The turnoff to Ridgeway Farm from the main highway was marked by two large hand-carved signs. “This way to Ridgeway,” they both read, each with large arrows pointing off into the hills. The borders of both signs were made up of wood-burned pine trees.
For the first time ever, I turned onto the road. I couldn’t believe I’d never been there before. I hoped Denny would let me use the ax to cut down the tree. I hoped I could handle it.
The elevation increased as I drove on, which meant there was more snow, but still not too much, and not enough to be of concern.
The forest on each side of me was full of leafless oaks. I kept an eye out for when the oaks transformed into pines, but it looked like I’d have a number of hilly curves to maneuver before I made it to the farm.
The road was twisty enough that when my cell phone buzzed I pulled over before I answered it.
“Sam? You on your way?”
The only words I heard were, “Yes . . . there . . . careful . . . file . . . Evelyn.”
“I’m almost there,” I said with the hope that he’d understand more from me than I did from him. “The road isn’t too snowy, just curvy.”
“Wait . . .”
“Yeah, I won’t start without you.” I laughed.
The phone went dead, so I dropped it on the seat and put the truck back into drive.
I may have thought that Reggie Stuckey’s farm was spectacular and wonderful in a Christmas card kind of way, but Ridgeway Farm was a whole new level of stunning.
The curvy road suddenly ended and straightened out as though it were an arm gesturing forward. Just take a look at this place.
Ridgeway Farm was a little slice of heaven. The forest of oak trees was suddenly behind me, and after a short, fifty-yard drive, those tall trees weren’t even in my peripheral vision. Somehow I had been deposited into a wonderful and scent-filled pocket of pine, and only pine, in never-ending, neat rows. Because of the slopes and hills I could see that the rows were made up of different-sized trees. I’d ask Denny about harvest time and how long a tree needed to grow before it could be harvested. I’d ask about what it took to take care of the trees. I suddenly wanted to know everything there was to know about growing Christmas trees.
Amid the trees, in a small but groomed clearing, were two giant barns flanking a house that was so idyllic it was probably made of gingerbread.
“Wow,” I said as I stopped the car. The entire scene might have been as charming without the thin layer of fresh white snow, but I felt privileged that I’d chosen this day to come up and chop down my first Christmas tree.
Denny had mentioned that the farm would be busy, but currently there were only a few vehicles parked in a small area next to one of the barns. I followed the obvious ruts in the path and pulled my truck next to a newer-model red version and stepped out into the heady-clean, crisp, naturally scented air. I wondered if I could get drunk if I sniffed too deeply for too long.
“Hello!” Ned called from directly outside the closest barn. He was dressed in a red-plaid flannel shirt and jeans and had a Santa hat on his head.
“Hi,” I said as I walked forward to meet him. “This place is amazing!”
“Thank you. We don’t ever get tired of it. Your boyfriend here, too?”
“He’s on his way, should be here in a minute.”
Ned looked behind me toward what must have been the doors of the magical wardrobe I’d driven though. Surely this was the edge of Narnia.
“Is there a reason to be concerned?” I said.
“No, not at all,” Ned said. “It’s the first real snow this year, but it’s not bad. There are no road issues yet.”
“Yet?”
“There won’t be, I’m overreacting. I always do with the first snow.” Ned laughed.
I turned to look toward the oak forest. No Sam yet, but he was close behind, I was sure. I looked up at the thick clouds above. A few small, light snowflakes landed coldly on my cheeks, but I didn’t think we were about to face a big storm.
“It’s fine. Really,” Ned said. “Go on into the barn. We’ve got warm drinks and places to sit while you wait. I need to head out to make sure a couple customers are doing all right out there, but Denny and Billie are both around. Make yourself at home. When your friend gets here, one of us will show you the ropes.” Ned smiled reassuringly before he turned and stepped around the barn.
The tall, wide doors to the barn were closed but I could probably get in with just a pull of one of the handles. If I hadn’t caught sight of Denny going toward the other barn across the property, I would have pulled one of those handles and gone into the warm place with the hot drinks and lots of seats.
I hello’d and waved at Denny, but he was focused on whatever task he’d set out to do. He wasn’t dressed as Santa, but he did wear red jeans, a white sweater, and a hat that matched Ned’s. He walked with long strides, his attention on the ground in front of him, his face serious as he pulled open a door and went inside. He carried an ax with sure authority; I wanted to hold an ax that way.
I was curious enough to follow him over to the other barn, but I wasn’t sure what the rules were. Were customers invited anywhere, or just the barn that Ned had directed me to go into?
I looked around, and not finding anyone to ask, shrugged, and hurried across to the other barn.
Someone would stop me if I was doing something they didn’t want me to do.
One of the two doors on the second barn was slightly ajar, and a yellow band of light trailed out to the dark ground that was now flecked with bits of snow.
“Denny?” I said as I leaned into the opening. There was no answer, but I thought that this barn might have been off-limits to customers. This was a storage barn, full of equipment, tools, and the random parts of things that could be found on most farms. “Denny?” I said a little louder.
There was still no answer but something metallic crashed somewhere toward the back corner, a corner that was mostly blocked and hidden by an old tractor.
I threaded my way through the opening and stepped carefully over and around debris.
The light became brighter as I got closer to the corner and then the space became fully illuminated when I moved all the way around the tractor.
I should have said “hello,” or repeated “Denny,” but I was struck momentarily silent by what I saw.
Santa’s workshop would have been the first way to describe the corner space. A long worktable served as the focal point, but it was surrounded on three sides by shelves of tools and . . . toys? No, not toys; ornaments. Christmas tree ornaments filled the shelves. The ornaments were made of all different materials. Many had been painted, but some were just plain wood or metal or other material.
Denny had set the ax on the table and picked up something else. I was sure it was another ornament. In fact, it was a big ornament, made of wood and painted to look like an elf; an adult female elf.
Nothing I saw was in itself scary, but I was scared nonetheless. I felt like I needed to leave that barn. Quick.
But Denny finally heard me when I took a step backward, my heel hitting something wheel-like and creaky.
Denny’s head shot up. He saw me and his face fell at first, but he tried to cover his surprise, and maybe disappointment, with a quick smile. “Becca, hello,” he said, but he didn’t put down the ornament. “I didn’t know you were here yet.”
“I just got here. Sorry to interrupt. I saw Ned and he told me to wait in the other barn but I saw you come in here . . .” I was talking too much.
“Oh, well, it’s okay.”
But it wasn’t—I could hear that much in his voice.
Denny finally put the ornament on the table. As he walked around toward me, I took another step backward, but this time I fell. As I went down, I reflexively put my hand out and it hit something sharp.
“Ow
!” I said, but I still tried to get up.
Denny was by my side, pulling me up by my arm an instant later.
“I’m okay, I’m okay,” I protested.
“No, you’re not. You’re bleeding. Profusely.”
I looked at my hand. He was right. I didn’t look down to see what had cut my palm because I was so surprised by all the blood dripping down my fingers.
“Come here, there’s a sink and some towels over here,” Denny said as he pulled me toward the workshop and farther from the front doors.
“I’m okay,” I said again, but we both knew I wasn’t.
Denny had my hand under running water only a few moments later.
“I’ve got to clean it. It’ll sting,” he said, and he didn’t hesitate to squeeze a pile of liquid soap onto it.
It stung meanly; the pain would have made my knees buckle if I weren’t so hyped with adrenaline. I had the presence of mind to notice that the goose bite was on my other arm, so now I was injured on both sides. I needed to get out of that barn.
“Here, we need to keep pressure on the towel. You don’t need stitches, but I’ll put some bandages on it.”
I held my good hand over the towel as Denny continued to direct me by holding on to my arm. He guided me to a stool next to the table and told me to sit. I did, but I was plotting how I was going to get around both him and the table when even the briefest opportunity presented itself.
He clasped my hand and the towel between both of his hands. He was putting pressure right over the cut, but I could tell the bleeding hadn’t slowed much. I still needed to get out of there. I eyed the ornament on the table. I’d been correct; it was in the shape of an adult female elf. It was made of a piece of wood and cleverly carved to show the elf’s curvy features and pretty face. It wasn’t Mamma Maria’s face, but it was still familiar.
“You’re a wood carver?” I asked, my voice cracking.
Denny’s hard, focused gaze moved from our hands to my eyes. “I guess.”
“You make a lot of Christmas ornaments?”
He kept hold of my injured hand as he pulled another stool a little closer. He sat and looked at me again.
“About that . . .” he began.
I swallowed hard.
A clunk sounded from the direction of the old tractor. I hoped more than I’d ever hoped for anything that it was Sam.
But it wasn’t.
“Denny!” Billie said as she came into view. “I’ve been calling . . . oh, hi, Becca. You okay?” She hurried toward the table.
It might not have been Sam, but I was still happy to see her. At least there’d be a witness when Denny bludgeoned me with the ax.
It didn’t take but another second, though, to realize that the trap I’d unintentionally walked into was now more deadly because Billie had joined us.
Like her brothers, Billie was dressed for the occasion. As at the parade, she was again dressed as an elf, her short, green dress tight around her thin but curvy frame. No matter how old she was, she still looked great. I looked at her pretty face and her short, brown hair—and I realized that she looked almost exactly like the carved ornament on the table. I would have bet a thousand jars of jalapeño-mint jelly that she used to have long, blonde hair.
Even though I’d pondered the idea of the killer changing her looks or her hair, now wasn’t the moment to be proud of my investigative or deductive skills. No matter what, I’d still walked into a trap. But there still might be a way out of it.
“I’m okay.” I laughed. “Denny’s taking good care of me. I should probably just get home and get cleaned up better. I’ll replace the towel.”
“Oh, don’t be silly,” Billie the elf said. “You can clean up here. I’ll take you into the house.”
“It’s . . .” I began.
“Denny, what’s this?” Billie said as she reached for the ornament on the table.
“It’s just another ornament for someone’s tree,” Denny said, but when his eyes landed on mine this time, I was sure he was telling me not to tell Billie about the other ornaments he’d made for me. It was such a simple glance, but I suddenly knew so much more. I put the pieces together in my head, or at least what I thought were the pieces.
Denny had been making the ornaments to lead me to Reggie’s killer. Billie and Reggie had had the affair. That act of infidelity led to their father’s stress-induced death, and Brenton leaving his family, Reggie and Evelyn divorcing, and in some way to Brenton and Stephanie’s divorce, too, but that must have been some sort of aftershock. And, finally, that affair had somehow, some way, led to Billie killing Reggie. I could have been completely wrong, but I suspected I was close to the facts, just not the exact reasons behind them. Now wasn’t the time to ask clarifying questions.
“It looks like me,” Billie said. “I don’t understand.”
“Aw, Old Girl, I thought it would be a nice surprise.” Denny shrugged.
Old Girl. It was a horrible nickname, but one that didn’t seem to bother Billie. Somehow it must have become a term of endearment. And, her e-mail address.
And, Old Girl, Billie, was upset. She looked at Denny and then at me. She knew the reasons behind everything, of course, but she didn’t know what I suspected and she didn’t have all the facts. She didn’t know about the ornaments I’d secretly received. I smiled weakly. But, unfortunately, she wasn’t stupid.
“That day we saw you with the metallic tree ornament—where’d that come from?” Billie said to me.
“A friend,” I said. Okay, so maybe she knew a little about the ornaments.
Billie’s eyebrows came together and she blinked. She knew something was up, but she still didn’t have all the pieces. “Denny?”
“Let’s get Becca into the house, sis. Let’s get her cleaned up before she bleeds all over the place,” Denny said as his grip tightened on my arm and he pulled me off the stool.
“No. Wait.” Billie moved to the other side of the table as if to form a barricade. She wouldn’t have been able to manage blocking both of us if Denny hadn’t left the ax right where she could grab it.
“Stop,” she said when she had the ax in hand.
“Billie, come on, you’re overacting to something,” Denny said. “What’s the problem, Old Girl?”
But she didn’t buy into his act.
“No, something’s going on and I want to know what it is,” she said.
Denny sighed. He knew his sister, and I could tell he knew that stalling wasn’t going to work much longer. He pulled me around the table, but Billie and the ax stopped us.
In the next instant, Denny threw me around his sister and toward the old tractor. “Run, Becca!” he said.
I stumbled but regained my footing and managed a quick glance back at the brother and sister before I hurried through the rest of the barn. Billie had the ax raised, but it looked like Denny might be able to fend her off. No matter what happened, I knew I needed to get out of there and get some help.
It seemed to take forever to step over and around all the junk but I finally made it outside—and right into a rare South Carolina blinding snowstorm.
I was so surprised that I froze in place for a second. I knew in which direction the house and other barn were located, but I could only see the outline of the house. The barn was hidden by a whiteout.
“Help!” I yelled.
I needed to keep moving, but the new layer of snow not only made everything blindingly white, it made for slick footing.
If I could just get to my truck, I could at least lock myself inside it. But I realized that wasn’t the best plan when it came to getting away from an angry woman with an ax. And, I was leaving a bright-red trail of blood.
“Help!” I said again, but it felt like I’d been put into a vacuum. It seemed like my voice didn’t travel much farther than my own nose.
; I wrapped my hand more tightly with the bottom of my jacket and hoped the bloody trail wouldn’t continue to form as I made a quick decision and ran into the space between the barn and the house and toward the trees.
I slipped and slid, but somehow I moved forward. When I came upon a tree, I hurried around it, hopefully hiding myself from the ax-wielding elf. If I kept going deeper into the copse, I’d hopefully find someone who was cutting down their tree and would have an ax I could borrow.
There’d been other vehicles out front. There were people here somewhere.
But I didn’t even make it to the next tree before I heard Billie.
“Becca!”
How did I hear her when I could barely hear myself?
I froze in place again as huge snowflakes stung my warm face and got trapped by my eyelashes. I couldn’t run. I wouldn’t win.
But I could hide.
The pine tree next to me was huge, too huge, I thought, for any normal home. It belonged in a place like Rockefeller Center or perhaps the White House. Its lowest branches were close to the ground. I dove under and hoped for the best.
And I came upon the most wonderful surprise. It wasn’t an ax, but it was something that might help. I’d seen something similar in Reggie Stuckey’s garage and I thought I might have found a useful weapon.
I wasn’t far from the barn, so I wasn’t far from whatever outlet was needed to power the mechanism. It had a cord extending out from under the branches that was covered with snow once it was in the open, and I hoped it was plugged in. I couldn’t sit up because of the branches, so I lay on my back with my head up against the trunk. And waited, though not for long.
“Becca, I know you’re in there. The snow isn’t falling fast enough to hide your footprints. And you’re still bleeding. Come out,” Billie said.
I remained silent.
“Fine. I’ll come in then.”
Billie started chopping at the low branches with the ax, causing my headroom to shrink and bits and pieces of tree to fall down on me. I tried to remain steady and keep my eyes clear, but it was difficult not to panic.
It took her only a few more seconds to create an opening where I could see her legs, but I didn’t think she’d spotted me quite yet. I pulled my knees up and got ready.
5 Merry Market Murder Page 22