2 Yule Be the Death of Me

by J. D. Shaw

Vivienne felt dizzy as Tristan’s memory began to fight back against her probing questions. She had gone too far and his mind was about to ‘hiccup’ and spew her out. “I think I better go back to my room and call my husband back.” The room began to spin. “Thanks for the drink.” Everything went dark as Tristan’s mind ejected her.

  She found herself back inside the kitchen of Carriage House Antiques a few moments later.

  “Hey, can you hear me? You sort of faded out there for a second.” Tristan snapped his fingers in front of her face.

  “I’m sorry.” She found it was becoming easier to return back to the present without creating a scene. “My blood sugar has been all kinds of wacky this month.” She lied. “Did I pass out?”

  “Just for ten or fifteen seconds.” Tristan answered. “It was like you were in a trance or something, your eyes never closed.” He got up from the table and reached for a plate of blueberry muffins that was on the counter near the sink. “You better eat something.”

  “Thank you.” She played along and snagged a muffin. “Hey, did I tell you that Samantha Charles called me the other day?”

  “No. What did she have to say?” Tristan was happy to have the conversation be about someone else.

  “She told me that she ran into someone at a fundraising event that has roots in Cayuga Cove.”

  “Anyone we know?”

  “She said his name was Robert Rothwell.” Vivienne slipped the name in. “He must be related to the family that built the mansion here in town.”

  Tristan’s eyes narrowed. “You don’t say.”

  “I’ve never heard of him. She said his family is old money.” Vivienne continued.

  “I’ve heard of him.” Tristan spoke softly.

  “You have?”

  He nodded back. “He was the man I slept with in New York.”

  “Are you kidding me?” She played along as if shocked.

  “He bought me a drink, a real strong one. Started talking about his family and how he knew about Cayuga Cove and it made me feel not so lonely.”

  “What are you saying, Tristan?”

  “I’m saying that it really wasn’t an alcohol-fueled lapse of judgment like Nathaniel keeps insisting it was. I knew what I was doing the whole time.”

  Vivienne could feel his shame as he bared his awful secret to her at the kitchen table. “I’m so sorry to hear about this.

  “The truth is, I hate all the traveling. I hate the hotels, I hate the rental vans and dinners alone at chain restaurants.” Tristan went on. “I just want to stay here at home and be a good husband. I just want to make a normal life here were we only travel on vacations together.”

  “That’s understandable.” Vivienne sympathized with him. “Have you told him about this?”

  “We fought about it for months.” Tristan revealed. “We don’t have the money in the bank to make that happen. We’re barely getting by as it is.”

  “I had no idea.”

  “We applied at the bank for a loan to help pay some bills but we got turned down.” Tristan’s lower lip began to quiver. “The worst part is that I know that Eunice Kilpatrick heard about it and she couldn’t wait to start spreading the news.”

  “Eunice Kilpatrick knew about this?” Vivienne started to mentally connect some dots. Santa’s naughty list was starting to look a lot less random. “Are you positive?”

  “Yes, because this trailer trash woman came marching in here the other day trying to sell some cheap Hummel knock-offs for some quick Christmas cash.” Tristan recalled. “I told her they weren’t the real thing and she went ballistic, telling me that I was going to ruin her grandchildren’s Christmas.”

  Vivienne wished she had brought a pen and paper with her to take notes. She had no choice but to just keep nodding reassuringly. “How does this connect to Eunice?”

  “Because the woman went on to explain how the bank’s loan manager was heartless, but a good Christian teller who worked there told her to come to our shop because we were flush with cash and always buying antiques.”

  “I thought you said Eunice knew you guys were having money trouble?”

  “She did.” Tristan hit the table with his fist. “She did it because she wants to see us go out of business.”

  “Why does Eunice have a vendetta against you two?”

  Tristan took a deep breath before speaking. “Right after Halloween some relative of hers died and left her a supposedly antique pocket watch. She came in and tried to sell it for some fast cash, but I had to tell her it wasn’t nearly as old as she thought it was.”

  Vivienne nodded. “So Eunice was on the receiving end of a bad deal?”

  “She expected a couple of thousand dollars at least. I told her it was worth maybe two hundred at the most.”

  “Did she tell you what she needed the money for?” Vivienne asked.

  “No, she was tight-lipped about her own business as usual.” Tristan looked at Vivienne with new fear in his eyes. “So, now she’s going out of her way to get everyone all riled up and mad that we won’t buy their crap with all this supposed money we’re sitting on. I thought maybe she was the one writing the Bad Santa notes, but when she got hit by that car I realized it couldn’t be her.”

  “She’s in a coma still.” Vivienne added

  “It’s probably all planned by that religious-freak brother of hers. He wants to drive us out of town, and he’s going to do it by making as many people hate us as possible.”

  Vivienne reached down under the table and pulled up her purse. She rummaged through it and then pulled out the business card she had found near Miss Octavia’s store earlier. “Pastor Seamus Kilpatrick?”

  “Why are you mentioning that name in this house?” Nathaniel returned to the kitchen.

  “I told her the whole story.” Tristan added.

  “You what?” Nathaniel smacked his head slightly. “Why would you air our dirty laundry out like that? Isn’t this letter enough shame for one day?”

  “I’m tired of secrets and lies, Nathaniel. I can’t do it anymore.” Tristan began to break down.

  Nathaniel rushed over to him. “We’ll sell this place and move somewhere else. Get a fresh start.”

  Tristan shook his head. “Can’t we do that here?

  “I think our time in Cayuga Cove is over.”

  Vivienne interrupted. “Not yet it isn’t.”

  “You’ve got a plan?” Tristan asked.

  “Give me a few days.” Vivienne asked. “Please.”

  Nathaniel nodded. “Can we help?”

  “I’ll let you know.” She smiled back.

  CHAPTER 14

  Kathy rubbed her hands together in the cold air. “I’m still in shock someone would vandalize a store like this right here in Cayuga Cove.”

  Vivienne swept up some small shards of broken plate glass window into a dustpan. “There is something bad going on in this town and I’m going to figure out what it is.”

  Kathy looked around the interior of Mother Earth Mercantile. Although the vandal had done considerable damage to the front display, most of the store remained very much intact. “I’m just glad it wasn’t as bad as it first looked.”

  Vivienne leaned against her broom. “Thanks to you and all the others who decided to lend out a helping hand today.” She pointed to where Tony DiSanto, of The Leaning Tower of Pizza and Brian Amberry of Hummingbird Floral were nearly finished boarding up the broken window with some plywood. Miss Clara had brought in an thermal pot of coffee and some club sandwiches for everyone to eat while they helped clean up and secure he store. Even though she didn’t have insurance through his office, Neil Harrison had brought with him some paperwork for Miss Octavia to fill out that would help with categorizing what had been destroyed should the police catch the criminal. He worked with her over at the table where she would conduct readings with her crystal ball and tarot cards with clients.

  “I expected a lot more than this to show up to help, honestly.” Kathy frowned. “I thin
k some of the Main Street business owners are quite stuck in the past when it comes to how they treat people.”

  Vivienne really couldn’t argue with her logic. She knew very well what it was like for a new business to deal with the merchants who had been in town for decades. “We can’t discount these Bad Santa notes from having a negative effect on the town’s morale.”

  “We are all potential targets.” Kathy fired back. “None of us are saint material.”

  “That’s true.” Vivienne set the broom against one of the shelves stocked with books. “Let’s grab a sandwich and some coffee.”

  “I thought you’d never want to take a break.” Kathy followed her.

  “Well, you two girls are sure to stay off that naughty list by helping out here.” Clara noted as she began to pack up the few remaining sandwiches.

  “Is there still a turkey on wheat left?” Vivienne asked.

  Clara looked into the large plastic tote and rummaged around. “Yes, I saved one for you.” She pulled it out and handed it to her. “Lettuce with light mayo.”

  Vivienne could feel her mouth water with anticipation. She had really worked up an appetite helping to clean the store up. “Split it with me?” She asked Kathy.

  “Sure.” Kathy poured herself and Vivienne a cup of hot coffee.

  Vivienne unwrapped the cellophane from the sandwich and placed half on a napkin for Kathy. “Any thoughts from you on who our Bad Santa might be?” She asked Clara.

  Clara shrugged. “I try not to get too involved with things like that.”

  “Every time I think I start to unravel the mystery, it just gets deeper.” Vivienne conceded. “I guess my sleuthing skills are not as sharp as I thought they were.”

  “Of course they’re sharp.” Kathy handed Vivienne a cup of black coffee. “You never would have solved Mona’s murder otherwise.”

  Clara closed the lid on her container and made sure it was sealed tight. “I’m too old to go poking around town looking to solve murders.”

  “So I should just let things be?” Vivienne took a small bite of her sandwich.

  “Heavens no.” Clara grimaced. “I think you should keep poking around to see what you can stir up.”

  “Just don’t get caught by Sheriff Rigsbee.” Kathy added as she sipped her coffee. “He’s not too keen on getting help from ordinary citizens.”

  “He’s a stubborn old mule who knows his retirement isn’t too far down the road.” Clara warned. “So, don’t take his gruff attitude too personal.”

  “I try not to.” Vivienne sipped her coffee.

  “So, what have you found out so far?” Kathy asked.

  “Not too much, but I can tell you that these notes are starting to look much less random than we all thought.”

  Clara’s eyes widened in surprise. “So, there is a method at work here. It sounds quite devious.”

  “Ladies, we can’t forget that someone is dead because of these notes.” Vivienne chided them. “Whoever it is doesn’t seem to care if a life is lost as a result of their mayhem or not.”

  “Which makes them quite dangerous.” Kathy finished her coffee and looked around the room. “For all we know, the letter writer could be in this store with us right now.”

  “Oh, Kathy.” Clara picked up the tote in her arms. “I hardly think our killer is that casual.”

  Kathy put her hands on her hips. “Well, excuse me Miss Marple.”

  Vivienne stepped between them. “Ladies, please. We need to focus on the task at hand.”

  “I’m pooped from helping out here today. I vote we go back to our homes and curl up with a soft blanket and the television remote.” Kathy stretched her arms in the air.

  “I second that.” Clara added. “Keep me posted on how the investigation is going.”

  “You got it.” Vivienne finished off the last of the sandwich as Clara said her goodbyes to Miss Octavia and left the store.

  “So, do you need me for anything else?” Kathy asked.

  “What do you think about going with me to check out the old Rothwell mansion?”

  “It’s closed on Sundays.” Kathy was quick to reply. “What does that have to do with anything anyway?”

  “I can’t tell you the exact details.” Vivienne did her best to keep Tristan’s secret. “But needless to say, one of the Rothwell family members lives in New York and has an interesting connection to someone here in town.”

  “You do know something big.” Kathy gushed.

  “Maybe or maybe not.” Vivienne teased.

  “So how do we get inside?” Kathy asked.

  “With the keys, naturally.” Vivienne winked.

  “I don’t have them.”

  “Not you.” Vivienne pointed to Brian Amberry.

  “Why would Brian have the keys to the Rothwell mansion?”

  “Because he does all the floral and plant care for the historical society.” Vivienne made sure to brush off any crumbs from the sandwich from her shirt. “How do I look?”

  “Like a woman about to step once more onto the hot frying pan of life.” Kathy smiled.

  “That’s why I want you to go with me. So you can play lookout while I snoop around.”

  Kathy shook her head. “I think I liked things better when you did all of this without me and told me the next day.”

  Vivienne rushed over to Brian who was helping Tony pack up the toolbox. “Hi Brian.” She smiled warmly. “It was so nice of you to volunteer your time today to help Miss Octavia.”

  Brian set the hammer down in the metal toolbox and smiled back at her. “It’s the least we can do to help each other out.”

  “That is the spirit of the season, isn’t it?”

  “I think it’s more important than ever we do these things.” Brian agreed. “Given the events the past few days.”

  “I couldn’t agree with you more.” Vivienne knelt down and handed him a screwdriver from the floor. “In fact, I was just thinking there was something else you could do for the town that just might help to bring the cheer back.”

  “I’d love to help.” Brian chirped back.

  “Great. Can I have the keys to the Rothwell mansion?”

  Brian raised an eyebrow at her. “Why do you need to get inside?”

  “Well, I’ve been sort of running my own little investigation into the events going on.” Vivienne lowered her voice.

  “I don’t know, Vivienne.” Brian shoved his hands into his pant pockets. “If anything happens I could lose them as an account.”

  “I promise I’ll be super careful.”

  “How does the mansion fit into what’s been going on?” Brian asked.

  “I’m not entirely sure about that at the moment.” Vivienne whispered. “But, I’m fairly certain there might be a clue hidden inside that will put me on the right track.”

  “I want to help you.” Brian replied. “I really do.”

  “I know I’m asking for a huge favor from you, but in the long run it could help catch the person who is terrorizing the town.” Vivienne reasoned. “Isn’t that worth a little risk on your part?”

  Brian reached into his pants pocket and pulled out a set of keys. He carefully removed a rather large brass key and handed it to her. “If it will help end this craziness, I’m all for it. The alarm code is 4037.”

  “Thanks, Brian.” Vivienne gave him a little hug. “I promise I’ll be careful not to disturb anything.”

  “Please do.” Brian pleaded with her. “I’ll need them back by tonight.”

  “I only need a little bit of time.” Vivienne gripped the key in her hand. “Wish me luck.”

  * * *

  It was well after three in the afternoon when Vivienne and Kathy parked across the street of the Rothwell mansion that housed the town’s historical society. The grounds would have looked quite bleak, were it not for the red ribbons and greenery that Brian had placed for the holiday season.

  As they hurried to the front door, Vivienne looked up at the large structure an
d felt a slight chill. She could almost feel a pair of eyes watching from behind one of the many large windows that graced the structure.

  “Can we go inside already?” Kathy moaned. “The wind is picking up.”

  Vivienne slid the key into the lock and opened the door. She moved to the alarm box just inside the doorway and put in the code Brian had given her as Kathy closed the door behind them.

  “Did you ever notice how big homes like this smell different from our places?” Kathy asked.

  Vivienne inhaled and nodded. The air smelled of old papers and books, wood oil, and just a hint of musty basement trailing through the floor vents. “It smells lonely to me.”

  “Lonely?” Kathy asked.

  “Yes.” Vivienne explained. “When a house is filled with a family it doesn’t smell like this. There’s perfumes and foods and laundry. It smells like life.”

  “You’re right.” Kathy smiled. “I never thought about it like that.”

  Vivienne looked around the entry foyer where a large oak desk was placed near the main staircase. It was filled with brochures for local businesses and landmarks for visitors to check out. “I never thought to come inside this place when we were scouting it for the gingerbread contest.”

  Kathy walked toward the formal receiving parlor past the staircase and stopped at the archway. “Okay boss, what are we looking for here?”

  Vivienne shrugged as he put her hand on the carved oak banister of the staircase that led to the second floor. “I’m not sure yet.” She glanced upwards at the paneled wall at a series of portraits of several Rothwell family members. “I was hoping for some information about the family history in this place.”

  Kathy marched over to the information desk and opened one of the brochures about the Rothwell home. “Let’s see if there’s anything like a map of what’s in this place to help visitors.” She scanned the brochure quickly. “Here we go. Learn about the Rothwell family history as you tour the splendor of their exquisite summer home.” She turned the brochure around and frowned. “Okay, that’s so not helpful.”

  “I guess we start down here and work our way up until we find something.” Vivienne pointed toward the parlor near Kathy. “You take that side and I’ll check over here.”