NOT a CREATURE WAS STIRRING

by Christina Freeburn

  The detective leaned back in the chair. “You really expect me to believe all of that?”

  The door creaked open. “You should.” The voice hit my spine and shivered up to my head.

  Frowning, the detective turned.

  Joy danced through me and I suppressed a smile. I shouldn’t be happy that my ex-husband Brett Calloway was leaning against the doorframe.

  He aged well. Brett’s hair was greyer than the last time I saw him, which was four months ago at Scotland’s police academy graduation, but other than that, he looked like the Brett who had swept me off my feet twenty-four years ago. Too bad we were just too different to make it work.

  I had a business that encouraged the celebration of Christmas. Brett was a partner with the law firm of Calloway, Demetris, and Perez that specialized in cases where people in authority abused their power. Politicians. Coaches. Professors. Law enforcement—the reason Scotland took my maiden name. Brett didn’t believe in heroes, even though his children and I saw him as one.

  He was a practical man. I was a dreamer. He believed in what could be seen. He searched for the lies hidden in people and hunted them down. It was why he was one of the best defense attorneys in the DC Metro area. Me, I believed good resided in every heart. In magic. Fairy dust. Santa Claus. Being opposites attracted us to each other and those same differences pulled our hearts from each other. One of the simple, and painful, truths of life was sometimes love didn’t conquer all. Brett and I made better friends than husband and wife.

  “Her name is Merry Winters,” Brett said. “I can bring in the newspapers articles from forty-five years ago about her being found on the steps. And, she’s not talking to you anymore.”

  “Who the hell are you?” The detective clenched his fists.

  “Her attorney.” Brett withdrew a business card from his wallet and placed it on the table.

  My gaze settled on a person outside the door of the interrogation room.

  Scotland leaned against the wall, a shoulder touching the wall, one arm dangling down while the other was crossed over his chest. Just like his father’s stance. It always twanged my heart when I saw him doing that. He had no idea he had picked up that mannerism from his father. Without a word, Scotland straightened and headed down the hall.

  But not before I caught the small smile and the wink. My boy had my back.

  Brett tucked my hand into the crock of his arm. “Let’s go, Merry. We have some Christmas shopping to do.”

  “You should’ve called me.” Brett opened the passenger door to his maroon Rogue Hybrid. He scanned the parking lot of the police station almost like he was expecting someone to jump out and start throwing out questions. If there was ever a tally done on what he spent most of his time doing, saying “No comment” was on his top ten list.

  “And said what?” I slid onto the seat. “Hi, this is your ex-wife, the mother of your two amazing children, and I’m certain I’m the main suspect in my other ex-husband’s death?”

  With one hand on the car door and the other on the frame, Brett leaned in, grazing his fingertips over my cheek. There was a tiny flutter in my being. I reminded my heart I was not affected by it anymore. He wasn’t mine. Brett was married. We were only friends.

  “Hi Brett, this is Merry. The police are asking me questions about Samuel’s death. I could use some help, would’ve sufficed,” he said. “When did you get the bruise?”

  “I tripped when I found Samuel.” I buckled the seatbelt. “How did you find out?”

  He pulled his cell phone from his pocket and tapped on the screen. Glancing down at the screen, he grinned and shook his head. “Sometimes I think that one is getting into the wrong profession. She cracks me up.” He handed me his phone then shut the door.

  Raleigh. What did she tell her father? On the screen was a picture of the detective putting me into the back of a police cruiser.

  I told Scotland to call Mom more often. She’s now going to extremes to get some attention from her son. Got herself arrested. The devotion of a mother is so sweet—and a little creepy. Save her from herself, Daddy.

  “The girl thinks she’s a comedian.” I placed the phone into the console cup holder. My daughter was one of those who used humor to cover up anxiety or hedge around the truth.

  “And Scotland called me last night and asked that I come visit today. Said I might be needed. You’ll be okay, Merry.” Brett squeezed my hand. “I won’t let that detective pin Samuel’s murder on you.”

  “So, it is murder?” I had pretty much figured that out when the detective made a good point about the timing. There was no way Samuel would’ve hid himself in the seat a day before Cassie sold me the RV. Unless, he was trying it out first. But then why wouldn’t she have looked for him? Or his wife Bonnie?

  Brett started the car and pulled out of the parking space. “Yes. There’s no question about that.”

  “That’s not what the officer thought last night,” I said. I fought the urge to turn around and see if the detective was standing in front of the station. The detective hadn’t wanted me to leave. The man believed with all his heart he was a word or two away from getting a full confession. The dashboard clock said three. A little over two hours of my day was wasted by the detective. I didn’t even want to contemplate how much money I lost.

  Once we pulled onto the main road, some of the anxiety trickled from me. I hated being an anxious type, especially around Christmas time. It spoiled the holiday for me. I liked to surround myself with cheerfulness and love.

  “She isn’t the one who decides cause of death,” Brett said. “The coroner does. There was bruising on Samuel’s back, hip, and hands. They’re running a toxicology report but that won’t be back for at least a few days.”

  “The bruising might have been caused by Samuel trying to get himself out. The top of the seat could’ve fallen and was stuck.”

  “Or someone sat on it.” Brett merged into the next lane. A police car was on our right side. My body slunk down in the seat and I avoided making eye contact with the officer in the cruiser. The cruiser pulled past us.

  “Was Samuel’s daughter interviewed?” My voice shook. I leaned forward and played with the vents. “It’s a little cold in here.”

  The look Brett threw in my direction said he wasn’t buying my little act. He knew I was upset. “She wasn’t in a condition to answer any questions.”

  Tears streamed down my face. I wiped them away with the sleeve of my sweater. That poor girl. “I need to call her.”

  “No.” The word was forceful.

  My eyes widened. “No?” This time my voice trembled from anger. Who did Brett Calloway think he was, telling me no? “She needs me.”

  “She set you up, Merry.”

  I jerked sideways, my body hitting into the passenger door. “You think Cassie killed her father.”

  “Or knows who did. The facts are right in front of you. Samuel was murdered in the RV or led to the RV and then killed. He might have been talked into hiding in the bench seat and then it was kept closed until he suffocated.” He nodded toward the back seat. “I have a contract I need you to sign.”

  “A contract?”

  “Basic attorney-client contract. This way what you say is between us.”

  My eyes narrowed. “Why? Do you think I killed him?”

  Brett laughed. And laughed. Tears slid down his cheeks. “You’re a riot. At least we know who our daughter gets her sense of humor from because Lord knows she doesn’t get it from me.”

  That was true. Brett was no nonsense almost to a fault. It wasn’t what put a damper on our relationship. While he was an excellent litigator and defender in his job, he never stood up for me to his parents or siblings.

  I pushed the past from my mind. They were no longer part of my life. No sense wasting emotion on it. And, I had enough trouble in the present.

&n
bsp; “I’m not laughing at you,” Brett said.

  “I know. I just can’t find any humor in this situation right now.”

  Brett’s cheeks flushed a soft pink. “You’re right.”

  “I should offer Bonnie my condolences. She and Samuel married a week ago.”

  “Even more of a no.” Brett slid a look in my direction. “You and Samuel divorced two weeks ago and a week later he married Bonnie. That was a quick relationship.”

  “I’d been trying to divorce Samuel for three months. He wanted us to work it out even though his eye had already started to wander to Bonnie.”

  “Do you know why Samuel and Bonnie rushed into a marriage? Why did he fight the divorce if he was interested in another woman?”

  “Because Cassie still wanted me as her mother. Samuel figured he could have the best of both worlds. Stay married to me, so Cassie had the mom she wanted. And have Bonnie as his mistress. He found out Bonnie nor I were interested in that arrangement. Now, Cassie has a stepmom who dislikes her. The poor girl.”

  Brett pulled into the parking lot of Panera bread. “I know your heart wants you to reach out to Cassie and Bonnie, but it’s best you don’t say anything to them.”

  “Because of the detective?”

  “More like because anything you say can be twisted around.”

  True. I heaved out a sigh and closed my eyes. My body slumped into the seat. “But what if not saying anything also shows my guilt? What kind of person doesn’t check on their former stepdaughter, an eighteen-year-old, after her father was murdered?”

  “Good point.” Brett drummed his thumbs on the steering wheel. “We’ve stumbled into a massive damned if you do, damned if you don’t situation.”

  “This is my problem. I don’t want you to get involved.”

  Brett unbuckled his seat belt and leaned over the console, reaching for his briefcase. “I am involved, Merry.”

  “You don’t need to be.”

  Brett rested his briefcase on his knees and pulled out a stack of papers. “This is a standard client agreement with a few minor changes.”

  “This is standard?” I flipped through the sheets. Brett liked to cover all the bases.

  “It lists who else will see your case file, work on it, who to contact in the event of an emergency. Proper protocol and behaviors for both sides. Expected time frames between updates, number of office visits expected, barring any new evidence or information I receive.” Brett shrugged. “Standard stuff. I found that letting the client know from the start how much of my time, and how available I was for meetings and phone calls, saved all parties a lot of stress.”

  The retainer amount was a dollar. I frowned. The hourly rate for Brett’s legal counsel was a dollar. I crossed my arms and ignored the pen he offered me. “A dollar? I know you’re not this cheap.”

  “I have done pro bono work before. It’s not unusual for me, but I felt it was important to put in some amount.”

  An ache developed in my chest. “I don’t want to be a charity case.”

  “You’re not a charity case.” There was exasperation in his voice. “Can you please sign the agreement? You need a defense attorney. Do you think one of the attorneys in Season’s Greetings is familiar with a murder case?”

  “No. I’m sure I can find someone.”

  “Who will charge you a lot more than I will.”

  “I can support myself.” I glared at him. “I’ve never asked you for more than what the court ordered.”

  “I know.” Sadness filled his voice. “I’m not your enemy, Merry, nor am I a judge or jury over your life. I care about you. People help those they care about. If the detective builds a case against you, attorney fees could run in the tens of thousands of dollars.”

  “Tens of thousands?” I felt sick.

  Brett nodded. “Depending how long it takes for the case to get on the docket, expert witnesses needed, filing of documents, hiring of PIs. It can get expensive. And that’s without factoring in the hit to your income while the case is going on. You could be in court for weeks even months.”

  Every word increased the turmoil in my gut. How would it look? One ex-husband murdered and the other one defending me on his dime. “Could the detective use your helping me against me or you?”

  “I’m sure he’ll try but he won’t get far down that road.” Brett squeezed my hand. “Don’t worry about me, Merry. Let me help you with this.”

  I still wasn’t sure. I bit my lip and stared at the signature line.

  “Our children will never forgive me if I don’t handle your case. I will hear about it until the day I die. I’ll be a disappointment to our children. I want them to be proud of me.”

  My eyes widened. I never considered he struggled with feeling inadequate. He was a successful lawyer. Great at his job. High in demand and paid very well for his skill and expertise. Why wouldn’t his children be proud of him? Heck, he helped the downtrodden for a living and ensured justice was served.

  “Your children are proud of you. Why would you even think they weren’t?” Scotland and Raleigh enjoyed spending time with their dad. He was their foundation. Raleigh was a huge daddy’s girl. “The kids brag on you all the time.”

  “And then there are times that they don’t.” Brett pointed at the papers. “If it’ll make you feel better, I’ll add a zero to the one.”

  “Two,” I countered.

  “Fine, two zeros to the retainer and no zeroes to the hourly rate.” Brett wiggled the pen. “But, I’ll add in two dozen glitter ornaments. I need an extra item to add to the staff gift baskets.”

  “You drive a hard bargain, Mr. Calloway.” I took the pen and signed with a flourish.

  He tucked the pen into his pocket and placed the contract into his briefcase. “I’ll have a copy of the document sent to you. Also, keep a few of these with you at all times.” Brett handed me a stack of business cards. “If a police officer, detective, or reporter asks you any questions about the case, refer them to me. Actually, if anyone asks questions about Samuel Waters’ murder refer them to me.”

  Brett’s stomach rumbled. He grinned. “Since we’re in Panera’s parking lot, how about we go inside and get some lunch? I know you love their sandwiches, and it’s not like there’s one in Season’s Greetings.”

  There weren’t many chain restaurants in our town, a fact I loved until I wanted Panera or Starbucks. “I need to get back to the craft show. There wasn’t any time to find someone to man my booth so I’m sure I’ve made zero sales this afternoon.”

  “Then it’s a good thing I placed an order for pickup.” Brett opened the door. “I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

  I should’ve fussed at him for ordering me food without asking what, or even if, I wanted anything, but I was hungry. I took out my cell. There was a message from Bright.

  How’s afternoon sales?

  Wouldn’t know. I’ve been at the police station. Samuel was murdered.

  Murdered. Are you serious?

  As serious as being on the suspect list.

  That’s bad. Real bad. You should hire an attorney. I should hire an attorney. Remember when I messaged you that I’d hire someone to kill him.

  Oh no! Could the police get ahold of my text and Facebook messages? Of course, they could. I groaned and leaned my head back. How would they take the messages I sent to Bright that Samuel’s death equaled Christmas coming early? Or hers about Googling mafia hitmen. Had I said anything worse about him? Ever? Could the detective subpoena my messages? I’ll ask my attorney what he recommends.

  It makes me feel better knowing someone is on your side.

  Someone? Warning bells were pinging in my head. What have you heard?

  Cassie has let loose on Facebook. She’s worried the killer is coming after her next.

  The poor girl was terrified and the only perso
n around to protect her was her stepmother who disliked her. The stepmother. Had the police questioned her? Samuel loved his daughter. I couldn’t believe he wouldn’t fight for her. What if he refused to throw Cassie out of the house as Bonnie wanted and she killed him?

  Brett was walking toward the car.

  My attorney is returning, and I just thought of something I have to share. I know who killed Samuel.

  I hope you’re right because Cassie is telling all of Season’s Greetings she has proof that YOU killed her father.

  Six

  “What proof?” I asked Brett for the gazillionth time as we drove to the RV parking lot at the Armory.

  “I don’t know what Cassie has, but whatever it is makes the detective suspect you, though it isn’t enough that he can arrest you.”

  “You knew this before you had me sign the contract agreement?”

  “I knew it was serious when I drove out of Arlington.” Brett pulled to a stop in front of my RV. “I have no details and couldn’t get any until after you hired me. After we finish lunch, I’m heading back to the police station to see what I can get from them. They won’t make it easy, but I know the ropes. That’s why it was important to me—our children—that their mom had an attorney that was familiar with trying murder cases. Especially since you tend to allow your emotions to rule over common sense and self-preservation.”

  My eyes narrowed, and my mouth tugged down. “What does that mean?”

  “That you’ll say whatever is needed to protect Cassie even though she’s the one who’s putting the blame on you.”

  “Didn’t you say Cassie hadn’t spoken with the detectives?”

  “I said she hadn’t been interviewed by the detectives, but apparently she had unleashed a torrent of words against you when she was notified of her father’s death.”

  I drew in a couple of deep breaths to control my anger. That was one of Brett’s annoying traits, the semantics game he engaged. It was a way for him to always be right. “Why would Cassie do this? She liked me.”

  “My guess is it’s because it’s either her or you. And for most people, if the choice is between themselves or someone else getting blamed for something, they’ll pick the other person.”