Mistletoe and Mayhem

by London Lovett

  "I don't think so. All it does is verify that Chad Ruxley climbed onto his brother's boat. His coat probably got caught on a splinter of wood. We already knew he'd gone aboard because you saw it happen."

  My shoulders sank. "That's makes sense, unfortunately. Good day, Detective Briggs."

  "Good day, Miss Pinkerton."

  Chapter 16

  Ryder was sitting at the island eating a sandwich and thumbing through his phone as I walked out of my office.

  "You finally stopped for lunch." I started picking up the floral scraps from the work table. "I've got everything ordered for the holiday bouquets and the dinner table arrangements. And I think there's enough if we want to take in four or five more orders. Then we'll have to cut them off. I've got at least thirty orders in the stack. We won't have enough time or supplies to fill many more than that before Christmas."

  "Thirty orders? Wow, that's good."

  Ryder had taped paper over the window on both sides now shielding it from all eyes, even mine.

  "I can't wait to see the window." I stared at him hopefully, but he finished his sandwich and pretended not to hear me.

  "I guess that means I won't see it until it's done."

  He flicked his bangs away from his eyes and grinned at me. "Yep."

  The bell rang, and Kate Upton sashayed into the store. Sashay was the only way to describe the exaggerated hip swing Kate was tossing around in her skin tight paisley leggings and equally tight sweater. Kate, the owner of the stylish Mod Frock clothing boutique, was a fashion icon around town. Today she had pulled together her snug but groovy look with short black boots and giant silver hoop earrings.

  "Hello, Kate, how can I help you?"

  Kate strode to the kissing bough and stared up at it. I shot a curious glance at Ryder, who seemed to be wondering, with some concern, if she was expecting a kiss.

  She pointed up at the sphere of holly. "How much for that?"

  "The kissing bough?" I asked, still slightly baffled. "I have the frames for two more, but it'll take me a few days. You can pick the decorations and ribbons—"

  Kate shook her head and her long curtain of bangs swayed across her forehead. She always had different hair color and had opted for a dark sable brown this week. "I need one today. How much for this one?"

  "Oh, well, I hadn't put a price on it because I thought I'd keep it in the shop."

  "How much did you charge Lola?"

  Now I at least knew where she had gotten the idea for a kissing bough in her shop. Even though I'd made Lola a kissing bough as a gesture of friendship, I hated to show too much favoritism to any of the shop owners. "Twenty?" I said too much like a question.

  "I'll pay you thirty for this one, and I need one more for home. I can pick up the second one in a few days. My winter party isn't for another week. But I want to hang this one in my shop today. Can your assistant come down and hang it for me?"

  Ryder looked my direction waiting for me to answer, but I'd looked his way to see if I could get a sense of whether or not he wanted to do it. We both stared blankly at each other for a moment.

  "If Ryder doesn't mind, he can bring it down to your shop and hang it for you."

  "I don't mind," Ryder said.

  The bell rang and Lola walked inside. Without a word to anyone, she went straight through the store and directly into my office. Something she had never done before. Kate didn't seem to notice as she searched through her purple clutch purse for her money. Unfortunately, Ryder definitely took notice and he looked hurt by Lola's rather rude entrance.

  "Ryder, would you please write up a receipt for Miss Yardley and take down the order for the second kissing bough?” I backed up toward my office and motioned over my shoulder with my thumb. "I need to attend to something in my office."

  I turned around and ducked into the teensy office space I'd carved out from a walk-in storage closet. Lola pinched and rubbed her chin as she paced the eight foot floor, which meant a lot of back and forth and a lot of snow puddles from her boots.

  "What's wrong, Lola?"

  "Nothing," she said in a tone that clearly meant something was wrong.

  "You just swept through my store like a hurricane, not even taking the time to say hello to anyone, and now your are creating a lake of melted snow in my office. Something must be wrong."

  Lola grumbled a sigh and walked around my desk to sit in my chair.

  "Make yourself comfy." I leaned against the rolling cart where I kept my office supplies and order forms. "What's up?" I asked the question, already knowing this had to do with the construction guy.

  My chair squeaked as she sat abruptly forward and showed me her phone. "Not one call or text. Not even a blip. We had a such a great time on the carriage ride and then we talked and laughed and—"

  "Shared pancakes at Franki's, yes I know. That was just last night. Not a month ago. Give him some time. And—"

  This time she cut me off. "Don't jump into one of your lectures about how if it's meant to be blah, blah, blah."

  I couldn't see my own face, but I was certain it looked exactly like my mom's face when I used to flippantly wave off her advice. And in retrospect, most of that advice was good. "Fine, Lola. No lecture. But I'm afraid there's not much I can do or say. You'll just have to wait for him to call. If he's out on Beacon Cliffs at a construction site, he probably doesn't have reception or the time to make a call."

  She slapped her hand on the desk. "You're so right. See, that's why I came here to regain my rational thoughts."

  "You mean from the friend who says, 'blah, blah, blah'?" Naturally I added in the talking hand puppet for visual aid.

  Her dark red lashes fluttered down in shame. "I'm sorry. You never say blah, blah and you are right again. I was just frustrated."

  "And impatient."

  "And acting like a junior in high school," she added as if she'd read my mind. She hopped up and circled around the desk. "Which gives me an idea, so now I need to ask you a favor."

  "Why do I feel like this isn't going to head in a good direction?”

  "How about taking a little drive out to Beacon Cliffs? I'll buy you an afternoon latte for the road."

  "You must be kidding?"

  Lola grabbed my hands. "Please. The entire thing won't take longer than thirty minutes, long enough for you to drink a mocha latte."

  "I've got stuff to do. Besides, Ryder has gone down the block to hang the kissing bough for Kate, which is your fault for coming up with such a brilliant idea. And by the way, if Kate asks—you paid me twenty dollars for yours. And why do you need me at all? Just drive by, spy on the man and head back home."

  "I'm not spying so much as checking to see if he's still alive and well. If he was sick or dead it would give him a good excuse for not calling me. Plus, I need you to drive so I can duck in case he sees us."

  The goat bell rang. "See, I can't go. I've got a customer."

  Lola's loud, discouraged footsteps sounded behind me as I walked to the front of the shop. Ryder was putting away the step ladder. "I was just about to let you know I was back. It only took a second to hang the sphere."

  "Oh good," Lola spoke up from behind.

  Ryder's head popped my direction. He brushed his bangs away from his eyes. "Lola," he said with a quick breath, "I didn't see you there. Thought you were gone already."

  Lola grabbed my hand. "Nope, just came by to invite Pink out for an afternoon coffee break. You can handle the shop for thirty minutes, can't you?"

  I shot her a sideways glance to let her know I was less than thrilled about the whole idea.

  "Yeah, no problem. I've got to put a few finishing touches on the window. Go take your coffee break, boss. I've got it covered."

  "I won't be more than a half hour." I looked at Lola with a scowl as I said it. "Do you want something from the Coffee Hutch, Ryder?"

  "Nope, I'm good. Enjoy."

  Chapter 17

  Beacon Cliffs, our spying destination, was just off Highway 48, t
he two lane thoroughfare between Port Danby and the larger, neighboring town of Chesterton. Beacon Cliffs was a tiny neighborhood of large, posh beach houses that sat on a section of coast with a million dollar view of the ocean. Steep gray cliffs and tall evergreens shielded the exclusive neighborhood from the rest of civilization.

  I turned onto the road leading to Beacon Cliffs. The houses were just a few miles away.

  I lifted my cup from the holder and took a sip. "Hmm, Lester put in an extra squirt of chocolate, and it's really hitting the spot. Which reminds me, you're still going to Elsie's tonight for truffle making, right?"

  "I forgot. Is that tonight?"

  "Lola, you know Elsie's been planning this for weeks. We're going to eat cheese and crackers, sip wine and then immerse our hands in melted chocolate. We're even going to put in Elsie's 'I Love Lucy' DVDs and watch the chocolate factory episode to get in the mood. I'm looking forward to it. And if you don't come, I'm not sharing any truffles with you. It's your call."

  "Is that a form of chocolate blackmail?" She scooted down suddenly. "Look, the construction site is at the entrance to the neighborhood."

  "That's lucky. I was wondering how I would drive my chirpy, shabby little car through a neighborhood of Cadillacs and Porsches and not be noticed."

  Lola pulled her black felt slouch hat low over her head to hide her red hair. She slumped low enough that the seatbelt ran across her chin. "We should have turned off the defrost, so the windows would be foggy."

  "Of course. I prefer to drive a car where I can't see in any direction. It sort of adds that element of surprise to the trip."

  "I think that latte had too much caffeine. It's making you kind of mean."

  "Yes, it's the caffeine."

  Lola's face snapped my direction. She peered up at me from under the floppy brim of her hat. "Did you just do an eye roll. I thought I heard it."

  "Sorry, I'll work on keeping my eye rolls quieter."

  We came up to the section of street just ahead of the construction site. A bright yellow banner with the words "Dayton Construction" was stretched across the chain link fence that bordered most of the site. The massive wooden frame of what looked to be a gigantic, boxy house stood in the center of a dirt lot. It was hard to tell where windows and doors would go, but from the silhouette created by the lumber, it looked like the new house was going to lack something very important to make it a home—character.

  "I guess it's all about size and space in some of these big houses," I said. "It looks like an ugly mansion at this stage in the game."

  "Yeah, who needs a mansion? Think of how much cleaning you'd have to do. But I guess they hire people for that." Lola sprang up and then slouched back down. "I think that's him in the bright yellow hat."

  "If you hadn't noticed, they are all wearing yellow hats."

  "The tall guy with the broad shoulders. The one right next to the trailer."

  I had to tilt my head some to see him. Thankfully, he didn't seem to notice the two women staring at him from the road. A large pond-sized puddle of water had collected at the base of the portable metal steps up to the construction trailer. Randall Dayton looked back as someone whistled. He yelled something back and then plowed through the puddle to the steps.

  "Look how he just marched through that water," Lola said as if she was describing someone saving a litter of puppies from a burning building.

  "So brave," I said with an appropriate head shake.

  "Oh stop. It's just that when we had pie at the diner on our first date, his new shoes were soaked. He said he had been too busy to waterproof them. He must have found time." She turned to me.

  I blinked back at her, to let her know I didn't need to hear anything else about his shoes or puddles. She was talking about him and their pie date as if they'd had many experiences together. I was worried that she was getting way too past herself on this one.

  "I need to go back, Lola. We've seen him. He's alive and well but obviously very busy." I turned the car around and headed back toward the highway. "What city is Dayton Construction based out of? Sometimes, if the contract is big enough, like with this mansion, a construction company will go out of their way to build it. Literally."

  She slowly sat back up in the seat and pushed up the hat. "What do you mean?"

  "I mean, these guys are out here working but their home base, or home towns might be several hundred miles away. Which means once this house is built, the crew will go back home."

  "You just love to smother my romantic dreams, Pink."

  "No, I'm just putting that possibility out there."

  "Yeah, yeah. I get your point. I'll have to ask him next time I see him." She slumped back down. "If I see him again."

  Chapter 18

  After my time trip back into the high school years where driving past a boy's house was foolish but entirely acceptable, I finished up my work in the shop. Ryder had left early. He'd earned it. He hadn't revealed the window to me yet, and he made me promise not to peek behind the paper curtain. I'd seen enough of it to know it would be wonderful. I was going to have to give him a nice holiday bonus. He hadn't been working long at the shop, but he had already made himself a valuable employee. I wanted to keep him happy.

  I turned out the lights and headed out of the shop. I had a few hours to feed pets, take a bath and relax before heading over to Elsie's for truffle making. I hadn't heard from Lola, but I expected her to join us. Although, I was under no illusions. I knew if Randall Dayton called or texted, asking for a date, she'd break our plans like a brittle toothpick.

  A car rolled up and stopped in front of the shop. I was still locking my front door when I heard Detective Briggs call my name.

  I turned around and walked to his car. He stepped out so I didn't have to bend down to speak through the window.

  "I saw your lights on so I headed this way." He pulled off his hat as he looked down at my purse. "But I see you're on your way home for the night." He was about to say something else but hesitated.

  "What is it, Detective Briggs? Do you need me to help with some evidence? I was on my way home, but I have a few hours before I need to be somewhere else."

  His brown eyes took on an apologetic glaze. "I'm sorry. This is—what's the word I'm looking for—untoward, I think about sums it up. I hate to cut into your time again, but I'm heading out to Mayfield Beach. The Christmas caroling group is camping there, and I need to speak to Chad Ruxley's ex-wife. I interviewed some of the other boat owners and possibly found the last two people to see him alive. Vick and Max are two retired teachers on the pleasure boat anchored next to Ruxley's Sea Gem. They said that Ruxley was sitting along the starboard railing, chatting across the water with them when Ruxley got a text. He told them he had to row to shore because his ex-wife, Charlene, needed to talk to him. They said he joked about her always needing money but that he seemed anxious to meet her. Max insisted that Chad was still pining for his ex."

  "Poor man. Poor man," I said louder as I straightened my posture. "Do you think she killed him?"

  "Well, the text explains what he was doing up on the pier at that hour. And then there's the matter of the ribbons you mentioned. The forensic tests on the fibers of the ribbon and sweater needed to be sent to another lab. We don't have sophisticated enough technology in our local lab for traces of evidence. And since we aren't exactly sure what we're looking for—"

  I reached forward and touched his gloved hand. "Detective Briggs, it's fine. I don't need an explanation. You'd like me to sniff around their campsite and see if anything comes up a match."

  "I don't want to cut into your time any more than I already have, but I'm running up against a wall with this case. And much like the Marian Fitch case, I'm short on time. There are a lot of strangers in town for this event. I need to figure this out before people disappear."

  "Again, you don't need to say anything else to convince me. You forget a million little adrenaline receptors light up in my brain when you ask me to look for evid
ence. Millicent is ready." I tapped my nose. "Gosh, that one is awful." Briggs opened the passenger door for me. "Maybe just Milli," I suggested.

  I heard his deep laugh outside the car as he circled around to the driver's side. Seconds later we were off to the Mayfield campsite.

  "So the physical evidence is scarce so far? I guess with this weather, fingerprints are masked by gloves, and even footprints don't stick around long in the mushy snow and ice on the pier."

  "Physical evidence is lacking. We haven't been able to find his phone either. He didn't have it on him, and it was nowhere on the pier or on his boat. Possible motives have been elusive too. Chad doesn't seem to have any enemies. The other boat owners knew him in varying degrees, but everyone genuinely liked the man. They praised him for being honest and having a great deal of integrity. Apparently, he was quite generous and always picked up the tab at social nights out. He gave his wife half of everything when they split, and the split supposedly came from her. Irreconcilable differences is what the divorce record states. Everyone knew that the two brothers didn't have a relationship anymore, but none of the other boat owners ever saw much animosity between them."

  "I sure did," I noted.

  "Yes, that seemed to be an unusual event. Or at least according to the other captains."

  "Do you think it's possible they are just trying to squash any ugly rumors? This will certainly put a damper on future light flotillas. Maybe they just want it to fade away without much bad publicity for the event. Then by next Christmas, it will all be forgotten."

  Briggs had put on a black fedora hat to guard against the nightly chill. It pushed his slightly longish hair up high against his collar. With the hat and his black overcoat, he reminded me of one of those tough talking detectives from the mid twentieth century, the kind who went relentlessly after the dangerous gangsters.

  "You and I think a lot alike, Miss Pinkerton," he said in his usual gentlemanly way, which quickly dispelled the vision I had of him as a tough talking gangster chaser.