Murder at Mistletoe Manor: A Mystery Novella

by Holly Tierney-Bedord

  “That sounds like her,” said Klarinda. “But there are two guests left. Benjamina McKellar is her name – not Brittany like you guys keep calling her -- and Christopher Murdock.”

  “And this Christopher Murdock… He’s alive? Or is that the name of another one of the casualties?” asked Deputy Franklin.

  “He’s alive,” said Klarinda.

  “We’ve got to get Travis to take better notes,” said the sheriff.

  “Would you like to speak to Christopher or Benji?” Klarinda asked the officers, desperate to get their ill-directed focus off herself and her underwear drawer.

  “That sounds like a good idea,” said the sheriff. “Deputy Franklin, here, will sit down with them while the coroner and I remove this deceased guest from the premises.”

  “You’re going to remove her?”

  “Yes,” said the sheriff. And then, in what Klarinda considered to be a rather snotty tone, “Is that okay with you?”

  “It’s more than okay,” she said.

  “First though, I think it’s best if we take some photos of the room. Just in case we need them later,” said the sheriff.

  “Go right ahead,” said Klarinda.

  “Why don’t you show me to this Christopher person,” said Deputy Franklin, “since it seems he’s avoided nearly every interview we’ve conducted here.”

  “Sure. Follow me,” she said, leading the deputy back to the parlor. She opened the pocket doors that led from the front hallway to the parlor, revealing Benji, Myrtle, and Pierre immersed in a game of Skip-bo. A fire was dancing in the fireplace and Silver Bells was playing on the radio that Pierre had brought in from the kitchen. Pumpernickel looked up from her spot on the ottoman, sighed an adorable, tiny sigh, and went back to sleep.

  “How quaint,” said Deputy Franklin. “Are you Christopher?”

  “No,” said Pierre. “I’m the chef here at Mistletoe Manor. I have been for over a dozen years.”

  “Is that right? So you must see everything that goes on around here?” asked Deputy Franklin, not bothering to hide the aggression in his voice.

  You’re looking less hot all the time, Klarinda thought, deciding she’d go back to focusing her attention on Todd Healy.

  “Not really,” said Pierre. “I’m in the kitchen most of the time, or my apartment, right behind the inn. I’m a homebody. I don’t go out much. I don’t even have a car. I’ve already been interviewed by a different officer. Am I in some kind of trouble?”

  “No,” said the deputy. “No one’s in any trouble. What about you?” he said, turning to face Benji. “Are you the one that told Officer Wells that police officers have low IQs?”

  “I’m the one who told Officer Wells that police officers have low IQs,” said Benji. “And I was only stating a fact. If you were smarter, you’d know I’m right. Am I under arrest for saying that, or is it still a free country?”

  “Why don’t you come into the dining room with me and we’ll talk for a little bit,” he suggested.

  “No thanks,” said Benji.

  “Are you kidding me?” asked the deputy.

  “I’m dead serious,” she said.

  Myrtle, Pierre, and Klarinda all exchanged looks of surprise.

  “A lot of strange happenings have been going on here at Mistletoe Manor,” Deputy Franklin said, his handsome, chiseled face growing red, “and we need to get to the bottom of it.”

  “Sometimes people are unfortunate,” said Benji, “and accidents happen.”

  “I don’t see why you won’t sit down and talk to me,” said the deputy, softening his tone a little.

  “In the wrong hands, information can be twisted. Feeble minds can get confused,” said Benji. “I’d rather not speak to you without the presence of a lawyer.”

  “A lawyer!” Deputy Franklin laughed. “No one needs to involve lawyers. I just want to talk to you.”

  “Is Christopher still in the bathroom?” asked Klarinda. “I’m asking because I think someone ought to interview him for a change.”

  “He went running off again,” said Myrtle.

  “Excuse me,” the sheriff interrupted, standing in the doorway between the parlor and the hall. “We’ve got a lot of plaster crumbling down into the bedroom of your apartment. Is someone walking around upstairs? If so, get them out of there. A hole that big can do a lot to destroy the stability of a building this old.”

  “I’ll see if Christopher’s up there,” said Klarinda, getting up and going to the hallway. She tentatively tiptoed up the stairs, expecting each step to bring down the entire inn.

  “Oh, hi,” said Christopher, just placing his hand on the top of the banister as Klarinda rounded the bend of the stairs.

  “What are you doing up here?” asked Klarinda.

  “Nothing. Just using the bathroom,” he said.

  “No one should be up here. In fact,” she said, “I think it would be best if you cleared out any of your remaining things that are still up here. I’ll get Benji’s bags, and that way neither of you will have to come up here again.”

  “Fine by me,” said Christopher, heading down the stairs.

  Klarinda went to Benji’s room. The door was wide open and her backpack – the only piece of luggage she’d brought -- was packed. Klarinda checked the adjoining bathroom and saw that everything was removed from the vanity top and in perfect order. She stepped back into the orange room and picked up the bag off the floor, but then something told her to look inside. She carefully unzipped the side pocket of the backpack, and was surprised to discover that inside was one of the plain invitations like the other guests had shown her. She took a quick look at it, saw it was an exact match to what the others had received, and then put it back where she’d found it and rezipped the pocket.

  Listening to make sure no one was approaching, she quickly unzipped the main compartment of the backpack. Inside it was a towel from the orange room’s guest bathroom, wadded up. There was no mistaking the flowered, one of a kind hand towel.

  “What the heck? Why is she stealing one of my towels?” Klarinda wondered to herself. She pulled the towel from the bag and in doing so, it opened up and a blood-crusted dog leash fell out onto the floor.

  Chapter 18

  “Where did everyone go?” Klarinda asked Myrtle, doing her best to keep her calm exterior intact.

  “The coroner and the sheriff just left with Lannie’s body.”

  “Fascinating,” said Klarinda. “So they really removed her body?”

  “They removed the rest of the bodies,” said Myrtle. “Why would they stop now?”

  “One minute it seems like they’re going to arrest me for murder, and the next minute they decide it’s not even a crime scene?”

  Myrtle shrugged. “Aren’t you kind of glad to have her out of there?” she lowered her voice, adding, “She was giving me the willies!”

  “Me too,” Klarinda admitted.

  “Pierre went back to his apartment to take some aspirin,” Myrtle continued. “He’ll be back soon. Deputy Franklin finally got Benji to talk to him. I guess she couldn’t resist his good looks. They’re in the dining room right now.”

  “And where’s Christopher Murdock?” asked Klarinda.

  “Darned if I know,” said Myrtle.

  “What’s that sound?” asked Klarinda.

  “Sounds like someone’s shoveling,” said Myrtle. “Maybe Christopher got bored and decided to be a little help around here.”

  “I highly doubt that,” said Klarinda, throwing on her boots and coat and heading outside. Christopher was out in the parking lot, using the inn’s snow shovel to dig out his car.

  “Rumor has it,” he said brightly, when he saw Klarinda approaching, “the road north of here has opened back up!”

  “I don’t think that leaving right now is a good idea,” she said.

  “I don’t think staying here is a good idea either,” he said, reasonably.

  “Well, suit yourself. But it’s still very dangerous out her
e. Even if they’ve reopened the road.”

  Christopher stuck the snow shovel into the pile of snow to his side, and leaned on it for a moment to catch his breath. “Some people might say it’s dangerous in there,” he said, before picking the shovel back up and continuing to dig. His car was warming up and chunks of snow and ice were sliding down the windows, melting away. The snow and wind had finally stopped. For the first time in many days, Windy Pines was spookily still and quiet.

  The front door of the inn opened then and Deputy Franklin stepped outside.

  “I guess you heard,” he called to Klarinda, as he made his way toward his truck, “the sheriff and the coroner took your guest Alanna away.”

  “I heard,” she said, turning and starting across the parking lot. “Could you hold up for a minute, Deputy?”

  “I can’t,” he said. “I just got a call about an accident out on Steep Chapel Road. It sounds like it might be serious.”

  “This is important,” she said.

  “What is it?” he asked, unable to hide his impatience.

  Klarinda was by the deputy’s side now, and she realized that the sound of shoveling had stopped. She looked back to see Christopher scooping ice and snow from his headlights.

  “I found a leash. A blood-covered leash,” she said to the deputy. She clutched his arm, forcing him to listen to her.

  “You found a leash?” he repeated, far too loudly.

  “Shhh!” she hissed. “Yes.”

  “Where did you find this blood-covered leash?” he asked, a little more quietly, but with an incredulous tone Klarinda couldn’t miss.

  “In Benji’s bag.”

  “Interesting,” said the deputy. “Can you show it to me?”

  “It’s upstairs, but I think before I do that, you’d better make an arrest first, before it’s too late.”

  “Benji’s not going anywhere,” said the Deputy. “I just saw her inside, digging into a big bowl of ice cream, mumbling about typos on a menu.” He nodded, picturing her. “As guilty as could be,” he added.

  “I’m not talking about arresting Benji,” said Klarinda. “I’m talking about arresting Christopher Murdock.”

  Behind them was the sound of Christopher’s car door closing. He shifted the car into gear and slowly began driving down the path he’d shoveled for himself. He waved amicably as he inched past them.

  “You need to catch him,” Klarinda said. “You need to go after him now,” she told them Deputy.

  “Now, you say you found a leash?”

  “He’s getting away!”

  “What makes you think he’s guilty if you found the leash in Benji’s bag?” asked Deputy Franklin.

  “Please! You need to go after him! Call your squad! He’s heading north. At least that’s what he said. Who knows where he’s really going, though?”

  “If he’s heading out of town, he’s going to have to head north. There’s currently no other option,” the deputy agreed, scratching his head and glancing at his watch.

  “Please, Deputy Franklin,” Klarinda begged. “Can’t you please go after him? Or do I need to do it myself? I’ve got new snow tires on my truck.”

  She waited for him to call her bluff, but he just looked at her, unimpressed.

  “Fine. I guess I’ll take matters into my own hands.” She stomped off in the direction of the garage, pulling the shovel Christopher had just used from the snowbank on her way past it. She began shoveling at the three foot high snowdrift in front of the garage door.

  “This is ridiculous,” said the deputy. “Let’s go back inside and you show me this leash.”

  “Whatever you say,” said Klarinda, throwing down her shovel. “A murderer is driving away right now and you don’t even care.”

  Deputy Franklin begrudgingly picked up his police radio. “What kind of car was he driving?” he asked Klarinda. “I wasn’t paying attention.”

  “A green Subaru Outback with Montana license plates,” she said. “I’m not sure what year it is. Not brand new. Maybe five or ten years old?”

  “I’ll call it in, but you’d better be right,” he said.

  Chapter 19

  “Get these handcuffs off me! Get them off me right now!” Benji hollered, thrashing against the stair railing.

  “Is this really necessary?” asked Klarinda. “She’s not guilty. I have about twenty reasons why it could only be Christopher, if you’d just hear me out.”

  “Would you quit trying to outthink me?” Deputy Franklin said to Klarinda. “And you! Relax,” he told Benji.

  “I’ve got to agree with the deputy that if you wouldn’t mind preserving my lovely wooden railing, I’d really appreciate it,” Klarinda whispered.

  “You can both go to hell!” screamed Benji. “Call me a lawyer.”

  “You’re a lawyer. Ha ha,” said Deputy Franklin.

  “Real professional,” said Klarinda. “Have you heard back from any of the other officers? Have they caught the actual murderer yet?”

  Deputy Franklin gave Klarinda a warning look, refusing to answer her.

  “I think we need to hear Klarinda out,” Myrtle said.

  “I’m with Klarinda,” said Pierre. “With everything that’s gone on here, Christopher shouldn’t have been allowed to leave. Why’d you let him drive off like that?”

  “Fine,” said Deputy Franklin. He turned to Klarinda. “Spit it out. Why do you think that Christopher is guilty, when the only piece of evidence we have is a bloody leash, found in this woman’s bag?”

  “Why would she have hidden it in her own bag?” Klarinda said.

  “Thank you,” said Benji.

  “Because maybe she’s not that bright,” said the deputy.

  “I have a one sixty IQ. I went to Harvard on a full scholarship. I’m an international spelling bee champion. What else do you need to know about me?” yelled Benji.

  “Why were you invited here, when you never attended the same boarding school as the rest of them?” asked the deputy.

  “You got me,” said Benji.

  “Do you want to hear my evidence about Christopher or not?” asked Klarinda.

  “Go right ahead,” said the deputy.

  “Okay,” said Klarinda. All eyes were on her. “First of all,” she said, trying to keep her voice from shaking, “he had a connection to Mistletoe Manor. He proved that when he knew the old commercial that hadn’t played for years.”

  “So he knew some commercial,” said the deputy. “So what?”

  “Well, whoever brought this group together wouldn’t have picked this inn out of the blue. They had to have some connection. I think Christopher was a lawn boy here. I think he worked with Officer Wells, and that’s why every time Travis Wells came around, Christopher would rush off pretending to have stomach cramps.”

  “That’s quite the stretch,” said Deputy Franklin.

  “Maybe,” said Klarinda, “but it explains why he was so surprised to see me when he first showed up here. He was asking me whether this was my place. I think he was expecting to find his old boss, Mr. Peterman. I think Christopher had a whole list of people he was getting revenge on. Plenty of people hated Mr. Peterman. He was notoriously cruel to his staff. I think if Ralph Peterman was still the innkeeper of Mistletoe Manor, he’d also be dead right now.”

  Myrtle and Pierre looked at each other and each gave small nods of agreement. “He wasn’t the nicest guy to work for, and he was even worse to the kids who worked here in the summer,” Pierre agreed.

  “Whoever arranged this had access to the basement here, at some point, when those old invitations got stolen,” Klarinda added.

  “There used to be stacks of them in the guestrooms and the parlor for guests to use if they wanted to write letters while they were staying here,” said Myrtle. “Sorry to contradict you,” she added, “but any guest could have gotten a hold of a pile of them.”

  “But the ones that arrived here all smelled musty,” said Klarinda. “I’m pretty sure they came from
that box of extras in the basement.”

  “Why would Christopher want to murder his old friends?” asked the deputy.

  “Maybe because they were all a bunch of assholes,” said Benji.

  “Or,” said Klarinda, “maybe because they were all more successful than him. Or maybe he had been in love with Avery Burtz?”

  “With who?” asked the deputy.

  “Never mind,” said Klarinda. “The point is, he hated bullies. In fact, he even had a shirt that said so! And he was here to eradicate them.”

  “And where does she fit in to all of this?” asked the deputy, nodding toward Benji.

  “Did you ever bully Christopher Murdock?” Myrtle asked Benji.

  “How dare you accuse me of anything?” spat Benji, making poor Myrtle jump back in surprise. “I’ve never bullied anyone,” the orange haired young woman declared.

  “You’ve bullied me!” said Deputy Franklin.

  “Me too,” said Myrtle. “You tore me apart just a half hour ago when I forgot to bring you a spoon with your ice cream. And honestly, I’m feeling a little bullied right now.”

  “And you sent your ice cream back to the kitchen because I forgot to put rainbow sprinkles on it,” said Pierre.

  “That’s not bullying. It’s quality control,” said Benji.

  “Call it what you will,” said Klarinda, “and I’d also call it bullying, but I still think you’re innocent.”

  “So,” the deputy said to Benji, “tell us where you fit in to all this.”

  “Maybe Christopher Murdock had issues with me. Personal issues. I’ve seen it before,” said Benji. “Many, many times, in fact. Maybe I beat him out of some scholarship we both applied for. Maybe he came in second to me in some spelling bee when we were kids. I think that’s it. He brought me here to get even with me. He brought me here to frame me! I’m the real victim in all this!”