Cozy Christmas Murder

by Summer Prescott

  Kate nodded. “Now what?”

  “Good question. I guess we wait until Ian’s done. He said he’d call you, right?”

  “He did,” Kate’s eyes widened in surprise. “I guess he decided to come in person, speaking of the devil.” She tilted her chin. “Don’t turn around.”

  Grace felt irritation simmering. The last thing she and Kate needed was to be questioned by him at Pinky’s. Rumors would fly out of here like bats out of a cave at dusk. On the other hand, maybe he’d found something important that he had to share. At least the place had emptied out somewhat, and there was no one seated near them. She noticed the people who were still inside Pinky’s turn their heads to see where the detective was heading, then thankfully, lose interest.

  “I apologize for the interruption,” Ian said, his voice low, when he stopped at their table. “Do you both have a few minutes? Or would you feel more comfortable at the station?”

  Grace caught Kate’s eyes. She knew Kate would get the message that she wanted her to take the lead. They were good that way, able to communicate without words.

  “Here is fine. Please, sit down.” Kate scooted over so he could. “What did you find?”

  “I’ve got some questions for both of you,” he said, smoothly evading her question. “Was the bookstore locked when you closed up yesterday?”

  “Naturally. We always lock up.” Kate looked affronted at the question.

  “What about the alarm?” Ian asked. “You have an alarm, right?”

  “Yes, we do, and it was set,” Kate told him, still looking displeased. “Blake had a key to the store, and the code. He would know to turn it off once he was in the store.”

  Ian’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Why would he have a key, and the code to the alarm?”

  “He recently became a silent partner in our business.”

  “What was his role as a silent partner?” Ian pressed.

  Kate glanced at Grace then went on. “He provided capital. He wasn’t going to be involved in Black Cat Book's daily operations, except to come by every now and then and thrill our customers, and us.”

  “Why did he want to be a silent partner? He’s a famous author, that seems a little strange.”

  They were interrupted by Patti’s arrival. “Good morning, detective. What can I get you?”

  “Hi, Patti. Nothing for me, thanks.”

  “You girls still okay?”

  “Yes, thanks,” Grace told her.

  Kate continued where she’d left off. “He’s from Indiana. He may have been famous, Ian, but he was as down-to-earth as they come. He loved Black Cat Books and wanted to make sure it didn’t disappear. He came in our store quite a few times a year. He loved it. We grew fond of him and vice-versa, it was something he wanted to do.”

  Ian looked at Grace. “Is there anything you want to add?”

  She shook her head, a lump forming in her throat. Her hands tightened around her mug. “No. That’s it in a nutshell.”

  “What was he doing there this morning?” Ian asked. “By himself?”

  “He wanted to have some time alone to get his display in order for the tea today,” Kate replied.

  “Did either of you notice any strange cars parked on the street, or people in the bookstore who made you feel uncomfortable lately? Customers that seemed a little off?”

  “No,” Grace answered. “We didn’t notice anything out of order. What did you find inside? Do you have any clues? Other than the missing fireplace poker?”

  “When can we go back in?” Kate piggybacked Grace’s questions.

  “I’d say tomorrow afternoon probably. Halliday has removed the body, he’ll do the autopsy soon, and my techs are finishing up.” He slid out of the booth. “I’ll give you a call, Kate, when you can go back in.”

  “Thanks, Ian,” she responded.

  Grace noticed he hadn’t answered her questions, but she let it go. “I guess there’s nothing to do now but go home.” She reached in her purse and found her phone. “I’m going to send out a blast email to everyone on our mailing list about the tea being canceled. I hope it reaches them in time. I should have confirmed that Ian had put up the sign.”

  “Good idea,” Kate said. “But by now it’s probably on the news.”

  Grace looked down at her phone. “You’re right. Plus, the crime scene tape that’s strung up will alert everyone that something’s happened, and that our tea has been canceled.” She looked up. “There are already stories about his death on the internet. That was quick.”

  “News travels fast, especially bad news, it seems. I’m going to see Jenna. I wonder if the police found anything of interest in Blake’s room? Do you want to come along? We’ll leave our cars here and walk over.”

  “Walk?” Grace stared at Kate as if she’d announced she was leaving for Mars that afternoon. “It’s freezing out, in case you hadn’t noticed. And I still don’t think Jenna will have anything to offer.”

  “Come on, the brisk air will be good for us. We need to clear our minds after this shock. I know I do. It’s only seven blocks.”

  In this weather, it may as well be fifty blocks, thought Grace, feeling miserable. “All right, but I think it’s a waste of time.”

  ###

  Thistlewood Inn was also on Main Street, eleven blocks west of Black Cat Books, which occupied a prime space on the corner of Main and Hamilton Avenue. She hated to admit it, but Kate had been right; the sharp, cold air did feel good, and her mood improved. The sisters walked in companionable silence.

  Main Street looked beautiful. There were tiny white lights and red bows attached on the lampposts, and the stores had gone all out in decorating their front windows for the holidays. It looked like a Christmas card scene. Grace stopped to admire a large, silver Menorah in the window of a newly-opened modern art museum. Grace had meant to go in and introduce herself to the owners, but now that was pushed back on her agenda.

  A few minutes later, Kate and Grace entered Thistlewood Inn.

  Jenna Carra, the inn's owner, was behind a massive oak counter. Her eyes were glued to the television. Grace wasn’t sure she’d heard the door close.

  “Hi, Jenna,” Grace and Kate called out at the same time.

  “I’m sure you’ve heard all about it,” Jenna whipped around and launched in without greeting or preamble. “He was here last night and now he’s dead! I cannot wrap my head around this. It's all over the local news. How awful. How are you two holding up? I can’t imagine finding a dead person lying about. Which one of you found him?”

  “I did,” Kate volunteered. “And I still can’t imagine it, either. It’s not something I want to repeat, I can promise you that. Were the police here?”

  “Yes. They still are.” She pointed at the ceiling. “I convinced them to let me stay down here. All my guests had to leave. Luckily, I only had two here, and another couple who had already left on a side trip to Tennessee, and won’t be back for a few days.” She looked at the ceiling. “They said they’d be done soon. I’m not sure who’s going to gather Blake’s suitcase, clothes, and other stuff he brought. I’m not sure how to reach his family. I don’t even know who they are.”

  “I gave Ian his agent’s name,” Grace assured her. “I’m sure he’ll contact her and take care of everything.”

  “Good. I’ll put it all in a safe place until someone collects it,” Jenna said. “As soon as the police tell me I can.” Her mouth turned down in sadness. “Poor man. He was so nice. Not snobby at all. He sat with me and the other guests last night and played Gin Rummy with us, can you believe it?”

  Grace smiled. “I can. Blake was that type of guy. He was supposed to play Santa at our tea. He was our surprise guest of honor.”

  Jenna’s eyes widened. “How marvelous. Well, not now, naturally. He wouldn’t tell us why he was in town. I thought it probably had something to do with the bookstore, though. The tea was today, wasn’t it? I suppose that’s all off now. I was so looking forward to it.”
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  “We were too,” Grace said. “We had the food and favors and gifts all planned. We canceled the food. Because of the circumstances, the caterer didn’t charge us.”

  “You know, I had a thought. It doesn't have to be,” Kate said, tapping her chin. “We can still have the Christmas tea. You know how popular it is. Wouldn't Blake want it to go on? We can have it in his honor. We just won’t have a Santa this year.”

  “I think that's a great idea,” Jenna agreed after a few seconds, breaking into a smile. “It will show everyone that the Christmas spirit is still alive, despite Blake's demise. And, I think you're right. He would want it to go on. He seemed so full of life. He wouldn't want us moping around being maudlin. We can't make Christmas go away, so we might as well celebrate with his memory in mind.”

  “We'll pick another date,” Kate continued. “I'll call the newspaper and the radio station, and we'll mail flyers and email those on our newsletter's list. It'll raise everyone's spirits.”

  Grace wasn't sure. Wasn’t it too soon to be celebrating anything? Would it be disrespectful? She didn’t voice her doubts, she couldn't bring herself to extinguish the shine in Kate and Jenna's eyes.

  “You’re quiet, Grace,” Jenna observed. “Do you agree that you and Kate should go ahead with the Christmas tea?”

  “Truthfully, I wasn’t sure, but I think you and Kate are right. He wouldn’t want us moping around. It will be a lot of hustling to get everything done, Kate.”

  “Pffft. When did that ever stop us? The Black Cat Books Christmas Tea is officially back on.”

  “Yay!” Jenna cheered. “I’m looking forward to it.”

  “Jenna, did you see anyone suspicious lurking around?” Kate switched subjects. “Did anyone come visit Blake? Did you hear any kind of argument coming from his room? Did any strange phone calls come in for him? Was he acting strange, afraid of anything?”

  Grace almost smiled despite her sadness. Kate sounded so much like the amateur sleuths in the mysteries Grace loved to read. Her twin preferred to read romance. “For heaven’s sake, Kate, stop grilling poor Jenna.”

  “I don’t mind, Grace.” Jenna looked at Kate. “No, the police asked me the same thing, and more than once. Either they were trying to trick me, or they have incredibly bad memories. I went to bed around ten. You know my private area is on the fourth floor.”

  “You're the only one up there, right?” Grace asked.

  Jenna nodded. “I put on my sleep mask and white noise machine last night, and woke up early this morning to make breakfast for everyone. I assumed Blake had already left on an errand, or to meet with someone since he didn’t join us for my outstanding carrot cake oatmeal and fruit cup. I don’t ask a lot of questions of my guests. They like their privacy usually.”

  “What if one of your guests need you during the night?” Grace asked.

  “They dial zero on their room phone. It rings on a phone beside my bed. I’ll hear it, eventually. I tell my guests to be patient. Luckily, I can count on one hand the times I’ve been awakened in the middle of the night.”

  “I guess we’ll take off and go home. I don’t know when Grace and I can go back to the bookstore,” Kate said.

  “I’m glad you two stopped by. I hope you can go back to Black Cat soon and I hope they find the killer. It’s scary thinking a killer is running loose around here. If they indeed are. Blake was from Indiana, too, wasn’t he?” Jenna asked.

  “Yes,” answered Grace. “Brookhaven.”

  “Let me know as soon as you reschedule your tea. If you hear anything about a funeral, I’d like to go. Will you let me know?”

  “Sure thing,” Kate said. “On both matters. We’ll see you later.”

  CHAPTER 4

  * * *

  When Grace and Kate reopened Black Cat Books three days after Blake’s murder, it wasn’t long before it was filled with their regular customers, as well as with people who came from miles away. Some, unfortunately, were more interested in Blake’s murder than the great selection of books, and the sisters’ famous homemade Christmas jam. Grace could only hope she and Kate could persuade them to pick up some books while they were there.

  “You poor things!” exclaimed one woman to the twins, fanning herself with a large paperback that Grace wanted to snatch out of her hand. “I’d have fainted away if I’d found a dead body. Blake D’Arcy, no less! I could hardly believe it when I saw it on the news. I love his books. Unbelievable! I feel sick thinking about it. I could barely bring myself to come in here.” She peered at them over reading glasses. “Now where was it that you found him dead exactly?”

  “Why don’t you tell me what you usually like to read,” Kate said to the woman, making a face above the woman's head that only Grace could see. “We’d like to let Blake rest in peace, and want our customers to enjoy browsing and buying their favorite books. I think it’s what he would want, too.”

  Grace smiled to herself. Kate was so good with people. Not that Grace didn’t enjoy their customers, too, but Kate seemed to know what to say in every instance without hemming and hawing the way she did, sometimes.

  Black Cat Books was sparkling with Christmas glee. Grace was relieved that Ian had contracted a cleaning company to clean up the chaos from Blake’s murder. It wasn’t a job that either she, or Kate, was prepared to deal with emotionally, or physically. She didn’t even want to know where Kate had found Blake. And she was sure Kate didn’t want to relive that again.

  “You’re right! You’re so right.” The woman’s attempt at laughter came out as a nervous squeak. “I’ll go see what you have over in your mystery section.”

  “Good idea,” Kate agreed. “Please let Grace or me know if you need help finding anything.”

  ###

  When the bookstore closed, both women were worn out. After they’d straightened up, fed Charlotte and Emily, then lavished attention on them, they went to their office, sprawled on the couch they kept in there, shed their shoes, and rested their feet on the coffee table.

  Kate shook the newspaper she was reading. “Here’s another story about Blake in one of the Chicago papers. I’ve been waiting all day to read this. The medical examiner has ruled it a criminal death by blunt force trauma. No surprise there.

  “According to Halliday, the wound on Blake’s head could be consistent with that of a fireplace poker. That makes me ill that they used something in our store to kill Blake.” She let out a long sigh. “That’s about it, then it goes on to list all his books, and the fact he was a partner in Black Cat Books. Just reading this makes me tear up.”

  Grace patted her sister’s leg. “Me too. I think we’re going to have to get rid of the rest of the fireplace tools. I can’t stand looking at them now. Does the paper say anything about suspects?”

  “Nope. Only that his murder is under investigation.” Kate made air quotes around the last two words. “Which means they’ve got zip, zilch, nada, nothing! I don’t know that they’ll ever find the killer.”

  “We don’t know that. Maybe the police found something the killer left behind that they haven’t released to the press. Or to us. Not that I think Ian is going to share anything. I pray they do find the person who did this to Blake.”

  “Me too. We’re going to his funeral, right?”

  Grace threw her sister a Seriously? look. “We are definitely going.”

  “I bet it’s going to be a huge affair given how famous he was,” Kate said. “Do you think the murderer will show?”

  “Kate! What a thing to say!”

  “Not really. I’ve heard that murderers sometimes come to the funeral of their victims to gloat.”

  Grace couldn’t imagine something so macabre. “I only care about paying my last respects to him. I already miss him so much. I don’t know about you, but I’m ready to go home. I plan to curl up with a good book. Preferably not a murder mystery. I don’t think I’ll be able to read any of those for a while.”

  Kate grinned. “So, you’re going to swi
tch to romance?”

  “Maybe for a month or so. Got any suggestions?”

  “Plenty of them!” She got up and stretched. “Charlotte and Emily seem okay, don’t you think?”

  “I think so. I don’t know if they saw anything, and even if they did, how would they know what they were seeing?”

  “True. Come on. Let’s go home. We’ve got to come back in the morning.”

  Kate’s phone buzzed. She reached for it on the coffee table. “It’s the police department. Hello?”

  “Now?” She looked sideways at Grace and shrugged a shoulder.

  “We’re both here. At the bookstore, I mean. We’re getting ready to leave. Ok. Sure.” She disconnected.