2 Yule Be the Death of Me

by J. D. Shaw

  Vivienne considered showing her find to the officer Lovell, but thought differently. Once again, she felt as if she were being spoon-fed clues and it was starting to get on her nerves. She would not give whoever it was stalking her the satisfaction of helping to spread more panic and chaos. She tucked the card into one of her purse’s many pockets and walked back to her car.

  She had no sooner pulled out of her parking spot when her cell phone went off with another call. Thankfully, Joshua had upgraded her radio system with a hands free phone option so she could answer calls while driving. “Hello?”

  “Oh my God, where are you?” Kathy’s voice asked through her car speakers.

  “I was on my way to the outlets this morning but then I got sidetracked.” Vivienne answered.

  “There are more Bad Santa notes this morning.” Kathy spoke hurriedly.

  “About Miss Octavia?” Vivienne filled in the blank confidently. “I was already over there.”

  “No.” Kathy’s voice went flat. “What happened to Miss Octavia?”

  “Someone vandalized her store. Smashed the front window and destroyed lots of her goods. I’m going to organize a group of our Main Street business owners to help her clean up and donate some cash to get her back on her feet.”

  “I don’t believe it.” Kathy was quick to reply. “But count me in to help out.”

  “I know it’s short notice, but I was hoping we could get started in about two or three hours.”

  “Sure, I think I can make some calls and get some more people to help out.”

  Vivienne smiled. ”That would be a huge help.”

  “So, don’t you want to know what the note says?”

  “I was just downtown and I didn’t see any notes floating about.” Vivienne tapped her fingers on the steering wheel impatiently.

  “It was tucked inside this morning’s newspaper.”

  “I didn’t even open mine.” Vivienne felt foolish for not doing so. “Who are they targeting?”

  “Tristan and Nathaniel.” Kathy lowered her voice. “Oh Vivienne, it’s very salacious. I feel terrible for them if it’s true.”

  “Read it for me, word for word. Don’t leave anything out.” Vivienne replied as she turned a corner and headed for Main Street.

  Kathy cleared her throat. “Sure thing. You better not pout!” She paused for a moment. “Our mysterious letter writer seems to think they’re cute using the lyrics to that old chestnut.”

  “Kathy, normally I’d love your commentary but time could be of the essence here.” Vivienne found herself making the ‘speed it up’ motion with her hand, a habit she tried often to break but somehow it always remained with her.

  “Oh, fine.” Kathy cleared her throat once again and continued where she had left off. “You seem the perfect couple, the very model of how love should be. Yet, one of you harbors a secret lover while the other turns a blind eye in the hopes it could turn into something more accommodating for three. Santa has been watching and is quite fed up with your hypocrisy. It’s quite apparent your value in this town is decreasing. Clearly, you both are the lowest bidders when it comes to morality. Sincerely, Santa Claus.”

  “This is getting out of hand. The whole town is going to be at each other’s throats if this keeps up.” Vivienne reasoned.

  “It’s definitely sucked the joy out of the holiday season around here.” Kathy agreed. “So do you think the break-in at Miss Octavia’s is connected to this?”

  “I don’t think so.” Vivienne spoke as she parked her car in front of Carriage House Antiques. She saw a hand pull back a curtain that was drawn across the main storefront window. “I’ve got an errand to run and then I’ll call you back in a little bit.”

  “Are you investigating again?” Kathy asked with more than a hint of encouragement in her voice.

  “I’m searching for the truth.” Vivienne quickly answered. “You can quote me on that should the police ask you questions.”

  Kathy chuckled. “Talk to you later.”

  Vivienne stepped up to the door of Tristan and Nathaniel’s business, which also served as their home, and rang the doorbell.

  The door opened a sliver. “I’m sorry, Vivienne. We’re not up for company today.” Nathaniel’s voice was soft and sullen.

  “I know about the note and I’m here to help you fix things.” Vivienne spoke up. “Please let me in.”

  There was a pause and then the door swung open to reveal Nathaniel, dressed in a robe and opera slippers. His ginger hair was disheveled and he looked even more pale than usual. “Come in.”

  She scooted inside as he shut the door rather forcefully and leaned against it. “How can you fix this?” He asked.

  “You look terrible.” Vivienne observed. “Why don’t we go sit down and have some tea?”

  Nathaniel sighed and looked at her. “You don’t have an easy answer, do you?

  She shook her head. “Not yet. But I don’t believe a word of that stupid note.”

  “Gossip travels fast Vivienne.” Nathaniel led her toward the kitchen area near the back of the store. “We’ll probably be out of business by week’s end.”

  “I don’t think so.” Vivienne countered as they stepped into the kitchen. “We’re going to sit down and figure this out.”

  Tristan climbed down the back kitchen stairs and paused at the landing. Normally the dapper dresser, this morning she was shocked to find him wearing only a pair of red flannel boxers and a simple white tee shirt. “Vivienne?”

  “Hi Tristan.” Vivienne sat down at the small farmer’s table. “I know you’ve had a rough morning.”

  “That’s the understatement of the year.” He quipped back with much less zeal than she was used to.

  “What did the paper say?” Nathaniel asked as he filled a kettle with water from the deep marble sink and placed it on the gas burner stovetop.

  “It didn’t come from them.” Tristan replied.

  “Of course it did. It was in every paper around town this morning.” Nathaniel snapped.

  Vivienne could sense an argument ready to erupt. “It’s possible someone slipped them into the newspapers on the delivery truck or perhaps in some of the bundles that were dropped off at the carrier’s homes during the night.”

  Nathaniel’s face flushed red. “Whoever this is certainly has an ax to grind with a lot of the folks in this town.”

  “But why now?” Tristan asked the group. “What are they trying to gain from this?”

  “That’s true.” Vivienne added. “These aren’t blackmail notes asking for hush money. This is just someone getting some sort of retribution.”

  “But who?” Nathaniel asked as he pulled the steaming kettle off the stovetop. “It has to be someone who lives here to know the things they know.”

  Tristan buried his face in his hands. “I can’t do this anymore.”

  Vivienne leaned forward at his outburst. “What’s wrong?”

  “Tristan, don’t say it.” Nathaniel’s voice was stern.

  “If you’re holding something back, you need to tell me.” Vivienne replied.

  Tristan’s shoulders began to heave as he started to cry. “I never meant for it to go this far. I tried to resist his advances, but he kept buying me drinks and before I knew it I woke up the next morning in the hotel room.”

  Nathaniel tossed his arms up in the air. “Well, now you’ve done it. The whole town is going to know about that stupid lapse of judgment that night in New York.”

  Vivienne felt terrible. “So there was an affair?”

  “It was a lapse of good judgment.” Nathaniel corrected her. “An affair is mutual consent.”

  “I’m not judging you guys here.” Vivienne was quick to speak up. “But I can’t say the same for the people in town. After all these notes, I think everyone is on edge.”

  Tristan raised his head up and wiped away most of the remaining tears. “It was one night and it was months ago.”

  Nathaniel sat down next to him and dra
ped his arm over his shoulders. “We’ve worked through it and we’re fine.”

  “I’m glad to hear that.” Vivienne felt a bit less awkward. “But the question remains, who else knew about it?’

  Tristan took a deep cleansing breath and began to pull himself back together. “It was at the hotel bar in New York. There were people everywhere. It took a half hour just to get the bartender to get me a drink.”

  “Just for the record, I’ve never had any lapses of judgment on my end.” Nathaniel added as the telephone rang. “I’ll get it.” He jumped up and dashed off to the living room to answer the phone. “If it’s those idiots at the newspaper again I’m going to give them hell and the name of our lawyer.”

  Vivienne thought for a moment and decided to see for herself what had really happened. She had a gift. Magic was her ally. As Nana Mary had instructed her, she needed to use it more often to control it better. The first few times she had tried it, she was merely a passive observer. But, there was much more to the power which would prove itself to be more exciting than she ever could have dreamed for. Now, she was starting to learn how to interact with the memories. Ask questions and make conversation that perhaps didn’t happen in the original memory. Granted, if she took the memory too far astray the person’s sub-conscious would ‘hiccup’, as Nana Mary described, and kick her out which would end the spell rather abruptly.

  She couldn’t fully understand how she was able to step beyond the memory. She assumed that it was simply a matter of taking in all of the sensory details the mind recorded during a memory. Side conversations, pictures hanging on the walls, what the license plate number was on the car that left the scene. It seemed similar to how a hypnotist could coax vivid recollections out of willing subjects for police investigations. Still, magic was able to skirt the rules and it rarely had a logical answer. It just happened. She wondered if perhaps her gift was intertwined with time travel? Was she in fact moving into the past and poking around? Could she alter what had happened? Her grimoire at home had the answers inside the musty pages, but it would only reveal them when it knew she was ready to take the next step. For now, it was all based on faith.

  There was no better time or place to give her spell work a try. She reached out her hands. “If there’s anything I can do to help you guys, you know I will.”

  Tristan reached back and clasped hands with her. “Thank you.”

  There was a tingle of energy that zapped her, much like an unexpected static shock during the dry months of winter. She allowed the magical ability to transport herself into his memory work slowly. The room grew dark and swirled into blackness. When she could see again, there were lights everywhere. Bright lights, clanging of glasses, and loud conversation. She found herself at the hotel bar the very night Tristan made his mistake.

  “What can I get you?” A handsome blonde man asked from across the illuminated bar top.

  “A 7 and 7 please.” Vivienne answered without thinking. The words just slipped out of her mouth.

  “You got it.” The bartender dashed away to make the drink. As he moved, Vivienne could see her reflection in the mirror. She was inside Tristan’s body, yet she felt free to break free from the sequence of events that his memory recorded. Nana Mary had told her that the power would change and evolve the more she used it. It was an exhilarating yet terrifying feeling not to know where this would lead.

  “I thought a handsome guy like you would be more creative than that?” A smooth tenor voice spoke from her left side.

  Vivienne turned to see who it was. “I beg your pardon?”

  The man was athletic in build, dressed in an expensive looking business suit that could have placed him as a hot-shot executive in any of the offices in Manhattan. His skin tone was a slight orange color that revealed itself as a possible salon spray tan. His dark black hair was slicked back and glossy, reflecting the lights from around the bar area. “I said I expected a hot guy like you to be more adventurous when it came to ordering drinks.”

  “Oh.” Vivienne felt herself blush. “I’m sorry to disappoint you.”

  The handsome executive winked at him. “I can fix that.” He snapped his fingers and the bartender practically leapt to his call. “Cancel that previous order and get this handsome guy the house special and another for me.”

  “How do you know I’ll like it?” Vivienne played along.

  “Because it’s like me. A little sweet, a little sour.” The handsome executive pushed his bar stool closer to Vivienne. “But it goes down nice and easy.”

  She had to refrain from cringing at the horrible pickup line. “I guess I’ll try it.” She had always wondered how the gay bar scene differed from the heterosexual one. It turned out, they were both filled with lame pickup lines and promises that rarely lived up to their initial sell.

  “I just realized I never introduced myself. I’m Robert.” He offered his right hand.

  “Viv…” Vivienne stopped just before she made the mistake. “Very nice to meet you. I’m Tristan.”

  “That’s a sexy name.” Robert moved a little closer as the bartender set down two drinks that were electric-blue in color.

  Vivienne stared at the highball glass. “Thank you.”

  “So where are you from, Tristan?”

  “A little town upstate. You’ve probably never heard of it.”

  “Try me.”

  She took a sip and nearly spit it out in surprise. It was potent. “Wow.” She reacted. “This stuff should be fueling rockets for NASA.”

  “You’re adorable.” Robert raised his matching glass and downed a big gulp. “So where did you say you were from?”

  “Cayuga Cove.” Vivienne felt the burn of the alcohol as it slid down her throat.

  “Get out.” Robert slapped his hand on the bar. “I know that place.”

  “You’re kidding?”

  He shook his head. “My great-grandfather had a summer home way back in the olden days.”

  “In Cayuga Cove?” Vivienne was intrigued.

  “Yeah, it’s on the Eastern shore of Cayuga lake.”

  “I’ll be damned.” Vivienne had a ton of questions swirling in her mind. “So, when was the last time you were there?”

  “About a year ago.” Robert answered. “My family let the place go because no one wanted to move from the city to take care of it.”

  “Who is your family?”

  “Don’t judge me now.” Robert smiled at her as he took a drink.

  “What do you mean?”

  “The Rothwells.” Robert answered.

  “Your great-grandfather was Edgar Rothwell?”

  “I said don’t judge.” Robert smiled at her and took another large drink. “You’re not a journalist looking for another angle on that golden parachute scandal that my father cooked up, are you?

  “No. I sell antiques.” Vivienne assured him.

  “Good. Because I’m not like the rest of my family. I don’t screw employees out of their retirement funds and bankrupt the place when my promises fail to deliver the results.”

  “Do you happen to know Samantha Charles?” Vivienne asked.

  “The hotel heiress? We’re both seasoned veterans of the charity fundraising circuit here in the city.” Robert winked again. “Still, I’m old money and she is new. The two worlds never mix.” He took another generous sip of his drink.

  “I wouldn’t know.” Vivienne added. “I grew up without a trust fund.”

  Robert frowned. “Oh man. Now we’re getting to the money part and this is where I start to get bored.”

  “I’m sorry.” Vivienne took another small sip from her drink. “I’ve never dated anyone with significant wealth before.”

  “So we’re dating?

  Vivienne shrugged. “I don’t remember offering to do that.”

  Robert laughed, one of those drunk and getting drunker kind of laughs that seemed to go on for minutes. “You’re so adorable.”

  There was a light from a cell phone on the bar in f
ront of Vivienne. The phone vibrated and inched closer to her drink. She picked it up and saw Nathaniel’s name on the caller display.

  “Who’s that calling you?” Robert asked.

  “My husband.” She spoke without thinking.

  Robert raised an eyebrow. “Does he let you play when you come into the city?”

  “I don’t know.” Vivienne replied as the call went to voice mail.

  Robert put his arm around her shoulders and spoke into her ear. “I won’t tell if you won’t.”

  “Are you seeing someone?” Vivienne asked, feeling rather uncomfortable at the turn the conversation was taking.

  “I have a girl, but she’s not here tonight.” He winked.

  “Aren’t you gay?” She asked.

  “Oh, man. Enough with labels. You’re starting to sounds like my parents and that’s not a good thing.” He pulled his arm off her and finished his drink. “If you’re looking for a quote try this one on for size. Robert Edward Rothwell thinks that labels are best left for clothes.” His eyes were slightly unfocused as he made ‘air quotes’ with his hands. “That should sell a few thousand copies.”

  “I’m not a journalist.” Vivienne repeated.

  I’m an antiques dealer from Cayuga Cove.”

  “And I’ve got an enormous suite here at the hotel all to myself.” Robert giggled a little. “It’s got a hot tub that seats eight.”

  “Sounds like you could fit my hotel room in the hot tub.” Vivienne quipped.

  “Why don’t we go upstairs and see?”

  “I don’t know if that’s such a good idea.”

  Robert snapped his fingers as the bartender set another drink down in front of them. “It will be after you finish this.” He smiled.