NOT a CREATURE WAS STIRRING

by Christina Freeburn

  “Cassie knows I had nothing to do with her father’s death. None.”

  Brett pulled to a stop in front of my RV. “The fact is Cassie is creating an alternative truth, or being fed one, where you killed her father. Talking to her isn’t going to change her mind.”

  “Why not?” Tears clogged my voice. “She knows me. She knows I care about her. I love her like she was my own child.”

  I glared at the mammoth vehicle like it had personally betrayed me. It couldn’t. It was an inanimate object, but I needed something to focus my churning anger onto, besides Brett, who was the bearer of the bad news, and also my saving grace. I couldn’t contain the tears anymore. They ran down my face. I swiped at them with my sleeve.

  Brett hugged me the best he could with a console between us. I rested my forehead on his shoulder as he rubbed my back with a circular movement. “I don’t know why. I promise you, I’ll find out.”

  I sniffled and moved away from his hug. I was a little too comfortable being in his embrace. Especially with my ex-husband having just died. I wanted to keep my and Brett’s relationship totally in the professional realm: lawyer and murder suspect being defended.

  “Let’s go eat.”

  I placed a hand on his arm. “Can we just eat in your car? I don’t want to eat inside.”

  Brett glanced at the RV, gaze scanning back and forth. “Have you checked the outside of the RV? See if any windows or a door was tampered with? We might be able to prove Samuel broke into the vehicle.”

  “He wouldn’t have had to, it belonged to him, and he had gifted it Cassie”

  “And yet, Detective Grayson finds Cassie’s ownership to be of little importance. Why?” Brett asked.

  “I don’t know.” The words choked out of me. This was all confusing. Why me? Why not Cassie? Not that I wanted the teen accused of her father’s death.

  “You have to trust me with everything. I need to know every ounce of truth about you and Samuel.”

  My brain spun with hurt, anger, and grief. “All of it? Like how I was missing our children so much, I ignored signs I shouldn’t. I was lonely.” Tears trailed down my cheeks. Angrily, I wiped them away. I was done crying over men who didn’t deserve it. “You know what he wanted? A mother for his daughter. Someone to take care of his house. Clean for him. Cook for him. I didn’t mind those things. Most importantly, he wanted money.”

  Brett stared at me. The expression in his eyes unreadable.

  “We’d save money by moving my mother into the RV, and instead of my home becoming a crafting studio, he wanted to sell it and invest the money in a new business opportunity. I was such an idiot.”

  Brett took hold of my hand. “It’ll be okay. I’ll make sure it’s all okay.”

  I allowed the comfort of his touch for a moment before I withdrew. I rubbed the tears from my face. “I’m fine. This whole situation is making me overly emotional. Especially remembering how Samuel treated my mom. I had to take out a restraining order so he’d leave her alone.”

  “What did he do to your mom?”

  “It upset her when he’d visit without me and he’d do it anyway. My mom’s dementia has gotten worse, and it confused her when I wasn’t there. She was scared and yet he kept telling her he was going to move her. He was a stranger to her. She thought she was in trouble and was being locked up.”

  “Did the nurses ask him to stop?”

  “Yes, and I did multiple times. He enjoyed agitating her, making her believe I didn’t exist.”

  “Why would he do that?”

  “Money,” I said, disgust clear in my voice. “If I wasn’t around, and he was, he could take over her finances.” My heart froze. Was that why Samuel had hid in the trailer. To kill me? For money.

  Brett hugged me to him. “I won’t let him hurt you, Merry. I swear I won’t.”

  “Samuel can’t hurt me any longer.” Or at least not in person. He could through the detective. And his daughter. “There’s nothing the police can use against me.”

  “Nothing on your computer?”

  “No.” As soon as the word left an image flashed in my mind. The texts Bright and I exchanged. I groaned and buried my face in my hands.

  “What did you do, Merry?”

  It was no use even trying to play the “I didn’t do anything” game. I pulled out my cell phone and opened my messages. I tapped on Bright’s name and scrolled to the message I sent this morning.

  “Yep, that might be a slight problem.”

  “How big of a problem?” I peeked at Brett through my fingers.

  “It depends on the proof Cassie supposedly handed him.”

  “I swear to you, I had never written a threat to him or about him.” I rummaged around in my brain, double checking my memory. “I’m sure of it. I never said anything that could even be taken as a veiled threat before. That’s good? Right?”

  “It’s certainly better than you having made threats before. What about your friend Bright?” He held my phone out, tilting his hand back and forth. The phone rocked back and forth. “She ever made any threats on your behalf?”

  “Well…” I told him what Bright told me this morning. His face said it all—that wasn’t good. “But, she wasn’t Facebook friends with Samuel. Nor did she follow him on any other social media platforms.”

  “Samuel used social media?” Brett reached for the glove box, his arm brushed my knee. A tingle shot through me.

  Stop it, I told myself. He’s your ex. He’s married. And your other ex-husband just died. I felt like such a horrible person. I shouldn’t react at all to Brett. We’d been divorced for sixteen years. Were my emotions a jumbled mess because of Samuel’s death, which happened so soon after a tumultuous divorce? The last few months had not been pleasant ones in my life. Stress upon stress had been heaved on me, not to mention for the first time in…well ever…I was truly, utterly alone.

  Brett sat back and opened a leather notebook. He tugged a pen from his suit jacket pocket. “What social media platforms did Samuel use?”

  “Facebook and Twitter.”

  “Can you remember what he’d been posting the last few days? Maybe he ticked someone off or he planned on selling the RV and had someone come take a look at it.”

  “I don’t know. I blocked him. He was calling and messaging me all the time, even after I told him to stop. I hired Milton, my attorney, because he had once been friends with Samuel and I thought it would make my soon-to-be ex-husband behave better. I was wrong.”

  “Last name of your attorney and Judge’s name? I’ll schedule a time to speak with them next week, hopefully I can get an appointment first thing Monday morning.

  Uneasiness skittered around in me. “Are you trying to build a defense for me?”

  Brett looked at me with wide brown eyes full of feigned innocence.

  I frowned. “You are. You’re planning on building a self-defense case for me.”

  The innocence was replaced by calculation. The quickness of the change chilled me. Small pieces of fence were built around my heart. I liked knowing he’d do anything to help me, but I didn’t like being reminded that Brett didn’t believe that the truth was enough. I liked living with the belief that good always won, dreams come true, and love at first sight wasn’t just in Hallmark Christmas movies.

  “I’m doing my job,” he said.

  “I’m not guilty.”

  “I know that. It doesn’t matter.”

  “What do you mean it doesn’t matter?” I was screeching. “Of course, it does. It’s all that matters.”

  “Truth is fluid. It’s more of an abstract than a still life painting. Truth is determined by who hears it and who sees it. What occurred is up for interpretation, it’s dependent upon the person viewing the situation.

  “I don’t like your world.”

  “I don’t want to argue wi
th you, Merry. The food’s getting cold. Let’s eat.”

  There it was. The take charge, end of discussion man I had married. “I’m not hungry anymore.” I reached for the door handle.

  “I’m doing everything I can to help you. I don’t want your life ruined because of Samuel and his daughter.”

  “It won’t be because I didn’t do anything wrong.”

  “In the real world, having done wrong matters less than someone being able to prove you could have done wrong. Trust me.”

  “I want you to believe in my innocence enough not to have a backup plan.”

  “That’s not who I am, Merry.”

  “I know.” I slammed the door.

  Brett’s voice carried to me. “Before this is over, you’re going to be glad that I am the man I am.”

  Seven

  I hurried into the Armory. It was three thirty. Ninety minutes of selling left before the event was over for the day. How much had the trip to the police station cost me? I conjured up visions of sugar plums, Santa Claus, reindeer, and Buddy the Elf. Smiling is my favorite. I repeated the quote from Elf until I felt a true smile on my face. A cheerful seller sold more gifts than a grumpy one, and I had ground to make up.

  I scooted around the people waiting in line to buy admission tickets. “Vendor!” I called out to the young man and woman at the registration table that was now the information/ticket booth.

  “Badge.” The man stood and craned his neck, searching for the vendor badge that I had taken off earlier and left near the register.

  “It’s at my booth.”

  “Then you need to buy a ticket. Go to the end of the line.”

  A few of the people who I “cut” in front of snickered.

  “I had to leave in a hurry or I’d have remembered to grab it.” I pressed my hands together. “Please, I’ll get it and bring it back to show you.”

  “Can’t.” The guy excused himself around the young lady sitting next to him and headed toward me.

  I didn’t want more time stolen from me by either standing in or line or chatting with security. Could this day get any worse?

  “Merry, there you are.” Grace hooked her arm through mine and led me away. “Abraham needs to have his break. I’d have found you a different replacement if I’d known your errand was going to take so long.”

  “I’m so sorry. I had to rush out and didn’t have time to explain.” Poor Abraham. He was probably frantic.

  “Abraham told me. He’s more concerned about Ebenezer. He didn’t know if the little guy was missing lunch or something.”

  “I owe Abraham a huge thanks. Anything I can make for him?”

  Grace grinned. “There is something you could do.”

  “Name it.”

  “Let Ebenezer sleep over at our place tonight. Abraham is smitten with him.” Grace leaned into me, lowering her voice to a whisper. “I’m thinking about getting him a guinea pig for Christmas, and I’d like to see how he’d handle taking care of a pet overnight.”

  While I’d miss my furry companion, I couldn’t say no to the request. “Of course. I’ll even let Abraham take Ebenezer with him for his break. They enjoy each other’s company.”

  Grace hugged me. “Thank you. I know Abe enjoys being with Ebenezer. He had a rough time sleeping last night and I hope with Ebenezer over, it’ll be a better night for Abraham.”

  “Did something happen?”

  “I think Samuel’s death left him a little out of sorts. He’s afraid whoever killed him is coming back. He was sure someone ‘made the man dead’ as he put it.”

  “Why did he think that?” Had Abraham seen something I missed? Did the forensic person see it?

  Grace shrugged. “I don’t know, and I’d rather we didn’t question him about it. Right now, Abraham is handling everything okay, but I see signs that his anger is about to surface, and I don’t want that.” Tears shone in her eyes and I heard the tremble in her voice.

  I hadn’t seen one of Abraham’s outbursts myself, but I had heard about them. Would the detective want to question Abraham more? What would the young man say? Would the detective stress the young man? I took out Brett’s business card from my pocket. “Here.”

  She plucked it from my fingers and stared at it. She frowned, flicking the loosening flap of a bandage on the edge of the paper. “What’s this for?”

  “Just in case the police want to ask Abraham any more questions. It might be good if your son had an attorney in his corner.”

  Grace froze in place. I nearly tripped at the sudden stop. She glared at me. “What did you tell the police about my son?”

  “Nothing. Abraham made some comments to the detective and I was taken to the police station.”

  “You’re saying what happened to you was Abraham’s fault?” Her expression was a mix of hurt and anger.

  I was making the matter worse. “The detective likes to twist things around, I’m just afraid he’ll talk to Abraham again and make him say something that sounds like Abraham knows something about Samuel’s death. He tried it today.”

  “The detective did.” Her eyes narrowed.

  I nodded. “Like I had Abraham help me…do something to Samuel.” I couldn’t say the word murder in relation to me. It was all so seedy.

  She pocketed the card. “I’ll tell Abraham not to talk to anyone he doesn’t know.”

  “He kind of knows the detective. I can see the man using their talk today as a way to get around it.”

  “Don’t worry, Merry.” She patted my arm. “I won’t let anyone use my son to lock you up for that creep’s murder. If I was the police, I’d look at some of his Facebook friends.”

  As we headed down the aisle toward my booth, I caught sight of another person in my area. A young woman with long brown hair streaked with blonde was sitting in my chair. My heart nearly burst with pride and love. Raleigh’s head was tilted to the side, and if I was near enough, I knew I’d see her golden-brown eyes showing interest in what Abraham was saying. My daughter was tough and had a compassionate soul. People were her passion. Her goal was to fix the world, one person at a time by making sure they believed in the power of themselves and their worthiness.

  Both of my children served the public in their own way, Scotland was a police officer, and Raleigh was on her way to becoming a certified counselor. She had just finished up her first year of her master’s degree program. I was so proud of my children.

  Raleigh saw me and smiled. She waved and rushed over, wrapping me in a hug.

  I held my daughter tightly for a few moments before releasing her.

  Another vendor waved for Grace’s attention. She held up her finger and started walking in that direction. “Let Abraham know he can go on break.”

  “Will do,” I said.

  Placing her hand on my shoulders, Raleigh looked me in the eye. “Good day?”

  “It’s better now.” I smiled at her, tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear. “A mom always loves seeing her beautiful daughter.”

  “Good thing I’m not ugly or you’d banish me to a tower.” She shot me a cheeky grin before dragging me into the booth. “There have been a few sales this afternoon. Abe took care of ringing them up since I couldn’t work your cash register.”

  Abe? And no correction? Abraham only let a select few people shorten his name, like his mother and Santa Claus, and after a few hours, Raleigh skated onto the list.

  Abraham nodded. “I showed Raleigh, but she said I was better at it so I should do the money. I’m trustworthy.”

  I took stock of my inventory. Raleigh wasn’t kidding when she said only a few items sold. All the wooden trees remained, along with the RV decals, and the ornaments Bright had made. What was going on? Bright’s ornaments were usually sought after, and I had trouble keeping them stocked. Last year, I sold out of her hand-painted ornament
s by the first day. Bright had sent a few more so I’d have some for Sunday.

  “Were there any custom orders?” I asked as I flipped the book open. None.

  “No.” Raleigh draped her arms over my shoulders and rested her head on top of mine for a moment. “I’m sorry, Mom. I don’t think I’m a good sales person. I tried getting some people over, but no one stopped at the booth for long.”

  Customer relations was a delicate art. It took time to know which customers wanted to chat and which preferred browsing without being acknowledged, and then there were the customers who were competing businesses who wanted new ideas or to undercut other vendor prices. The latter used to send me into a mini rage at the unfairness, but I didn’t want the issue to ruin my attitude about my craft business or Christmas. I vowed not to worry about it. There was nothing I could do about other people’s business model. I’d focus on mine.

  The day was a wash. There wasn’t a lot of time to drum up business, but I could get everything set up for tomorrow and sell, sell, sell without first having to reorganize the booth. The priority was displaying the RV Christmas décor better.

  “I have to go, Merry Christmas.” Abraham shifted from foot to foot.

  My face heated. I was so excited to see my daughter, I forgot about Abraham. He was waiting for me to dismiss him and take Ebenezer. I lifted the edge of the fabric concealing Ebenezer’s cage. “I’m sorry I was distracted.”

  “I’ll get him.” Abraham took the cage out from under the register area.

  “What is that?” A woman stopped and leaned over the table displaying the decals and ornaments.

  Abraham held out the cage. “This is Ebenezer. He’s Merry Christmas’s partner.”

  She squealed, a delighted not an I-saw-a-rat-and-must-flee sound. “Isn’t he the cutest thing?” She cooed at Ebenezer and wiggled her finger at him. He wriggled his nose. “What do you recommend for my aunt? She’s eighty-years-old, loves to decorate, but doesn’t have a lot of space for storing items at the nursing home, nor does she have a lot of strength to carry items and she hates having anyone help her. Christmas was always her thing, and it breaks her heart that she’s losing the ability to indulge in that happiness.”