Not a Creature Was Purring

by Krista Davis

  “Trixie!” I called her name repeatedly, but no amount of calling did a bit of good. She planted herself by the empty booth, stared at it, and cocked her head to the side.

  I gave up my place in line and walked over to her. “Trixie? What’s up?”

  She whined. The barest little hum of a whine. It was hard to hear with the loud music. But when I listened very carefully, I thought I heard something moving inside the chalet.

  Thirty-five

  I crept around to the door. The line of tape crossed the entrance. There was no way anyone would miss it. But it wouldn’t have been difficult to duck underneath it. The door itself was about three inches ajar.

  “Hello?” Using my knuckles in the hope I wouldn’t mess up any fingerprints, I shoved the door open wider. In the dim glow of the festive lights, I could make out a figure inside on the floor. “No!” I hissed. Not again!

  I lifted the police tape and darted inside. Enough light filtered in for me to make out Norma Jeanne lying on the floor, as beautiful as if she had been posed. Her hair cascaded over her left shoulder. Her face was peaceful, her lips ruby. Her skirt had been hiked up just enough to show the knee and part of the thigh of her left leg. There was no sign of blood or bruising.

  Outside I could hear Trixie barking. Not her corpse bark, though.

  I grabbed Norma Jeanne’s shoulder and shook it gently. “Norma Jeanne! Norma Jeanne!”

  “Go away,” she murmured.

  “Are you okay? Let me help you sit up.” I slid an arm around her back to help her.

  “Stop that! You’ll ruin everything!” She swung her elbow back, landing it squarely on my nose.

  I howled in pain.

  The door creaked as it opened fully. “Norma Jeanne? What’s going on?” I recognized Holmes’s voice.

  “Holmes!” she cried. “Thank heaven you’re here!”

  Holding my hands over my nose, I blinked, trying to see through watering eyes.

  “She threw me in this place. I was unconscious!” said Norma Jeanne. She held out her arms to Holmes.

  Huh?

  Holmes reached past her and helped me up. “What happened?”

  “She hit me with her elbow.” I sounded congested.

  “To get away from her!” Norma Jeanne cried.

  Holmes placed an arm around my shoulders. “It’s over, Norma Jeanne.” We started to walk away, but she grabbed Holmes’s jacket.

  “You don’t understand. I’m the victim here! Holmes, please! I made a mistake with Austin. It was the stress of Gramps’s murder and of having to cook!”

  Holmes’s expression was so sweet and sad that I wanted to hug him.

  “NJ, I have friends all over this town. You took me on a wild-goose chase, but I know you were alone. Looking for a likely place to hide, I guess. I’m—” he paused, and I could feel his fingers tense on my arm “—really surprised that you would pull something like this. I never expected it of you. I wonder now if I ever really knew you at all.”

  He gently propelled me forward.

  Unfortunately, a bunch of his pals stood just outside hooting and high-fiving.

  Norma Jeanne caught up to us. “Holmes, don’t you see? You’re reacting the way I knew you would, but toward the wrong girl. Austin doesn’t mean anything to me. It’s always been you, Holmes.”

  One of his friends said, “Are you kidding? You thought if you pretended to be hurt that Holmes would come to the rescue and all would be well again?”

  Norma Jeanne shot him an angry look. “Not exactly. I thought we would be able to spend some time together. Just the two of us, without everyone else butting in. And Holmes would realize that we were meant to be together.”

  Holmes’s buddies snickered. I bit my upper lip and was a little bit ashamed that Holmes’s friends and I were so obvious. But at that moment, I was more concerned about my nose than about Norma Jeanne’s humiliation.

  Very gently, in a kind tone, Holmes said, “I’m sorry, Norma Jeanne. There’s no going back. I never should have let the relationship go on as long as it did. You’ll find someone who loves you the way you are.”

  He steered me to the lights of the other Christkindl chalet where goodies were being sold. “Do you think it’s broken?”

  It hurt like it was broken. I pressed on it gently. Nothing was out of place.

  Holmes made a joke of peeling my hands away from my nose. His expression grew grim. “Maybe you should have it looked at.”

  “It’s that bad?”

  He made a face like he’d eaten something sour. “Maybe you should go see the new doctor.”

  “It feels fine.” I ran my fingers along my aching nose. “If it’s not better in the morning, I’ll have him check it out.”

  Two of Holmes’s friends escorted a man our way. “Look who we found!”

  The man bent his head to look at me. “I’m Dr. Engelknecht. Oof. What happened?”

  The lighting wasn’t great, but there was no mistaking the man with the dimples whom I had seen around town.

  I held out my hand. “Holly Miller. Welcome to Wagtail. My grandmother is the mayor. She told me you had arrived in town.”

  “The lovely Liesel?”

  “The very same.”

  “So what happened to you?”

  “I took an elbow to the nose.”

  “May I?” He raised his hands toward my face and gently palpated my nose. “You’ll be fine. You might take a nonsteroidal anti-inflammatory tonight for pain if you can’t sleep. And wear sunglasses for the next few days.” He smiled at me. “Unless you’re eager for some pity.”

  “Hi. Holmes Richardson.” Holmes reached out to shake the doctor’s hand. “Should she sleep sitting up?”

  “Ah. Holmes. I’ve heard of you and your crazy girlfriend.”

  Holmes’s buddies laughed. Holmes didn’t find it as funny as the rest of us.

  Dr. Engelknecht stared at me quizzically. “I hope I haven’t stepped in it. You’re not . . . ?”

  One of Holmes’s buddies snorted. “Nope. The crazy girlfriend was the owner of the elbow.”

  Dr. Engelknecht’s eyebrows rose. “If I were you, Holly, I think I’d steer clear of her.”

  “I plan to.”

  “Maybe I should walk you back to the inn,” said Holmes.

  It could have been my imagination or wishful thinking, but I was slightly amused that the tables had turned and Holmes might have been feeling a bit of jealousy. Truth be told, though, I had had about enough for one night. My nose throbbed like crazy, and more than anything, I wanted to curl up by the fire and finally indulge in a slice of Fluffy Cake.

  Even Trixie seemed worn-out as we strolled through the green on the way back to the inn.

  “I’m sorry, Holly. I never imagined that Norma Jeanne would pretend to be injured just to get attention, much less that she would hit you.”

  “It’s not your fault. I was stupid to assume she had been hurt. I’m not completely convinced that she elbowed me on purpose. At least I don’t think she meant to slam me in the nose. She must have been very desperate to go to such lengths.”

  “It’s all my fault. I never should have brought her here. None of this would have happened. No one would have died. It’s been the worst Christmas ever.”

  “Holmes, if Dale and Vivienne were murdered by a member of their own family, or by Steve Oathaut, it probably would have happened no matter where they were. One of them must have had a pressing reason to get rid of Dale and Vivienne.”

  We walked up the stairs to the porch and entered the inn. A number of the Thackleberry clan were in the Dogwood Room. Without saying a word, Holmes and I walked through the lobby and to the private kitchen.

  I put on the kettle for spiced tea with cinnamon and cloves, and held my breath when I opened the refrigerator. My beloved Fluffy
Cake was inside. But would it be as good as I remembered?

  I cut a slice for each of us. Ruby red cranberries glistened in between the layers. I couldn’t resist picking up a bit of the icing that had fallen onto the cake plate. It was ridiculously sweet and yummy.

  But when I passed the stainless steel toaster, I caught a warped glimpse of myself and sucked in a sharp breath. “You didn’t tell me I had black eyes! Both of them!”

  I pawed in a drawer for a mirror. I was a mess. My nose was swollen and red, and each of my eyes had a dark circle underneath. No wonder the doctor had told me to wear sunglasses.

  I dashed up the hidden stairs to my apartment, donned sunglasses, and returned, feeling a little less hideous.

  Holmes had poured the tea and brought the slices of cake to a tiny table between the big armchairs in front of the fire. He grinned at me. “Now you’re as sophisticated as Blake,” he teased.

  I settled into the chair and took a bite of Fluffy Cake.

  “Barry is in trouble.”

  It was a simple statement, but I knew what Holmes was getting at.

  “I’ve worked for him a long time, and I know him very well. I just can’t imagine him committing a murder. Even if he does need money.”

  I treaded carefully. “Have they told Norma Jeanne about the trouble with his business yet?”

  When Holmes looked at me in surprise, I was glad to be wearing the sunglasses. He obviously picked up on my implication that Norma Jeanne would flip out when she learned her side of the family was broke, too.

  “She won’t take it well.”

  “She did gloat a little bit about her mother being the beneficiary of Dale’s estate. At least before they knew he had invested everything in the business to keep it afloat.”

  “She’s used to having money, there’s no doubt about that.” Holmes shook his head.

  “For the purposes of discussion only, let’s say Norma Jeanne had a motive. But did she have the opportunity? She would have had to follow Dale when he left the inn, I guess?”

  “She has the strength to have stabbed him. And no one would have thought a thing of it if she had been in Doris’s room to steal some sleeping pills to poison Vivienne. But why do that? If her mother was going to inherit Dale’s estate, then why kill Vivi?”

  I must not have hidden my smirk.

  “Everyone hated Vivienne,” he conceded. “But with Dale gone, I don’t see the motive for anyone on Norma Jeanne’s side of the family to murder her. I think it may have been Steve.”

  “Unless she knew something about one of them and was blackmailing them.”

  “On the other side of the family, Blake, Tim, Linda, and maybe even Tiffany thought Vivienne would inherit Dale’s estate,” Holmes said. “We know Blake wanted more money. And he might have knocked off Dale when his tuition funds were cut off.”

  “Do you believe that guy? Who makes it into med school and then blows away that kind of opportunity?” I asked. “I like Tiffany a lot, but I wonder if she really knew all that stuff about the firm and her Grampy. How do we know she’s not making it up?”

  “How would it have benefitted her to do that? Unless they get back to Chicago and it turns out that Vivienne inherited Dale’s estate after all.”

  “I’d say that’s unlikely. Even Aunt Birdie knew about Vivienne’s prenuptial agreement.”

  “So can we narrow it down to Tim, Linda, Blake, and Tiffany?” Holmes asked.

  “Blake is so obvious that it seems unlikely.” I licked the last morsel of cake crumb and creamy frosting off my fork, noting that he hadn’t mentioned Norma Jeanne.

  “We’re working on the assumption that it involved money. Maybe it was something else. A slight or a secret that someone needed to hide?”

  “In other words, we’ve got nothing. Not even a decent lead, except for Steve Oathaut. We have to look at facts. What do we know for sure? Vivienne, Barry, and Blake need money. The person who murdered Dale took the contents of his wallet. That same person must have a heart of coal, because he or she had the nerve to wrap up the murder weapon and give it to Dale’s mother as a gift.”

  Holmes shivered. “Killing him was brutal enough, but that was horrible.”

  “And we know pretty much for certain that the same person took the little wool felt Jack Russell from Dale and brought it back here.”

  Holmes sucked in a deep breath. “So we know for sure that his killer is staying here and that it’s one of the Thackleberry clan.”

  “Blake, Vivienne, and Norma Jeanne wanted to leave immediately after Dale’s murder,” I pointed out.

  “Showing their eagerness to get away and possible guilt? I guess we now know why Norma Jeanne was anxious to leave. Once Austin entered the picture, I was out.” Holmes raised his eyebrows and shook his head. “I still think that that might have been a lucky break for me.”

  “So then, by process of elimination, does that point to Blake as Dale’s killer?” I asked.

  “It doesn’t make sense that he would have killed Vivienne. He knew by then that she didn’t have much money. Not the kind they were used to anyway.”

  “Unless he didn’t believe her. But that could have been Steve.”

  For a few minutes, we sat quietly by the crackling fire, enjoying the cozy tranquility in spite of the cruel murders.

  “I have a little something for you, but I haven’t had a minute to give it to you yet,” said Holmes.

  “Me, too!” I had jumped out of my chair to fetch it when the door swung open a bit and Dave peeked in the kitchen.

  “Just who I was looking for,” he said. “Is the fire too bright for your eyes?”

  “I got smacked in the nose. A Christmas gift from Norma Jeanne.”

  Dave lifted his eyebrows. “Are you okay?”

  “Sure. Could I interest you in some tea and Fluffy Cake?” I asked.

  “Absolutely. It’s freezing outside.” He shed his coat and hung it on the back of a chair. “I have some news.”

  Thirty-six

  “I didn’t think I would hear anything for a week or so. But it’s quiet over at the police lab. It takes weeks to get a DNA confirmation, but one of the guys was smart enough to disengage the knife on the end of the hiking stick. Our murderer cleaned the blade very nicely, but I guess he didn’t realize that blood got up inside of the stick.”

  “So it is the murder weapon!” I screeched.

  “Don’t go getting too excited. We don’t have a DNA match yet, but the blood inside is Dale’s blood type.” Dave smiled at me. “Pretty good deduction, Holly.”

  I should have been thrilled, but I felt just a hair guilty for not telling him Aunt Birdie had the same kind of hiking stick. I told myself it didn’t matter anymore unless the DNA didn’t match.

  “How about the blade? Did it match the holes in the Grinch?” asked Holmes.

  “It did. Now if we could just lift a fingerprint off the stick.” Dave accepted the plate with cake and dug in like he was starving. “Umm. Haven’t eaten since I was here for brunch earlier today. What a bizarre Christmas.”

  “Holly?” Someone knocked on the door and pushed it open. “Thank goodness, I found you. I’ve lost Snowflake.”

  Tiffany might have been looking for me, but her eyes locked on Dave. “Oh, hi! I didn’t know you were here.”

  Holmes and I gazed at each other and tried to stifle grins. Tiffany appeared to have an interest in Officer Dave.

  “We’ll help you look. I wouldn’t be too worried,” I said. “Cats like to curl up in oddball spots. I’ll just run upstairs to my apartment and make sure that Twinkletoes didn’t take the kitten there again.”

  “Tiffany! Tiffany!”

  “That sounds like my mom.” Tiffany called out, “We’re all right here.”

  “There you are!” Linda walked in and looked around. “What a wo
nderful kitchen. I love the turquoise island. It gives the room so much character. Tiffie, honey, could I borrow your phone? I’d like to call my side of the family to wish them a Merry Christmas. They’re probably finishing dinner right about now. But my phone quit working. And so did Daddy’s and Blake’s.”

  “There’s only one carrier that works in Wagtail,” Dave explained.

  “I’ve heard that.” Linda smiled at him. “Very odd. But all our phones worked a few days ago, so we must have the right carrier.”

  “Sure, Mom.” Tiffany pulled her phone out of her pocket and handed it to her mom. “We’re looking for Snowflake. Have you seen her?”

  “Goodness, I hope she didn’t get out. It’s snowing like crazy, and with her white fur we’d never see her in the snow.”

  Tiffany’s eyes grew large. “No! She better be inside somewhere.”

  “I’ll check my apartment.” I dashed up the back stairs with Trixie. “Look for kitties, Trixie. Where’s Twinkletoes?”

  Unfortunately, they weren’t curled up in Twinkletoes’s favorite chair like I had hoped. That would have been too easy. I was about to search my bedroom when Trixie barked. I hurried into my bedroom, expecting to find the kitten with Twinkletoes. They weren’t on the bed or in the closet that I could see.

  “What was that barking about?”

  She wagged her tail, her eyes bright and excited.

  “Silly doggy.” I checked the guest room, but they weren’t there, either.

  Trixie ran to the door. There was a charming, cushy bench on the landing near my door. Maybe they had settled there. I swung the door open and realized immediately that the light bulb in the hallway had gone out. I still wore my sunglasses though and couldn’t make out who punched me in the side of my face.

  Thirty-seven

  I could hear Trixie barking in the distance as I came to. Woozy, I tried to sit up. The world looked very dark until I remembered the sunglasses and ripped them off. I must have been unconscious for only a minute or so.