around their motel grumbling, but I couldn’t help thinking it was somewhat disrespectful.

  On the bright side, Mattie enjoyed the unexpected afternoon walk.

  Mrs. D’Angelo was on her knees weeding a weedless flower bed when we came around the bend in the road. The moment she spotted me, she leapt to her feet with an agility that belied her years. “Terrible goings-on at the Yuletide, I hear. Still, what do you expect from those city people, bringing trouble everywhere they go? I hear you were there last night, Merry, dear. Did you see . . . ?”

  Mattie would have been happy to stop to chat, but I simply said, “Can’t talk, big hurry,” and carried on as Mrs. D’Angelo’s voice trailed behind me.

  I took off my multi-pocketed khaki capris and loose-fitting navy blue blouse and pulled on a knee-length white skirt, a lacy white camisole, and a turquoise jacket that was cropped at the waist and had three-quarter-length sleeves. I added blue glass earrings and a long string of chunky blue and silver beads. I freshened my makeup and forced my unruly black curls into some semblance of order, and then I studied myself in the mirror while Mattie watched. I stuck my tongue out at my reflection. In this humidity, by the time I made it back to town, my hair would be a frizzy mop once again. I slipped my feet into a pair of turquoise suede ballet flats, and we headed out one more time.

  To my infinite relief Mrs. D’Angelo was nowhere to be seen. I called Vicky as Mattie and I walked back to town. “Feel like coming to the shop tonight to watch the photo shoot?”

  “They’re going ahead with it?”

  “Apparently.”

  “You heard that Erica’s PA was found dead last night at the Yuletide?”

  “Yeah, I heard.”

  “Mark says police are crawling across every inch of the gardens and have been questioning all the staff. Erica’s holed up in her cabin, and the press are howling at the gates. Figuratively speaking, although Mark said they found one guy creeping through the shrubbery searching for Erica’s cabin. To his intense disappointment they didn’t have a sign over the door directing him to the correct one, so he got some nice shots of a honeymooning couple enjoying an intimate moment. They’re threatening to sue, not only the photographer, but also the hotel. Mark doesn’t think they have much of a case. If they wanted privacy they should have closed their drapes.”

  I didn’t even laugh. “I just want them all gone.”

  “It doesn’t seem to be affecting business though. Mark says the inn and the restaurant are going to be full again tonight, and I’ve been rushed off my feet all day. Do you need me to come, Merry?”

  “I don’t need you, no. I thought you might like to.”

  “In that case, I’ll bow out. Just think about all the marvelous publicity you’ll get.”

  “They might decide to throw out the entire Rudolph feature. I think it’s tasteless in the extreme, and Jennifer will probably agree if she hears about it.”

  “Every cloud has a silver lining. In that case I won’t have to give up my spice cookie recipe. I forgot to tell you that I got a call from none other than the editorial director of food at the magazine begging me for it. Can you imagine? I’m thinking of changing my own title. Director of Eating. Chief Director of Eating. Has a nice ring, don’t you think? Catch you later, sweetie.”

  “Bye,” I said.

  Once again business was steady all afternoon. The beach tourists were still in town, and a fresh batch of Jennifer’s Lifestyle groupies had arrived now that Erica, and her continued presence in Rudolph, was back on the online gossip feeds. News trickled in throughout the day. The police had sealed off the Yuletide gardens. Reporters were clamoring for an interview with Erica. The mayor and the police issued a statement that an arrest was “imminent.” Sue-Anne Morrow added that Rudolph remained a safe, family-friendly town, and Santa Claus had decided to extend his vacation one more week because he was having such a great time.

  When I heard that, I called my dad. “You’re going to do another public appearance?”

  “Sue-Anne and the council think it’s a good idea in light of this most recent murder. Unlike those,” he cleared his throat, “other times, these killings don’t seem to be having any effect on the town’s reputation. Still, they want to remind everyone that Rudolph is about more than visiting celebrities and their crimes and scandals.”

  “Are you okay with that?”

  “Honeybunch, I don’t know. There’s a sentiment in town, not openly expressed, that all this attention is good for Rudolph. I’m a team player, and they’ve asked me to do my bit on the weekend. It won’t be a big production this time. I’ll set myself up down at the beach under an umbrella and talk to kids. You don’t have to help, and I’m not going to ask Alan, he’s busy enough. I’ll get a couple of the high school students to put on their elf hats.”

  Sue-Anne herself popped in shortly after five. Her Honor stood in the doorway, checking out all the corners of the shop. Jackie was busy ringing up purchases. “Can I help you, Sue-Anne?” I asked.

  She lowered her voice. “Those magazine people are still in town.”

  “So I heard.”

  “Do you know what their plans might be?”

  “Why?”

  “As disruptive as these murders have been, it’s nice that we’re getting so much attention from such a popular magazine. I went around to the Yuletide earlier, to ask Erica Johnstone if she needed anything while in Rudolph, but she was”—Sue-Anne searched for a suitable word—“indisposed.”

  Which I interpreted to mean that she was not interested in taking part in a photo op with a small-town mayor. I said nothing. I waited for Sue-Anne to get to the point.

  She cleared her throat. “Her lawyer—such a handsome man, isn’t he?—mentioned that Erica’s staff plan to continue working, and I thought they might be coming back here.” She smiled at me. I didn’t smile in return. I tried to remind myself that Sue-Anne truly did have the welfare of the town of Rudolph at heart. And if she got her picture in a major national magazine, so much the better. I could see it appearing on her campaign literature when the next election rolled around.

  “It’s going to be a closed-door shoot. Sorry.” Meaning, I would close the door on anyone who tried to come in uninvited.

  She tried not to look too disappointed, and left.

  At five forty-five I told Jackie she could leave. At five fifty I ordered her to lea
ve. At five fifty-five I went into the back, got her purse, shoved it at her, and marched her to the door. I flipped the sign to “Closed,” but left the door unlocked for my expected visitors. I ran to the back, checked my hair in the restroom mirror, decided I couldn’t do much about it, and popped my head into the office. Mattie jumped up to greet me. Fortunately, I read his intentions in time and managed to scramble out of the way as he leapt. “Down! No jumping!” I wagged my finger at him and he let out a whimper. With a pang of guilt I remembered what our obedience school teacher had said. At ten months, he’s still a puppy and it’s vital that training be constantly reinforced. I’d slipped badly this past week with all that was happening. I took the dog biscuit tin out of the drawer. I didn’t even have to say the word “sit” before his big furry rump hit the floor and his tongue lolled out of his mouth in eager anticipation. I laughed and gave him the treat. It disappeared in an instant.

  “You are a good dog. Yes, you are.” I scratched at his favorite spot behind his ears. “But you still have to stay in here for a while yet. Hopefully, I can get this over and done with before too long.”

  I went back to the main room and studied the shop. Everything looked lovely. Silver and glass sparkled, the lights of the tree glowed, the dolls stood in neat rows, the tableware and linens were so inviting it made me wonder what was in my fridge that I could prepare for dinner. I hadn’t heard from Alan, but I still hoped he’d be able to bring me a sample of the village in time. I wanted it to be prominently displayed. I’d cleared space for it under the Douglas fir, but I’d have to put something else there if he didn’t get here soon.

  Jason arrived at quarter after six, laden with camera and lighting equipment. “Willow and Amber not here?”

  “No.”

  “I wonder what’s keeping them? Willow’s famous for her punctuality.” He cleared some room on the counter, near the curtain leading to the back and thus out of the way of anything he might want in the pictures. He zipped open his bags and laid out a series of black lenses, each one larger than the other. He studied the room, adjusted the flash, and took sample pictures, checking angles and lighting.