Death Under the Mistletoe

by Ashantay Peters

  “No!” I gulped. “Just, uh, take me to my car. I can make the next visit myself.”

  His head whipped in my direction. “What next visit?” His low angry tone had me pressing back into the seat.

  “Nothing, changed my mind.”

  “Lily.”

  Who knew a voice could hold both coaxing and menace?

  “She’s not someone you’d want to meet.”

  “What do you mean by that statement?”

  I shuffled my feet and looked out the side window. Swallowed twice. Answered, “The wedding planner.”

  “Stephanie White?”

  My eyes narrowed and I thought about sending him a death glare before remembering the look didn’t work on him. “How do you know the wedding planner?” Oops, that may have sounded a bit jealous. Just a bit.

  “Actually, I know her sister, Jennie. Who, the last I heard, dated Rod last winter.” He flicked on the blinker and changed lanes. “Not long before he took up with my cousin.”

  And either right before or during the time Rod dated me. I wondered how many women the Break-up King, alias Roderick Vandiver, had dumped. And who they were. Cripes. I had a feeling the suspect list ran lots longer than I anticipated. Checking everyone could take weeks. Time my business couldn’t afford. The police could interview everyone faster than me, and they were authorized to talk with people. Too bad I’d lost faith in the GFPD. I felt as if they’d zeroed in on me and weren’t looking further.

  “Lily?” His tone had softened. “Anything wrong?”

  I continued looking out the window. “Let’s go see Stephanie.”

  “Will you let me—?”

  “Yes, you take the lead. I’ll watch.”

  I felt his gaze on me, but I didn’t turn away from the blur outside the window. No way I wanted Gray to know my eyes held tears.

  ****

  Stephanie White had an office, where else, in a picturesque Victorian mansion on the outskirts of downtown. The mansion boasted exquisite decorations in period style with fresh garlands. A fan-shaped arrangement of pineapple and oranges hung above the door. I half expected carolers in period costume to walk around the corner.

  She shared space with a toney spa and a florist. A bridal store located two doors down completed the matrimonial square. If the mix included a jeweler with a divorce lawyer at the corner, they could bill themselves as one-stop shopping. Yeah, I know, I’d turned into a cynical woman.

  Gray didn’t work hard convincing me to cool my heels in the car while he approached Stephanie. He emerged ten minutes later, smoothing his hair and adjusting his shirt. I watched, surprised he didn’t need a handkerchief to wipe off lipstick. Maybe he’d done that before leaving the building.

  He jumped behind the wheel and we pulled away with a quick jerk. Spooked by a wedding planner. Typical guy, though Stephanie gave me the willies. Even the town’s steel magnolias crossed the street to avoid her.

  “You get any?”

  He jumped as high as the seat belt allowed. “What? What do you mean?”

  “Information. Did Stephanie tell you why she was late to the ceremony? Isn’t that the answer you pursued along with Jennie’s contact info?”

  “Right.”

  He smoothed his hair. Really, men are so easy to scare. Just send them in alone to see a wedding planner and watch them shake. I really shouldn’t take so much enjoyment out of his sweat, but I figured he owed me.

  “Is she available?” I asked.

  The answer burst from him. “I’m not interested in Stephanie.”

  I bit my lip. Really, this ragging seemed too easy. “I meant Jennie. Is she still in town?”

  He glanced at me then back at the road. “You enjoying yourself?”

  “Just curious.”

  “I could make you wait, you know.” His lips curved.

  “All right. I apologize.”

  “You should have warned me about Stephanie. Sheesh. I almost got trapped in there.”

  Uncomfortable now, I didn’t want details. “ Did you learn anything? Did Stephanie say why she was late to the ceremony?”

  He sent me a brief glance. “Car trouble.”

  Before I could say more he added, “She called her car club. Her vehicle was towed.”

  Too bad, better her than me for jail time. Stephanie would organize prisoners in a heartbeat.

  “What about Jennie?”

  His shoulders dropped. “Yeah, she had a bad experience with Roderick and left town right after.”

  “Bad? How bad?”

  “The sleaze half proposed, took her money for a joint investment supposed to set them up for life then dumped her.”

  So why had Stephanie agreed to coordinate the wedding? If she was close to Jennie, she had a revenge motive for knocking off Rod. Car trouble didn’t preclude her killing him after the rehearsal dinner she’d attended. My heart beat faster. “When did Rob date Jennie?”

  “Stephanie said last February.”

  My heartbeat drummed, filling my ears and pulsating through my body. The lottery win happened in February. Rod first came on to me in February. Everyone in town, including me, thought I shared in the lottery win Alexa later claimed was her personal ticket. Rod dumped me not long after the single winner announcement.

  What took me so long to figure everything out? Why hadn’t I seen the connection? How foolish could I be and still live?

  “Lily?” Gray’s voice echoed in the car. I opened my mouth to answer, but I remained quiet. Fudge, fudge, fudge. The more I learned about Rod, the more I hated him. Then another thought hit me. Gray’s information nailed down another motive for murder.

  The car coasted to a stop at the curb. He grasped my shoulder and called my name.

  I turned to meet his gaze. My breath and eyes caught in his web.

  “He’s not worth your thoughts. He’s dead. Let him go.”

  “You don’t understand. Rod only wanted the money.”

  Gray snorted. “We knew that, remember?”

  I watched my clasped hands. “He came after me first.” I winced at the obvious pain in my voice. “He figured I’d be easier to manipulate, so he approached me first.”

  He placed his fingers under my chin and turned my face to his. “Why don’t you think of him this way? He preferred a sweet, loyal woman first.”

  My lips parted as thoughts swirled. Did he mean me as the sweet and loyal woman?

  “Why don’t I show you?” Gray’s head descended toward mine in slow motion. Okay, maybe his actions weren’t slow, but my brain moved at knee-deep-in-muck speed. Sirens echoed, the reverberation matching my pumping blood.

  He stopped, his eyes widened and he jerked back into his seat. “We’ve got company.”

  I shook my head. Company?

  Granville Falls police cruisers slammed to a stop behind and in front of us. An unmarked car pulled alongside. A quick glance showed Dirk Johnson glaring at me from the passenger seat with Matt Pulaski behind the wheel. Talk about bad timing. Or maybe the sirens saved me. Hard to tell.

  ****

  Harsh fluorescent lights illuminated a scene I’d only had in nightmares. The smells of burnt coffee, a street person sleeping on the bench across the room and stale perfume made the scene real. Real, because as far as I know, dreams don’t have smells. Now didn’t seem the right time to do research.

  I hadn’t noticed the seasonal decoration during my last visit to the station. Now I saw a few touches in the room. A miniature plastic Christmas tree with small wooden ornaments stood on one of the desks. Colored lights hung above the coffee maker, entwined in fake garland. Thin vinyl door wraps featuring Santa and Mrs. Santa covered the restroom doors. The last decoration, a poster advertising the GFPD toy drive for at-risk children, held a hand-scribbled note that their goal had been met. At least someone would enjoy this holiday.

  Dirk slid onto his chair, a manila folder in his hand. “Lily. Why didn’t you come in when I asked earlier today?”

  “I, u
h, had some errands. For my business.”

  “Monkey business. I’ve heard you’re looking for information on Vandiver and his other women.” He held up his palm. “Small town. Everyone knows.”

  “You seemed so set on me as the main suspect.” My lower lip quivered so I bit it into submission. “I had to do something to find the real killer.”

  Dirk’s eyed my lower lip but his eyes remained opaque. “That’s our business.”

  I shook my head and nodded in a strange circular motion. “I felt railroaded.”

  He leaned closer and whispered. “Katie would kick me to the curb headless if anything happened to her obviously innocent friend.”

  Yeah, right, like Katie held sway over a D.A. holding a file fat with proof showing me guilty.

  Straightening, he resumed his normal tone. “We have questions about the wedding cake you baked.”

  “What.” I stifled my fright. Time to ante up. “The cake consisted of six torte layers with dark chocolate-raspberry ganache filling. The dessert had chocolate frosting and I garnished with red raspberries.” I glared at him. “And only raspberries. Check with my suppliers. I haven’t ordered blueberries for months.”

  He opened the file and picked up a report. “They weren’t blueberries.”

  “Huh?” My thoughts rattled like a pinball game at the arcade. Missy Wheeler had specifically referred to blueberries. Or had she meant blue colored berries? I had a bad, bad feeling.

  “What were the berries?”

  He checked the report, but I knew he already had the answer and didn’t want to face me.

  “Elderberries. Raw elderberries.”

  Double fudge. Any caterer knew elderberries must be cooked. Jams, wines, tarts, no problem. Raw meant a trip to the emergency room and a stomach pump. At the least, eating them meant an uncomfortable bathroom visit.

  “I didn’t do that. I’d never put raw elderberries on anything.” I shook my head. “Never. That’d kill my business for sure.”

  He closed the folder. “That’s what we thought, but you should have come in when you were asked. Running made you look guilty.”

  I straightened. “No running involved. As soon as I knew of the tampering, I called to warn you.”

  He tapped the folder with a long index finger. “You can’t ignore a police request and expect to avoid the consequences.”

  “I . . . I’m sorry.”

  “Not good enough.” He pointed at me. “You will promise me, right here, right now, to end your amateur detecting.” Running fingers through his hair, he closed his eyes. “I don’t know what’s with the women in this town. They all must have read too many girl detective novels.”

  Dirk fixed me with a glare. “We’re on the case and we won’t let you get convicted if you’re innocent. All right?”

  I nodded, the total extent of my muscle coordination and vocal ability.

  He stood. I pulled myself up and hobbled to the door, glad to leave.

  Reaching the front desk, I saw Gray slumped on a hard bench, phone to his ear. He finished his conversation and rose.

  “I didn’t mean to interrupt,” I said.

  “No problem.”

  I stood before him, unsure how to resume a conversation that had ended with an almost kiss.

  He put his arm across my shoulders and steered me toward the door. “How about I take you to your car?”

  Did that mean we’d pick up where we left off? More important, did I want the kiss? I walked outside without an answer to either question.

  Chapter Six

  The answers were no follow-up kiss and I remained unsure how I felt about the outcome. Gray dropped me at my car and took off. He broke no land speed records, but had probably held back given his stern jaw and shuttered eyes.

  Damnation, anyway. I hadn’t felt this messed up since the first/last time with Gray, five years ago. I’d always been a late bloomer, or maybe no other guy made me want to do the horizontal mambo. My twenty-second birthday had come and gone, and I’d pretended celibacy—hell, virginity—had benefits. Until Gray.

  I shook my head. Those memories weren’t worth reviewing.

  Questions more important now were, who had access to the cake? Who’d seen my pastry last before the elderberry addition? Had anyone noticed a change? Could the cake have been altered after Rod’s death to implicate me?

  Chills encompassed my body after my last question. Why would anyone want to blame me? Except for typical and short-lived business rivalries, I’d flown under the jealousy radar—I’d thought.

  My phone rang. Alexa’s name popped on the caller ID.

  “Alexa, how are you? I’m so sorry I haven’t gotten back to you. First the cops separated us, then the lawyer conferences...but that’s not important. Are you holding up? Can I do something for you?”

  She sniffled and I felt a bigger failure than a deflated soufflé. Here I’d been worried about getting framed for murder and she’d lost her fiancé and her fantasy wedding all in one shot. Well, he’d been hit in the head, not shot, but you know.

  “The doctor gave me a prescription. Events seem so far away, like I’m looking at everything through a filter.” Her voice broke. “Other than that, I’m coping.”

  She paused and I didn’t know how to fill the silence. Having no experience with murder, I had no idea what to say. Not that I handled emotions well, anyway. Add in our tenuous reunion, and I had no clue. So I jumped in feet first.

  “Before I forget, I want to thank you, Alexa. What you did is generous beyond belief.” I inhaled. “I know we’ve had our problems”—my voice began to shake—“but I’m glad that we can move past the arguments we’ve had. I hate we’re not best friends anymore.”

  She didn’t answer immediately. I figured I’d made everything worse, as usual.

  “I don’t understand.”

  “Tom Jenkins?”

  She still didn’t answer.

  “The attorney you hired to represent me?” I spoke into tense silence. “I want to thank you for calling the best criminal defense lawyer around. Your trust really means a lot.”

  I could hear her quick inhale. “Who told you I hired Jenkins?”

  Her tone puzzled me then I remembered Jenkins saying the original client wanted anonymity. Maybe she didn’t want me to know she’d contacted the lawyer. If not Alexa, who else wanted to ensure I had the best defense? I came up with no other names.

  The pause extended until I heard her exhale. “Did Jenkins tell you?”

  I blew out my held breath. “No. I figured you must’ve hired him.”

  “You’re really good at deduction, but let’s not talk about this again, all right?”

  “Sure.”

  “What have you heard about the investigation? You’re still friends with Katie, right? Has Dirk said anything to her that she passed along?”

  I thought for a moment. “Nothing that hasn’t been in the papers.” The media reports said Rod had been cracked with the proverbial blunt object and strung up. They referred to his case as the Mistletoe Murder. I wouldn’t bring that up. I’m not entirely clueless.

  “Jenkins thinks he can get you off?”

  “Yeah, he did this morning.” I didn’t want to add more stress to our tentative détente by admitting Jenkins would sweat some proving me innocent.

  “Good, that’s good.”

  Her distracted answer made me swallow hard. “Are you sure you don’t need company? I’d be glad to come over.”

  “That’s not a good idea, Lily. The prime suspect visiting with the victim’s fiancée the day after the body is found? Someone might think we were in on the murder together.”

  My hand jerked. I looked at the phone like it had turned into a viper. “Do you think I killed Rod? Tell me now, Alexa, because I don’t want any more lies between us. We’ve had enough problems, haven’t we?”

  “I’m sorry. It’s the medication. I’ve been loopy all day.”

  “I can come over after dark.”

/>   “No, thanks for the offer. I’m going to take a sedative and go to bed. Maybe this nightmare will stop in the morning.”

  Now I felt like a total jerk. Who knew what grief could do to someone?

  “Good night, Alexa.” Too bad she’d already hung up.

  ****

  I shot out of bed the next morning, almost late for a vendor meeting. No matter my life sucked, I still had to show up.

  Despite Dirk’s request for a promise, I hadn’t agreed to stop looking into Rod’s other women, and time grew tight. The D.A. could force Dirk’s hand and I’d find myself called in for more questioning. Or worse.

  I had no clue how to find Rod’s other ex-girlfriends without taking out a newspaper ad. I wish there were an un-matching dating site. One that’d give the lowdown on no-goodniks.

  What was I thinking? A source already existed in Granville Falls—the Hair Shack, better known as the Share Shack. My bathroom mirror reflected an overwhelming need for a trim. Now I just needed an appointment, preferably for today.

  I hung up from scheduling a haircut and manicure, thoughts whirling. Denise had practically crowed when I told her I needed to see her right away. I hadn’t grasped I’d be in demand as a news source.

  When I opened the beauty salon door several hours later, the peculiar combination of hot hair dryers, permanent solution, and fingernail polish hit my nostrils. A bright pink metallic Christmas tree covered in beauty product testers and glass shoe ornaments revolved in the corner. Each beautician had decorated with swags of holly, lights or shiny bows, adding to the bling.

  Denise looked up from her customer, her gaze meeting mine in her mirror. She smiled and motioned me to a chair in the waiting area. The other patrons and employees turned their head or checked me out via the mirror.

  My stomach muscles twisted like pretzels. I knew the customers’ evaluations were evenly split between my overgrown hairstyle and murder scene notoriety.

  I slunk to a seat and hid behind a celebrity magazine. Although gossip is a small town birthright, I’d never excelled at the skill. I’d be pushing my talents to the limit with the pros in the Share Shack. I straightened. Ducking behind a glossy periodical featuring people whose faces weren’t familiar wouldn’t help me find information. Throwing the publication down, I raised my gaze. No one paid me any attention. That wouldn’t last long, not with this audience.