Nodding, I smiled. Judy was too cute to be a killer. “You look beautiful, Judy.”
“Anyway, Adya told us when she called to say Zumba was canceled tonight.”
Ah, the Marshmallow Hollow telephone tree was alive and well. “So Linny actually saw it happen?”
Judy put one hand to her cheek in dismay. “She did! Said he came running out of nowhere, grabbed the poor soul who was just about to pull out, dragged him out of the car, knocked him to the ground and took off!”
The B&B, Hollow House, was only a couple of blocks away from the police station, but how had Jared gotten away from Stiles and Ansel not once, but twice? You can bet your caboose I’d text Stiles to find out.
“Was anyone hurt?” I asked.
She let go of my hand and shook her head. “Everyone’s right as rain. The man he dragged out of the car is fine. Angry and upset, but fine. Now, what can I do ya for, Hal? I can’t imagine what you might need with the kind of supplies you have at the factory, but I’m happy to help.”
I took a moment to appreciate the amazing decorations Judy had put up for the coming holiday. She had wreaths everywhere, some ornate with red and green sparkly ribbon, some less so with only a pair of antique ice skates hanging from the middle and a simple burlap bow.
There was tinsel garland from stem to stern and baskets spilling over with poinsettias, and her shelves were stocked with, among many things, plenty of tubes of glitter and gingerbread-house-making kits.
I beamed at her, hoping I wasn’t coming off as a total phony. How could she have possibly killed someone? The notion that sweet Judy, the woman who always made sure I had a peach muffin when I’d had my head buried in a design magazine in the school library, kill someone?
“The store looks great, Judy,” I complimented, certain my tone came off sounding falsely cheerful and high-pitched. “You’ve done such a beautiful job, as always.”
She curtsied, spreading out an imaginary skirt. “Well, thank you, m’dear. I’ll take that as a big ol’ compliment, coming from the girl who was an interior designer. So what brings you in? You and this looker making gingerbread houses? I have a new kit this year. Think you’ll like it.”
“Not today. Today, I just wanted to ask you a couple of questions about a very sensitive topic.”
Her expression went grave when she pulled me in to whisper, “Is it the pauses, honey? Can’t be, though, could it? You’re so young! But old Judy’s always here for you, since you lost all the female influences in your life. You can ask me anything, and I’ll give it the old college try.”
Patting her hand, I assured her, “No. It isn’t the pauses. It’s about that jerk Lance Hilroy.”
She recoiled, tugging at her colorful Christmas sweater until it was past her elastic-waisted red jeans. “Oh. Him. Yuck-yuck-yuckity-yuck.”
The tone she used was anything but tinkling and fairy-ish.
“Yes. Him. He was a horrible human being from what I gather. In fact, the more I hear about him, the more horrible he sounds.”
She twisted the light-up wreath pin on her heavy sweater, her fingers tense. “Did you ever meet him, Hal? He comes on all slick and city-wise. Wants to wine and dine you and then thinks he can hand you a shoddy deal that won’t leave you with anything but your underwear, if you’re lucky. But I’m no fool. Kenny taught me all about running this business and what I’m worth, and I’m sure worth more than that thief offered.”
“So he did approach you about selling the store and lowballed you, the way he did Cyril?”
Her red-painted lips screwed up into a thin line. “That skanky-skank sure did, and I told him to take his baby offer and shove it up his not-so-baby butthole!”
Hobbs’s shoulders lurched as he put the back of his wrist over his mouth to keep from laughing and wheezed an intake of breath.
Judy was a fiery lady, no doubt about it.
I couldn’t help but grin at her description, but then I sobered. “He approached me, too, a while ago about the factory. Not in person, over the phone, but he was a condescending so-and-so. I hung up on him, googled him, found out who he was and decided I’m made the right call. ”
“I’m willing to bet he thought because I’m a senior, he could get away with it. But let me tell you a thing or two. I don’t make enough money to make me rich, but I make plenty to keep the lights on and take a nice vacation every year. I don’t wish anyone ill. I won’t be dancing on his grave, but I can tell you for sureskie, I’m not sorry he’s not around hassling us anymore.”
Her vehemence was to be admired. She’d taken Big Ken’s death quite hard, and with no children to occupy Judy’s time, everyone in town had made an effort to include her and uplift her spirits.
She’d scraped her way back, and to see her eyes so fiery about Hilroy and his crappy offer warmed my heart.
“Good for you, Judy. Well done. But that brings me to last night. I’m guessing you didn’t see anything around the time he was murdered?”
Her eyes darted to Hobbs, who was looking around the store, and she stiffened, then shook her head. “No siree. Didn’t see a thing. Closed up at five and went home to watch the Hallmark Channel. They have Christmas Twenty-Four-Seven, and you know how I love a good Christmas movie. Used to cuddle up with Kenny on the couch and watch them all. Now, it’s just me and Susan. But you can ask Linny and Adya for proof, and if the police come asking questions, I have witnesses because we were Skyping.”
Susan was Judy’s big, goofy, fabulous half mastiff, half something no one could identify. Bitty had introduced them, and like Hobbs and Stephen King, it was love at first sight.
And I was relieved to hear she’d been somewhere else last night…but wasn’t it odd that she instantly offered me proof of her whereabouts? Was that me being super paranoid, or was that Judy covering something up?
Rather than accuse, I kept my next comments casual. “I do remember how much you love a Hallmark movie—this time of year especially. Did you ever see Hilroy talk to anyone else? Argue with anyone? Do you know if he made offers on any other places like he did with you?”
She pursed her red lips. “I didn’t see him argue with anyone. I hardly saw him at all except when he came to talk to me about selling. He was like a snake in the Garden of Eden, slitherin’ in and out all sneaky and slimy. And the only other person I’m aware he made an offer to besides Cyril and me is Honey Crowley, and as far as I know, she told him the same thing we all did.”
Nodding, I said, “Then I only have one more question, and I’ll let you get back to work.”
She smiled at me, pushing my hair from my cheek. “I do have a class coming. Some of the kids from the elementary school are coming in to learn how to make pinecone ornaments, and I still have to make the hot chocolate. So what else can I help you with?”
I wasn’t sure if it was still relevant, but I was going to ask anyway. “Do you have any of those stamp thingies? You know, the ones that make reindeer hoofprints for the kids so they think Santa’s been to their house?”
“You mean like the ones mounted on the broomstick?”
“You have them mounted on a broomstick?”
She smiled her impish smile. “I sure do. It makes it easier on your back to stamp. No bending required.”
Leave it to Judy to think of everything. “So you do have some?”
She was off before I could stop her, calling over her shoulder, “They were pretty popular as far back as early November. Must’ve been everyone getting a jump on the Christmas rush. I think I’ve got one left, let me look in the back and grab it for you.”
As she said those words, Hobbs cleared his throat, calling my attention to his location over at the other end of the store. When our eyes met, he held up his hand—and on it, he’d draped some beads.
And then I heard Judy. “Oh, shoot, Hal! It’s gone.” She poked her head out from the back and shrugged her shoulders. “I thought for sure I still had one left, but I guess I was wrong. You know what they say
, memory’s the first thing to go.”
Chapter 11
Baby It’s Cold Outside
Written by Frank Loesser, 1944
“So what’s the theory?” Hobbs asked as he walked me back across the street to my truck after we’d left Judy’s. “Shouldn’t we be sending the police to Judy’s store?”
“No, we should not,” I practically hissed at him, beeping my truck open. “You don’t really think little Judy did it, do you? She says she has proof she was home and her friends can verify her alibi. And keep your voice down. Do you want all of Marshmallow Hollow to eat you alive? They’d have a field day with you if they thought you suspected Judy of killing that jerk.”
Hobbs’s mouth, amidst all that silky dark beard, pursed in skepticism. “Sure, she has an alibi. A convenient one. One she offered up pretty quick as if we’d asked her for one, even though we didn’t.”
That was definitely fair. However, she was Judy. My Judy, and I wouldn’t let her go down as a suspect without a fight.
I put my hands on my hips, feeling defensive. “Maybe she realizes the police are going to come around and ask her questions. I’d make that conclusion, too, if a guy I’d told to pack sand was killed. Wouldn’t you? In fact, I’ve already worried about my alibi for the time he was killed because I was at home alone, and he did call me about the factory. I’m probably a suspect just as much as anyone else. Maybe even one of the ones at the top of the list because, comparatively speaking, I’m the youngest on the list, aside from Jared. That makes me stronger than a batch of seventy-year-olds, right?”
Hobbs appeared to think about that for a moment then nodded his head. “Okay, also true. But what about the reindeer hoofprint stamp? The last stamp is gone and Judy thinks she sold it, but she doesn’t remember to who? Could come off as a little fishy, wouldn’t you agree?”
I didn’t want to agree, but I guess I had to entertain the idea if I wanted to remain objective. “Okay, I’m sorry I snapped at you. I’m feeling very protective of the lady who made sure I had something to eat in sixth grade when I’d forget the lunch bell rang. I love Judy. I don’t want her to be a…killer,” I whispered as a couple wandered past us with a wave.
Hobbs’s expression went sympathetic. “Well, neither do I. She’s as cute as a bug in a rug, and I’d hate it if it were her, but sometimes the person—”
“You least suspect… Yeah. I’ve heard that before. For now, let’s just agree not to rule her out, but I’m not sending the police to put her in the slammer without something more solid. Maybe I should, because what do I know about murderers and solving crimes other than what I’ve seen on television? Still, I’d rather have more proof.”
“So what next?”
“Honey Crowley. She’s another of Hilroy’s victim, if what Bitty said is true, but I have a lunch date with Stiles first. You want to join us?”
“I’d love to, but I have to get back and let Stephen King out. He’s probably crossing his legs by now. How about I catch y’all later?”
I smiled, my lips sticking to my teeth from the cold. “You give Stephen King an extra treat for me.” He started toward his Jeep, and as I started to hop into my truck, I remembered what we were doing tonight at the house. “Hey, Hobbs? You want to help decorate the Christmas tree with us tonight?”
He stopped for a moment and then he gave me a warm smile. “Yeah. I’d like that, Hal. Can I bring anything?”
“Just Stephen King and your long arms. We’ll need them if the tree Boris Greer dropped off this year is anything like the one he brought last year. It’ll be of Clark Griswold proportions, and we’ll need your height to help put the star on top.”
“I’m in. I’ll see you tonight,” he said before he waved and headed off to his Jeep.
I texted Stiles to let him know I was on my way, deciding to drive the few blocks to the station to pick him up. Normally I’d walk, but it was freezing, even at just after one in the afternoon, and I was tired from the tension of asking Judy all those questions.
Parking at the station, I marveled at how my sister Stevie didn’t end up a complete basket case after questioning people she grew up with whom she suspected of murder.
As I was making my way down the icy path leading to the station, I ran into Lark Kniffen—the poor soul who’d found Lance Hilroy’s body in the sleigh—with his son, Mo.
Mo toddled beside him, wrapped up in a red snowsuit and blue snow boots, his chubby cheeks red, his eyes happy as he tugged at his hat and threw it on the ground.
I stooped to pick it up and give it to his dad. “Lark! How are you?” Probably a stupid question after finding a dead body, but a courtesy everyone asked, I suppose.
He blew out a breath of cold air, his eyes bleary and red. “Still a little shook up, Hal. Still shook up.”
Despite the cold, his narrow face was deathly pale. As he clung to little Mo’s hand, I could only guess why he was at the station.
“Were they asking you questions about…about last night?”
His nod was curt as he stooped to gather Mo into his arms. The baby reached out to grab at the ends of my hair, his chubby hands bare, his sparkling green eyes so much like his mother’s. “So many questions my head’s still spinning. It was grueling, but I guess they have to get answers. Wish I had more. Tina’s in with them now.”
I grabbed Mo’s hand and blew raspberries against it, making him giggle. “Aw, Lark. I’m sorry. I bet it was awful.”
“Not as bad as,” he stopped and covered Mo’s ears with his shoulder and one veined hand, “finding you-know-who kaput in that sleigh. I’m telling you, Hal, it was really scary. I think Tina’s gonna have nightmares forever. I mean, who would kill a guy at this time of year? It seems so wrong.”
My look was sympathetic as I pushed Mo’s wildly curly hair from his eyes and dug around in my coat pocket for a packet of candy cane cookies I always carried with me this time of year.
“You do know our insurance covers therapy, right? Please look into it, and I’m always here for you and Tina if you need anything. Your mental health is important to me.”
“That’s really kind of you, Hal. Sure appreciate you as an employer.”
I was dying to ask more detailed questions, but I didn’t have to. I think Lark needed to talk about his experience with someone other than the police, and anyone would do. As Mo reached out his arms to me, and I took him from Lark, he sighed bleakly.
Pinching his temples, he reached up under his hat and scratched his dark head. “Know what the worst thing was about finding him?”
I held up a candy cane cookie to show Lark, who nodded his approval before I gave a piece to the baby. “What’s that?”
“How his face looked. It was… I don’t know,” he said on a shudder. “Distorted, all bunched up, like he’d been in pain when he left this Earth. Can’t get the image out of my head. And he had this weird, fluffy pink fuzz or fur or something stuck to his hair on the side of his head.”
I winced, fearing Hobbs and his question about Judy’s innocence might be valid. I’d bet she sold pink fuzzy stuff at her craft store.
“Like stuff you’d get in a craft store?”
Lark looked confused for a minute, but then he said, “Yeah. Maybe. I don’t know what it was. I thought the guy was drunk when I first saw him. We were going to get a pic of Mo on the sleigh. I go in to look closer and cheese and crackers, the blood… There was so much.”
“So you saw the body up close?” I repeated in sympathy.
His face looked woefully pained. “Really up close. Stupid me gave him a little shove at first. I mean, before I saw the blood. I thought I was waking him up. Wouldn’t be the first yahoo to pass out in the sleigh.” He shuddered again. “But…he was…gone.”
“Can I ask you a question that might seem really ghoulish?”
He shrugged with a confused expression. “Um, sure. I guess so.”
“I only ask this because it was something I…heard.” That wasn’t exactly
a lie, and I’m not sure why I didn’t tell him it had been Hobbs who saw the beaded necklace. Maybe because I didn’t want him to think we’d been rubbernecking. “Did he by chance have beads in his pocket?”
I didn’t want to make Lark relive last night, and I’m sure he’d been made to describe the scene in detail, but I had to know. The police sure wouldn’t tell me.
He paused a moment as though he were giving it some thought and then he shook his head. “I don’t remember that. I just remember almost jumping out of my skin and then realizing he was dead and telling Tina to stay away. I only know I’m glad Mo’s little enough that he’ll probably never remember it, but I won’t ever forget.”
I squeezed Mo a little tighter as he happily gnawed on the cookie, his red snowsuit tucked snuggly around his chubby body. “I imagine it was awful. I haven’t heard many details about what happened, not even on the news this morning. I don’t even know how he died.”
Lark clucked his tongue as though what he was about to say was a real shame. “Somebody clobbered him with something heavy—and you didn’t hear about it because they wanted to notify his family first, but it turns out he doesn’t have any family. It was just him and a bunch of corporations. Had to have some employee of his come identify him. What a shame to leave this world with no one to call your own.”
I hated to say I wasn’t surprised, but I wasn’t. It didn’t shock me that a man who thought he could take advantage of a senior didn’t have many friends.
I booped Mo’s nose, making him giggle. “He wasn’t a nice guy, Lark. That I know for sure after talking to Cyril and Judy.”
But Lark didn’t appear to hear me. He clearly had purging on his mind. “And you know something else? They say he was killed probably just before we got there. I regret more than ever deciding to take Mo to the festival so early. Tina wanted to wait until later, but I told her Mo would be too overstimulated by all the noise and lights, so we should go early and let him decompress before his bedtime. Look what happened because I thought I knew best.”
Jingle all the Slay: Marshmallow Hollow Mysteries Book 1 Page 10