“Heather, you’re one of the least selfish people I know,” Amy said. “And if it helps, my mind keeps focusing on how much shopping I need to do. That’s much worse.”
“You’re fine,” Heather assured her. "But I guess we both need to get our heads in the game. We'll talk to the neighbor and then head to the reporter's office. She said she'd have gathered all her notes by then."
Heather and Amy walked up to the victim’s neighbor’s house. She must have been looking through the window again to see their approach because she opened the door before they were able to knock.
"You're with the police?" the woman asked. Her hair was in curlers again, and she was holding a tissue.
“Yes,” Heather said. “We’re private investigators who consult on cases for the Key West Police.”
“I saw you at the Grimey place last night,” she said.
“We’re investigating his murder,” Heather said.
The woman exhaled. “I suspected as much, but it still sounds strange to hear it out loud.”
“Can we ask you some questions?” Heather asked.
“Sure.” She introduced herself as Mrs. Kurtshed. After a lengthy time blowing her nose, she led them inside her home.
"I have a bit of a cold," Mrs. Kurtshed said. They could tell she wasn't exaggerating by the number of wastebaskets that were filled with discarded tissues.
“That’s all right,” Heather said. “We’ll try not to take up too much of your time, so you’ll be able to rest.”
“I’m happy to help,” Mrs. Kurtshed said. “You must have your work cut out for you if you’re trying to figure out who murdered old Grimey.”
“What do you mean?” asked Amy, as she took her tablet out to take notes on the questioning.
“I mean that I’m pretty sure everyone who ever met him wanted to kill him,” Mrs. Kurtshed. “So, it will be hard to figure out who actually did it.”
“That’s quite a thing to say,” Heather commented.
Mrs. Kurtshed needed a few moments to tame her runny nose again, but then said, “But it’s true.”
“Why did everyone want to kill him?” asked Heather.
“He was just an unpleasant man. He went out of his way to be awful to others.”
“That sounds like Mr. Rankle,” Amy said.
“Can you give some specifics?” Heather asked.
Mrs. Kurtshed thought about it. "There were simple things like if you said good morning to him, he'd respond with "it was until I saw you." And there was the time he got mad at his mailman he put fish in his mailbox so the man would face a bad smell. And he didn't care that it would affect him too. That his mail might stink. He just wanted to spite somebody and did it no matter the consequences. I bet he did something on a bigger scale that led to his death."
“Do you have any idea what that might have been?” asked Heather.
“No. Not specifically,” Mrs. Kurtshed said before needing another tissue. “I’ve seen lots of small things when I look out my window. He hates when people come near his property. But I can’t think of a huge thing that would have been a reason. I didn’t hear any arguing yesterday, so it couldn’t have been a fight and an accident.”
“We do think it was premeditated,” Heather said, only revealing a small amount of information about the case. “So, it needed to be someone willing to plan it.”
"Maybe it was one of his previous neighbors," Mrs. Kurtshed suggested. "The house next to him on the other side used to be rented out, but now nobody wants to live next to him. He likes to be able to spread out on both of the lawns, and so he goes out of his way to scare off potential renters. Then if someone were brave enough to stay, he would make himself as bothersome as possible."
“He seems like a difficult man to live next to,” Heather commented.
“You can say that again,” Mrs. Kurtshed said.
“Sure,” Amy said good-naturedly. “He seems like a difficult man to live next to.”
"Now, I have to ask," Heather said as gently as she could. "You’ve said that everyone that met him would want to kill him and you’ve told us how difficult he is to live next to.”
“You want to know if I could have killed him?” She asked before sneezing and blowing her nose several times.
“Did you have a reason?” Heather asked.
"I certainly didn't like him, but I didn't kill him. If I were going to do that, I would have done it years ago. But I'm not a killer," Mrs. Kurtshed said.
"But we did say twice that he's difficult to live next to," said Amy.
“I’m made of stranger stuff than most of the renters. I wasn’t going to let him ruin my home for me. Though I did keep an eye on what he was doing. If he ever did anything illegal and not just annoying to the renters, I would have been happy to turn him in to the police. And at the times that I got really annoyed with him…” Mrs. Kurtshed trailed off.
“What?” Heather prompted.
"Well, now it sounds terrible to admit. But when he used to annoy me, I used to tell myself that he was an old man and he wouldn't around much longer." This time Mrs. Kurtshed used a tissue to wipe her eyes instead of her nose. "Grimey was a mean old brute, but he shouldn't have been murdered."
“I have one more question,” Heather said. She waited for Mrs. Kurtshed to stop sneezing and then asked, “Did you see a red box delivered to your neighbor yesterday?”
Mrs. Kurtshed thought about it. “I saw the mailmen deliver the mail to him when I got mine and it was only letters. But I think there might have been something delivered later on. I didn't hear a big delivery van again. And I didn't notice when it arrived, though my phone kept ringing that day. But I think I did see something red on Grimey's porch later in the day."
“Thank you for all your help,” Heather said.
"I hope you catch whoever did this," Mrs. Kurtshed said. "Even if he could be a real Grinch.”
Heather and Amy assured her that they would and left the house, realizing they should wash their hands to make sure that they didn’t catch any of Mrs. Kurtshed’s germs.
“Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” Amy asked.
“That if Mrs. Kurtshed is as sick as she seems to be it would be difficult for her not to get her DNA on the murder weapon?” Heather asked.
“Well, I was thinking about all the tissues she needed,” Amy said. “She really was a nose-y neighbor.”
Heather didn't have time to groan at the joke. They needed to meet the reporter.
The Reporter’s Story
“Since I’m sharing all this information with you, I’m hoping that later you’ll share some information with me.”
“What do you mean?” Heather asked.
She and Amy had arrived at the Key West Key News office and met the author of the newspaper piece about the secret Santa. Hope Penwell was a young woman with curly blonde hair pulled into a bun and holding her excess pens. She had a bounce in her step and seemed to have a lot of energy.
"I'm, of course, happy to share information with the police and their colleagues whenever it is needed, especially if it relates to a murder case," Hope was saying. "But maybe in exchange for all my help and goodwill, you'd be willing to do an exclusive interview with me about catching the killer. I'm sure my readers would love to hear all about it."
After some bad experiences with the press in her previous town, Heather really did not want to be a part of another news story. However, she also thought it was a bad idea to insult the press, especially when Hope had gathered everything she had on her newspaper story and had assembled it on the table for them to look at together.
“We’ll make sure that someone gets you all the facts on the case as soon as it’s been solved,” Heather said, thinking to herself that maybe Detective Peters would enjoy seeing his name in the press.
“Thanks,” Hope said, making sure to hug both of the investigators. “Maybe someday I can do a story on the two of you. It must be exciting to be female private investigators and tr
ack down killers.”
“Why don’t we focus on the case at hand?” Heather said, trying to avoid making any promises.
"Sure," Hope said. "This should be everything I have on the case. I think I tracked down everyone who received a gift. My final story focused on the feelings and the joy of having a mysterious Santa visiting people, but I did gather more specific details."
Heather began looking at the work on the table. “You did a lot of research.”
“I try to,” Hope said. “I’m what you’d consider one of the junior reporters around here. I really want to make a name for myself. And Penwell is a great writer’s name, isn’t it? When I was younger, I said I either need to become a writer or a movie star. And I like reporting a lot better.”
“Penwell could also be a good name for working in a prison,” Amy offered.
“What we’d like to find out is whether a gift sent to a certain person was from the Key West Santa that you reported on in your story or if it was a copycat,” Heather said.
"Is that how the person was killed?" Hope asked, taking out a notepad.
“I can only tell you things if you promise it won’t go into the paper until after the police say the case is solved,” Heather said.
“All right,” Hope said, putting her notepad down. “But you promise that someone will talk to me and not to another reporter around here?”
“We promise,” Heather said, figuring it wouldn’t be a hard promise to keep. She wasn’t planning on talking to any other reporters anyway.
"So, was this related to the murder?” asked Hope.
“The killer sent the victim something dangerous in a box wrapped in red wrapping paper,” Heather said. “And we want to find out whether it came from the Key West Santa or not.”
“Red wrapping paper matches,” Hope said.
“But that was in your story,” Amy said.
“You read my story?” Hope asked. “Did you like it? Do you think it captured the spirit of the holidays? My editor made me cut the word count down. I hope it’s still an enchanting read.”
“Yeah. Enchanting,” Amy said, getting annoyed that they were getting off topic.
“Is there anything that wasn’t included in the story?” Heather asked. “Anything that a copycat wouldn’t have known about when delivering the gifts?”
“I gathered so much information I couldn’t possibly fit it all into a short news piece. Most of it was about the gift recipients individually, but there were some other things too,” Hope said. “I didn’t include everything about the cards in the piece.”
"Our friend received a gift, and the card looked handmade," Heather said. "It had the design of a Christmas tree on it."
“What did the message say?” Hope asked.
“I think it said something to the effect of books can be as magical as elves,” Heather said.
“Does your friend’s name begin with a B?” Hope asked.
“Yes. It’s Bernadette,” Heather said. “How did you guess?”
“The Key West Santa begins all his cards with the same letter of the recipient’s first name. So, if books was the first word of the card, then your friend’s name should begin with a B too.”
“That fits with the victim’s card,” Amy said. “Believe and Ben. But maybe it’s a coincidence. Believe is a popular word to use in Christmas cards.”
“I wonder if that’s something that a gift recipient could have figured out on their own,” Heather mused. “Could you have figured out the pattern by only seeing your own card? We didn’t realize it by only seeing Bernadette’s.”
“You think one of the gift recipients could be the killer?” Amy asked. “They became a copycat because they saw what their gift was like and not because they read it in the paper. What a terrible way to pay it forward.”
“There is one way to determine if Santa is the killer or not,” Hope said, excitedly realizing it for herself.
“I’m never going to get tired of hearing these phrases,” Amy chuckled.
A Clue in the Cards
“Thanks for coming over,” Heather said, as Ryan and Peters joined them at the newspaper office.
"If it's a break in the case, I’m happy to,” Ryan assured her.
“So many exciting people here,” Hope said as they approached the table. “Maybe I can do a story on you sometime? What’s it like to be partners on the police force? Do you have a dog? That would be a great accompanying photo.”
“I have a dog,” Ryan said. “But he’s no police dog. He’s pulled his weight on helping Heather with some cases, but that weight is growing with all the donuts he’s been chomping on.”
“Would you like to be interviewed?” Hope asked Peters. “You could see your name in the paper.”
“She’s always on the lookout for a story, isn’t she?” Amy asked.
"Do you think some people might be impressed by your name being in the paper?” Peters asked.
“Let’s focus on the murder case,” Ryan said.
“Did you bring the card?” Heather asked.
Ryan nodded and revealed the card that Ben Grimes had received with his deadly gift. It had the same Christmas tree design with gold and silver ornaments on it.
“This looks like the same card,” Hope said.
“But couldn’t someone who received a gift have copied this card idea?” Heather asked. “They would have seen the tree and ornaments on their own card.”
“Look at the design in the background,” Hope said.
They looked closer and noticed some squiggly lines behind the tree on the card. Heather looked at the pictures on the cards in Hope’s research and realized that they all had lines in the background, but they didn’t appear to be the same.
“What do they mean?” Heather asked.
"I'm glad you asked," Hope said. "I was really proud of this discovery. Once I noticed how all the cards had those lines in the background, I couldn't stop wondering what they meant. One of my neighbors had received a gift. In fact, that was what inspired me to start this story. Anyway, I was looking at her card while at work here, and I realized what it was.”
“Which is?” Amy said.
"Part of a map," Hope said, proudly. She pointed to a map of Key West on the office wall. "If you put a lot of the cards together, you can see it better. But the squiggles are part of a map. And they mark where the gift was delivered to."
Hope picked up one of the pictures of a card from her research and held it up to the map.
"This is the card my neighbor received, and you see how the lines match the roads by our houses," said Hope.
“Wow,” Amy said. “They do.”
“It works for all the gifts?” Heather asked.
Hope nodded. "It might not be the recipient's house. Some were delivered to their jobs, or someplace they go regularly."
“The victim’s neighbor said she saw the red box on his porch,” Heather said. “So, we should see if the lines of Ben Grimes’s card match his street address.”
Peters found his address on the map and held the card up to it.
“It’s a match,” said Ryan.
“So, Santa is the killer?” Amy asked.
“What’s going on out here?” a man asked.
"This is my editor," Hope said, introducing a man with dark hair and a mustache. “Dennis Black, this is the subject of my new story. I’m following a murder case.”
“That’s a great story,” Dennis Black said. “When do you expect to have it in?”
“Well,” Hope said, faltering. “After they solve it. But they promised me the story.”
Dennis nodded. "Well, we'll look forward to reading it. Readers love to hear about murders. And cats."
“It’s about Ben Grimes,” Hope said. “I can say that much at least, right? Because, Dennis, you knew him, didn’t you?”
“What do you mean?” Dennis asked.
“I mean that story you wrote about him,” Hope said. “It was a while ago, but Ben Grimes made
the newspaper too.”
“That’s right,” Dennis said. “I almost forgot.”
“I could never forget that story,” Hope said. “Ben Grimes was in the paper because of how unpleasant he was. He actually bit a dog that came on his property.”
"He bit a dog?" Amy asked. "That sounds like a fake headline in a comedy paper."
“But it really happened. It was so outrageous that I remembered it,” Hope said. “What else was there to the story?”
"Just that Ben Grimes was doing his best to upset everyone he could," Dennis said, trying to remember it. "But I think he enjoyed being in the paper and being told how bad he was. We tried to get his side of the story before we printed how he bit the dog. He directed us to some character witnesses, but they all had terrible things to say about him. He was the man who was murdered?"
Heather nodded. “It sounds like he gave many people cause to dislike him.”
“We interviewed at least a dozen people at the time who had bad things to say about him,” Dennis said.
“Great,” Amy said. “Now all we have to figure out is why did Santa Claus kill Scrooge?”
Donut Discussions
“Are you okay, boss?” Digby asked.
Heather looked up from the spot on the counter that she had been needlessly scrubbing for about ten minutes. Her assistants Digby and Janae came closer.
“Are you distracted by a case or by Christmas?” Digby said.
“We’re happy to help if we can,” Janae said.
“Thanks. I appreciate it, but you’re already doing what’s most helpful. You’re both keeping Donut Delights running smoothly during this busy holiday time and making sure our online orders are set,” Heather said with a smile. "I'm distracted by a case, but it's because I want to solve it so I can focus on celebrating."
"I want to get to the celebrating stage too,” Digby said with a dark expression crossing his face. “But my delay is less dramatic than a murder case. I just agreed to something stupid and am paying dearly for it."
Eggnog Cream & Murder: An Oceanside Cozy Mystery - Book 12 Page 3