by Krista Davis
A police siren howled in the distance, and Daisy, a hound mix, joined in. I tried to quiet her, but as the siren came closer and grew louder, so did Daisy.
The dark figure in the alley slammed the SUV hatch shut, hopped into the car, and spun his tires in his eagerness to depart. He drove out in the other direction without his lights on, so I never got a good look at the driver or the license plate.
Daisy and I returned to the front of the store, and the police car came to a halt. A young officer stepped out, and I explained what had happened. He tried the front door, then walked around to the rear entrance. Daisy and I accompanied him.
I expected to find a broken lock or window but everything appeared intact. The officer waved a strong flashlight beam over the rear of the building. “I don’t see any sign of breaking and entering, do you?”
I had to admit that I didn’t.
He pulled a cloth from his pocket and tested the door-knob. “If someone was in there, either he had a key or he’s an ace locksmith. This door is locked tight.”
“May I borrow your flashlight?”
“Sure.”
He handed it to me and I trained it on the paved alley. “There. See it? Right there.” I let the light play along the surface of the road. “Those are the marks his tires made when he left so fast.”
The young officer seemed doubtful. “We’ll have to locate the owners. They’ll know if anything has been stolen.”
I’d seen the guy carrying boxes out. What more did he need? It was a bit peculiar to imagine that a talented locksmith chose the day after Bonnie died to rip her off. Though he could have seen her obituary in the paper and jumped at the opportunity. “You can probably cut through a lot of effort by calling Detective Kenner.”
“Kenner? He’s in homicide. Is he a friend of yours or something?”
“The owner of the store—or maybe the half-owner, I don’t know—died yesterday. Kenner is”—I sought an appropriate phrase—“on the case.”
The officer jumped back and studied the ground. “Are you kidding? This could all be a crime scene.” His voice rose to a shrill pitch. “You couldn’t have mentioned this before? We’ve probably contaminated something.”
Waving his arm, he motioned for me to follow him out of the alley. When we reached the sidewalk, he strode away from me, but I could hear him calling the dispatcher. When he returned, he said, “Who burglarizes a store after Christmas? They didn’t get enough gifts, so they thought they’d just help themselves to more?” He wrinkled his nose. “A closet store? What would anyone want in a closet store? I understand breaking into a jewelry store, not that I condone it, but this is nuts. Who steals coat hangers?”
It was a rhetorical question, confirmed by the fact that he kept muttering about it until Kenner arrived. Even though they spoke privately, I could hear him telling Kenner that I’d concealed the owner’s death from him.
Kenner kept his eyes on me the whole time the young officer pleaded his case. He finally nodded and, without a word, strode over to me. “A burglar? That was the best you could do?”
Huh? “I beg your pardon?”
“It’s fairly obvious you made up this burglar so you’d have a reason to see me again.”
“Why, you obnoxious, conceited, pompous blowhard!”
Daisy punctuated my ire with a vicious growl, and I took that opportunity to turn on my heel and walk away, hoping I hadn’t just made him so angry that he would turn into the old monster Kenner I’d known before.
“Sophie,” Kenner said gently, “you don’t have to be embarrassed by your desire.”
Desire!? Ugh. At that very moment, the only desire I had was to go home and snuggle up in a warm house—without Kenner! I kept walking and made no sign that I’d heard him. If he needed information, well, much as I hated to admit it, he knew where he could find me. Besides, I’d told that whiny young officer everything I saw. It was their turn to pick up the ball and run with it.
It grated on me that Kenner managed to twist my report of a crime into an attempt at an assignation. One thing was certain—I wouldn’t be calling the police for anything until Wolf returned. I didn’t need Kenner hanging around, imagining I had designs on him.
Every inch of me longed to go home, to get out of the lousy weather, to finally eat dinner, and snuggle up with a warm drink by a blazing fire. I couldn’t, though. I couldn’t do that to Laci and Jen, who loved Shawna so dearly.
I could, however, stroll by The Laughing Hound, to see if Bernie or Hannah would take pity on me and bring a hot chocolate out to the sidewalk. I steered Daisy in that direction, pondering where I would go if I were Shawna.
She would expect the police at her apartment. She could hide at Beau’s condo, but if the police thought she murdered Bonnie, Beau surely knew about their theory. He’d already tried to blame Bonnie’s death on Shawna. Could he have changed his mind about that and be protecting her now?
Where would I go under those circumstances? I guessed I would turn myself in, but not until I had consulted an attorney. Had she met some of Old Town’s legal eagles while she waitressed? Probably. Daisy and I hoofed it over to Bernie’s restaurant. I felt a little like Tiny Tim, standing out in the cold and staring in at the fancy people having a good time. I poked my head in the door and asked the seating host if he could send Bernie out. He gave me an annoyed look, but through the glass doors, I watched him walk toward the back and hoped he was fetching Bernie.
Minutes later, Bernie shot out the door. “Why aren’t you coming inside?” Daisy pawed at him, her head down. “Ohhh.” He squatted to rub her head. “Your sister is here with a good-looking guy. Bring Daisy around to the garden gate. I’ll get a jacket.”
Daisy and I let ourselves into the garden area where I’d watched Marnie only the day before. As though he could read my mind, Bernie joined us minutes later with two Irish Monks—hot chocolate with Bailey’s Irish Cream and Frangelico. Steam wafted from the mugs and whipped cream melted into the liquid. Thoughtful Bernie hadn’t forgotten Daisy. He handed her an aluminum take-out tin of leftover prime rib.
“Hannah and her new beau seem to be getting fairly close,” Bernie said.
“We’re supposed to be out looking for Shawna. She didn’t come here, I suppose?” I sipped at the rich, hot liquid.
Bernie exhaled. “Kenner came by looking for her. You don’t think she really killed Bonnie, do you?”
“You know her better than I do. All I know is that she was obsessed with getting a Christmas proposal from Beau. It was all she thought of.”
“Yeah, we heard about it nonstop here, too. It doesn’t follow, though. Even if she was upset with Bonnie for announcing her own engagement, it wouldn’t make sense to kill her. That wouldn’t have changed the situation.”
“Unless she thought Bonnie stood in the way.”
“Nah.” Bernie held his mug with ungloved hands. “Shawna is a sweetheart. She remembers everyone’s birthday, she’s always cheery—I don’t see it. Don’t get me wrong, I like Shawna, but I’m not sure she’s the type to plan a complex murder. Bashing Bonnie over the head in front of everyone at the party in a fit of anger would have been more her style. Planning? Not Shawna’s forte.”
Planning? “What did Kenner tell you?”
“Not much. The man is irritatingly coy. But the local rumor mill has it that the killer managed to pipe some sort of gas into her house. Doesn’t sound like anything Shawna would figure out on her own.”
I gulped the warm liquid while watching Daisy push the aluminum tin around with her nose to be sure she got every last morsel of meat. “Are you saying you think someone helped her?”
Bernie shot me an exasperated glance. “No. In the bluntest, but not nicest, way, just between us, I’m saying Shawna isn’t bright enough to have thought of something so devious, much less executed it.”
Laci did strike me as the smarter sister. “It’s hard to imagine anyone would do that. Would you know how?”
The cold
had pinked Bernie’s fair cheeks, but a blush rose up his neck. “Actually, I would. But don’t spread that around. I don’t want Kenner after me.”
I should have known. Bernie, whose nose had been broken at some point and left a bit askew, whose sandy hair always appeared as though he’d just gotten out of bed, who looked more like Dennis the Menace than a restauranteur, was something of a Renaissance man. His unending array of talents never failed to amaze me.
A light snow began to drift down again. I finished my drink and handed him the empty mug, thanking him. Bernie leaned over and kissed my cheek. “Merry Christmas, Sophie.”
“Thanks for Daisy’s treat, too.” We headed for the gate.
“Keep me posted about Shawna!” he called after us.
As we walked away, snow floated around us, lights twinkled, and brisk air nipped at my warm cheeks. I decided to head home, yet felt a little bit guilty about that decision. I wanted to think about what Bernie had told me, and I clearly wasn’t doing Shawna any good by wandering aimlessly. The short walk would have been completely romantic if the specter of Shawna’s imminent arrest hadn’t overshadowed the holiday joy.
Daisy and I walked up to my front door. A dusting of snow clung to the pine wreath I had adorned with holly leaves, fresh red berries, and pinecones. I slid my key into the lock and opened the door.
Without my noisy family hanging out, my house had become eerily still. I lit the fire in the kitchen fireplace and turned on the Christmas lights to cozy it up. I was about to make myself a turkey sandwich when the phone rang.
“I’m out of town for three days and you’re already in trouble?” asked Wolf. His voice resonated with depth and warmth, and suddenly, I wished he weren’t so far away.
“I miss you.” Ugh. Why did I say that? He would surely misinterpret it.
He chuckled. “Me, too. It’s great to see my folks, though. Have they found Shawna yet?”
“How did you know about that?”
“I know my Sophie. She would never call unless something was very wrong. I placed a couple of calls to my pals and got the scoop. The victim’s son told the police that Shawna killed Bonnie because she was against their marriage.”
“That’s odd. I’m under the impression that Shawna didn’t know about Bonnie’s feelings until after she was dead. But I did find an engagement ring in Bonnie’s purse. Do you think she pinched it so Beau wouldn’t have it to propose to Shawna?”
“In her purse?” Wolf chuckled. “Snooping already, Sophie?”
“I was not snooping! I just got back from looking for Shawna. Get this—someone broke into Bonnie’s store tonight and was removing things.”
Wolf was silent for a moment. “It wouldn’t be the first time someone saw an obituary and took advantage of the situation. On the other hand, it certainly is suspicious timing. Do you have any reason to think someone was cleaning up some sort of evidence?”
“Only the fact that the burglar had a key. There was no sign of forced entry.”
“Kenner on the case?”
“Of course.”
I heard Wolf sigh. “Stay away from him, okay?”
“Wolf? Did you find out how Bonnie died? Kenner won’t tell me.”
“Looks like Shawna gave Bonnie a Christmas gift that spewed poisonous gas when she opened it.”
I staggered backward and fell into a chair by the fire. What was that phrase—malice aforethought. Shawna hadn’t killed Bonnie because of the way she acted at the party. She had to have planned the murder well in advance. “Where do you buy poisonous gas?”
“Good question. Isn’t that the craziest thing? Plus, it had to be rigged to go off somehow. Man, I wish I was there for this one.”
“When are you coming back?”
“I still have to drive my folks home to Pennsylvania, and they’re having a blast, so I hate to cut the trip short. Soph, keep me posted, okay?”
I promised to keep him in the loop, though frankly, he had connections who could tell him more in an instant. I hung up and stretched my bare toes toward the flickering warmth of the flames. Mochie jumped into my lap, probably wondering why I hadn’t diced any turkey for him yet, and head-butted me.
I stroked him absently. I had been the first person on the scene, so the gift in question must have been the music box that I found on the floor. It made some degree of sense in the abstract. Bonnie had brought the gift home from her party, opened it, and died when she inhaled poison.
But if Bernie was right, and as Shawna’s boss, he was certainly in a position to gauge her abilities, Shawna wasn’t the brightest bulb. Just because I wouldn’t know how to go about creating a poisonous music box didn’t mean she couldn’t, though. A person could find instructions for just about anything on the Internet these days. Maybe she really had planned to get rid of Beau’s mother.
I didn’t have to look far for motives. Everyone in Laci’s family wished Bonnie would drop dead. Shawna could have thought Bonnie would come between her and Beau, or she could have lost it when her father showed up with Bonnie as his date. I held Mochie close and exhaled a long breath. Poor Laci. As if they hadn’t had enough problems, it looked to me like Shawna would be doing time.
Daisy nudged me with her nose, a gentle reminder that her dinner was late. “Bernie’s treat was only an appetizer?” I asked.
She wagged her tail in response and pawed at me gently.
At least we’d roasted the turkey earlier in the day. Mochie and Daisy would enjoy it as much as I would. I made their dinners and added diced turkey to their food before making my sandwich.
I heated a mini-baguette in the oven and cut thin slices of turkey breast. With relief, I found Mom had left a good bit of cranberry sauce behind. My mouth practically watered at the treat of turkey and cranberry sauce.
I slid the bread out of the oven, halved it, added a bit of mayonnaise to both sides, layered the slices of turkey breast on one side, and added a generous dollop of the burst berries. I had just placed the top on my sandwich when Daisy growled and raced for the sunroom. Oh no! The only person she’d been growling at lately was Kenner. I hoped he wasn’t back, imagining some sort of romantic connection. I turned off all the overhead lights and crept into the sunroom.
A shadowy figure lurked outside the door.
SIXTEEN
From “THE GOOD LIFE” :
Dear Sophie,
I’m addicted to wreaths. I hang them on each window, on the front and back doors, and over the fireplaces. Storing one or two wasn’t a problem, but how do I store so many without squashing them?
—Going in Circles in Advent, West Virginia
Dear Going in Circles,
Look up—in a closet, that is. A lot of walk-in closets and utility closets have plenty of empty space around the top. Hang your wreaths high, out of the way. If you have a basement or attic, use threaded rod hangers to hang a long, removable rod parallel to the ceiling. Slide your wreaths onto the rod, drape with an old sheet, and they’ll be ready for next year.
—Sophie
The shadow knocked tentatively. “Sophie!” It was a desperate whisper.
Shawna?
She knocked again, ever so softly.
I neared the door and recognized Shawna peering through the glass. Quickly, I unlocked the door to let her in.
She trembled with fear. “Thank you! Thank you, Sophie,” she whispered. “Is anyone else here?”
Normally I wouldn’t have let a killer into my house, nor would I have admitted to being alone, but something about Shawna struck a chord with me. She seemed pathetic and frightened. If Hannah were in the same situation, I hoped Laci would help her.
“No one is here but me. They’re all out looking for you.” I switched on a small lamp.
She pressed bloodless fingers against her face. “I don’t know what to do, where to go. I didn’t kill Bonnie. Honest, I didn’t. That horrible Detective Kenner has me in the electric chair already. You believe me, don’t you?”
; I was searching for a vaguely reassuring but noncommittal response when I realized that I did believe her. I had run up against Kenner before and knew how stubborn he could be when he thought he had figured out a crime—even if he was dead wrong. I also trusted Bernie’s judgment, and had doubts about Shawna’s ability to conceive and construct the devious method of killing Bonnie.
She rubbed her hands together to warm them. “He convinced Beau that I murdered his mother.”
Far be it from me to defend Kenner, but I had been there when Beau found out his mother died, and he’d blamed it on Shawna without any help from Kenner, or anyone else for that matter.
“I’ve lost everything, Sophie. My life is over. They’re saying I poisoned her with some kind of gas. I don’t even understand how a person would do that.”
Either she was being honest and I was right about her being innocent, or she was a talented actress.
I reached for her jacket. “You’re sopping wet!”
“I’ve been out in the snow, dodging through alleys.”
“Go upstairs and take a hot shower. You’re taller than I am, but maybe you can find some dry sweats in my closet? Meanwhile, I’ll try to reach your dad. Okay?”
She nodded, handed me her jacket, and shuffled toward the stairs.
While she showered, I made her piping hot chocolate, carried it upstairs, and left it next to the sink. If she didn’t warm up, she would get sick. I heard the water stop as I returned to the kitchen.
I phoned Phil on his cell phone number. Maybe he would be able to hire an attorney who could smooth the way if Shawna turned herself in.
When Phil answered his phone, I tried to convey the message in code in case anyone was listening. “We’re reconvening at my house.”