Margo had originally planned on going to the police first, but decided that she wanted to do a little digging on her own first. For all she knew, they’d pass any responsibility off on the sheriff and she’d end up right back at Mrs. Tate’s boarding house again.
The open, snowy landscape rushed by in a blur with only the occasional tree or far off farmhouse to keep any interest on the horizon.
Resting her eyes, she quietly waited out the drive, wondering just what she might find. Perhaps nothing.
“Here we are,” the cab driver announced.
Margo jumped awake, realizing she’d fallen asleep in the back seat.
The driver chuckled quietly at her startled expression. Furrowing her brow, she paid the man and climbed out to face her familiar stomping grounds. She would just pop in and have a look around. For all she knew, the killer or thief, or both, had left some sort of clue in the factory that she’d missed before she realized there had been foul play going on under her nose.
Passing the shop and stepping to the side of the building, she headed down the alley to the side entrance. This was where the employees usually came in during the mornings.
She’d gotten about halfway to the door when she realized someone was standing there. A man with dark hair and wearing a dark business suit and dressy trench coat was fiddling with the doorknob.
He was trying to break in!
9
While the man looked oddly familiar, he certainly wasn’t one of Margo’s employees. The well-pressed suit was throwing her off as well. Did this mean her thief and murderer was someone who wasn’t an employee? If so, she was both relieved and horrified all at the same time. Had she really let security measures at her business get so bad that a random man could walk in off the street and take the product, or was this some sort of professional gentleman thief?
She was about to find out.
Retrieving her pocket knife and unsheathing the blade, she kept it low and at the ready. Finally, leaping forward, she confronted the burglar. “Who are you? Why are you trying to break into my factory?” she demanded.
Letting out a startled cry, the man threw up both of his gloved hands. “Whoa, lady. Whoa. Just take it.” His hand darted to the inside of his jacket.
Margo felt her blood run ice cold for a second as she wondered if he was going to pull a gun out and finish her off once and for all. This had been a terrible idea from the start, her mind screamed at her.
“Just take it,” he repeated, revealing a small leather wallet, not a gun. He tossed the item across to her so that it landed at her feet in the snow.
She glanced down at it with confusion marring her brow. “What?”
“My money. Go ahead and take it and go.”
Her jaw dropped open. Did he seriously think she, a fifty-year-old woman in a cowboy hat, was mugging him? “I don’t want your money,” she snapped.
“What is it then? You want the jacket?” he proceeded to start removing the coat.
“I don’t want anything. Stop it,” she ordered.
He froze in place with his coat only half on. “Well, what’s the deal? Are you just one of those psychos who gets their kicks out of stabbing random people?” he gasped, his face turning pale.
“Now, hold on a minute. I’m no such thing, but I do have a right to protect my property from thieves.”
“Just cool it with the knife. I’m not a thief. I’m not trying to do anything bad,” his voice squeaked slightly.
“It looks to me like you’re trying to break into this building, a building that happens to belong to me.”
He blinked a few times, as if surprised by this comment. “I swear, I wasn’t, lady.”
Instinctively, she reached into her purse for her phone, but then remembered it wasn’t there. That didn’t stop her from making her threat. “Maybe we should just ask the police what they think,” she suggested, shaking the purse to make it seem as if she had her phone hidden away.
“No, no police, please,” he begged, sounding more sad and pathetic by the minute. If he really was a robber, he seemed like a spineless one. She was growing less and less sure that he was her man, after all. Besides, a man like this hardly seemed like he could keep it together long enough to pull off months’ worth of thefts without anyone noticing until the books came in.
Still, something about him seemed so familiar, it was uncanny. It was almost as if she was looking at someone she saw on a regular basis, but something about his features were off.
Why couldn’t she place him?
Slowly, she lifted her hand from her purse. “Okay. No police.”
“Thank you, thank you,” he clasped his hands in a symbol of gratitude.
“You better start telling me what you’re doing before I change my mind,” she shot back, not wanting him to grow too comfortable with the situation.
“I swear, lady, I wasn’t doing anything wrong. I don’t break the law if I can help it,” he was rambling, his words coming out in sputtered clusters.
Was he trying to hide something?
Margo could only raise a suspicious eyebrow in response.
“L-Look, I would never do anything that would land me in jail, okay? I’m too scared of going to a place like that. I’d be eaten alive.”
It sounded as if he were stalling, and Margo didn’t have the time for it. “If you claim you’re not doing anything wrong,” her eyes darted from the door handle back to the man, “then maybe you can explain exactly what you were doing, because it sure looked like you were trying to break into my factory.”
“I wasn’t, I thought you guys might be open,” he confessed.
“Even if we were, only employees are allowed in through this door. Customers come in through the shop.”
“O-oh, I didn’t know. You see, I was hoping to talk to you, Ma’am,” he spoke in a suddenly respectful tone, standing up straight.
This new comment had her taken aback. “Me? You wanted to talk to me?” Suddenly, her heart started up racing. What if this young man was the murderer? What if he wanted to see her so he could kill her, finish the job he’d intended to do this whole time?
“I was hoping I could ask you about a job.”
That completely threw her off guard. “Wait a minute, a job? You’re here looking for a job?”
“That’s right, Ma’am. I was told you might have a job opening available. I specialize in PR and advertising.” He shook his head. “He swore that you had a position open, even told me to show up today around this time and to use the side entrance.”
“He? Who told you that?” she demanded, now completely confused by the situation.
The young man opened his mouth to answer, but no sound came out. Instead, the singular whoop of a police siren turning on and off echoed down the snowy alleyway.
Margo spun on her heel and noticed the familiar sheriff’s truck pull up along the street outside the shop, its lights flashing its arrival. “Oh, no,” she whispered.
At the same time, the rushed patter of feet could be heard darting down the alley in the opposite direction. Spinning to face the sound, she watched the young man in the suit disappearing in the distance.
Her chance of figuring out who had given him the false information about a job disappeared with him.
10
“I thought I’d find you here,” Sheriff Carlsbad mentioned as he sauntered down the alleyway.
“Wait, hold on a minute. He’s getting away. Aren’t you going to chase him?”
“Chase who?”
“That man who was just trying to break into my factory,” she demanded, motioning with her knife toward the now empty alleyway.
The sheriff eyeballed the knife in her hand suspiciously.
Her face growing hot with embarrassment, Margo closed the blade and deposited the tool in her purse. “I’m telling you. I caught a man trying to break into my factory. I was just trying to stop him from stealing more of my product. He claimed to be here for a job interview.”
<
br /> “And was he?”
“No, of course, not. But before you so rudely interrupted me, he was about to tell me some potentially important information.”
“Oh?”
“So, aren’t you going to go after him?” she insisted again, thinking that he understood the situation now.
The sheriff hesitated, his eyes searching the woman’s face. Finally, he answered. “No.”
“No?”
“No. This city isn’t in my jurisdiction.”
“What about the homicide case? What if that guy was our murderer? What if he could have told us something about the murderer?”
“Mrs. Hanratty, don’t you worry. We’re working on things as we speak, and I think we’re getting very close to an answer, but I’m nearly positive that John Doe who just ran off isn’t our man.”
Margo hesitated, her eyes wandering with her thoughts. “How do you know that?”
“I can’t comment on an ongoing investigation, but I can say that until we have the criminal safely behind bars, I want you tucked away safely at Mrs. Tate’s.”
“You can’t be serious,” she groaned.
“I am,” he retorted, pulling a cigarette out of his jacket pocket and placing it between his lips. Igniting his lighter, he lit the cigarette.
“How do I know you’re not just holding me and my daughter until you can get proper evidence against us?” she spat out, expressing Sandra’s concerns as her own. She knew it was a mistake to make such an accusation of the police, especially a small-town sheriff who was just trying to do his job.
He raised an eyebrow at the outburst. “I’m not holding you at all,” he answered.
Margo let out an amused laugh.
“You’re right. You have the freedom to go about as you please, but I would advise against it. I’d feel a lot safer, and happier, with you in Tanson Hills.”
“But it’s Christmas,” she shouted, much louder than she had expected. Her voice bounced off the brick walls of the alleyway, starling a stray cat out of its hiding place.
Again, her face was growing red hot from embarrassment.
“I’m sorry,” she muttered a quiet apology for her attitude.
Now, she knew the real reason for her upset around this whole murder investigation. She’d been so looking forward to a break from work, her employees, and the factory, that she couldn’t stand to let it go now. This murderer had stepped in and guaranteed to mar her Christmas holiday. Her insistence on sneaking out of the make-shift safe house and doing some private investigating—despite having no experience in the field at all—was simply because she wanted results faster.
The sooner the case was solved, the sooner she could have her cabin—and her vacation—back intact.
“Look, Mrs. Hanratty, I realize how trying this is. I’m sure you had very specific plans for your holiday away from the stresses of work.” He motioned to the factory, cigarette in hand, drawing smoke circles in the air. “However, a murder has occurred, and it’s my duty to get to the bottom of it and catch the culprit. I’m giving up time I could be spending at my warm home in front of the TV with a beer in my hand to be out here in the cold, freezing my butt off, while I try to figure out what’s happened.”
Margo looked down, feeling slightly ashamed of her selfishness. On the other hand, this whole murder affected her way more than it did the sheriff.
“My point is, it’s your duty, as my witness who found the body, to do as I say. The only way we’re going to catch this guy, is if you cooperate. The sooner we figure out who’s behind this whole fiasco, the sooner we can get back to celebrating the best time of the year.” He placed the cigarette between his lips and took a long drag. The end lit up like a little Christmas light. “Unfortunately, before we can celebrate, we have to deal with the reality that criminals don’t take a Christmas break. It’s the harsh truth of the world.”
Dropping the cigarette into the snow, he stomped it out with the heel of his cowboy boot. She eyed his littering, again, with distaste.
“I suppose you’re right,” she admitted, giving him a sheepish shrug of her shoulder.
“I promise, you’ll be able to enjoy your holiday, murder or not. Mrs. Tate hosts a pleasant Christmas dinner each year on Christmas Eve, and she sings carols around the tree on Christmas morning. It may not be what you planned for, but it’s something.”
Margo gave a knowing nod in reply. “You’re right, sheriff. My apologies for running off like this, this morning.”
“Honestly, it’s fine. I needed your help with something anyway. I figured you and I may have to make a trip to this address either way.”
“What’s that?”
Motioning to the building, he smiled. “I was hoping I could have a look at your employees’ time stamps, to see who was here or not during the time of the murder.”
11
Unlocking the door and taking the sheriff inside, Margo showed him to the office. She had an odd creeping feeling in her stomach, mostly a result of being back at the factory, and in her office so soon. She had felt so sure that she wouldn’t be seeing the inside of this building until the new year that it was a little jarring being forced to be there for the sake of a murder investigation.
Turning on her computer, she brought up the computer program of time stamps and let the sheriff peruse the information listed there.
Just as her deductions earlier that morning had concluded, the only employees who weren’t around were Peter and Diego. Peter had no time stamps at all for the day of the murder and Diego’s delivery updates showed that he had been out of the building for a good number of hours.
“Very interesting,” Sheriff Carlsbad mused as he examined the computer screen. “This Diego is your factory foreman?”
“That’s correct. Yesterday, Peter, our normal delivery man, couldn’t make it into work. Diego covered the delivery route for the day while also squeezing in his own duties.”
“Impressive.” He leaned in, running his finger over the screen. There were stamps of delivery times for various grocery stores and shops around the small city. “Looks like there aren’t any breaks long enough for him to have disappeared on us.”
Margo could tell by the tone of the officer’s voice, that he was still skeptical about this ironclad alibi. She knew just as well as anybody that he could have put in the stamps at any time he wanted to make it look good.
However, what possible reason could he have for stealing from her and committing such a horrible murder? Perhaps, Henrietta had caught onto his scheme, so he was forced to silence her? Then, why had the body turned up at Margo’s cabin?
She shook her head.
“And, I assume, that if I had one of my deputies call these locations that they’d confirm that your man had been there?”
“I’m sure they would,” she said, not so positive that was the truth.
“Good, if you don’t mind, I’ll forward this to my office and have my deputy get right to work on it.”
“Sounds fine to me,” she agreed.
“After that, how about you show me around the factory a bit, so I can get a feel of the place where a potential murderer might work?”
Sheriff Carlsbad wasn’t a man of much tact, but Margo went along with things anyway. She pointed out the hook where she hung her keys every day and explained again how the door to her office was just left open.
“But who’s to say my daughter’s keys weren’t copied instead of mine?” Margo asked as she led the way down the wooden staircase into the shop.
“My deputy asked some thorough questions on that topic, and we deduced that the only person who could have picked up our daughter’s keys and made a copy was her fiancé.”
“You can’t be serious,” she exclaimed, entering the dark shop. Between all the lights being off, the lack of traffic on the street outside, and all the deafening snow, the room seemed oddly silent. Only the shuffle of their own footsteps on the old wooden floorboards made any sort of real noise.
“Wait, you’re not?”
Glancing over his shoulder at her, he shook his head. “No, he has an alibi. He was out Christmas shopping with his mother the entire day, looking for a gift for your daughter, as a matter-of-fact.”
Spicy Christmas Murder Page 5