Murder at Mistletoe Manor: A Mystery Novella

by Holly Tierney-Bedord

  “Hmm… Yep, interesting. Go on,” he said. WATER SPRAYING?!! he wrote on his tablet. Then he whispered, “Would you quit looking at my notes, Miss Snow? These are private police business.”

  “Sorry. I’m just… It’s just that I can see what you’re writing and I want to be sure you’re getting it right.”

  “Trust me. I’m the law,” he said, his face turning red.

  “Anyway,” Klarinda continued, “as I was saying, the tub pretty much dropped straight down and since it landed on the bed, and… err…”

  “And on the body,” he said, helping her along.

  “Yes,” said Klarinda, “And the body. My point is, when the tub dropped, it didn’t break, so I could plainly see that it was still half full of water. After that big drop! How could that have happened if it had been drained?”

  “Calm down, Miss Snow,” he said.

  “All things considered, I’m calm,” said Klarinda, liking him less and less. She was stroking Pumpernickel’s furry little shoulders, trying to soothe the dog, who seemed able to sense the loss of her owner.

  “Do you mind telling me what the victim was doing in your bedroom?” asked the officer.

  “I guess she was leaning over my bed, or maybe crawling under it, trying to get at her dog.”

  “And that’s the dog she was looking for when it happened?” asked the officer.

  Klarinda nodded. “Yes. This is her dog. Pumpernickel.”

  “Pumpernickel?”

  “Yes. The dog’s name is Pumpernickel.”

  “Like the brandy?” asked the officer.

  “Like the bread,” said Klarinda.

  “And why was the dog in your apartment? Had you taken a shine to it? Were you hiding it in there?”

  “No!” Klarinda exclaimed. “The dog was nosing around, I suppose, and found its way in there.”

  “Interesting. Very interesting,” said the officer.

  “Will Deputy Franklin be here soon? Or the sheriff? Or any of the other officers who were here earlier? A lot has happened here. Maybe if all you officers could meet here and get on the same page?”

  “There’s only one page, Miss Snow, and it’s the page with the facts.”

  “Okay?” said Klarinda.

  “You’re not the only excitement happening around Windy Pines. Or the county, for that matter. This whole corner of the state is smackdab in the middle of an emergency. Don’t you know there’s a blizzard going on?”

  “I’m well aware of the blizzard,” said Klarinda.

  “Good,” nodded the officer. “The sheriff can’t get into town. The roads are all closed, in case you haven’t heard. And Deputy Franklin, last I heard, was in the middle of delivering a baby up on Wolf Lookout Road.”

  “Must be Charlotte Wilkinson’s daughter Nicole’s baby,” Myrtle remarked, stepping through the front door of the inn from her most recent bout of shoveling, just in time to hear this part of the conversation. Her eyes were wide and worried. “I hope everyone’s okay. Delivering a baby in this blizzard? That’s a scary thought!”

  “I’m not at liberty to say whose baby it is,” said the young officer. “But yeah, it’s Nicole Pelzner’s baby.”

  Klarinda nodded. “Back to the most recent accident here...”

  The officer closed his little notebook and put it in his pocket. “You said they drained the bathtub. Who drained it?” he asked Klarinda.

  “I’m not sure. Maybe one of your officers? Or the coroner, after he took away…” she paused, not wanting to say the bodies.

  “Well, it could have been considered a crime scene, so maybe they didn’t want to drain it. Maybe the officers who were out here earlier figured there was evidence in that bathtub.”

  “I thought the officers who were here earlier said that no foul play was suspected?” asked Myrtle, coming up behind the deputy. “So what do you mean by ‘it could have been considered a crime scene’? If we’re in the middle of a crime scene we have a right to know! We’ve been shoveling snow and making lunch and carrying on like it’s business as usual!”

  “I… I’m not sure,” said the officer.

  “Didn’t anyone fill you in on what’s been happening up here? Wouldn’t you know if it was a crime scene? Should we be worried? We’ve had five ‘accidents’ here in one day!” Myrtle continued.

  “Miss Snow, are you in charge here, or is this lady?” asked the officer, getting bristly.

  “I own this inn,” said Klarinda, “but I don’t mind having Myrtle’s involvement. She’s a big part of this inn and this town, and she raises some good points.”

  “Excuse me for just a minute while I take care of some important, secret, official business,” said the officer, stepping from the front hallway into the parlor. He tried to close the pocket doors after himself for a little privacy, but couldn’t figure out how to get them out of the wall, so he gave up. A moment later they heard him requesting backup. “No, not that kind of backup,” they heard him saying. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to alarm anyone. I just meant… are there some other officers who can come out here, too?” And then in a whisper: “I think I might be in over my head.”

  “What’s going on here?” Klarinda whispered to Myrtle. “And how’d this little twerp get put on our case?”

  “I know they drained the tub,” said Myrtle. “When I was putting the fans and dehumidifiers in the yellow room, I saw it. If it hadn’t been empty I would have drained it myself! Even if that meant sticking my hand in that nasty water! There’s no way I would have left the water in there! Not with those weak, soggy floorboards beneath it!”

  “I just realized something,” said Klarinda, scrunching up her face and gagging a little.

  “What’s that?” asked Myrtle.

  “When I woke up with water dripping on me, it was water from their bathtub. With them in it. Ewww.”

  Myrtle nodded. “Yup,” she said. “I wasn’t going to mention it, in case you hadn’t thought of it.”

  “Alright, ladies,” said the officer, “I hear you gagging and crying, and I realize this is all very gross and scary for you, but we’re going to get to the bottom of it. You’ll be sleeping like babies again in no time!”

  “No one was crying,” said Myrtle. “And, I feel like I ought to clarify, the tub was definitely empty. Someone refilled it.”

  “Pipes can hold a lot of water,” said the officer. “All that water you saw was probably from earlier, or was residual water that was still in the pipes. I’m fourth generation Windy Pines, and this is a safe community. I never should have said foul play just now. I can see how that alarmed you two. My bad.”

  “You’re fourth generation?” asked Myrtle, a little more interested in him now. “What did you say your name was?”

  “Wells. I’m Travis Wells.”

  “How about that?” said Myrtle, delighted. “So, that must make you Franny Baker’s nephew?”

  “I sure am! How’d you know that?” asked Travis.

  “I know everyone in this town,” said Myrtle. “My mother’s mother was a Fillmore, and as you probably know…”

  “The Fillmores founded this town,” said Officer Wells.

  Myrtle beamed. “That’s right,” she said.

  “You know, I used to work at this inn back when I was in junior high and high school. I was one of the kids who mowed the lawn,” said Officer Wells. “Mr. Peterman was a real hard ass. Either you liked him or you hated him. I think he’s the reason I’m a cop now. He always told me ‘Work harder, you little maggot! Do it right the first time, you little shit for brains.’ That kind of encouragement doesn’t work for everyone, but it worked for me. I guess since I never really had a father figure.”

  “Huh,” said Klarinda, nodding awkwardly. She’d heard plenty of other stories like this about Ralph Peterman. He wasn’t exactly Mr. Popularity around Windy Pines.

  “I’m twenty-four and half now, so it’s been quite a few years since then…” Travis Wells continued.

  Twent
y-four and a half, Klarinda repeated in her head, grimacing to herself. She’d never met anyone over the age of ten who counted their age in halves.

  “Awe, that was right before I started working here,” said Myrtle. “I came on about, oh, six or seven years ago now. I lived up in Billings for years. Then I realized one day that it was time to come back home to Windy Pines. But if I’d been here when you were here I would have remembered you! So then, you must be related to Gertie and Richard?”

  Realizing she now had no one on her side, Klarinda stepped into the dining room to check on Benji and Christopher, who were playing a game of checkers and having some hot chocolate, trying to pass time.

  “Can I get either of you anything?” asked Klarinda.

  “Nothing for me,” said Benji, scowling.

  “I wouldn’t mind some cookies, if you’ve got some,” said Christopher.

  “Let me see what I can come up with for you,” said Klarinda. She stepped back out into the front hallway where Myrtle and Officer Wells were still chatting about local gossip. Her presence seemed to remind the young officer that he could be doing a little more to get to the bottom of things.

  “Mind if I have a word with your remaining guests?” he asked Klarinda, whipping out his little notebook again, back to being all-business.

  “Go right ahead,” she said, “but please be nice to them. As you can imagine, they’ve been through quite the ordeal and are going on very little sleep. Like all of us.”

  “Oh, I’ll be nice,” he said. “But if either of them is hiding anything, I’ll get to the bottom of it. Just you wait and see!”

  Chapter 14

  “I hope you like chocolate chip cookies,” Klarinda told Christopher, setting a plate of them down on the table in front of him.

  “Fresh baked? I wasn’t expecting homemade cookies! I would have been happy with some Chips Ahoy!”

  “Well, they aren’t exactly from scratch. Pierre had some ready-to-go dough in the fridge so I just had to put them on a pan and throw them in the oven. I figured it’s the least I can do for you and Benji, all things considered. Speaking of Benji, is she still talking with the officer?”

  Christopher nodded, his mouth full of a bite of cookie. “Sorry,” he said after he’d swallowed it. “I guess I’m hungrier than I thought.”

  “Not me,” said Klarinda, picturing Lannie, whose body was still waiting in her bedroom for the coroner’s arrival. “I may never eat again. So, how long have Benji and Officer Wells been talking?”

  “Since right after you were in here asking if we needed anything. How long ago was that? Maybe twenty minutes ago. What did you say the last name of the officer was?” he added, stuffing another cookie in his mouth.

  “Wells. Officer Travis Wells.”

  “That’s me,” said the officer, stepping from the parlor into the dining room. “I smelled these cookies and I cut my interview with Brittany short,” he said.

  “Her name’s Benji,” said Klarinda, smiling blandly.

  “Ooo-hee! Did you make these yourself?” Officer Wells asked Klarinda, taking several from the plate and making a little tower in his palm.

  “Not exactly,” she said. “Any word from the coroner or the sheriff, or any of the other officers?”

  “Haven’t you heard? I guess I forget that everyone’s not tuned into a police scanner twenty-four seven like I am! A snowplow crashed into the clock tower downtown and it went right through the front window of O’Malley’s Diner! Terry Schwartz was sitting up front playing euchre and he wound up with a broken arm! He’s lucky to be alive! As soon as I’m done here I’m going to head back down the hill into town and have a look. It sounds real exciting! Glad I got chains on my tires. These cookies, Miss Snow. Mmmm-eeeee.”

  Christopher Murdock stood up suddenly, clutching his stomach. He turned his head away from Klarinda and the officer, trying to hide the nauseous expression on his face. “Excuse me,” he mumbled, darting through the dining room’s doorway and heading for the restroom.

  “What was that all about?” asked Officer Wells, popping another cookie in his mouth.

  “I’m not sure,” said Klarinda, “but he certainly didn’t look good.”

  “Well, it’s not the cookies. I can tell you that. These are the best darn cookies I’ve ever had.”

  “I hope he’s alright,” she said. “By the way, where’s Benji?”

  “She said she was going to go upstairs to her room and lie down,” said the officer.

  “Seriously? No one’s supposed to be upstairs. When I talked to the restoration company that our insurance adjuster put me in touch with, they said that it’s not safe to be up there. They said that kind of damage can compromise the whole building. If we weren’t trapped in here it would probably be better to not even be inside this place right now.”

  The officer laughed. “This old place looks pretty solid to me.” He stood up and dusted off his hands, sprinkling cookie crumbs all over the floor. “Well,” he said. “I hope the rest of your day isn’t as exciting as your morning and last night were.”

  “It looks like you’re leaving?” asked Klarinda.

  “I sure am. I’ve got to see O’Malley’s in person!”

  “Aren’t you going to talk to Christopher?”

  “He’s sick, right?”

  “Well, yes, but he’ll come out of the restroom eventually.”

  “I don’t think it’s that important for me to talk to him,” said the officer.

  “If it was important to talk to Benji, isn’t it also important to talk to Christopher?”

  “If there wasn’t something bigger going on downtown, I’d stick around. But duty calls,” said Officer Wells. He went out to the front hall and took his coat and hat from the coat rack by the front door. “Be careful,” he said as he zipped up his coat. “This place seems to be experiencing an unlucky spell.”

  “That might be the biggest understatement I’ve ever heard,” said Klarinda.

  Officer Wells opened the front door of the inn, letting in a treacherous gust of wind and snow. He pulled his hat down a little lower and winked as he stepped out onto the front porch. “Don’t worry,” he said, his words nearly blowing away. “At this point, I think the odds are pretty good that Mistletoe Manor has had all the bad luck one place can take. Things can only get better.”

  Chapter 15

  The plate and crumbs had been cleared away. So had the mugs of cold cocoa and the abandoned game of checkers. It had been ten minutes since Officer Wells left, and there was still no sign of any other officers. Christopher Murdock had not emerged from the restroom and Benji had not come down from her room. Pierre and Myrtle were both resting in their own small apartments behind the inn, and Klarinda had no intention of disturbing them.

  Not sure what to do with herself, and having to avoid her own apartment since it was a disaster zone housing a dead body, she decided to take Pumpernickel outside for a potty break.

  She’d just clicked the little dog’s leash to her collar when she remembered that the Yorkie-poo was accustomed to wearing a tiny quilted coat when she went outside. Klarinda hesitated, but then decided she’d better get the dog’s coat. She went upstairs, let herself into Lannie’s room, and quietly closed the door behind her. “While I’m in here, I might as well do a little detective work,” she told herself.

  She wasn’t sure what she was looking for, but she figured she’d know it when she found it. First, she unzipped Lannie’s suitcase and took a look inside. Aside from expensive brands of clothing, there wasn’t much of interest. She sniffed around inside the bag, but all it smelled like were freshly laundered clothing and perfume. She found two of Pumpernickel’s coats and a few designer leashes, and she set these aside. Bored with the luggage, she unzipped Lannie’s purse. Inside it were a variety of anti-anxiety medications, stress relief creams, and a velvet bag labeled Healing Stones and Crystals. Inside the bag were colorful stones and some crystals, exactly as described. She opened Lannie’s w
allet. It held numerous credit cards, nearly one thousand dollars cash, and a variety of coffee shop punch cards. In the little plastic holder in the front of the wallet was a picture of Lannie and the very attractive man who most likely was her husband Tom. They were dressed up like they were at a wedding or some other fancy event, and they appeared to be head over heels in love. Klarinda turned on the lamp to study it a little more closely, just as the door squeaked open.

  Klarinda and Benji both jumped and screamed at once.

  “Oh my goodness! We can’t jump up here,” Klarinda exclaimed, clutching her hand to her chest and looking around in a wild-eyed panic. “I’m afraid the whole place is going to come tumbling down,” she explained.

  “That’s crazy,” Benji said.

  Klarinda stuffed Lannie’s wallet back into her purse and set the purse where she’d found it on the sofa. She picked up Pumpernickel’s coats. “What are you doing in here?” she asked Benji, regaining her composure.

  “What are you doing in here?” asked Benji.

  “Looking around. After all, I own this place,” Klarinda said, giving Benji a nudge out of the way as she stepped back out of Lannie’s suite and into the hallway. She took the master key from her pocket and locked the door. “We shouldn’t be up here. I’m going back downstairs and you should too.”

  “You might own this place,” said Benji, “but you don’t own me.”

  “Don’t you think it’s a little creepy? Sitting up here all alone, with everything that has gone on here in the past day?”

  “Everything about this place is creepy,” snapped Benji. “I feel safer up here in my room than down there with you and those other losers.”

  “Fine. Suit yourself,” said Klarinda.

  She went back downstairs and found Pumpernickel napping on the ottoman in front of the fireplace in the parlor. Christopher was still nowhere to be seen. Klarinda tried to block out the bad feeling in the pit of her stomach telling her to check on him. Instead, she dressed the little dog in her coat and they went outside.