Christmas Caper

by Jennifer Oberth

  Grasping the pins from her lips, she glanced at the door. “Maybe they didn’t see. Maybe they didn’t know they were men’s glasses.”

  “Of course they’re men’s glasses, dear,” Doris said. “I don’t know that anyone would know they were Oscar Cryer’s, though, especially not when they had far more important things on their minds like my health and well being.”

  “Then it’s not too late, Mrs. Westin.”

  I hung my head in resignation. “Yes. It is. Because they are Oscar Cryer’s glasses and they are recognizable to those who knew him best.”

  Doris smirked; I could hear it in her thrilled voice. “It’s too late, Annie dear, because she’s figured out how to catch him.”

  “Him who?” Annie asked.

  “Or her,” Doris added.

  I glanced up to see Doris beaming with excitement while Annie’s eyes clouded with confusion.

  “Right, Ella?” Doris practically bristled with anticipation. “Tell us. Come on. Spill it. How do we use the glasses to catch the killer?”

  “It’s not exactly clever, and if I weren’t already exhausted, I’d wait to come up with something far superior to this.”

  “Whatever it is, Mrs. Westin, I’m sure it’ll work.”

  I glowered at Annie and her unshakeable faith in my abilities. For that alone, I seized the glasses from her slender fingers, flung the door open, and stormed out of the room. I didn’t stop to update Ness, Chris, or Copra on Doris’s condition because I knew Doris would be right behind me. The question was, would Doris make it past them?

  “No, I’m fine, really. I’m quite busy, though, so if all of you would continue guarding Annie, that’d be best. No, I said I was fine.”

  The resistant voice of my sister-in-law faded as I bounded down the carpeted steps, the scents and din of Christmas growing stronger. Had it been anyone other than Doris, I’d expect to enact this ludicrous plan by myself. Not that I needed anyone else, but Doris did provide a secondary—and strong—support system.

  “What are we up to?” the familiar voice whispered in my ear.

  Just as I thought. Even Ness wasn’t a match for a curious and determined Doris.

  “Follow my lead. I’m not explaining or you’ll laugh at me, and I’ll come to the conclusion I’m too crazy to be allowed to investigate crimes.”

  “I doubt that would ever happen. It’s in your blood.”

  I led her to Hope, but stopped far enough away that she wouldn’t spot us.

  “What are we waiting for?”

  “I want to be sure Seth isn’t around at the moment. I’d like to focus on one suspect at a time. There is no reason this should work, unless the killer is really, really tired.”

  “I think we all are.” She nudged me in the ribs. “Cheer up, Ella. You’re the one who’s told me criminals are usually pretty stupid and careless and easy to catch.”

  “That’s true. Most of them. But not all of them. The plots I’ve been stumbling upon lately seem to involve clever people.”

  Doris smirked at me. “I take it as a compliment you think Dad and I are clever.”

  I hadn’t been referring to her or her father. Since I’d met them, it seemed the criminals I’d come up against were a little bit smarter and a little bit stronger than the usual fare. Or maybe I was suddenly assigned the tough cases. Either way, I wanted this case over with. If it worked—and I was under no illusion it would—I could put this night behind me. If it didn’t, I was still going to put this night behind me and wake up tomorrow to interrogate the other members of this crime.

  Doris nudged me again, this time more urgent than playful. “Seth is over there talking to Mathilda Beckinsbee by the fireplace.”

  I hadn’t had a chance to chat with Mathilda since I’d greeted her when she’d first arrived. “Where’s Waters?”

  Doris examined the room again, frustrated crinkles forming at the edges of her crystal blue eyes, her left one purpling quite nicely. If she borrowed an eye patch, she could match her father. She finally shrugged.

  I nodded and walked right up to Hope.

  “Ella. Doris. I…” Hope offered a little laugh. It was forced and awkward. She threw a gingerbread man onto the buffet table. “I…you extended your invitation, asked me not to leave quite yet. I, uh, didn’t get to say goodbye to Captain Westin. Are you all right, my dear? You took an awful spill.”

  Doris’s hand traveled up to her left eye. “I’m fine, Hope. Thank you.”

  Hope’s own eyes began to water. “You don’t think me rude for staying?”

  “On the contrary,” I said. “We asked you not to go, and we meant it. Incidentally, Oscar mentioned he wasn’t feeling well, and he lost his glasses.” I thrust the glasses at her. “I found these but now I can’t seem to find Oscar. Could you take them?”

  Hope grabbed two plates and began loading them with confections. “Oh, dear, I’m so sorry, but my hands are full.”

  “Oh, well.” I dropped my hand holding the glasses. “It might be best if I take them to him myself. With your hands full, I wouldn’t want you to accidentally break them.”

  The hint of a mischievous smile graced her lips. “That might be best.”

  I turned on my heel and headed toward the fireplace.

  “That’s your plan?” Doris hissed in my ear. “Present Oscar’s glasses and hope the killer panics?”

  “That’s the plan, sister dear.”

  “Don’t refer to me as your sister at the moment—in case anyone is listening.”

  “You’re sounding more and more like your brother.”

  She paused before taking a deep breath. “You’re right. You’re…you yourself said it was a ludicrous plan, and you are correct.”

  “Thank you.” I marched right up to Seth, greeting Mathilda warmly.

  Doris did the same, though more graciously than I. They embraced, and Mathilda’s enormous, wide-brimmed, pale-white Christmas hat stuffed with green pine cones, cranberries, and dried leaves, laced with a scarlet ribbon and dark green feathers narrowly missed poking Doris in the injured eye. Holly stuck up all around, interspersed with big glass balls of reds, golds, silvers, and greens. A dazzling emerald green satin dress graced Mathilda’s narrow shoulders and hips. A strand of polished pearls hung around her neck, ruby red lips a striking addition to her countenance, and she stood before me—the absolute essence of Christmas.

  “My darlings, you are beautiful,” she cooed.

  Doris stared as she studied Mathilda in all her festive glory, eyes glued to the hat. “You are a wonder, Mathilda, and you look fantastic!”

  “I know, dear. It’s a good thing you snatched Ness up before he saw me in my holiday magnificence.”

  A genuine chuckle wended from Doris’s throat.

  A short time ago, Mathilda’s attempts to woo Ness failed, but she was in it for fun and to keep a certain unsavory woman from sinking her claws into him. When Mathilda found out our boss had fallen under Doris’s spell, she couldn’t have been happier.

  “Have you been dancing?” I asked Mathilda and Seth.

  Seth grinned as Mathilda nodded, her hat staying magically in place, but the glass balls clinked loudly while the feathers and cranberries bobbed with her every move. “It’s all he can do to keep up with me.”

  Doris swept her hand toward the food. “Have you helped yourself to the wondrous desserts?”

  “Oh, I have,” Mathilda said. She lowered her voice and crinkled her nose conspiratorially. “But maybe I could go another round.”

  “Oh, please do. Have your fill—and then some,” Doris said.

  “Do you mind, Mr. Cryer?”

  “By all means, my dear.” Seth smiled as she sauntered happily away. “What a woman. Annabelle would have loved her.”

  Warmed by the heat of the fireplace and Seth’s manner, I raised the spectacles before he noticed them on his own. “I wonder if these are your glasses.”

  Turning to look, his smile faltered as he peered at me t
hrough his own, unsure how to chivalrously inform me he was wearing his. He was so polite.

  “Oscar isn’t feeling well at the moment. All of a sudden, his glasses were making everything blurry, and he thinks you and he accidentally switched when you were both at the dessert table and set them down.”

  Seth squinted at me. “At the dessert…yes, I suppose I did set them down for a moment. But, I don’t remember seeing Oscar.”

  “Maybe that’s because you took off your glasses,” Doris said.

  Since Seth was still inspecting the dessert table, I risked jabbing Doris in the ribs to shush. I continued speaking in a light, almost disinterested voice. “He’s sure these aren’t his.”

  Seth stared off into the distance, testing his glasses, innocence surrounding him as he squeezed one eye shut and then the other. Shaking his head, he took the glasses from my hands. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Westin, Oscar must be mistaken. These are my glasses.” He studied Oscar’s. “Look at the frame. Oscar’s is much sturdier than mine. I don’t like so much weight on my face.” He shrugged in apology.

  “No matter,” I said, relieved. I knew this didn’t prove him innocent, but I truly did not want Seth to be our killer, and I took solace in this latest indication. “Thank you.” I was about to lead Doris in search of James Waters so I could get my night over with when the man in question appeared in front of us.

  “Cryer, there you are. Where’s your brother?” Waters sneered at him. “Have you seen him this evening?”

  Seth crinkled his nose. “I might have seen him at the dessert table a little earlier.”

  Before Doris could chuckle or look stunned—and if my deception of creating a man that wasn’t there was so spot on the invisible man’s own brother was almost convinced he’d seen him, maybe the glasses-trick wasn’t so crazy after all—I thrust Oscar’s glasses at Waters. “Mr. Waters, I’m trying to return these to Oscar, he lost them earlier this evening when—”

  Waters grabbed the glasses from my hands so violently he knocked me backward. Doris caught me, so Seth was free to react differently.

  “Waters!” Seth shouted, grasping him by the charcoal lapels.

  Waters dropped the glasses, fright and anger in his wild eyes as he shoved Seth into the fireplace. I lunged, managing to grab hold of Seth’s trousers. Yanking him back as hard as I could, I saved him from burning…at least from the searing heat of hungry flames; not from the embarrassment that was sure to set in when he realized the horrific tearing sound was that of his trousers ripping from his body.

  Before I could right myself, Waters elbowed Doris in the face and took off. Doris crumpled with a pained yelp. “Doris, are you—”

  “Go! Get him!” she cried, clutching her nose.

  I burst forward and gave chase.

  Fortunately for us—unfortunately for Waters—many of the drunken guests wavered in front of him, some slapping him on the back while others unwittingly blocked his escape.

  Just as I was gaining on him, the same thing happened to me. “Ella!” and “Mrs. Westin!” chorused around me as bodies pressed close, blocking my route and my view. I was too short to peer over anyone’s head, but I bobbed and weaved like an angry snake, ready to strike at unsuspecting, overly-friendly guests. I caught sight of Waters near the decorated doorway, cascading garlands giving off a heavy scent of pine. He’d managed to push and shove his way to the exit.

  I couldn’t let him get out. I had no idea what he intended to do. Would he flee town? Would he feign ignorance? I still had no proof he’d killed Oscar—even I still didn’t know for sure he had. Did he know that? Did he care?

  I could arrest him for assault, but even that charge might not stick to him if he claimed he was drunk and apologized.

  I could not let him escape this house.

  Using the door jamb to swing myself right, I raced down the hallway to the front entrance. Unable to stop myself from slamming into the door in my ridiculous, dainty shoes, I slid into the wood, throwing up my elbows to protect my face.

  “Where are you, you no-good monster? You’re always lousing everything up for me! You think you can hide from me? From me!”

  Spinning my head to the staircase, I watched an angry, seething James Waters stomp up the carpeted steps, murderous intent oozing from every fiber of his being.

  “I’ll find you, Oscar! You can’t hide from me all night long!”

  It was looking more and more likely he was the killer. And I had pretended Oscar wasn’t dead. And Waters bought the act. And he was livid. I heard doors slamming upstairs.

  Clutching the banister, I launched myself up the steps as quickly as I could without turning an ankle. “I said stay back!” I heard Chris shout. When I arrived on the landing, I saw Waters attacking Chris at Annie’s door.

  Waters managed to throw Chris against it. I watched panic set in as Chris turned his head to call to Annie not to open the door, but the wind must have been knocked out of him for he had no voice.

  Sinking to his knees, Waters grabbed Chris around the throat; a knife slipped from Chris’s grasp and his eyes glazed over.

  “Where is he?” Waters demanded.

  Extracting my favorite dagger from my skirts, I was about to call out and distract the crazed man when Annie’s door opened.

  “No!” I shouted.

  “Agent Lanten!” Annie opened the door wide. She must have determined something was wrong as opposed to someone merely pounding on her door for she brandished a butcher’s knife. Copra must have loaned that to her.

  “There you are!” Waters screamed, dropping Chris to the floor, staring in horror into the room.

  I took steps forward, ready for anything. I knew Waters’s actions couldn’t be anticipated; he was so angry even he didn’t know what he’d do next. I caught sight of Copra inside the room, propping Oscar up on the bed.

  I could only guess Copra meant to shove him in the wardrobe again, but Annie couldn’t resist opening the door to aid Chris before Copra could finish the task.

  “I killed you! How are you still alive?” Waters was furious, fists held so taut his fingers turned white. “Answer me! I gave you so much poison a bull elephant wouldn’t have survived! How are you alive? Tell me!”

  Copra’s mouth moved as he tried to formulate a response, but Waters’s rage was clearly directed at Oscar.

  I figured Oscar Cryer wasn’t going to answer, so I said, “Give it up, Waters. I’m arresting you for murder. For attempted murder.”

  He angled his head to me, his body so tight with fury he was shaking. I thought he might break apart at the seams. “Attempted? Attempted! I killed him! I dragged him around town! I put him in that maid’s bed so you’d think she did it or the wife did it or anybody but me did it! But he wouldn’t stay dead!” His head swung back to Annie’s room. “I’ll kill you again!” With a primal scream, he bounded inside—Annie just quick enough to dart out of the doorway in the nick of time.

  Copra was so startled he screamed and fell back into the wardrobe.

  Waters caught Oscar before he plopped back onto the bed.

  “You’re dead! Dead!” He proceeded to strangle Oscar Cryer.

  I walked into the room, quiet as I could. I took a precious two seconds to assess Chris, who’d slid to the ground and hadn’t moved. He was fine—and smart enough to realize Mr. Waters’s rage was directed at a dead man and the best thing for now was to stay out of the way.

  Annie had dropped to the ground as well. She scurried to Chris and held his hand, neither saying a word but both nodding at me.

  “Mr. Waters?” I said softly.

  Waters let Oscar go and the body sank onto the mussed up covers. “Yes, Mrs. Westin?”

  “He’s dead now.”

  Waters shook his head. “You say that. But you don’t know it’s true.”

  I motioned to Copra to scoot out of the room and he did.

  “I thought the same thing, but I was wrong.” Waters squinted at the corpse, angling his head to get a
better view.

  Stepping closer, I half-whispered, “Allow me to check his pulse?”

  Waters nodded.

  As I rounded the bed on the other side, well out of reach of Waters, I glanced at the doorway. Chris and Annie were standing now, Chris holding a gun, Annie clutching the butcher’s knife, Copra crouched as though preparing for Waters to try and barrel into them. I didn’t think any of it necessary, though I kept my dagger in my left hand all the same.

  Waters had snapped. And it was kind of my fault. Well, it was all my fault. However, I didn’t feel bad in the slightest. My ludicrous plan had worked.

  Reaching out with my right hand, I pretended to check for a pulse. I tried not to cringe at the coldness of Oscar’s skin, the bluish hue disturbing. The man had been dead quite a while, though he wasn’t as decomposed as he ought to have been for being in a warm room for a few hours. “No pulse. He’s dead, Mr. Waters.”

  The fists at Waters’s side relaxed. “Are you sure?”

  I bent down and placed my cheek over the dead man’s mouth, getting a healthy whiff of ginger which, to be honest, was the best of the odors coming off him I could have hoped for. I shook my head. “Quite sure. He’s not breathing.”

  “I did it. This time, anyway.”

  I nodded, hoping it wouldn’t click in place I was about to arrest him. When he would think about it, he’d realize he strangled Oscar to death in front of four witnesses, two of whom were government agents. I’d like that story better in court than the poison one, anyway. Maybe I could get Dr. Ivan to officially record the death as strangulation.

  As soon as I thought it, I dismissed the idea. The truth usually managed to come out, especially when multiple people were privy to it and especially in a court of law. Better to get as much proof against this man as I could. I shivered at Oscar’s lack of decomposition. “What poison did you use on him, anyway?”

  “A little mixture I made up myself.” Waters brightened up. “I can show you.”

  “I’d like that,” I said. There was no hint of malice in his words and the more evidence the better. “I have a question, if you don’t mind my impertinence.”