“There is a security guard that everyone around here calls Pop.”
“His full name is Ryan Popor,” Carla chimed in.
“Oh, Pop?” Bridget chimed in, blinking a few times as if she’d just remembered something.
“That’s right,” Bert reiterated.
“Well, he was in the shop earlier today. Just before you found the body, Mrs. Hannah.”
Bert pointed at the young woman. “Exactly. That’s part of what I wanted to say.”
The detective looked back and forth between the women with raised eyebrows. “And? Are you saying he saw something relating to the murder?”
“Possibly. It seems to me he has dealt with the victim on numerous occasions, usually stopping him from shoplifting or kicking him out of the mall. He also had his radio turned off during and after the murder.”
The detective gave Bert the up-down as if trying to figure her out. “And, you just know all this?”
Bert felt herself grow a little red. She knew how much Detective Mannor hated it when she went out and did some investigating on her own. “Actually, I ran into him a few minutes ago and he told me. He didn’t know a murder had happened.”
“I see,” the detective responded without even a beat of hesitation. Clearly, he wasn’t fazed by Bert’s little charade into amateur sleuthing. “I’ll need to speak with him personally at some point. Do you know where he is?”
“Not at the moment. He said he was going to come up here to help out.”
“The mall has a full database of contact information for all employees, Bridget chimed in. I’d be more than happy to show you.”
“Thank you. That will be very helpful. Now, if you ladies will excuse me, I have a lot of work to do still.”
* * *
After that, Bert felt just completely done with the day. The whole shopping trip had been a wash. Not only did she not find a single thing she liked for Shiv, but she wound up finding another dead body. Getting wrapped up in a murder case right before the holidays was hardly her idea of a good time.
However, the simple fact that Mannor’s niece was involved was enough to keep her nose to the grindstone. She knew that she’d not always had the greatest relationship with the detective and had even turned down his offering to go on a movie date, but somehow, she couldn’t tear herself away from helping him.
Upon arriving home at her cottage, she’d decided she deserved some pampering after everything she’d gone through that day. Warming a left-over slice of gingerbread pie in the oven, she brewed a cup of Candy Cane flavored tea and lounged back in her easy chair to watch a few episodes of her favorite sci-fi television show—Twilight Illusions. It was a newer show but was like a throwback to the old days of black and white anthology TV shows. It had a perfect blend of mystery, investigation, classic science-fiction, and just a touch of horror.
The latest episode was a Christmas special about a mall Santa whose suit is actually a strange space-suit from another dimension.
This kind of thing was weird, but Bert enjoyed it—even if it made her seem a little strange to her friends. The kid’s in the youth group at her church, however, thought her love of science fiction was awesome.
After finishing up the pie and the cup of hot tea, Bert had planned to take a bath. However, it wasn’t until her cell phone started ringing the next morning that she realized she had fallen asleep in her chair in the middle of the episode.
A little icon sat on her TV screen asking if she wanted to continue watching.
Blinking away the dregs of sleep, she picked up her phone and answered. “Hello?”
“Bert, did I wake you?” a familiar gruff voice asked.
“Detective Mannor?”
“It’s me. Look, Trainor was at my sister’s house last night asking a bunch of questions. I’m pretty sure he suspects Villa.”
Rubbing her eyes and standing up, she glanced at the clock. It was nearly eight in the morning. “I got that impression already yesterday, but why are you calling me?”
There was a pause.
“Detective?”
“Look, I would go poking around myself, but if I did that I could get in trouble for sticking my nose into a case that was out of my jurisdiction. I could lose my job. Not to mention, the detective won’t even talk to me.”
“So, what are you saying?”
“I’m saying, you’ve got the natural talent for this type of thing. Maybe he’ll be more inclined to listen to you since you’re a witness.”
Bert scratched the back of her head as she walked into the kitchen to start a fresh brew of coffee. “I’m still not sure what you’re wanting me to do? Should I just go up to him and say, hey, you’re on the wrong track?”
“No, no. Just try to show him that it could have easily been anyone else who committed this murder, anyone besides my niece.”
Bert paused, trying to think through the fog of her morning grog. “Did you ever find her?”
“Villa?”
“Yeah.”
“Of course. She was hiding outside in my car.”
“Why was she doing that?”
Mannor sighed. “Things aren’t looking good.”
“Did you ask her where she’d been?”
“I did.”
“And?” She scooped some fresh grounds from the can and put them into the machine.
“She was in the shop talking to Bridget when they spotted Cameron heading their way.”
“The victim?”
“That’s the one.”
“What happened then?” Bert asked, filling the coffee maker with water.
“Bridget is aware of the situation with Villa’s ex-boyfriend. She gave Villa the code for the stock room but pretended that she was just going to the dressing room. Villa used the back hallways behind all the shops to leave the mall.”
“There are hallways behind the shops?”
“Yeah, they connect everything.”
“I see,” Bert hummed, hitting the orange button to turn the coffee pot on. She really would need the extra juice today if she was going to be helping Detective Mannor with this whole murder case. She couldn’t even believe this was happening. Mannor, asking for help?
She supposed it was only natural. After all, he was technically powerless in this situation. With as strong a will and as proud an attitude as the detective always had, Bert couldn’t help but wonder if he’d overstepped his bounds on other occasions—delving into other people’s cases, breaking protocol to get the job done. He seemed like the type of guy who liked having control of the situation.
It might explain why he got so agitated when Bert did those same things.
“And I assume Bridget tried to distract him?”
“That’s what Villa said.”
“Well, for heaven’s sake, if Villa wasn’t even in the shop, how can Detective Trainor suspect her?”
“I just don’t know. He seems to think that she killed him in the dressing room and then left through the back to throw suspicion.”
“Killed him with what? Did they even find the murder weapon?”
“Not that I know of. I saw officers searching all the dumpsters around the building. He thinks she either dumped it or that someone helped to hide it in the store.”
“What?” Bert exclaimed. This whole situation was getting more and more absurd by the moment.
“He may be even trying to bring in Bridget as an accessory.”
“I just can’t believe it,” she muttered, taking a seat at the kitchen table. A few cheese Danishes from the shop sat there on a plastic Christmas patterned serving plate and she grabbed one up and took a bite, realizing just how hungry she felt. “Here is how I see it. With as many people who were in the shop, it could have been anyone who followed the victim back there and stabbed him. If the kid really was a vandal and a petty thief, like the security guard said he was, there could be a whole bunch of people mad at him.”
“I tried to tell Trainor that yesterday, but he was not
interested in what I had to say. He thinks I’m an overbearing good ol’ boy who thinks I have the right to the world.”
Maybe you are, Bert thought to herself.
“If it weren’t for the fact that I was with you two ladies the whole day, I wouldn’t be surprised if he tried to pin this thing on me.”
“True, but who could have possibly been mad enough to kill him? I mean, I admit that Pop was acting strangely yesterday when he heard the news, but murder?”
There was a long breathy sigh over the line. “I just don’t know. However, as the key witness, can you please try and speak with Trainor?”
Bert hesitated, not wanting to answer right away. Without any other sort of logical theory or evidence, she didn’t see how talking to the detective would do any good. Even when she’d had a solid theory in the past, Mannor had blown her off. He should know better than anyone that this plan wasn’t going to work.
The main thing this showed Bert was that Mannor was desperate. After all, he was calling her for help.
“I have a better idea.”
“Please, tell me.”
“I’m going to talk to Bridget. She works at the store, maybe she saw something.”
There was a beat of uncertainty on Mannor’s part.
“Look, it’s at least something. Do you know if she will be at the mall today?”
“I’m not sure. Do you want me to give you her home address as well?”
“Sure.” Bert could already tell this was going to be a long day. The beep of the coffee maker sounded like a life saver.
Chapter 11
* * *
Bridget’s house was closer, so Bert decided it was worth it to try there first. After all, she had overheard Detective Trainor saying that they’d likely keep the Gothic Gala closed for a day or two. If it really did remain closed, then Bridget was most likely at home.
Having punched the address into her phone’s GPS, Bert was surprised to see that Bridget lived out in the boonies, which would make the drive into work each day at least a thirty to forty-minute drive.
Was a position as a cashier at Gothic Gala worth the effort?
Deciding it wasn’t her place to judge, Bert headed out for the day. Despite the snow on the ground, the streets were clear and dry, providing a leisurely drive into the country. Bert hummed along cheerily to the Christmas tunes playing from her car radio.
As the city around her vanished in blank, white, open landscape, only the occasional house dotted the horizon.
Eventually, she made it to the small secluded subdivision where the house was located. It was one of those large and overly fancy neighborhoods that was built out in the middle of nowhere for no apparent reason. Still, the houses were beautiful.
Making her way to the proper street, she found herself on the cul-de-sac. Parking, she got out and walked to the door. Ringing the doorbell, she waited. Hopefully, no one inside was asleep. It was after nine, so she wasn’t too worried.
Soon, the door opened and a well-dressed woman who looked like an older version of Bridget answered. “Hello? Can I help you?”
“Hi. My name is Bert and I’m a friend of Detective Mannor.”
“Oh? Villa’s uncle?”
“That’s right. I was wondering if Bridget was here.”
“I’m sorry, she isn’t. She’s gone to the mall for the day.”
Bert blinked a few times, slightly surprised by this news. “They opened the store again today?”
“Seems that way. Otherwise, she would be here.”
“I see. Thank you.”
“Penelope, get back in here and shut the dang door,” a male voice echoed from inside.
The woman hesitated, but then narrowed her eyes at Bert. “If this is about that whole murder thing again, don’t bother her. She’s dealt with enough questions already.” With that, she shut the door.
“Well, that was odd,” Bert whispered.
* * *
Climbing back into her car, Bert headed back out of the subdivision and toward the city. She knew it was a good drive to the mall, but she was determined to get to the bottom of things. Villa had snuck out of the mall through a back door, the security guard had stormed out of the video game store, and now Bridget’s mother had slammed the door in Bert’s face.
What was happening? What was everyone trying to hide, exactly?
As she drove along the country road, Bert shut off the music, so she could concentrate on her thoughts. She was desperate to work something, anything, out of the tiny number of clues she had.
It began to snow, and she kept her eyes trained on the road, knowing how quickly conditions could get worse.
That was when she noticed the blackened tire skids that seemed to head off the road. Slowing down, she looked around and realized there were a few pieces of glass along the pavement as well.
Had someone spun out here recently? She hoped they were okay and that they’d gotten extra help.
And then she saw it, the strange way the snow bank had built up in the ditch, almost as if something was buried beneath it. Unable to stave off her curiosity, Bert pulled over along the side of the road and parked. Climbing out, her boots sung deep in the drift, coming up nearly to her knees.
Was it possible that there was a car under all those layers of white on white? If so, how was it that she was the first to notice?
Trudging down into the ditch, and sinking nearly up to her waist, Bert used a gloved hand to manually shovel away the snow.
Digging down deeper and deeper, she finally hit something hard. Shuffling her hands side to side, she revealed a piece of glass—what looked like a driver side window—and the face of a pale man shoved up against it.
“Sir? Sir, can you hear me?” Bert shouted, all too sure that he couldn’t hear her. She’d seen a few dead bodies now in her life, and this man looked dead.
Digging deeper she got to the door handle and yanked on it. It took some serious pulling, but she got it open a crack.
The man never moved the whole time—appearing to be frozen stiff.
Still desperate to make triple sure the man was dead, she reached an arm in and felt his neck for a pulse.
There was none. He was long gone. That’s when she finally noticed his chest, crystallized with red gashes just like the ones on Cameron. Was this another job by the Holiday Hacker which Detective Trainor so adamantly claimed didn’t exist?
Sighing, she pulled her arm up and out of the car. Glancing back at her own vehicle, she knew she needed to get back up there and call the police.
Then she noticed his wallet sitting on the dashboard, where the snow had partially covered it through the broken windshield.
However, even with the snow, it lay partially open, a single picture behind the plastic casing exposed.
It was an image of Bridget.
Chapter 12
* * *
After calling the police department, and waiting for the first responders to arrive, she gave her full report and left to head to the mall. She needed to see Detective Trainor right away, as well as Bridget. Unlike Detective Mannor, however, she didn’t have Trainor’s phone number.
She just had to hope he was there.
The parking lot was even busier than the day before, and Bert began to wonder if she’d be able to find a spot at all. She was about ready to park on the street when she spotted an opening and pulled in.
Rushing through the crowd of shoppers, she made her way to the food court. The smells of the cinnamon shop were a familiar greeting, but Bert had no time for treats. Rushing over, she saw two police officers standing in front of the cordoned off entryway to the Gothic Gala.
So, it wasn’t open after all? What was Bridget doing here, then? Why had she told her mother she was going to work when there was no work to go to?
Bert had a pretty good idea.
“Officers?”
One of the men put up a hand, palm forward, indicating her to stop. “I’m very sorry ma’am, but this shop i
s closed until further notice.”
Bert shook her head. “You don’t understand. I know all about the murder.”
“What can we help you with then?”
“I’m looking for Detective Trainor. I have some new information that may pertain to his case.”
“Mrs. Hannah?” came a familiar voice from behind her.
Turning, she found Trainor standing there.
“Detective Trainor, have you seen Bridget at all today?”
“No, I haven’t. I assumed she would just stay home.”
“She wasn’t at home.”
He raised an eyebrow. “And you came all the way down here to tell me this?”
Bert stepped forward, a serious look encompassing her face. “No. I was just on my way here when I found a car buried in the snow on the side of the road.”
“Then I suggest you call it in.”
“Listen to me, please,” she insisted, narrowing her eyes at the man.
“Okay, I’m listening, but it better be good.”
“In that car was a man who was killed in the same way as our victim. Whoever he was, he had a picture of Bridget in his wallet.”
At this, the detective raised an eyebrow. “There is no way of knowing right away if the two cases are connected.”
“Are you serious? What if Bridget is the Holiday Hacker?”
“Mrs. Hannah, that is a wild conclusion drawn from circumstantial evidence. I’m sure I’ll receive a report of the car accident in question, if the department thinks it’s connected. I’ll look at it then.”
“It wasn’t a car accident.”
“Please, ma’am. I have more investigating to do.” He waved a hand at her to move along.
Bert was about to respond when a noise caught her attention. Swinging back to the shop, she saw something move inside—as if someone were hiding inside one of the circular display racks of clothing. “There is someone inside,” she exclaimed.
“What?” Detective Trainor shouted, running for the door and waving his men inside as well. Bert followed, determined to see this through.
Trainor leaped forward and threw the clothes on the wrack aside, revealing the hunched figure beneath.
KILLER CHRISTMAS PIE (Pies and Pages Cozy Mysteries Book 5) Page 6