Death by Eggnog

by Alex Erickson

  “He’s the store cat,” I said, sensing a weakness. “His name is Trouble and he’s the brother to my cat, Misfit.”

  Garrison glanced up at me. This time her smile was warm and interested. “I love cats,” she said, rubbing Trouble behind the ears. His purr was loud enough that it carried throughout the shop. “I have two of my own, in fact. My boyfriend doesn’t like cats, though.” Her face clouded over a moment before she broke back into her smile. “Makes me wonder if he’s worth my time. How can you not love this face?” She scratched under Trouble’s chin.

  Soaking up the attention, he wound his way around her legs and then plopped down next to her chair. I knew I should coax him upstairs, but we were alone in the dining area at the moment, and I was afraid if I didn’t strike now, I’d lose my chance to get something out of her.

  “My ex wasn’t a big cat person either,” I said, careful not to emphasize the ex part too much.

  Garrison sat up, leaving Trouble to groom himself at her feet. “Must have been difficult,” she said. “Pets are just as much a part of the family as children, in my book.”

  “It was.” I took a deep breath and went for it. “Robert was always difficult, but he’s not a bad guy.”

  She understood where I was going with this right away. “John told me he was your ex. You’re far too close to him, which was why we don’t want you anywhere near this one.”

  “I understand,” I said, curious about her wording. Was there a situation in which Buchannan would actually want my help? I couldn’t imagine it happening, but I supposed it was possible.

  But unfortunately, I couldn’t think about that now. Later, though . . .

  “I’m not too thrilled to have Robert back in my life in any way,” I continued. “But I do hope you and Buchannan consider other suspects. I know what the evidence looks like . . .” I trailed off to Garrison’s raised hand.

  “We’re going to do our jobs properly,” she said. “I know you and John have a past, but he’s not going to let that cloud his judgment.”

  I wanted to believe her, but a part of me was afraid he’d go after Robert even harder if he found out I was trying to prove him innocent—if indeed he was innocent.

  “I know,” I said. “It’s just . . .” I took a deep breath to consider what I should say. “I’ve heard some things around the theatre and it makes me wonder if someone else might have committed the crime. No one seems to think Robert had any reason to do it.”

  “Sometimes people snap.” Garrison shrugged as if it happened all the time. “Perfectly good people have been known to let anger get the better of them. No one ever sees it coming, but it does happen.”

  “I didn’t say Robert was a good person,” I said, knowing it probably wouldn’t help his cause any, but needing to say it nonetheless. I didn’t want anyone thinking I still liked him. “But I am almost positive he’s innocent here.”

  Garrison reached down to pet Trouble, eyes going distant, before sitting back to regard me. “You know, something has nagged me about this one from the start. The evidence does point toward Mr. Dunhill, but something seems off.” She stopped short of saying she thought him innocent, however.

  The door opened again and Jeff came inside. He paused when he saw me, said, “Hi, Ms. Hancock,” and then hurried back behind the counter to deposit his coat in the back. When I looked back to Garrison, she was getting to her feet.

  “I should get going,” she said. “I do hope that if you do hear anything regarding the case at the theatre, you’ll come to either John or I. You don’t need to be involving yourself, but I know how people love to gossip around this town. They tend not to divulge anything to the cops, but to you . . .” She shrugged.

  “I’ll let you know if I hear anything.” And I guess I meant it. Mostly. Sure, I’d learned a few things about Lawrence, Brad, and Randy that might be of interest to the cops, but so far, I’d discovered nothing that screamed “Murderer!”

  Garrison buttoned up her coat, gave Trouble one last rub, and then took her coffee with her as she left.

  I remained seated a few minutes longer, contemplating what I should do. Turns out, I kind of liked Rebecca Garrison. She tended to show only a strong, hard exterior when in uniform, but there was a kind person behind her cop persona. Could we eventually become friends? Maybe. Anyone who liked cats earned extra brownie points in my book.

  But I wasn’t ready to go running to her or Buchannan to tell them everything I knew, or at least, what I thought I knew. I needed to learn more, make sure I wasn’t going to send them on a wild goose chase that would let the real killer get away.

  And the one way to do that, was to keep poking around, despite what both Garrison and Paul Dalton had asked me to do.

  Gathering my things, I rose, ushered Trouble back upstairs toward the books, and then made my way back into the wintery cold, more determined than ever to get to the bottom of this thing, if for no other reason than to prove to Garrison—and Buchannan if I was being honest—that having me on the case was in everyone’s best interest.

  19

  Asia lived in an apartment complex inhabited mostly by young people who were living on their own for the first time. If there was a nearby college, I’d have called it college housing, but there wasn’t. The complex was well-kept, not the kind of place where you’d find keggers or ugly porch furniture. There were three buildings in total, each housing five units. The units themselves were about the size of a small house, including an upstairs.

  I’d driven past the complex quite a few times, which was how I knew the average age of its residents. There were always a few guys standing outside, throwing a football back and forth, or the occasional cookout where everyone looked fit and still of an age where they were trying to figure out what to do with their lives. I’d say most residents were in their mid-twenties, a few younger, maybe a handful older.

  It reminded me of my youth. I wasn’t a sorority girl, or even an occasional partier, but I’d seen it all. A part of me wishes I could go back to those years, relive them, and see if perhaps I could change a few of my least impressive moments of my college years. Another part was happy right where I was, and honestly, if changing something back then would cause my current life to change, I’d have to give it a pass. But it was nice to fantasize sometimes.

  All of the parking spots in front of Asia’s apartment were full, so I was forced to park at the far end of the lot, near a dead end turnaround not unlike the one at the end of my street, only smaller. A sidewalk fronted the units. There were no cracks in it, and all the ice and snow had been carefully removed, as in, completely taken away, not just tossed to the side.

  I marveled at how nice the area was all over again. When people thought of apartments, especially ones mostly occupied by people under the age of thirty, they usually thought of college campus apartments with parties day and night, as well as iffy accommodations. Looking around, I thought that if I was ever forced to sell my house, this wouldn’t be too bad of a place to go—even if I brought up the average age of the residents. The brick was clean, looked almost new. White, lacy curtains hung in many of the windows. There were flowers, green grass, and a sense of peace you wouldn’t expect in a downtown residence.

  The only noise was coming from Asia’s apartment—a faint thump of music that wasn’t too loud, but louder than what you’d expect at a memorial. I stopped outside her door and wondered if I should just walk in or knock. We didn’t know each other all that well, and honestly, I was starting to wonder if I’d made a mistake in coming.

  Before I could make up my mind on what to do, the door opened, and both Violet and Zander, the two booth crew members, came out with identical frowns on their faces. They both shook their heads at me, a clear indication they didn’t appreciate Asia’s way of doing things—and didn’t think I would either—before hurrying off, not quite hand in hand, but close.

  I considered walking away then. The music inside was upbeat, danceable, and entirely inappropria
te for the occasion. The door started to swing closed, and I grabbed it, choosing to head inside, despite my reservations. I wasn’t here to remember Chuck, but to see if I could learn why anyone would want to kill him. Walking away now would help no one.

  Prudence had been right when she said Asia would use Chuck’s death as an excuse to have a party. A table was set up across the room, snacks and drinks on top of it. The lights were dim, the music loud, and less than half of the people there were associated with the theatre, if that. It was hard to tell for sure since I was used to seeing everyone in costume.

  “Krissy!” Asia called, spotting me. “I’m so glad you could make it.” She looked at my empty hands and gave a little frown. “If you brought anything, it goes over there.” She waved a hand toward the snack table. “We’re getting a little low on drinks.”

  “Sorry,” I said, guessing she didn’t mean coffee or water. “I was pressed for time and didn’t grab anything.”

  “No biggie.” It was clear in the way she looked at me, it was. “I wasn’t sure you were going to make it. A few cast and crew have been in and out, but not as many as I’d have liked.” She pouted, jutting out her lower lip, before smiling. “But I guess that means more for us, right?” She laughed and waved at a young man who appeared to have just hit his twenties in the last few months. He was trying to grow a beard, but it just wasn’t happening. “Ian!” She rushed over to him without another word to me, but I was okay with that.

  I looked around the gathering in the hopes of spotting someone I knew and liked, but neither Prudence nor Trisha were in sight. It wasn’t much of a surprise, really. Prudence had made her feelings about the memorial party clear, and Trisha’s boyfriend was currently in jail. I doubted she was much in the partying mood.

  Prairie and Greg were there, of course. They stood close together, talking with Greg’s lips almost pressed to Prairie’s ear. She was nodding and smiling, while he didn’t look all that happy as he watched Asia socialize. While I’d figured they’d both be as excited and would mingle as much as Asia, it didn’t appear to be the case. Or at least, it wasn’t at the moment.

  I found an empty spot by the wall and decided to simply watch the crowd for a few minutes and see if anything struck my interest. None of my suspects were in attendance, unfortunately. Not even Dean was there to talk to. While Asia had given out invitations to everyone, it seemed most of the cast and crew realized what she was doing and didn’t bother to waste their time and come. She might have called it a memorial, but I didn’t see anyone memorializing anything. There wasn’t even a picture of Chuck anywhere in sight.

  “Hi.” A pair of guys moved to stand in front of me. “Are you one of Asia’s friends?”

  “We’re in the same play together,” I said, noncommittally. After seeing this, I wasn’t sure I could ever be friends with her in any meaningful way. Our worlds simply didn’t align.

  “Ah.” The blond of the two nodded. “She’s a pretty good actress, isn’t she?”

  “She’s definitely better than me,” I said, which wasn’t untrue. Granted, everyone was better than I was, but these two didn’t know that. “Do you know her well?”

  “We live two units down,” the redhead said. Freckles covered the top of his nose and darkened the skin around his eyes, making him seem almost haunted. “She invited the entire complex to this thing.”

  “Did you know Chuck?”

  The two guys looked at each other and shrugged. “Chuck who?” Blondie asked. “Is that one of her exes?”

  I didn’t know how to respond to that, but didn’t have to. Two young, pretty women came through the doorway then, drawing both guys’ eyes. They were across the room in an instant, nearly tripping over one another to be the first to introduce themselves.

  I might have been offended by the sudden dismissal if I wasn’t so relieved. I was starting to feel like the old stick in the mud who didn’t belong.

  I’d only been there for a few minutes, but the memorial party was already starting to look like a bust. Asia and her friends, Prairie and Greg, were about the only cast or crew remaining, and I had a feeling I’d get nothing important out of any of them.

  The music changed as a slow ballad began to play. Nearly everyone partnered off and started dancing, as if we were at a high school dance. Unwilling to participate, I hurried over to the snack table and loaded myself up with unhealthy food before anyone could ask me to dance; not that anyone had so much as looked at me, but still.

  I watched the couples dance as I ate my snacks—a pair of chocolate cakes that were to die for—and considered my exit strategy. I didn’t want to just up and leave since it might offend Asia. I might not approve of her style of memorializing the deceased, but that didn’t mean I wanted to upset her. I’d wait until she wandered over and would make up some excuse as to why I had to go.

  “I’m surprised you came.”

  I jumped. “Greg! I didn’t see you. Shouldn’t you be dancing?”

  He frowned, eyes on the dance floor, or namely, on Asia, who was dancing with the guy she’d called Ian. “I’m not much of a dancer,” he said, and I could tell that if someone had asked him, he likely would have given it a shot.

  I watched him a moment and wondered why he’d even come over to talk to me. I don’t think he’d said a single word to me since I’d taken over for Mandy, and if he had, it hadn’t been anything I would want to remember.

  Greg wasn’t all that bad to look at, but had a haughty look to his eye, like he thought he was better than everyone else. I supposed when you hung around Asia, who had the same sort of look, you inherited some of the attitude. Either that, or it was a requirement to be one of her friends.

  “Sucks about Chuck,” I said, not quite sure what else to say. And since we were at his memorial, I figured it was at least somewhat appropriate.

  Greg glanced at me, face unreadable. “I suppose.”

  “Didn’t like him either?” I asked.

  He shrugged, eyes returning to Asia. “He didn’t fit in,” was all he said.

  The song ended and the music picked back up. The partygoers went back to milling about, returning to their conversations as if the brief dance break hadn’t even happened. Greg hardly paid me a second glance as he drifted over to Prairie, who’d broken away from a guy she’d danced with during the slower song. She didn’t look happy about it. Neither did Greg, who started talking in her ear the moment they were back together.

  The door opened as I stuffed my cake into my mouth, drawing my eye. Brad stepped inside, scowled at the people who were clearly not there to honor Chuck, and then he turned and walked right back out.

  Brushing crumbs off my shirt, I hurried across the room and out the door, not wanting to miss this opportunity to talk to him outside the theatre. Maybe without Trisha and the others around, he might be willing to open up more.

  “Brad!” I called as I stepped outside. He kept walking without looking back, so I raised my voice and jogged toward him. “Brad, can we talk for a second?”

  He stopped and turned with a huff. “What do you want?”

  “Were you here for the memorial?” I asked.

  “What memorial?” he snorted. “That thing is downright disrespectful.”

  I had to admit, I agreed. “Asia has her own way of dealing with grief, I guess.”

  “You mean she’s a selfish, arrogant kid who will never grow up.” He glanced past me, toward the apartment, and shook his head before returning his gaze to me. “If this is about last night, you can stop right there. I have no interest in discussing it with anyone, let alone you.”

  “It’s not!” I assured him. “But I thought we could talk a little about Chuck. You know, have our own little memorial out here.”

  He gave me a look as if I was crazy and rubbed his hands together with a shiver. “Out here?”

  “Why not?” I said, adding a shiver of my own. “There isn’t much memorializing going on inside and you seemed to know him better than some. I
f anyone else shows up, we can have them join us.”

  He still looked skeptical, but at least he didn’t walk away. “You didn’t even know him,” he said.

  “No, not really,” I admitted. “I only had a few practices with him, and he seemed nice enough.” If not a bit grabby with the women.

  Brad rubbed at his chin. “He was a jerk most of the time,” he said. “But you’re not supposed to talk ill of the dead.” His jaw clenched, as if he was holding in barely suppressed anger.

  “Did he do something to you?” I asked. “Did you two get into a fight when you went off together the day he died?”

  “No,” Brad said. “Not really.” He frowned at me. “I really don’t know what business it is of yours what we did or discussed.”

  “It’s not,” I said. “But I’m trying to figure out why someone would kill him. If Robert didn’t do it, then someone else did, and I’d like to know who before they decide to do it again.”

  Brad stared at me long and hard, as if trying to make up his mind whether I was accusing him of anything. I wasn’t sure if I was or not, to be honest. He’d been acting strange lately, had been ever since Chuck had died. Sure, it could have everything to do with Trisha, but what were the chances his bad mood coincided with Chuck’s death without them being connected somehow?

  “How can you be so sure Robert didn’t do it?” he asked, voice dropping low. “His footprints were there and he’d been arguing with Chuck right before he died.”

  “Circumstantial,” I said, feeling good about myself for using a professional word. “Trisha says she was with him when Chuck was killed. They discovered the body together a little later and panicked. You trust her, don’t you?”

  Brad’s jaw clenched a few times before he nodded. “I want it to be him so bad . . .”

  “You really do like her, don’t you?”

  He gave me a bitter smile. “She never cared about me in that way. Ever since school . . .” He shook his head. “As much as I try, I can’t seem to get her to notice me. She always goes for guys who will end up hurting her.”