by Louise Clark
Wide-eyed, Noelle watched the busy scene, her hand tightly clutched in Christy's. On Noelle's other side, Quinn also surveyed the scene. "This," he said, "is chaos."
Christy laughed. She was having a lovely time. Christmas shopping was usually a quiet business since she'd become a Jamieson, with visits to exclusive shops where the staff spoke deferentially and were never far away, or home visits by store managers who brought a representative selection of exquisite goods with them for Christy to review and choose. She'd forgotten how much fun the hubbub of a busy mall could be.
"Mom," said Noelle, "Can I ride on the little train?"
The awe in her voice made Christy laugh again. "Of course. Do you want me to go with you or will you be okay on your own?"
Noelle sucked in a deep breath, opened her mouth, then closed it again. Christy had a feeling she was about to ask that her mom accompany her, but when she tried again, she said, "On my own."
"Brave girl," Quinn said, rubbing her cheek with his knuckle and smiling at her. Noelle beamed and scampered ahead as they went to buy tickets. When Quinn had offered to come along today, Christy was delighted. It would be like a family outing and having Quinn suggest it made her say yes immediately.
The next time the train stopped to pick up passengers, Christy helped Noelle find a place midway along the parade of cars. Ahead of her was a father holding a bemused one-year-old, while behind sat one of the boys from her class. As soon as he recognized Noelle, he began to brag about the number of times he had ridden the train. She sniffed and ignored him, holding her head high and assuming an air of unflappable boredom. In that instant she looked so much like Ellen that Christy uttered a soft cry.
"What?" Quinn said.
Christy shook her head. "Nothing bad. There was just a moment when I saw Ellen in Noelle's expression."
"And it reminded you of all the problems stacking up around you."
Christy nodded.
Quinn took her hand and squeezed it comfortingly. "Enjoy the moment, Christy. Look at Noelle. She's having a ball."
When Christy looked, she saw that Quinn was right. There was a huge grin on Noelle's lips, though she hung on to the side of the car with a death grip. As the train chugged slowly around the track, Noelle began to look around and her hold on the car eased.
"I bet once this ride is over she'll want another," Quinn said. He appeared to be watching the train with as much enjoyment as Noelle was having riding it.
Christy elbowed him. "You look like you're itching to have a go round yourself."
His face lit up and he laughed. "My parents used to take me to the park where the miniature train enthusiasts have a permanent setup. The place is huge and the tracks go through tunnels and up and down hills. It was an awesome way to spend an afternoon."
"Good memories," Christy said.
"Yeah." He looked down at her, the smile still on his mouth. "We'll take Noelle there when they open up in the summer. There's a picnic area on site. We can make a day of it and we'll all ride the trains."
"Sounds like a plan," Christy said. She found herself lost in his gaze and thought that this day would linger forever in her memory as special.
The train's whistle hooted as it neared the junction point. Catching sight of her mother, Noelle waved frantically, a huge grin on her mouth, her nerves forgotten. Christy waved back as the train rattled past for its second circuit. When the engine finally drew to a stop, Noelle bounded off her seat, excited, happy, and demanding—as Quinn had predicted—a second ride. There was a lineup though, so Christy suggested they do some shopping first, then come back to do the train once more and to visit Santa.
Noelle's eyes lit, then she frowned. "I'd like another ride, Mom, but can I visit Santa later?"
It was Christy's turn to frown. "Why? We're here now."
Noelle dipped her head and stared at her feet, not answering.
Christy looked at the milling crowd around them. The lineup for Santa visits snaked past the train tracks and wound around a corner toward an exit door. People were jostling others to make their way around the display and the train tracks to the big department store beyond. There was noise and action and so much going on. Noelle was probably frazzled. The train ride would be enough for today. Santa would be at the mall for a while yet. "Okay, kiddo. We'll come back later. Maybe one afternoon after school when the mall isn't so crowded and Santa has more time to visit with the kids who come to see him."
Reassured, Noelle looked up and beamed.
"Let's go shopping," Quinn said.
"Yeah!" Noelle said.
Quinn found Christy's hand and took it in his. She looked up at him as she felt his warm skin against hers. He smiled down, a question in his eyes. She grinned in return and eased a little closer to his body. Satisfaction gleamed in his gaze and he squeezed her hand. The moment of unspoken communication pushed her pleasure in the day a notch higher. The stresses of the past week seemed very far away as they set off on the hunt for the perfect gifts for Grandma and Grandpa Yeager.
At the bookstore, Noelle found a pretty bound book for her grandmother to write in and a few doors down, a fancy tie for her grandfather. Christy supplemented these gifts with a lovely set of jade earrings and a necklace carved in the form of a thunderbird for her mother and a beautifully carved cedar box designed to resemble a totem pole for her father. They wound up the afternoon with a stop for a snack at one of the small restaurants in the mall. Quinn treated Christy to a glass of wine, while Noelle had a milkshake and regained the energy that had been flagging at that point.
They headed home after a final visit to the miniature train. This time Noelle demanded Christy record the event by taking photographs with her phone as she rode around the track. Laughing, Christy agreed. She snapped some shots of the Santa enclosure at the same time. Just in case Noelle wanted to reassure herself a visit to Santa would be fun, not scary.
"I want to show Mr. Three and Roy my train ride, Mom!" she announced as they pulled into the Armstrongs' driveway. She had talked non-stop all the way home, filled with a sugar overload from the milkshake and an afternoon of fun.
"I'm not sure Mr. Three will be there, honey," Christy said. "And maybe Roy will be writing. We shouldn't disturb him if he is."
Quinn laughed as he cut the engine. "My dad will be delighted. Come on, moppet," he said to Noelle. "Let's go find him."
"Yeah! Can I have your phone, Mom?" Noelle was the first one out of the car and she was up the stairs and knocking on the front door, the cell phone clutched to her chest.
Christy and Quinn followed more slowly. Ahead of them the door remained firmly closed. Noelle raised her fist and hammered another impatient series of knocks with the flat of her hand.
"Noelle," Christy said sharply. "Manners. Give Roy time to answer before you knock again."
"But Mom!"
Christy frowned at her.
Noelle managed to look contrite. "Sorry—"
The door opened. Roy, his expression distracted, blinked at Quinn and Christy, then realized Noelle was the one who had been knocking. He looked down at her and raised his brows as she waved the cell at him. "Your mom bought you a new phone?"
"No! This is hers. It has pictures of me on the little train. Want to see them, Roy?" Noelle demanded, hopping from foot to foot.
Roy opened the door wider. "The miniature train from Confederation Park?"
"They were set up in the mall, by the Santa enclosure," Quinn said.
A dreamy look flashed over Roy's face, then he smiled at Noelle and ruffled her hair. "Sure. Come on up, little one. Three and your Aunt Ellen will want to look at them, too."
"Aunt Ellen is here? Yeah!" Noelle bolted into the house.
Roy remained behind. His smile faded as he looked from Quinn to Christy. "There's been an incident. We'll talk about it after Noelle has had a chance to show off."
A quick glance at Quinn showed Christy that he was feeling the same grim foreboding she was. "Is that why Ellen's h
ere?"
Roy nodded before he turned to head up the stairs.
Christy swallowed hard. "How bad?"
Roy glanced over his shoulder. "Really bad."
Quinn caught her hand and squeezed it. His support helped steady Christy. They'd handle it. Somehow they would handle whatever was about to come their way.
Noelle's voice floated down from the living room where she was energetically describing the train, Santa's castle, and her snack, in no particular order. As Christy reached the top of the stairs she saw Ellen sitting on one end of the sofa. Trevor was beside her at the other end. She was leaning forward, doing her best to keep up with Noelle's excited rambling, but from the confused expression on her face she was losing the battle.
Trevor sat with one leg resting on the other knee and his elbow on the arm of the sofa. He looked bemused. Evidently he wasn't even attempting to sort through the mountain of Noelle's details.
The cat was between them, seated in his usual tidy pose as he watched Noelle's performance.
When Roy reached the living room, Noelle scrutinized the apps on the cell phone and brought up the pictures Christy had taken. "Look. This is me on the little train. Isn't it awesome?"
She showed the pictures to Ellen, who jumped when the cat crawled up into her lap. Stormy was purring loudly and after a moment Ellen reached out to draw her hand from his head, along his back to his tail.
Noelle looked over her shoulder at Christy, a big grin on her face. Christy's heart melted. Despite the ominous news Roy mentioned, she wished she could capture this moment forever.
She heard the click of a camera and looked up to find that Quinn had his phone out. He smiled his crooked half smile and showed her the image. There was Noelle, delight on her face. Ellen smiling, her hand on the cat's back as she stared at the images on the phone Noelle was holding. Roy was beside Trevor and they were both looking at Ellen and the phone. There was a wistful expression on Roy's face, as if he was lost in memories. Trevor simply looked worried.
It was a moment Christy would keep in her heart forever and a photo she would cherish. She smiled up at Quinn. He worked the phone's keyboard, then said, "I e-mailed it to you."
"Thank you." The words were inadequate, but what she really wanted to do—put her hand up and drag his head down for a kiss—was inappropriate, so she had to hope that he'd understand from her expression and the inflection in her voice.
"You're welcome," he murmured. From his tone and the warmth in his eyes, he understood.
"Mom, can I show the pictures to Mary Petrofsky? Pleeease?"
"Yes, but only if you call first and make sure she's home, and that it's okay with her mom," Christy said.
Noelle plugged in the number, which she knew by heart, and retreated to the kitchen to talk to her friend. The adults in the living room chatted about the miniature train and Christmas shopping until Noelle returned a few minutes later.
Just inside the living room, she stopped, staged a pose with her arms flung wide and announced, "Mom! She's home and it's okay."
"Go," Christy said and smiled as her daughter bolted for the stairs. "Noelle, once you've showed the pictures to Mary, ask her mother to put my phone somewhere safe."
"Okay, Mom." She raced down the stairs. They heard the door slam. Noelle was on her way.
The echo of the closing door had hardly faded to silence when Roy said, without preamble, "Jacob Peiling was found dead in his office this morning."
Chapter 22
Christy stared at Roy. "How?" she asked.
"Anaphylactic shock. It appears to be an acute reaction to the peanut oil in the takeout dinner he'd been eating at his desk," Trevor said.
"Apparently Peiling had a very serious peanut allergy," Roy added.
"The cops are viewing it as an accidental death," Trevor said.
"How do you know?" Quinn asked. He was watching his father and Trevor, a frown between his eyes.
"It was on the morning news," Roy said. "Why?"
Quinn shrugged, but his frown didn't ease. "It's odd, that's all. A man dying from a reaction to a known allergy isn't news, it's a family tragedy. Are you sure the cops have called it accidental?"
Roy had settled into the armchair at Trevor's end of the sofa, so Christy picked up the cat and slipped between Ellen and Trevor, leaving Quinn the chair near Ellen. "Do you think Patterson planted the story, Quinn?" she asked. "That Dr. Peiling was actually murdered, but the cops don't want it to become common knowledge yet?"
"Could be," Quinn said.
Trevor brightened. "Well, if that's the plan, it's good news for us."
"Why?" Christy asked.
"Trevor stayed at my condo last night," Ellen said. She lowered her eyes demurely as she blushed a pleasing shade of pink.
Christy stared at her. The blush was provoking mental images she didn't want to visualize. She had a sudden realization that Ellen Jamieson, a person obsessed with following the rules of proper behavior and social etiquette, was also a woman who wanted to feel needed and appreciated.
"I was so upset. I couldn't use my bed, even though Trevor and Roy very kindly replaced the mattress and box spring for me. I knew I wouldn't sleep anyway, so when Trevor took me back to the apartment, I asked him to stay. We sat in the living room all night. Talking, for most of it."
"Ellen has an iron-clad alibi for Peiling's death," Trevor chimed in. There was satisfaction in his voice. "If the professor was murdered in his office, there's no way Ellen could have done it. And if she wasn't involved in Peiling's death, that makes it less likely that she was the one who murdered Brittany."
Why?
Apparently forgetting that Quinn couldn't hear Frank and Ellen didn't even know that Frank was rooming with Stormy in the cat's body, Trevor said enthusiastically, "It's obvious, of course! Roger Day asked Peiling to keep an eye on his kid. Somehow the man must have discovered something about Brittany that threw light on who killed her. The murderer then got wind of it and decided Peiling had to go. Since Ellen couldn't have murdered Peiling, it's unlikely she was the one who murdered Brittany."
Ellen listened to this with rapt attention. Apparently she assumed Trevor had just continued his thought process without interruption. She said eagerly, "So you think the police might withdraw the charges against me?"
Trevor put on his poker face. Christy had the impression he didn't want to disappoint Ellen, but he was a lawyer. He knew the police were not always quick to change. "If they find proof that implicates someone else as thoroughly as the evidence they have on you, then yes, they will charge that other person."
Ellen's mouth quivered, then hardened. She sat a little straighter. "In other words, no."
So. We figure it out. That was already the plan anyway.
Trevor glared at the cat. "Easier said than done."
I have faith in Chris. She came through for me when no one believed I was dead. It was Chris who figured out who killed me. She'll come through for Aunt Ellen.
Ellen was staring at Trevor, a confused expression on her face. Christy decided it was time to intervene before Trevor and Frank pushed them all into admitting to Ellen that they were in communication with her dead nephew. She'd never believe that, but it would be even worse if they had to admit that the consciousness of said nephew was residing in the cat presently sitting on Christy's lap.
"Quinn and I figured out who killed Frank. We'll do the same for this case." She looked around the room. "We need a plan of action. Let's start with what we know."
There were nods all around.
"Brittany Day was killed on my terrace, while I was in my bedroom mere yards away." There was a quaver in Ellen's voice but she cleared her throat and continued. "I did not do it, but whoever did could have killed me as well."
"Whoever killed Brittany chose your condo for a reason," Roy said. He cast Ellen a compassionate look. "You were targeted, though I don't think your life was ever in any danger. He or she wanted to frame you for the murder."
> "Good point," Quinn said. "Let's look at motive. Why kill Brittany Day? What has she done recently that would make someone willing to end her life?"
"I don't think a sex scandal is enough cause," Roy said thoughtfully.
"There is no sex scandal. That is pure fabrication! I am not gay and Brittany Day was not my lover!"
Stormy's whiskers twitched. Glad we got that one sorted out. The voice was rueful and maybe a little relieved.
"So it must be the alibi for Aaron," Quinn said.
"We know she lied about what happened that night, so the alibi was false." Christy frowned. "That puts the DeBolt family in the forefront of our list of suspects. But there are others too. She had bad relationships with the TAs and she implied to her father that someone was blackmailing her. That suggests an EBU connection. Dr. Peiling's death also supports a university connection."
"Was Peiling's death a murder, though?" Trevor said. "The news report called it a tragic accident and the loss of a gifted researcher. Maybe we're completely wrong and Peiling simply didn't take enough care of his health."
"Jacob Peiling made no secret of his allergy. Indeed, he mentioned how severe it was every time he hosted a social evening that included appetizers. And they always included food of some kind," Ellen said. Her tone was tart, her expression disapproving. "He was exceedingly careful about what he ate. It wasn't enough that there were no peanuts or peanut products used in the cooking. He also refused to eat anything that might have been prepared with a utensil that had touched peanut products. He was so concerned about the allergy that he carried his EpiPen on him in the breast pocket of his suit jacket."
"He died in his office," Trevor said, "so he probably wasn't wearing a jacket."