Christmas Carol Murder (A Lucy Stone Mystery)
Page 21
At that moment the door to the morgue popped open and Lucy braced herself for bad news. Which, considering the fact that the two men were smiling and shaking hands, she immediately realized would not be necessary.
“This is excellent,” Ted said. “I’m going to put my best reporter on it right away.”
“On what?” Lucy asked, furrowing her brows.
“Ben here is developing a plan to sell back all the foreclosed homes to their previous owners at the current, reduced value with new, affordable mortgages,” Ted said. “He’s also offering refinancing on favorable terms to all mortgagors, including me, who are struggling to keep up with payments due to the recession.”
“What’s the catch?” Phyllis asked, suspecting a trick.
“No catch!” declared Scribner, who for once looked relaxed and cheerful, actually seeming happy. “It’s due to this lady here,” he said, with a nod to Lucy. “She risked her life to save my miserable skin and it got me thinking. The truth is, Jake Marlowe and I got carried away. We got greedy. We didn’t think about the people we were dealing with, and only thought about the money we were making. But when I was sitting there with that bomb strapped to my chest, I wasn’t thinking about how much money I’d made. I was thinking that I’d wasted my life. And then you came, little lady, and gave me a second chance. Believe me, I’ve done some thinking and I’m not going to waste a single second of the time I’ve got left.”
“That’s . . . wonderful.” Lucy was not quite sure what to say. It seemed to her that the earth had tilted on its axis and things were suddenly topsy-turvy.
“It’s also good business,” Scribner added, his blue eyes twinkling shrewdly. “What’s the sense of a town where all the houses are empty and decaying? Truth is, I can’t sell these properties. I’ve got too many on my hands and it’s costing me money just to keep up with repairs and maintenance. Nope, this’ll make our town, our community, stronger, and people will want to live in Tinker’s Cove. Prices will start to go up again, and the sooner the better.”
“It’s too bad you didn’t figure this out sooner,” Phyllis said, adding a “hmph.” “Coulda saved a lot of trouble.”
Scribner’s face clouded. “I know. I can’t help but feel somewhat responsible for Al Roberts. I know there’s no excuse for what he did, but Jake and I, well, we certainly contributed to his troubles. I’m going to make sure he gets a good lawyer, and I’m going to help his family any way I can, especially that little girl.” He let out a big breath. “The truth is, I owe Roberts a huge debt. Jake Marlowe was a miserable person and now I’m free of him. I’m free to be myself and I’m determined to be a better person.”
Hearing this admission, the three Pennysaver employees were dumbfounded. Finally, Ted spoke. “Is that for the record?”
“Hell, no!” Scribner said, his face reddening. “And don’t think I won’t sue!”
Then they were all laughing, laughing until their tummies hurt and they had to sit down, and finally they couldn’t laugh anymore.
Word of Scribner’s conversion spread through town as everyone was eager to share the story of his remarkable change of heart. Christmas spirit seemed to grow with every telling; people smiled and laughed and greeted each other cheerily as they hurried to complete their preparations for the big day. The people in line at the post office to mail cards and packages shared jokes and stories, people shopping for last minute presents waited patiently for the salesclerks to ring up their purchases, and shoppers at the IGA paused to chat with each other and exchange favorite holiday recipes. In Lucy’s memory there had never been such a merry Christmas season in which everyone enjoyed such cheerful fellowship and genuine goodwill.
Lucy almost hated for it to end, but the number of remaining doors on the Advent calendar was down to two. And then there was only one and it was Christmas Eve. The presents were all bought and wrapped, the cookies baked, the tree decorated. The whole family went to church for the candlelight service; Patrick was adorable as a little lamb in the Christmas pageant. Afterward they all went on to Florence Gallagher’s open house, bearing covered dishes for the potluck supper.
Florence’s house was packed with people, but the jolly crowd was eager to make room for more. The table was loaded with delicious things to eat, carols were playing, everyone was eating and drinking and toasting the holiday. There was a hushed moment when Ben Scribner appeared, carrying a huge cooked turkey from MacDonalds’ farm store, and Florence rushed to greet him with a big hug. Then others joined in the greeting, shaking hands and patting him on the back. Watching, Lucy thought he probably hadn’t been greeted so warmly in many years, perhaps never.
She was chatting with Miss Tilley, telling her that the Angel Fund had swelled to over five thousand dollars thanks to a couple of large donations, including one from a secret giver she suspected was actually Ben Scribner, when she noticed Rachel and Bob, kissing under the mistletoe. She gave Miss Tilley a nudge, and the old woman smiled at the sight. “I’ve been so worried about Rachel,” she said. “But now it looks like things are back on track.”
“Moving in the right direction, anyway,” Lucy said, taking a sip of eggnog.
A few minutes later Sue popped in, saying she couldn’t stay long because she was on her way to New York. “Geoff’s in surgery,” she said. “He’s getting a new kidney. He’s part of a donation chain, which is actually the longest one they’ve done so far, with more than twenty exchanges. And guess what? Little Angie’s getting a kidney, too! She’s actually getting Sidra’s kidney.” She laughed. “My daughter’s kidney is coming home to Tinker’s Cove! Imagine!”
“It seems a toast is definitely called for,” Miss Tilley said, tapping her glass with a spoon.
Everyone fell silent, waiting expectantly, as Miss Tilley called for all to “charge their glasses,” using the old-fashioned phrase. When everyone’s glass had been filled, she raised hers: “To friends and family, to Tinker’s Cove . . . God bless us, everyone! Merry Christmas!”
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Copyright © 2013 by Leslie Meier All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without the prior written consent of the Publisher, excepting brief quotes used in reviews.
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Library of Congress Card Catalogue Number: 2013940650
ISBN: 978-0-75827701-5
First Kensington Hardcover Edition: October 2013
eISBN-13: 978-0-7582-7703-9
eISBN-10: 0-7582-7703-2
First Kensington Electronic Edition: October 2013