by Krista Davis
“You didn’t know they were related?” I asked.
“How would I? They have different last names. And they’re not actually related by blood anyway. They’re nothing alike. Nothing!” He rubbed his face. “All the good memories of Norma Jeanne came back initially, but it took a day and a half for the reasons we split years ago to resurface. And the sad thing is that I’ve lost any chance I ever had with Tiffany.”
I stopped walking when I spotted Tim talking with the bald man who had told me about the itching problem with Thackleberry garments.
“Is something wrong?” asked Austin.
“No. Not at all.” I smiled at him, but I couldn’t help thinking if he had truly been in love with Tiffany, he wouldn’t have fallen for Norma Jeanne again.
When Holmes caught up to us, pulling a sleigh, the scent of a bonfire wafted by on a breeze. Voices and laughter rang through the air. Unfortunately, Sugar McLaughlin and another woman had tagged along. They clearly had eyes for Holmes. We walked another block and arrived at the contest.
The hill had been used for sledding since I was a kid. It was much more modern now, with light posts surrounded by safety buffers in case someone slammed into one. Little wonder that Holmes hadn’t wanted to miss out on the fun. The atmosphere was delightful. Children squealed with excitement. Brand-new Christmas sleighs with the bows still on them were being tried out. Hot cider was being served, and marshmallows were in a bowl next to twigs for roasting.
The sledding contest was somewhat informal, with special categories for children under three, from four to six, from seven to nine, ten to twelve, and thirteen to eighteen. There were additional special categories for grandparents, dogs, and cats. But most of the contests were open to everyone. There were even designated people who dragged sleds up the hill for dogs and cats to ride down.
I had trouble imagining that any cats would want to go sledding though.
Buck was there with the green sleigh Dale had hired so he could play Santa Claus. It made me melancholy to see it, but the kids going for free sleigh rides in it were thrilled.
The veterinarian who had treated Trixie was there, cheering as her three-year-old slid down the hill.
Gingersnap, eager to ride, loped up the hill and stole a sled. She rode down all by herself, the wind blowing her fur.
“I wish Maggie could do that.” I turned to find EmmyLou with her German shepherd on a leash. Maggie was well behaved but whined as though she were eager to run off leash again.
“You think it’s too dangerous for her?” I asked.
“There’s the vet. Think she would give me the okay?”
As if in answer to her question, the vet joined us with her Great Pyrenees. “I’m so glad to see you here. Is Maggie getting tired of being on a leash?”
“She’s restless,” said EmmyLou. “I don’t know if that’s a good sign or not.”
“I have good news. Merry Christmas, Maggie!” The vet rubbed Maggie’s ear with affection. “It’s safe to let her run.”
The second EmmyLou unlatched the leash, Maggie soared up the hill with Gingersnap and Trixie, where they romped with the other dogs.
She didn’t look like a dying dog to me. It was heartbreaking to know she was ill and soon wouldn’t be bounding around.
The vet smiled as she watched Maggie. “I never thought I would give this diagnosis and say it was good news, but in light of what we expected, it’s terrific. The issue with her kidney is blastomycosis. It usually shows in the lungs because it’s a fungal disease that dogs get from sniffing and inhaling the fungus in dirt. But we have cells that are indisputable. Come by tomorrow morning, and we’ll give you meds for it.”
“Is it curable?” EmmyLou seemed to be holding her breath.
“She’ll be fine. The problem with the liver turned out to be Cushing’s disease. Maggie will be on meds the rest of her life for that. There are a few side effects, like thirst and having to go out more often to urinate, but overall, she’ll be okay. Your vet at home can monitor her to make sure she’s getting the right dosage. I’ll explain in detail tomorrow when you come in.”
“Maggie isn’t dying?” EmmyLou sounded incredulous.
The vet grinned. “Nope!”
At that moment, the vet’s little girl called, “Mommy! Watch me!”
The vet yelled encouragement before saying, “Merry Christmas!” and jogging away.
Tears rolled down EmmyLou’s cheeks. She covered her eyes with her hands. “After all the terrible things that have happened, this is like a Christmas miracle. If only I could roll back time and change things so Dad would still be here.”
I wrapped an arm around her. “I wish we could do that, too.”
“He would be thrilled to see Maggie prancing around with your dogs. He loved her so much.”
“You love dogs. How is it that Norma Jeanne doesn’t like them?” I asked.
EmmyLou groaned. “It started when she was a baby. She didn’t like being licked or touching their fur. She’s just fussy about that sort of thing. Her father and I never understood it. But she’s our baby and we love her warts and all.”
Maggie jumped on the back of a sled that Trixie rode and sat there like a pro. At the bottom, she ran to EmmyLou, panting and grinning like a silly dog.
EmmyLou bent over her and sobbed. When she stood up, she said, “I’m sorry. I think all the tension and horror of the last few days has gotten the best of me. I’m not usually such a basket case.”
She wiped her eyes. “Do you think your Aunt Birdie would mind if I paid her a visit? I’d like to meet her. I was hoping to chat at the brunch today, but she left in such a hurry that I didn’t get a chance.”
“I think it might be good for both of you. She was very fond of your father.”
“I wish that Vivienne had felt as kindly toward him. If she hadn’t had that heart condition, he would have left her long ago. He sacrificed his own happiness for her health. And now look what happened. It was the cruelest fate of all that she murdered him. But justice was swift. I think her heart couldn’t take what she had done. Maybe there was just a tiny bit of guilt and compassion in her after all.”
“So she definitely died of natural causes?”
“I haven’t heard anything official. But how could she live with herself after murdering my dad? She did a great job of playing the wronged wife. If Dad hadn’t been such a softy, he would have left her long ago and would still be alive today. She caused her own death, I’m sure. Even her evil heart couldn’t take her savageness.”
I couldn’t blame EmmyLou for being hateful toward Vivienne, but the anger in her tone was exceptionally harsh. Had she caused Vivienne’s death? Was it possible to scare someone so severely that her heart problem killed her? The death would appear to be from natural causes. I couldn’t help wondering where EmmyLou had been after the party. Had she gone to see the children sing? Had Oma given her a ride home? I didn’t think I had given her a ride back.
I was reconsidering her motive in wanting to see Aunt Birdie. What if she really suspected Birdie of murdering her father and was only pretending to be nice? Holmes and I had seen her sneaking back to the inn in the wee hours of the morning. Where had she been? That was the night her father was killed. Could seemingly sweet EmmyLou have had a reason to murder her own father?
I wasn’t quite sure how to approach that possibility. “It’s a real shame that Thackleberry is struggling.”
“That’s a kind way to put it. More like hanging by a thread. I still can’t believe that Dad knew about this and never mentioned a word to me, his own daughter.” Her brow wrinkled. “Why would he discuss the details with Tiffany, of all people? Makes a person wonder.”
“Are you implying that Tiffany might have murdered your dad?”
“No!” She appeared horrified by the mere thought. She took a deep breath. “But one of us
did. It would be folly to exclude her from possible suspects, especially since she seems to have insider information. And it is interesting that her boyfriend is an accountant.”
“You think he’s in on it, too?” I looked over at Austin, who was dragging a sled uphill.
“Probably not. He wouldn’t have slept with Norma Jeanne if Tiffany could blackmail him.”
That made sense. “What does your husband think?”
EmmyLou sighed. “He’s worried, of course, but he has his own problems.”
“Oh? He seems so content.”
She shook her head. “It’s all an act for Norma Jeanne. She’ll find out soon enough, though.” She watched Holmes coach a little boy who kept falling off his sled. “I really wanted Holmes as a son-in-law. He would be so good for Norma Jeanne. He would ground her, you know? I haven’t given up hope yet, but they’re both going to be looking for jobs.”
“But Holmes doesn’t work for Thackleberry—” The second I uttered Thackleberry, I wanted to take it back. Holmes worked for her husband’s architecture firm. My eyes met EmmyLou’s.
Thirty
She gasped. “I shouldn’t have said that. It just slipped out. Holmes doesn’t know yet. Please don’t say anything to him.”
“What’s going on?”
“I’ve said too much.” She called Maggie and turned to leave.
I gently placed my hand on her arm and looked her in the eyes.
She buried her face in one hand and said, “A building collapsed, and lawsuits are coming in every which way. Chances are pretty good that the firm will close, of course.”
“Don’t businesses have insurance for things like that?” I asked.
EmmyLou sucked in a deep breath. “Of course. But would you ever hire a company with that kind of reputation? He won’t get any more contracts. And who would insure him after this? We were a little cocky, I guess, and put a lot of our own money into that building. I took comfort in knowing that my job would be safe. But if Thackleberry collapses too, we’ll be sunk.”
Maggie came running, panting and happy.
“Please don’t say anything to Holmes,” she begged.
I didn’t want to make promises. Besides, I had to tell Dave. If her husband was losing his business, they might have been in a position to want to inherit from Dale.
“I’ll try not to.” It wasn’t much and most certainly wasn’t the assurance she wanted.
She left in a hurry.
Holmes rushed up to me, breathless. His jeans were dusted with snow. “I thought that looked like Maggie, but she was romping around like a dog who is well.”
“She’s going to be okay. She has two conditions, both of which are treatable.”
“Maggie isn’t dying? That’s great!” Lowering his voice, he said, “Could you do me a huge favor and team up with me for the contests? Sugar McLaughlin has been attached to me like a tick.”
I snickered. “I would be delighted.”
“Come on, then!” He led me to the sled, and we raced uphill to lose Sugar, who followed more slowly, calling Holmes’s name.
I was out of breath at the top. “You know this is kind of mean to Sugar.”
“Sugar is a sweet kid but way too young for me. I don’t want to encourage her.”
“You should be flattered by her attention, you old geezer.”
Holmes made a face at me. “Get on the sled and hold on tight.”
Across the way, the man with dimples I had seen at the Christkindl Market nodded to me. A woman about my age demanded his attention. He bent over to show her how to steer.
Holmes took the front position to steer, and I hopped on behind him and held him close, which I didn’t mind at all. The starter gun went off, and Trixie jumped on behind me.
Austin and Sugar came precariously close to us on another sled. So close that Trixie barked at them. Holmes steered away so sharply that I feared the sled would topple, throwing us all into the snow. No wonder his jeans had been snow covered.
But Holmes’s maneuvering was successful. Even Trixie managed to stay on the sled. We slid in a hair ahead of Austin and Sugar, coming to stop at Dave’s feet.
Holmes and I were laughing when we piled off the sled. He high-fived me. “That was the most fun I’ve had this holiday! Dave, want to take a turn?”
Dave was not amused. Without even a glimmer of a smile, he said, “Vivienne died from an overdose of sleeping pills combined with alcohol.”
“Oh no! Wouldn’t she know better than to take sleeping pills and drink?” asked Holmes.
“One would think so.” Dave rubbed his chin. “Holly, can you let me into her room?”
“Of course.” I called Trixie and Gingersnap.
Holmes loaned his sled to Ethan, who had been fighting with his sister about whose turn it was.
The three of us walked back to the inn. Our gay mood ratcheted down with the grim reminder of the deaths in Wagtail.
We entered the inn through the registration lobby, where I grabbed a key to Vivienne’s room. We walked up the stairs, and I unlocked the door.
Dave paused for a moment upon entering. He took in the details of the room, the array of clothing draped on chairs, the welcome basket from the inn. It intrigued me because the goodies were gone, and it was now loaded with sugar packets from various restaurants around town, as well as napkins full of breads and after-dinner mints. Next to the basket were other freebies from stores.
But that didn’t draw Dave’s interest. He marched to the bathroom, slid gloves onto his hands, and looked in her various toiletry bags. He opened jars of creams and assorted bottles. “Don’t touch anything, but do you guys see any pills out there?”
“They could be in her purse,” I suggested.
“They could be, but they weren’t in the purse she had with her.” Dave opened the closet door. “Did she think she was staying for a month?”
She had brought at least a dozen pairs of shoes, and the closet was packed with clothes. I recognized some of the designer labels.
He pulled out her suitcases and pawed through the contents. “Still no pills. I haven’t even found an aspirin.”
“Would she hide them?” I asked Holmes. “Maybe from Tim and Linda?”
He shrugged. “Not that I know of. Vivienne always seemed a little me against the world, though. I never knew quite what to expect from her.”
I watched Dave as he looked through pockets of clothes hanging in the closet. “How did you get this information so fast on Christmas Day?” I checked my watch. “She’s probably not even at the medical examiner’s office yet.”
“A buddy of mine at the hospital took a blood sample. Didn’t take long to get results.”
Dave heaved a big sigh and surveyed the room. “What am I overlooking? Do you see anything out of the norm, Holly?”
“Only the items she took from restaurants. Where’s that big bag that she stuffed everything into?”
“Is that it on the chair?” asked Holmes.
Dave emptied the contents on the bed. More bread fell out along with wrapped chocolates and candies, and two champagne glasses from The Blue Boar!
“No pills at all.” Dave groaned. “Don’t people with heart problems carry nitroglycerin with them?”
“Doesn’t look like she did,” I said. “Though she helped herself to everything that wasn’t chained down. Did you ask her family members about her heart?”
“I can answer that,” said Holmes. “Everyone in her family was aware of her heart issue. EmmyLou told me that Vivienne could just collapse and die at any time. She had to avoid anything strenuous, and they made efforts not to upset her.”
“So Dale’s death could have triggered it. Or struggling through the snow after the party?” I looked at Dave.
“Could have. But I’m told there’s no way someone could
take that many sleeping pills by accident.”
Holmes said softly, “She murdered Dale out of jealousy and then couldn’t live with herself?”
“I would believe that about someone else, but not about Vivienne,” I said. “Didn’t you hear how her own family talked about her? They hated her!”
Something was wrong with this scenario. I gasped when I realized it. “Dave, that doesn’t make sense. Nobody takes sleeping pills before they go somewhere. You take them when you’re ready for bed. Not before a party.”
Dave eyed me as he slid off the gloves. “Unless she wanted to be the center of attention when she collapsed.”
“Then why did she leave the party?”
“That’s what I’m trying to figure out. But I don’t see anything helpful here.”
“Holly? Is that you?” EmmyLou rapped on the door. “I’ve been calling your Aunt Birdie, but she’s not answering her phone. Does she have a cell number? I’d very much like to pay her a visit tomorrow.”
“Aunt Birdie is a holdout on cell phones. She refuses to use one. She’s probably not answering the phone because the cops searched her house and removed some of her belongings earlier today. She’s quite upset about it. They took all her kitchen knives.”
EmmyLou gasped. “I knew she was a suspect but had no idea they were that serious about her. I can’t believe it. I don’t even know the woman, but I can’t imagine her killing my dad. He always said such nice things about her.”
That was a surprise. Although when I thought about it, Vivienne made Birdie seem like a sweetheart.
Dave began to ask EmmyLou questions about Vivienne’s health.
But I started worrying about Aunt Birdie. It was Christmas, and she was all alone, holed up in her house. The least I could do was go over and get her to come to dinner with the rest of us.
I left them to discuss Vivienne’s health and hustled to my apartment. I grabbed the spare key to Aunt Birdie’s house in case she was being stubborn and wouldn’t open the door.
But on my way out, I was waylaid by Tiffany, who called to me from the library.
Tiffany sat on the window seat and pulled a tiny tassel along the cushion. Her white kitten trembled with excitement and pounced on it.