by Krista Davis
“Good luck with that. It’s the day before Christmas. There won’t be a seat available anywhere,” said Tiffany.
Blake flicked his hand in the air. “We have friends with jets. We’ll just make some phone calls.”
Linda seemed pained by his response.
“I don’t often agree with Blake,” Vivi declared, “but I’m all for that. We can take Dale’s body with us. It’s over.”
Norma Jeanne, wearing black leggings that were way too tight, knee-high boots, a gold tunic, and a scarf big enough to circle her neck and still hang over her arms like a wrap, said, “I’m all in. Given the circumstances, I think we should just pack up and go.”
EmmyLou spoke up. “Norma Jeanne, Holmes’s family went to a lot of trouble to entertain us and arrange for a party tonight in honor of you and Holmes. And I should point out that Dad’s body has been sent somewhere for an autopsy. I’m not leaving without him.”
Tiffany sniffled. “It doesn’t feel right going to a party when Grampy just died.”
EmmyLou sighed. “I know, honey. I miss Dad more than I can tell you. Great-Grandma Doris and I discussed the awkward situation this morning. It would be a real blow to the Richardsons. And Dale would have been the first one to tell us to carry on. He loved all his grandchildren and would have done anything for you.”
Blake choked on his coffee.
Vivienne’s lips pulled tight. “Now listen here. I am the head of this family now. We no longer have the options we once did. Those days are over. You either come with us, or you find your own way home.”
“You are not going anywhere, you ungrateful beasts!” Anger shone in Doris’s eyes when she rose from her chair again. “If I could stand without this crazy thing, I would shake my stick at you. Blake, you are not an octopus. Sit up like a human being,” she growled.
His eyes opened wide, but he twisted around and plopped his feet on the floor.
“You dreadful people have treated me as though I’m some kind of incompetent for years now,” Doris continued. “I have had enough.” Her voice lowered in volume but not in strength when she muttered, “How is it possible that you degenerates are my family? You have had every advantage in life, and now that Dale is dead, all you can do is grouse about money. Let’s get a few things straight. Vivienne! You are not the head of this family. Norma Jeanne, the earth does not revolve around you. No one cares whether the wedding invitations will be ivory or ecru. And it would do you good to drink regular water like normal people.”
Doris paused and glowered at them, her eyes moving from one to the next. “One of you murdered my son, and none of you are going anywhere until we know which one of you it was.”
Seventeen
Doris’s words hung in the air. The sad fact was that they all probably suspected one of them had murdered Dale. Not a single one of them appeared to be shocked. Some of them squirmed a little bit, and I thought I saw some shame.
Doris raised her bony hand and shook it. “Anyone who leaves before we know who killed my son will never receive another penny from me. Do you understand?”
Grandma Thackleberry certainly knew her brood well. They hadn’t been one bit startled to hear that she thought one of them murdered Dale. But they were clearly horrified by the fact that they might not inherit from her, with the notable exceptions of EmmyLou and Linda, who looked at their children with rather worried expressions.
Tiffany’s face remained surprisingly placid. She smiled at me. “Could we have a refill on breakfast breads? Someone—” she glared at Blake “—was a big piggy.”
I nodded. Reluctant to leave the drama, I weaved my way back to the kitchen, where I filled a basket with muffins and croissants. Carrying a pot of coffee and the bread basket, I ran into Oma in the lobby.
“Good morning, liebchen. What a night we had. Such a sad one. Mr. Thackleberry will certainly be missed. Holly, there has been a change of schedule. When you are through with the Thackleberrys, can you relieve Shelley at the Christkindl booth, so she can eat lunch? Then, Shelley will cover for you at the market from two to six. Dale Thackleberry had asked to play Santa Paws in the gazebo this afternoon. We have found a replacement for him, but with these crowds we need an elf to help keep the children in line and give each of them a gift. You don’t mind, do you?”
I didn’t mind at all and readily agreed.
“Oh! And our little rascal, Trixie, was carrying this. I wouldn’t have noticed, but Gingersnap wanted it. I suspect it’s not a dog toy.”
She handed me a wool felt Jack Russell terrier. About two inches high, it had been meticulously hand sewn.
“It looks a lot like our Trixie, no?”
“It does. Except for the brown fur around the eyes. I wonder where she got it.”
“Someone will be missing it. I will hang it on the tree in the dining room. That way we will know where it is if anyone is looking for it.”
I continued on my way, brought the bread basket to Tiffany, and filled coffee cups for the family members, who appeared to be much more sober now. No one spoke of leaving anymore.
When they had finished eating, I cleared the dishes, grabbed two muffins for my lunch, and realized I had put my elf clothes in the hamper.
I shot upstairs in search of the housekeeper, Marisol. I spotted her cleaning cart parked on the second floor. The door to the Stay guest room was open. Trixie and I walked inside.
“Marisol! Good afternoon.”
“Hello, Holly.”
“I left some elf clothes in my hamper this morning, but now I’m going to need them at two o’clock. Have you already put them in the wash?”
“Oh! I am sorry. They are in the machine right now.”
Marisol was a good egg. “Nothing to be sorry about. I’ll have to hope they’re dry in time.”
She patted my arm. “I will do my best.”
I knew she would. I was thanking her when a white paw reached out from under the bed and swatted my shoe.
“Twinkletoes!” I hissed. “Are you snooping again?”
Marisol laughed. “She is my constant companion. Did you know that she waits for me to arrive? Every day she is by the door looking for me. Then Twinkletoes goes from room to room with me. I’ve never met such a nosy cat. None of the guests can have any secrets from her.”
Trixie wriggled under the bed to join her.
I knelt on the floor. “Come on, you two. Out of there.”
Twinkletoes was holding on to something and kicking it viciously with her back feet.
“Twinkletoes! No!”
She didn’t relinquish it. I reached under the bed for her. Even when I pulled her out, she clung to her toy—a pill bottle. No wonder she had been attracted to it. It rattled and rolled.
Trixie emerged from under the bed, eager to sniff Twinkletoes’s toy.
I examined the prescription bottle to be sure it had not been damaged and that my little rascals hadn’t ingested the contents. The childproof cap held tight. In spite of Twinkletoes’s rough treatment, the plastic bottle looked fine.
The label on the bottle read Doris Thackleberry. For sleepless nights. Take one capsule.
I glanced around. A lady’s blue sweater hung on a chair. A small bottle of perfume stood on the dresser next to some Christmas gifts that looked so perfect they had to have been wrapped in the store.
Hoping that Twinkletoes wouldn’t attack the pill bottle again, I placed it neatly on the bathroom vanity.
“Holly? Is everything all right?” asked Marisol.
“Yes. Fine, thanks. I’ll see you in an hour or so.”
We were short on time. I dashed down to the kitchen, grabbed a bowl, a serving of Liver It Up Pup, and a banana, and dashed out to the Christkindl booth.
“Thanks for coming.” Shelley collected her thermos and gloves. “It’s been a madhouse. On the bright side, the
re won’t be much to pack up after today.”
I looked around. A lot of the ornaments had been sold as well as dog and cat gifts like collars and bandanas.
Shelley hustled off, and I served Trixie her overdue brunch. My first customer bought a dozen ornaments and nearly wiped me out of dog cookies. I texted Shelley that we needed more dog cookies and to bring them with her when she returned. Masses of people passed by, and many of them bought gifts and stocking stuffers. The hour passed so quickly that I really didn’t have time to ponder the situation of Dale’s murder.
As soon as Shelley returned, I headed to the inn basement to find my elf costume. It hung on a hanger, clean and dry.
I took the elevator upstairs to the third floor, while Trixie raced up the stairs. She met me at the door to our apartment. In my quarters, I changed as fast as I could, pulled my hair back into a ponytail, and dressed Trixie in her elf coat and hat.
Twinkletoes finally made an appearance. She stretched and yawned.
“Do you want to come with us?”
I tried a little cat elf hat on her. The green hat with red trim bore the Thackleberry label inside, reminding me again of what had happened. The hat was well thought-out for a cat, with little spaces for her ears to fit. She didn’t object until I added the coat. No matter. The hat was enough. Her long fur would keep her warm.
With Twinkletoes in my arms and Trixie running ahead, I left the inn for elf duty.
I could see why Santa Paws needed help. The line of children, animals, and parents stretched well away from the gazebo. Santa Paws was already there, and when he turned around, I recognized the job for exactly what it was—a setup.
“Holly!” Holmes seemed happy to see me. “What are you doing here?” He reached out for Twinkletoes, and I could hear her purring in his arms.
“I suspect two sneaky grandmothers arranged this.”
“Ahhhh. I think you might be right.” He lowered his voice. “Grandma doesn’t care for Norma Jeanne.”
“I’m sure that’s not true.” I said it to be kind, even though I knew he was correct.
“Really? Then why did she arrange for the inn cook to teach Norma Jeanne to make shrimp and grits?”
I had to laugh. “Because your grandmother loves you and you like shrimp and grits.”
“Norma Jeanne has never cooked anything but instant coffee in her entire life. And she makes that in the microwave. It about killed her to be in a hot kitchen.”
I rather relished the image, but didn’t think I should say so. “Ready, Santa?”
He climbed into the red velvet chair in the gazebo. Twinkletoes jumped on the railing and couldn’t have looked cuter. I even heard an adult wondering if she was real or part of the decorations.
One by one, I led children and dogs up the steps to Holmes. Some of the cats walked on leashes, but most preferred to be treated like royalty and carried. I snapped pictures with an assortment of cameras. And when they left, I gave each one the item a parent had selected from our assortment while Santa Paws had their attention. Not a bad arrangement. The parents knew the allergies of their children, dogs, and cats and could avoid inappropriate treats.
Some of the children and cats balked and fussed about posing with Santa. Not a single dog feared him.
But when Ethan Schroeder turned up without Marie Carr, I wondered what was going on.
“Holly! Are you an elf?” asked Ethan.
Oh boy. “Shh. Don’t tell my secret, okay? I’m an honorary elf. Sometimes when the other elves are very busy, like today because they have to finish the toys and load the sleigh and everything, well, then Santa asks me to fill in and help him here in Wagtail.”
He eyed me with uncertainty. “For real?”
Holmes boomed, “For real! Now come up here and tell me what you want for Christmas, young fellow!”
Ethan whispered something to Santa Holmes. For a moment I worried that he would recognize Holmes. Then it dawned on me that he had been born after Holmes left for Chicago.
When I helped Ethan down the stairs, I asked where his Granny Carr was. “Over there.” He pointed at Café Chat. “I told her I had something important to tell Santa.”
“Okay. How about you pick out a treat for you and your sister. Does she have any allergies?”
“Nope.”
He hung around after the next kid was on Santa’s lap. “Holly, can you tell me something?” A worry line creased his little face between his eyebrows. “Will my parents have Christmas in heaven?”
His question took me aback. I hurried to answer without giving it much thought. “Sure they will. The best Christmas! But you know what? They’ll be having Christmas with you and your sister, too. Tonight when you go to bed, look out the window and find the biggest twinkling star in the sky. That’s them waving at you to let you know they’re always with you, no matter where you go.”
“How do you know that?”
“I’m an elf. And I’m older than you.”
He seemed to accept that absurd logic. When he walked away, Holmes brought down the child who had been on his lap. Smiling, Holmes reached out and high-fived me. “Well done! We have a little problem, though. He wants to be adopted for Christmas.”
“How sad.” It broke my heart to know that was his Christmas wish. “Some things even an elf can’t fix.”
Holmes grinned with a sparkle in his eye. “He also wants a BadBoyz 8000 blue and green Monster bike for Christmas.”
“Think Marie got him one?”
“I doubt it. They’re fairly pricey. Plus it’s in a big display in the window of Mountain Trails, the mountain bike store. I saw it there yesterday. I doubt that there are two BadBoyz 8000 Monster bikes in Wagtail.”
I couldn’t help laughing. “You’re still coveting toys for Christmas?”
“There happened to be a very cool leather jacket next to it.”
“I’ll text our handyman and have him pick up the bike for tonight’s elf delivery.”
Holmes looked around the gazebo. “Think you can get a connection here?” he asked.
“It’s been a while since you lived here. Café Chat has Wi-Fi. I bet I can pick it up.” I texted our handyman immediately, and added a little something else to my request. He texted back and knew exactly what I was talking about. Apparently every man in town liked that store. I had never paid it much attention.
It was dark at six o’clock, when I put up the Closed sign.
“Want to grab a drink, Elf Holly? We haven’t gotten a chance to sit and talk.”
I couldn’t help laughing. “Now how would it look if people saw Santa and one of his elves drinking on Christmas Eve?”
He laughed so hard that he almost doubled over, except the big fake belly was in the way.
“Besides, don’t you have a party to go to?” I asked.
“Oh yeah. How could I have forgotten about that?” He ran a hand over his face. “It’s going to be awkward. I tried to get my folks to cancel it this morning.”
“If something had happened to Oma or Rose, we wouldn’t be in a partying mood. I imagine the tone will be subdued.”
“You’re coming, aren’t you?” he asked.
Gack. I reminded myself to try to be supportive. “I’m not sure. I may pull inn duty.”
He looked at me for a long moment. “I believe it’s mandatory for elves. I’d better get going. Hope I see you there, Holly.”
He took off at a fast clip.
Behind me, someone said, “You’re not going to the party?”
Eighteen
I turned around. “Dave! How is the investigation coming?”
“Aunt Birdie is a pill.”
“I already knew that. Did she tell you—”
“She wants me to call her so she can be there when I handcuff Vivienne and haul her off to death row. That’s almost
a quote.”
I cringed.
“The Thackleberry heirs aren’t much better. A rather astonishing lack of sorrow in some of them.”
“Does that make them suspects?”
He tilted his head. “Maybe. But sometimes it’s the killer who puts on an act and cries the hardest, you know?”
“But you think it’s one of them?”
“Not jumping to any conclusions yet. I know better than that.”
“How about the weapon? Did you find it?”
“It has not been found. In fact, there was nothing of particular interest inside of that Grinch. Initially, I thought the killer must have dragged him inside it, but there are no signs of anything being dragged across the snow. Nor is there any indication of blood on the snow. It appears someone convinced Dale to go inside and then stabbed him to death.”
“So it was probably someone he knew. Not a stranger.”
“Most likely. Although I gather he was a fairly inquisitive and friendly guy. A stranger might have enticed him with the notion of going inside that thing. Quite a few people have expressed an interest in seeing the interior.”
“Dave, on their first night here, Dale told me that he was going to cut off Blake financially. He said Blake was lying to him. Something about false pretenses, I think.”
“That Blake is something of an odd duck.”
“You mean his clothes?”
Dave shook his head and snorted. “Do you think he realizes how he looks? What I meant was his disdain for everything. His family embarrasses him. The inn is tacky. Wagtail is primitive because there’s no Starbucks or a nightclub. The food isn’t Manhattan chic. Nothing is good enough for him.”
“He, Vivienne, and Norma Jeanne wanted to leave this morning, but Doris put a quick stop to that.”
“Vivienne resents Doris, and Doris despises Vivienne. Doris says that EmmyLou’s mother, Dale’s first wife, was an angel. Vivienne moved in on Dale a few years after he divorced his second wife. She convinced him to marry her in one of those quickie ceremonies in Vegas. Doris is just thankful Dale had the good sense to have her sign a prenup. She’s been wicked ever since. It’s a lovely family,” he said sarcastically. “So, how come you’re not going to the party tonight?”