The Killer Christmas Sweater Club

by Terry Ambrose

  “You think that will help?”

  “It can’t hurt. I’ll lock up on my way out.”

  Rick returned to the office. As tired as Adam had been, his instinct to return and look for what they’d missed was a good one. Rick began a grid search, hopscotching around the mess. On his third section, he came to the desk. Kneeling down, he worked his way around the perimeter.

  A small strand of black wool lay on the floor. He took it to the window where there was the most illumination. Without a forensic analysis he had no way to tell if it was the same material as the sweaters Thorne gave out, but it certainly looked the same. Perhaps forensics could tell them if this came from the sweater found in Giselle’s car. He went to the kitchen in search of a plastic baggie.

  Unlike Thorne’s office, the kitchen had not been ransacked. It was the same throughout the house. If the killer had been angry, as Adam had speculated, why wouldn’t he have continued his rampage in at least one other room? Rick found an open box of plastic baggies in the bottom drawer of the cabinet across from the sink, sealed up the strand of wool, and slipped the baggie into his pocket.

  The only items on the dark green granite countertop were a set of knives in a wooden block, a toaster, and a stand mixer. Rick pulled each knife and checked for signs of blood. There were none, and there were no open slots in the knife block. Next, he opened the other cabinets. Plates, glasses, pots and pans were all neatly arranged.

  Leaning against the counter, Rick stroked his jaw and surveyed the surroundings. If the killer had even been in this room, there was probably no evidence. So in all likelihood, even if they combed every inch, they’d find nothing. He walked out of the kitchen and followed the hallway to the stairs. His heart pounded as he climbed to the second floor. He had to admit, being in this house alone with his curiosity as his only companion was a rush.

  The second floor landing opened to a narrow hallway. He turned right and peeked into the first doorway. A bed was centered on the far wall. It hadn’t been slept in. There was a clawfoot nightstand with a lamp, a clock radio, and a copy of War and Peace positioned next to the radio. Rick shook his head at the book selection. Who kept Tolstoy on their guest bedroom nightstand?

  The next bedroom was staged identically to the first with the exception of the novel on the nightstand. This time it was Crime and Punishment.

  Rick took a final look around the room and nodded to himself. “You were all about appearances. Weren’t you, Thorne?” He left the room and headed to the master bedroom.

  At the entrance, Rick stopped and took a photo. “Finally. A room that looks lived in,” he muttered.

  The closet doors were open and there was a wide opening between the clothes. This must have been Laurel’s space. The bottom drawer of an antique highboy with ornate legs was open and the drawer was empty.

  He took more photos, then went to the bathroom. There was an extra toothbrush, a bottle of lotion he’d seen at one of the stores in town, and a hairbrush on the countertop. The dark hair in the brush was about the same color as Laurel’s. But in one of the drawers, he found mascara, eye liner, and lipstick. Rick photographed the countertop and the drawer contents, then returned to the bedroom. How had Adam missed all of this?

  At the nightstand, he gazed down. No novel, but there was a pad of paper and a pen. He opened the drawer and laughed. Finally, he’d found Thorne’s junk drawer. Other than this small drawer and the office, the house almost reminded him of a home staged for sale. There was just something not quite right, though.

  In all three bedrooms, the surfaces had had a light coating of dust. Rick ran his finger over the top of the nightstand. The motion left a clean streak on the surface. He went downstairs to the kitchen and then directly to the stand mixer. He did the same test around the edge. The tip of his finger came away dusty. So Thorne was tidy, but he hadn’t been keeping up with his cleaning.

  Rick pulled out his phone and added a quick note to his text, asking if Thorne had a housekeeper. Then, he rushed back to Thorne’s office and went to the bookshelf.

  Sure enough, there was a light coating of dust on the flat surfaces. There were also small spots that were perfectly clean. Rick surveyed the mess on the floor, then took photos of everything on the floor, including closeups of the bookshelves. If he was right, the clean spots on the bookcase would give them a way to reconstruct which items went where on the shelf and possibly lead them to identifying the object used to smash in Thorne’s skull.

  It would be a long, painstaking process, but it might be the only way. Unless…Thorne was an attorney. He was secretive, but well-organized. Was he tidy, too? Maybe he had insurance photos. Rick added another note to the others and headed out the front door. He locked up and rushed down the stairs. Maybe Marquetta could shed some light on this aspect of Thorne’s life.

  CHAPTER 41

  RICK

  Rick pressed his palms against his eyes and took a slow breath. With his eyes closed, he listened to the chatter from Alex and Marquetta about Christmas and the open house. They seemed to have everything under control, and were enjoying the preparations. Suddenly, the conversation stopped. He leaned forward on the table and regarded both of them.

  Marquetta frowned and watched him closely. “Rick? Are you okay?”

  “I was just enjoying listening to the two of you. It’s such a refreshing change from everything that’s gone on today.”

  “What happened, Daddy?”

  “Deputy Cunningham and I went back to Thorne’s house, but Adam was so exhausted I sent him home. It sounds like he hasn’t slept in a couple of days.”

  “He’s under a lot of pressure,” Marquetta said. “He’s such a good guy, and he wants to get the chief’s job, but he’s just so inexperienced.”

  “Experience isn’t everything,” Rick said. “He’s dedicated and wants what’s best for the town. Unfortunately, he’s got to juggle so many priorities that he can’t get to the biggest one, finding Thorne’s killer. By the way, the salmon was fabulous.”

  Marquetta dropped her gaze and smiled. “Thanks. It was a team effort.”

  Rick picked up his glass and raised it. “Here’s to a good team.”

  Alex and Marquetta joined in the toast and the conversation went back to the open house. Marquetta had spoken with Mary O’Donnell and she was bringing miniature muffins from Crusty Buns. Ken Grayson had volunteered to provide hot hors d’oeuvres. And Marquetta said she and Alex were going to create a fabulous veggie tray.

  “So are you looking forward to Christmas, kiddo?”

  Alex nodded and grinned at Marquetta. “I can’t wait. It’s gonna be awesome…maybe we’ll find the killer for Christmas.”

  “Let’s hope for an early present,” Rick said. “Have you two come up with anything I can use?”

  “Your ace investigator is ‘blocked.’” Marquetta winked and gave Alex’s arm a gentle squeeze.

  Alex stuck out her lower lip and reached for her glass of milk. She took a sip, then said, “I’m not getting anywhere! It sucks.”

  “If it’s any consolation, kiddo, it’s going very slowly for me, too.”

  “Have you found anything at all?” Marquetta asked.

  “A couple of things, actually.” His eyes cut toward Alex as if to telegraph the message that he’d rather wait until Alex was not in the room.

  “What did you find, Daddy?” Alex’s eyes widened and she smiled at him. “Maybe we can help!”

  Rick rolled his neck in a circle. Apparently, waiting was not an option. But if Marquetta was watching her, maybe he could do this now. “I found a strand of black wool. It looks like it came from one of the sweaters Thorne gave out. Have you heard anything at all about who got those sweaters? We’ve accounted for five of the six, but we still don’t know who got the last one.”

  “Wish I could help,” Marquetta said with a shake of her head. “Do you know how they were delivered?”

  “A San Ladron delivery service. Adam called them and they wan
t a warrant before they tell us who the recipients were. It could be another few days before we find out. We’ll get the information sooner or later. It just feels like we’re wasting time when it should be so easy to get in a small town.”

  “I’ll ask around.”

  “The Cove Talkers?”

  Marquetta wagged a finger at Rick. “Don’t make fun of them. Their efficiency is scary. As an incentive to have helpers putting out the newsletter, they want to get all of the staff a T-shirt.” She stopped and looked at Alex. “Have you talked to your dad yet?”

  Alex shook her head, then bit her lower lip. “Daddy? Can I be a reporter for the Cove Talkers?”

  “No, kiddo. I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

  Marquetta chuckled as she leaned forward on her elbows. “What’s the matter, boss? You don’t want another reporter in the family?”

  “Mr. Van Horne asked me if I wanted to be a junior reporter.”

  Rick’s jaw tightened. The light of enthusiasm on Alex’s face was undeniable. He was the one who’d held her on his knee while typing late into the night. He was the one who later encouraged her to ‘help’ with his assignments to mitigate the effect of having an absentee mother.

  “I’ve created a monster,” he said. “Let me think about it, kiddo. Besides, right now we also have Thorne’s calendar to deal with and it’s all written in code.”

  “In code?” Alex cooed. “Cool.”

  “Not so cool, kiddo. We haven’t figured out what any of it means.”

  Rick gazed at the potted herbs by the window. They somehow gave him a sense of stability right now. Maybe it was the texture they added to the hard surfaces in the kitchen. He let his gaze wander over the counter. There were canisters, paper towels, a coffee maker. Everything on the countertops in this kitchen was used, even those herbs, which found their way into Marquetta’s cooking.

  “That’s what’s missing,” Rick said.

  “What, Daddy?”

  Rick did a double take and looked at Marquetta and Alex. “When I was in Thorne’s house I kept getting the feeling that everything in the home was for show. You know, like a house that had been staged for sale. Even the kitchen was lacking in any kind of clutter. The only things on the countertop were a mixer, a set of knives, and a toaster. There was no coffeemaker.”

  “Thorne may not have owned one, Rick. I think he went to Crusty Buns everyday. And I’m pretty sure he seldom cooked. He also had a housekeeper, so I doubt if he ever cleaned, either.”

  “Do you know who he used?”

  Marquetta smiled and then snickered. “Of course. It was Agnes Chambers.”

  “Was?”

  “She got fed up with Thorne’s demands, but didn’t feel she could afford to quit as long as her husband was alive. She had several other clients in town and made enough money to supplement his social security to keep them afloat. Why do you ask?”

  “Isn’t she the one opening up a B&B next to Thorne’s house?”

  “Happy Daze Bed & Breakfast. I think she came up with the name after she discovered her husband had a hundred-thousand-dollar life insurance policy. She was saying she was in such a happy daze because she had a little breathing room. The next thing I heard she stopped cleaning houses and decided to go into business.”

  “Does that mean she’ll take away some of our business?” Alex asked.

  “We don’t know, kiddo. My guess is that the San Manuel is going to continue bringing in plenty for both of us. Plus I think Adam said she’s only renting out two rooms.”

  “That’s what I’ve heard,” Marquetta said. “Enough about everybody else, what about our open house? Are you willing to pay for the wine?”

  “Sure. We don’t really have much in the way of beer, though.”

  “I’ll check with the owners of that new microbrewery. It’s called No Stale Ale. I’ve heard they’re interested in getting involved in the community.”

  “Great,” Rick said half-heartedly. A moment later, he asked, “So when did Agnes stop working for Thorne?”

  Marquetta’s brow wrinkled and she rolled her eyes. “You’re back to that? Why do you care about Agnes so much?”

  “Humor me, please. When did she stop cleaning for Thorne?”

  Marquetta shrugged. “I suppose it was a couple of months ago. Now, are you going to tell me what’s with all the questions? And why are you smiling so much?”

  “Because Thorne hasn’t done any dusting since Agnes quit.”

  “That’s no surprise. He wanted a new housekeeper to sign an NDA.”

  “What’s that?” Alex asked.

  “A nondisclosure agreement, Sweetie. It’s a way for him to make sure he could sue his housekeeper if he ever thought they told anyone about what he was working on. From what I heard, he hadn’t had much luck in finding anyone willing to work under those conditions.”

  Rick shook his head in disbelief. “I suspected he was paranoid, but this is ridiculous. It does make me wonder exactly what he was afraid of. The good news is the bookshelves clearly show the outlines of everything that was up there. I’m thinking we can reconstruct the contents and then we’ll know if anything is missing.”

  “A puzzle!” Alex planted both elbows on the counter and beamed at Rick. “That sounds like fun!”

  Marquetta’s eyes widened. “How many things did Thorne have on the shelves?”

  “Some trophies, books, a photo or two.”

  “You don’t fool me, Rick Atwood. It’s a big job, isn’t it?”

  “You could totally use a cheatsheet.”

  Rick chuckled at Alex’s suggestion. “You’re right, kiddo. We totally could—that’s why I’m hoping there are some insurance photos.”

  “Kinda like what we have for all the rooms?”

  “Exactly, kiddo.” Rick looked at Marquetta again. “Do you think Agnes would know where Thorne would have kept something like that?”

  Marquetta seemed to ponder the question for a moment, then said, “She was never one to talk about her clients, which is one of the reasons people liked her. You’ll have to ask her. Hopefully she’d be willing to tell you.”

  “She’s no longer working for him…and he’s dead. Why wouldn’t she?”

  “Let’s just say Agnes can be a little strange.”

  CHAPTER 42

  ALEX

  December 19

  Hey Journal,

  It’s hard to believe it’s less than a week to Christmas. This was an awesome day. I’m sad ‘cause Marquetta went home tonight. Daddy’s always happier when she’s around. Me, too. She said she had to leave ‘cause we’re gonna be super busy tomorrow. As long as my dad’s helping Deputy Cunningham, it’s gonna be hard to get them under the mistletoe. But I’m not giving up! It’s gonna happen. Just you wait!

  Daddy’s gonna be up in a few minutes to say goodnight and I’m gonna tell him I talked to Miss Potok. I wish there was more I could do to help with the investigation—and I think I have a way to do it.

  xoxo

  Alex

  While I wait for my dad, I hop in bed and look around. Me and Marquetta picked out the teal paint with the pale purple accent stripe across the top. Daddy made a fuss when Marquetta told him his line between the two colors wasn’t perfectly straight. I kinda think that’s when he fell in love with her.

  When Daddy knocks, I tell him he can come in. He does his usual thing and smooths out the covers. I don’t stop him ‘cause it makes him feel better—kinda like tucking me in means I’m not growing up. He sits on the side of my bed, leans over me, and strokes my hair. I bite my lip and wonder if this is the right time.

  “What?” He looks at me and strokes my hair again. “Something is going on in that head of yours, kiddo. I can see the wheels turning.”

  “Are you gonna be gone all day again tomorrow?”

  “Probably. This case is a giant time suck. I’m hoping Deputy Cunningham is getting some sleep tonight so he’s sharper tomorrow.”

  “Are you gon
na go talk to Mrs. Chambers?”

  “That’s my preference. If she can tell me where there are insurance photos, reorganizing those bookshelves would be so much easier.”

  “Maybe you need help. You know, like someone to work on the puzzle.”

  “I thought that might be where you were going. The answer is a firm no. Alex, this is a crime scene we’re talking about. We can’t have a bunch of people in the room.”

  He stops and puts a finger under my chin.

  “I’m sorry, kiddo. I know you’d like to help, but the best way to do that is for you to be here with Marquetta. If the B&B is running smoothly, I don’t have to worry about it.”

  I stick my lower lip out. Rats. My whole plan totally went down in flames. That’s what Daddy always used to say when one of his news story ideas got turned down. “So you don’t want any help?”

  He smiles at me. “You are helping. Here.”

  “Rejection sucks.”

  He laughs and shakes his head. “You are too much. You’re not being rejected. Keeping the B&B afloat is a very important job. And besides, I have a surprise for you. Devon is bringing over a Christmas tree. He was supposed to deliver it today, but something must have happened. I’m sure he’ll be here tomorrow. I don’t know what size he found, but we’ll be able to decorate the tree in time for Christmas.”

  I take in a quick breath and look at my dad. Whoa. This could be perfect. “You and me and Marquetta?”

  “I’m hoping she’ll help. She doesn’t know the tree is coming either. I wanted to surprise you both.”

  “Awesome!”

  “So we’re good? You’ll stay here and keep this place going while I help Deputy Cunningham?”

  “Okay. Can we put the tree by Weissville? Then all those little people who are waiting for the train would have a tree to look at.”

  Daddy’s smiling at me and nodding. “That’s where Devon said they used to put it. With the running train and a decorated tree next to each other, the living room will be a very festive place. Now, you need to get some sleep. There’s a lot going on tomorrow.”