Christmas Caper

by Jennifer Oberth

  “She hasn’t left the premises, Doris. She’ll have to get her coat and secure a ride home. She came with friends and, well, we know her husband isn’t going to hitch up the horses for her.”

  Doris scanned the ballroom. Couples danced, groups chatted and giggled, many drank, and still more ate. The scents of pine, cinnamon, and fire soothed my nerves as the trumpets, drums, cymbals, and incessant clacking of heels sped the blood through my veins. “Nobody appears to have any desire to leave,” I said.

  “Except Hope.”

  I squeezed my eyes shut for a few seconds. “She may be stuck here all evening.”

  Doris shook her head. “I’m betting on Seth Cryer.”

  “You think he murdered his brother?”

  “I meant Hope will ask Seth for a ride home, and he will accommodate without hesitation.”

  “You think so?”

  Doris smiled. “I know so. He’s smitten with her.”

  “He is?”

  “Oh, Ella. It’s so obvious. Let’s watch while you figure out how to keep them here.”

  We entered the ballroom, and Chris Lanten glided across the floor, clasping my hand in his, his other hand sliding across my back to settle in place. “Not now, Chris.”

  “But I promised you a dance.”

  “Now is not a good time.” My breath caught in my throat as the wounded gleam in Chris’s eyes tore into my soul. “I have it on good authority Fiona Crimmins is praying you’ll ask her to dance. Knowing how bashful you are, I’ve decided to refuse our dance until you’ve had one with her.”

  “Oh. Oh, I see. Incentive. But I—”

  “You won’t even have to ask her. Walk up, extend your hand, and she’ll take it.”

  Chris glanced around the ballroom until his eyes clasped onto Fiona’s.

  “Go, Chris. Now.” I disentangled myself from him and gave him a hearty Christmas shove. He stumbled a few feet before awkwardly making his way over to Fiona.

  Another hand snatched my arm, yanking me forward. This embrace was neither gentle nor tender.

  “Come on, we’ll miss Hope,” Doris hissed in my ear. “We can’t let her get away. Let’s go. There’s Seth.”

  I followed her slender finger pointing toward the roaring fireplace. I allowed Doris to lead me past joyous revelers and a ten-foot Christmas tree until we settled a few feet away from Seth, letting the dessert table act as a barrier. Unfortunately, we’d miscalculated.

  Hope stomped straight up to James Waters in front of the Christmas tree. Either I’d missed him as we floated past or he’d just shown up. A large man with disheveled blond hair and fuzzy beard, he glared down his prominent nose, light glinting off his soft, brown eyes.

  Doris’s grip on my arm tightened, and we strained to hear.

  “I want to go home,” Hope said.

  Mr. Waters quirked a flaxen eyebrow. “So?”

  “So I have no means to get there.”

  He smirked. “Why don’t you ask your husband?”

  The fact Hope’s face turned red while she clutched her skirts in small fists led me to believe she’d taken the question as an insult. However, she did not back down. “He is otherwise engaged.”

  Mr. Waters glanced around. “Where?”

  Hope waved a hand. “I don’t know, and I don’t care. Take me home.”

  “You’ve seen him? Here? I’ve been looking for him. Where is he?”

  “I could not care less. You owe me, Mr. Waters, and I demand you take me home right now.”

  Narrowing his eyes, he studied her for a moment. “I’m not ready to leave at this juncture.” His face softened when her lips quivered. “Please try to understand, Mrs. Cryer. I must speak with your husband. I’ve been waiting to talk to him, but he hasn’t shown yet. Are you sure you saw him? The sooner I find him, the sooner I can take you home.”

  Doris whispered, “I find this strange. She didn’t act spooked to hear a dead man was here and asking for her. She seemed annoyed and then bolted. And why wouldn’t she go to Seth?”

  One thought crossed my mind, since it fit me, especially this evening. “Maybe she’s oblivious and doesn’t know Seth is sweet on her. She is a married woman.”

  “In a bad marriage, Ella.”

  “Yes, but Seth is a man who believes in the sanctity of marriage. He is disgusted by his brother’s infidelity, speaks about his wife as though she were still alive, and dotes on Hope while she’s stuck inside her vows.” I guessed the last part, assuming I was safe because Doris must have picked up on something.

  Doris bit her lower lip in an uncharacteristic move. “Maybe she doesn’t like Seth.”

  I considered the possibility. “Perhaps Seth killed his brother to get the wife, not realizing she has no feelings for him.”

  “No. I think not. I haven’t seen Seth hanging off Hope’s every word. If I’d killed someone’s wife to get the husband, I’d be next to him the entire party.”

  “It concerns me that Hope went to James Waters,” I whispered. “What do you know about him?”

  Wisps of Doris’s blond locks cascaded over one shoulder as she tilted her head. “Nothing more than what Seth imparted.”

  Hope and Mr. Waters were starting to argue.

  “My husband is not going to change his mind about the deal, Mr. Waters. Get over it.”

  Mr. Waters sneered at her and roughly jerked around, engaging three other people in conversation as though Hope no longer existed.

  Hope faltered for a moment, glancing around the ballroom, looking miserable—as though stuck at this Christmas Party as much as in her bad marriage.

  Doris’s blue eyes shone fire. “I can’t take this anymore. I’ll give her a ride.”

  I gaped at Doris, not knowing if I should laugh or check her for fever. I held onto her sleeve, and she stopped lest I rip her beautiful satin dress.

  Fortunately, Seth Cryer, standing on the other side of the dessert table and likely having heard everything as we had, sidled up to Hope and put a comforting arm around her shoulders.

  They bowed their heads together and whispered for a moment. Hope’s entire body relaxed, her healthy frame no longer bristling with ire, her round face softer as she stood a little more at ease. The two moved onto the dance floor.

  In an unusual move on my part, I stared openly at them. Doris and I turned our heads as one as we watched them embrace, though as Seth did with me, remaining at a respectable distance.

  Finally, Doris let loose a soft, “Well, I never.”

  I nodded.

  “What do we make of that, Ella?”

  “I-I…” I stammered is what I did.

  “You don’t suppose Seth confessed to murdering Hope’s husband, and Hope was so delighted she accepted his offer to dance.”

  Collecting my thoughts, I considered multiple scenarios. “I suppose anything is possible.”

  “What should we do? I suspect everyone, all the time.” She tore her gaze from the dance floor and fixed it on me. “How do you go about solving murders?”

  “Sometimes it’s like that. Sometimes I scramble just to check one person off the list. What’s frustrating this time is there are more players in this macabre game than are present.”

  “Like the Stoker maid?”

  I nodded. “And Nora Copra.”

  “So what do we do? Sneak out of Dad’s Christmas party and ride to the Stoker mansion? Wait until tomorrow?”

  “This may be one of those occasions in which the murderer is content with his or her deed and bides time until the benefit.” I studied a content Seth as he swung a happy Hope in the middle of the dance floor. “Or the benefit is experienced immediately, but the guilty party still has to stick around. I don’t think our killer will flee tonight, or is likely to anytime soon. Killing Oscar with poison took time to plan, and the killer needed an opportunity. Doing it today was probably a brilliant move.”

  “You do seem confused,” Doris agreed readily.

  I glared at her. “We might
have to wait a few days to see how things settle and who benefits in what way.”

  Doris stuck her lower lip out for a few seconds. “And I wanted to wrap this up before Christmas.”

  I tilted my head to the side. “We’re not licked yet. I’m not going to bed, Doris. We’re going to keep at this, but I want you to have some realistic expectations.”

  Crossing her arms, she harrumphed.

  I wasn’t sure what to make of that. Was she irritated at me or the situation? “I want to talk to James Waters.”

  “You think he did it?”

  Keeping a sigh deep in my chest, I said, “As a business partner, he might have information the others we’ve spoken with aren’t privy to. Or he might be more willing to share. I’d like to see if he benefits from Oscar’s death, too.”

  “Doubtful. He’s trying to talk Oscar into something else. Something his brother and wife didn’t want him to partake in.”

  “Maybe Waters killed him after one too many rejections.”

  Doris shook her head. “You yourself said poison indicates a plan. And why would Waters dump Oscar in our cook’s mother’s bed at Stoker’s mansion? How would he have gotten access?”

  “I’m operating under the assumption anyone could have gained access today. As to why he would dump the body like that, well, it’s causing massive confusion, isn’t it?”

  Doris glanced over my shoulder as she weighed my words. “That’s true.”

  “Unless there’s no confusion at all. Three scenarios fit perfectly with little confusion to be had.”

  “What would those be?” Doris asked.

  I enjoyed my partner-at-the-moment. Joe would be red in the face and shushing me as I tried to figure this out, out loud. Jasper would be chomping at the bit to follow up the next clue. But Doris liked to think, as I did. And she joined me in thinking out loud, even if her questions and comments were formulated and point-blank. “Hope Cryer found out her husband was being unfaithful with the maid, killed him, and dumped his body in the maid’s bed.”

  “If we go with that scenario, it rules out the maid, doesn’t it?”

  “How so?” I asked, curious what she was thinking.

  “If Mary killed him, she wouldn’t have thought to stick him in her old bed. She certainly wouldn’t have dragged him from somewhere else and put him in an old lady’s bed.”

  “Probably not, but we can’t dismiss her completely because of that.”

  “I thought you liked checking people off the list.”

  “I do. Do you see why?”

  She narrowed her gaze at me. “Because it’s so hard to actually do?”

  “Exactly. Mary the maid is far down my list, but she’s not off it.”

  “This isn’t really fun, is it?”

  “A man died.”

  Doris waved a dismissive hand. “He shouldn’t have cheated on his wife. But you’re right, you’re right. Hope should have publicly denounced him. This town is full of rich, helpful people—and Oscar and Hope were anything but poor. The town would have supported the maligned, mistreated woman, and she could have built up a life again, without her husband. Meanwhile, Oscar would have been shunned and disgraced.”

  “It heartens me to know you wouldn’t resort to murder.”

  “Murder is so final. No, if someone wronged me, I’d want to play with them. Torture them. Make them pay a hundred times for their offenses.”

  I was about to point out she’d have to be careful, she was starting to sound like a potential victim of a murderer when her eyes widened and her lips curved up. Then she schooled her features and appeared like the expressionless Doris we’d all come to know and love. I turned around to see what had thrown her, though I had a good guess.

  I beamed at my boss. “Ness. How are you faring this evening?”

  “Huh?” Focusing his brown eyes on me, I realized they burned with fire. “Oh. Hello. How are you? Doris, there you are.”

  I could have sprouted wings and poured hot coffee over his head, and I don’t think he’d have noticed my presence.

  “Hello, Ness.” Doris had stopped blinking.

  “Would you care to dance?”

  “Oh, I’m sorry, I’m resting from dancing.”

  The fire in Ness’s eyes intensified. “So I’ve heard.”

  “You have?” I couldn’t help but ask.

  He never broke his hawk-like stare from Doris. “It’s all over this Christmas party who you’re spending your time with.”

  I felt my cheeks grow warm, though why I should feel the slightest bit of guilt was beyond me. He didn’t know I was investigating a murder, or that my husband—and even my father-in-law—were completely useless at the moment. Doris was a grown woman and my sister-in-law, and if she chose to accompany me then so be it.

  Doris placed her hand lightly on her chest. “I’m sure I don’t know what you mean.”

  “Oh, yes, you do. Are you aware of the character of this person?”

  I straightened my posture, unsure what he was getting at. He still wouldn’t look at me or acknowledge my presence. Was he drunk, too, only he held his liquor…differently? I leaned in and sniffed my boss—ignoring the fact this wasn’t the first time I’d leaned in to sniff my boss—but he wasn’t oozing alcohol like so many others were this fine Christmas Eve. If he wasn’t drunk, I couldn’t figure out why he didn’t care that an underling was sniffing him. He was focused on Doris to the exclusion of the rest of the world.

  Luckily for my morale, Doris squinted at him, bewildered. “What character?”

  “A no-good, self-serving, lowest-of-the-low, slovenly bum, that’s what character.”

  I gasped, and Doris laughed. “Oh, Ness.” She touched his navy blue sleeve, and the fire in his eyes receded. “I’m only interested in one thing.”

  Ness bristled. “Doris Westin! I may have to put up with this…this…this person in my capacity as a lawman, but I shouldn’t have to while celebrating with actual friends, and I certainly shouldn’t have to…to…”

  “To what, Ness?” she asked.

  “To share, Doris. Not this much. It’s not even sharing. I’ve had three dances with you. What is that? Barely a start. If you left me for some other reason, I could understand it, but for someone like that.”

  “Now just a minute!” I’d had enough. “I saved your life, or have you forgotten? I saved your relationship with your sister, and I share my husband and all of his time with you, too. Now you’re sending him to New York, and he’ll be away for weeks, at least. What about that?”

  Ness finally glanced my way, and his expression softened as he raked his eyes over me. “You could be Joe’s wife.”

  I sniffed him again, but all I detected was the light, spicy hint of his aftershave. This time he backed away, staring at me like I was contagious. “I am Joe’s wife,” I said in as biting a tone as I could.

  “No, no, not in real life.”

  “Yes, yes, I am. Doris, tell him.” I laid my hand on her arm, careful not to muss up the satin. “She was there. She’s our witness.” One of the few since everyone else had run from the burning church.

  “No, no, no, you’re not listening, Ella. I hit a snag in sending Joe to New York and have been considering assigning Agent Lanten or Agent Malone instead. We have qualified females, of course, but I was leery of sending a married man to pretend to be a husband.”

  Doris and I exchanged glances, and she craned her head and took a whiff of Ness, too.

  He continued. “You and Joe could probably pull off pretending you’re married.”

  I nodded, since I could hardly argue the strange point.

  “I don’t know,” Doris said. “That’s asking quite a lot.”

  I applied pressure to her arm, but she refused to acknowledge my criticism of her so-called humor.

  Ness studied me, crooking a finger at his neck to loosen his scarlet cravat. “I think she could do it.”

  “Do what?” I hissed at Doris.

  Her nonch
alant shrug led me to believe she—once again—did not have a clue but pretended she did to find out what we were all discussing. “I don’t know…” she said again, brushing a finger over her chin in thought.

  Ness squinted at me. “What say you, Ella?”

  “What do I say about what?” If I couldn’t figure out what my sober boss was talking about, how could I ever figure out who killed Oscar Cryer? And how would I prove it? The rate I was going this evening, I’d end up in a sanitarium.

  “Would you like to travel to New York with Joe in a harsh winter? You’re not…” His eyes traveled to my middle.

  I covered my stomach with my hands, comforted by the smooth velvet of my stunning dress. “No, I am not, and I’d thank you to stop asking.”

  “I don’t ask! It’s none of my business, except when it is, and it is right now. Only as a boss.”

  More than once I’d considered the possibility I was in the wrong profession.

  Doris smirked at me. “Would you like to travel to New York, Ella?”

  “Why?” I shot back.

  “To pretend to be Joe’s wife.”

  Taking a steadying breath, not wanting to waste any more brain power on whatever he was talking about, I said, “We will discuss this on Monday.”

  “Oh, of course.” Ness tugged at his navy blue jacket, flicking imaginary fluff off his sleeve, and cleared his throat. “Yes, I should have said that. So, Ella, would you care to dance?”

  “Dance? What about my sterling character?” I spit out.

  “What about it?”

  “You don’t like who Doris chooses to spend her time with. Remember?”

  “I wish it were with you. I could understand that.” Huffing, he studied Doris. “As sisters who live together, you’d think you’d have the time to dance at least once with me.”

  “I had three dances with you, dear,” Doris pointed out.

  “Three dances with you is but one. Would you care to take another three?”

  “I would, but I’m otherwise committed.”

  Ness scowled but attempted a smile. “As you wish. But I’d like to warn you. Spending all your time dancing with that dreadful Oscar Cryer will lead to nothing good.” With that piece of insight, he spun on his perfectly polished shoe and scooted across the room.