“Is that coffee?” Asia appeared from the back with both Greg and Prairie right behind her. She didn’t wait for an answer before she started pouring.
“I thought it might help keep everyone warm,” I said, though no one was listening to me. All three filled a cup to the brim. I was starting to worry I hadn’t brought enough. While the thermoses were large, it wouldn’t take long before they were empty. They were the only two we had at Death by Coffee. We kept them in reserve, just in case something ever happened, like the power going out, and wanted to keep some coffee warm.
Asia took a sip, smiled, and motioned to me with her cup. “We’re going to have the memorial in two days. It’ll have to be during the afternoon because of practice, which is a bummer, but we’ll manage. I thought about having it here, but it seemed wrong somehow, like Chucky’s ghost would appear or something.” She rolled her eyes. “We’re going to have it at my house instead.” She produced a card from somewhere in her costume and handed it to me.
I flipped it open to find what I assumed was Asia’s home address, along with a handwritten note that said, “Memorial to be held in the honor of our dear departed Santa. Drinks and games will be provided!” I raised my eyebrows at the mention of games, but let it slide. Maybe it wasn’t such a bad idea to keep everyone’s spirits up.
Asia glanced at Prudence and sighed. “I suppose you should have one, too.” She handed over a card before turning back to me. “I expect to see you there!” And then she walked away. Prairie gave me a little finger wave and hair flip before following. Greg only glared, though it didn’t stop him from taking a sip from his coffee as he left.
“Never liked her,” Prudence muttered. “Always so full of herself. Never considers other people’s feelings.”
I shrugged. “I don’t know. She seems okay.”
Prudence snorted. “The girl thinks she should headline every production, yet she always ends up with a background role. She can’t act, can’t sing, and if you were to put a hammer in her hand, she wouldn’t know what to do with it.” She shook her head, almost sadly. “She’s always putting on airs, acting like she cares. It’s about the only acting she ever does.” Another snort. “She’s having this memorial only so she can throw a party. Don’t let her fool you.”
A man’s death hardly seemed to be an appropriate reason to throw a party, but who was I to judge. Chuck didn’t seem much liked, so at least someone was doing something in his name, even if it was for the wrong reasons. I wondered if he’d had any friends or family at all that were actually upset about his demise. If so, I had yet to meet them.
Prudence left then to get dressed. Much of the cast were already in costume and were wandering over to investigate the coffees. I watched, waiting to see if anyone showed any signs of guilt, but everyone simply seemed thankful for the hot drink and chance to socialize.
Trisha appeared a moment later, fully dressed as Mrs. Claus. She hurried over the moment she saw me.
“Have you found anything out yet?” she asked in a hushed whisper.
“Not really,” I admitted. “I haven’t had much of a chance to ask around.”
Trisha frowned and worried at her hands. “Jail is no place for Robert. I’m scared something will happen to him.”
“It’s not like prison,” I assured her. “He’s probably a lot more comfortable there than the rest of us are out here.” Not to mention, safer. If he wasn’t the killer, that meant the real murderer was still out there somewhere, and could quite possibly be planning yet another attack. The thought caused me to shudder.
“You’ll let me know if you learn anything, right?” Trisha asked. “I hate not knowing what is going to happen. I don’t know how much longer I can do this. It’s so . . .” She trailed off, eyes going toward the stage.
I followed her gaze and found myself looking at Lawrence. Randy Winter was at his elbow, dressed as Santa, right down to his shiny black boots. Lawrence said something to Randy, who belted out a hearty “Ho, ho, ho,” that drew every eye in the place.
“Is that . . . ?” Trisha shook her head. “I can’t believe it.”
I could, though it was still a shock to see him there. He looked sober, though his cheeks were rosy. I couldn’t tell if it was makeup, or if he was just naturally red-cheeked.
“Well, I’ll be,” Prudence said, coming to a stop next to me. “Didn’t think I’d see him dressed like that ever again.”
“I thought those two didn’t like each other,” I said. I was having a hard time deciding what to believe. First, I see them yelling at one another, and then later, talking civilly. And then there was what Rita saw in the alleyway, yet Randy didn’t seem too happy with Lawrence when I’d talked to him earlier that day. I was royally confused.
“They don’t, as far as I know.” Prudence shook her head. “It’s a shame it took a man dying for him to get his role back. He was always abetter Santa. Well, most of the time, anyway.”
“I’ll talk to you later,” Trisha said, paying Prudence a pair of quick glances, before walking away.
“You’d better get changed,” Prudence said. “You don’t want Lawrence on the warpath, especially not tonight. He’s always harder on everyone after a day off.”
I nodded and then headed to the dressing room, pausing to let a crew member I didn’t recognize know about the coffee. He thanked me and hurried over, as if it might be his only chance, which it very well could be considering how popular it was. And if he was the mysterious Zander, he’d be spending the entire night in the sound booth anyway.
The men’s dressing room was closed off with police tape and a box had been placed in front of the door, just in case someone got any funny ideas about going in. Curiosity had me moving that way anyway. I didn’t know what I might find, but figured a little look-see could go a long way in discovering who’d killed Chuck.
I pushed the door open, careful not to disturb the police tape or box. The room was dark, making it impossible to see much of anything, so I leaned in just a smidge more to feel for a light switch on the wall. My fingers found plastic almost immediately, and I flipped on the light.
There wasn’t much to see. It looked much like the women’s dressing room, only messier. An ugly stain on the floor was the only indication as to where Chuck had died. There was no chalk outline or anything like that. Nor did I see anything in the room that would tell me who the culprit might be.
“We’re in the other room, if you were trying to sneak a peek.”
I just about flew forward through the police tape at the sound of the voice behind me. I caught my balance just before flipping over the box, and spun to find Brad Clusterman—the sexy elf—standing a foot away, dressed in his elf costume.
“I was just looking,” I said, clicking off the light and closing the door. “It’s horrible what happened.”
“Was it now?” he asked, not showing a hint of emotion. “I didn’t know you knew him.”
“I didn’t really.” I licked my lips, feeling nervous. Everyone else was up front, near the stage. I was left alone with a man who very well might be the last person to see Chuck alive. “But he was murdered. That’s never a good thing.”
Brad’s eyes moved past me, to the closed door. “No, I suppose it’s not.” He swallowed, heavily. “But that’s what he gets for breaking his promise.” And with that cryptic turn of phrase, Brad walked away.
I sagged against the wall, breathing heavily. There was definitely something going on with Brad, something that had to do with Chuck, and quite possibly his death. If Brad was the killer, then it might serve me well not to let him know I was looking into the case for Trisha, lest I end up like our former Santa.
Taking a deep, calming breath, I entered the dressing room to find it sectioned off by an old flat, creating two small cubbies. No curtain hung on either, so anyone coming through the door could see, but at least the men would be separate from the women while changing. And it wasn’t like you had to strip down to change outfits, so there
was little chance of me walking in on anyone naked.
I quickly slipped on my costume, and then hurried out to meet with the others, who were already on the stage, getting instructions from Lawrence. He paused as I took my place next to Prudence, searing me with a look that could kill before finally going on.
“I know everyone is upset about the tragedy, but as I said before, the show must go on. Mr. Winter has agreed to resume his duties as Santa for this year’s production and I hope everyone will respect him as they would anyone else.”
Randy preened at mention of his name. Next to him, Trisha looked mildly uncomfortable, but not nearly as much as she had when she was next to Chuck. I think it had more to do with the fact we were doing this after a murder, and less to do with the new Santa. Randy Winter had to be an improvement over grabby Chuck.
“I do not wish to hear anyone speak of what happened here,” Lawrence went on, pacing back and forth in front of us. “No rumors. No gossip. And certainly no prying.” His eyes landed on me and held. “We are here to perform, and that is exactly what we are going to do. No distractions.”
I looked away from Lawrence’s gaze, only to find myself looking at Brad, who was staring at me as well. He didn’t smile, didn’t scowl, just stood there, staring at me like he was trying to make up his mind what to do with me.
“Now that that’s cleared up, I want everyone to take their places. We’re going to run through the entire play tonight and I want a flawless execution. No excuses!” Lawrence spun on his heel and went out to sit in one of the empty seats before shouting, “Places everyone!”
The cast and crew scattered, moving to their starting spots on the stage while Dean closed the curtains. I looked to where Brad had been standing, but he was out of sight, lost somewhere in the shuffle. Someone put a wrapped package into my hands—my main prop—and the lights went dim, signaling everyone to fall silent.
I took one last look around for Brad, but couldn’t see him. And then the music started. The curtain opened and I was in motion, belting out the first line of song.
12
The snow had stopped by the time practice ended, but enough had fallen, I was nervous heading home that night. I didn’t like driving in the dark at the best of times, and it was about a thousand times worse with snow on the road. I crept along at a snail’s pace, earning myself a few honks, and one pickup truck flew around me, despite the fact his tail end swerved dangerously as he did.
I was thankful when I got off the main roads and was well on my way home. Here, traffic was nearly nonexistent, so I could plod along as slow as I pleased without angering anyone. My speedometer capped out at about twenty and I was leaning forward in my seat, putting myself so close to the steering wheel, I was very nearly resting against it. I imagined I didn’t look much better than the old man who’d passed me earlier that day.
But I didn’t care. I wanted to be safe. And it wasn’t like anyone was going to be able to recognize me in the gloom.
Practice had gone well, all things considered. My coffee was a hit and was gone before the first act. I’d hoped to learn more about Chuck and his relationship with everyone, but Lawrence wasn’t kidding when he’d said there was to be no talk of the murder. Asia had gotten a tongue lashing because she passed out a few more invitations to the memorial party. She took the yelling stoically, and even though she rolled her eyes when Lawrence wasn’t looking, she refrained from handing out any more invitations until practice was over.
I might not have found any evidence of who committed Chuck’s murder, but at least I was coming up with a solid list of suspects. Robert was still high on the list, despite my hope he wasn’t involved. All the evidence pointed right at him, and I couldn’t take Trisha’s word that he was with her at the time.
Then there was Lawrence and Randy. I knew Randy’s motive, though I wasn’t quite sure why Lawrence might be involved. Their alleyway payoff, or whatever it was, was definitely suspicious, however, which put them firmly in my crosshairs.
And, of course, there was Brad. He had a thing for Trisha, and wasn’t shy about saying so. What better way to win her affections than to eliminate the competition? Chuck had been hitting on her, and now he’s dead. And Robert, her boyfriend, was now sitting in a jail cell. It left Brad as the only available suitor, at least to his eyes. And with the way he’d been eyeing me during practice, and his strange words outside the dressing room, I was starting to think he might be involved.
That gave me four pretty solid suspects. Now all I had to do was try to place each one at the scene of the crime during the actual murder, and scrounge up evidence, all while avoiding getting in the way of the police. Easy peasy.
I wondered how many suspects Buchannan had interrogated since the murder. He’d barely talked to me, and had yet to contact me since that first night at the theatre. I figured after Robert had shown up on my doorstep, Buchannan and Garrison would hover around a lot more than they had.
I was so lost in thought, I very nearly didn’t see the taillights off the side of the road. If I’d been going a reasonable speed, I likely would have passed the ditched car without noticing.
I slowed and pulled carefully off the side of the road. I turned on my hazard lights before getting out of the car, though so far, this was the first car I’d seen in the last five minutes.
“Hello?” I called, not seeing anyone at first. “Are you okay? Do you need any help?”
A head popped up near the back of the car, close to the back right tire. “Krissy?”
“Paul?” I crunched through the snow over to where he knelt. “What are you doing out here?”
Paul Dalton, police officer and one-time crush, came around to the back of his car. He was dressed in his uniform, but was wearing it casually, top buttons undone beneath his open coat. He was clearly off duty. He’d been driving his personal car, not his cruiser, which was why I hadn’t recognized it right away. He had snow on his knees and his hair was a mess atop his head.
“I came to check up on you,” he said, rising. “Hit some ice and slid off the road.” He frowned, blushing. Or at least I thought he did; his color could be due to the cold. “Just finished digging out the tires and was going to try to push it back up onto the road.”
“I could call a tow truck if you’d like,” I said. “My phone is in the car.”
“No, I don’t think that’ll be necessary.” This time, he definitely blushed. “I’m pretty sure I can get it.”
I considered ribbing him about his predicament, but thought better of it. It was embarrassing enough for him that I caught him out here. Plus, I wasn’t sure how he’d take it, since we did have a history. Sometimes, I wondered if I’d made a mistake moving on from him. Other times, I realized how awkward it would be if we were a couple. I was always running afoul of the law, mostly because of my nosiness. And while having him around to bail me out of trouble all the time would be nice, it would make for some tense situations neither of us would enjoy.
“Let me help you,” I said, moving to the back of his car.
“You don’t have to do that,” he said. “I can handle it on my own.”
“You might,” I said. “But two is better than one, right?” I put my hands on the bumper. I could feel the cold metal even through my gloves. “If you wish, I can always push it on my own.”
Paul laughed. “Let me put it in neutral first. Wouldn’t want you to hurt yourself.” He hurried around to the driver’s side and shifted gears. There was a crunch of snow as he worked the wheel so the tires faced toward the road. Thankfully, the ditch wasn’t deep, though he’d managed to get the back tire stuck in some mud, hence the need to push.
He returned a moment later, placing his own hands on the bumper. “Ready?”
“Shouldn’t you control it from up there?” I asked. “That’s how they always do it in the movies.”
“Probably,” he said, smiling at me. “Ready to push?”
I felt myself warm at his smile. It always affected
me that way. “Just give the word.” I dug my heels into the soft fluff, worried I wouldn’t be able to find traction, or that my tired muscles would give out on me, but it was too late to back out now.
“On three. One. Two.” An exaggerated pause, then, “Three!”
Both of us heaved at the exact same instant. The car lurched forward with a crunch of snow. The sudden motion startled me and I didn’t take the requisite step forward to compensate for the longer gap. I went down hard, face-first in the snow, yelping as I went. Biting cold shot through my face as snow went up my nose. I rolled over onto my back instinctively, choosing the wrong direction in my panic, and barreled into Paul’s legs. He staggered back, almost caught his balance, and then crashed down beside me. Snow sprayed across my already frozen face, getting into my eyes.
Unable to contain myself, I burst into laughter, and grabbed a handful of snow. I tossed it at Paul as he started to sit up, hitting him square between the eyes.
He rolled over, back to me, and for a moment, I thought I might have hurt him. The snowball hadn’t been packed tight, but cold snow to the eyes couldn’t have felt good, and there might have been small stones in it. I opened my mouth to apologize just as he rolled back over and flung two handfuls of white fluff at me. I screamed and gasped as a large portion of the snow went into my mouth, giving me an instant cold headache.
I sputtered, laughing, despite the pain. I grabbed my own handfuls, but Paul wasn’t about to let me throw them at him. He rolled over to me, grabbing both my wrists and held them down, his body pressing against mine. His face was inches from my own, cold breath pluming into my face as he gasped for air.
We lay like that, frozen, looking at each other from inches apart, for a good long couple of seconds. I was keenly aware of his warmth, his strength, and the feel of his hands on my wrists. My lips ached with cold, and maybe an urge to lean forward, to reduce those inches to nothing, and kiss him until all the snow in Pine Hills melted.
Death by Eggnog Page 10