by C Farren
Lenny looked hurt. He said, “I found the reindeer after Kerry crashed the car into the toy store. It was just wandering around, bleeding. Someone had already removed the diamond.”
The reindeer was running about the garden now, playing. It looked happy. Wren hated the fact that someone had mutilated the poor thing to hide a diamond. It was animal cruelty, plain and simple.
“Who else but Everett knew about it?” Wren asked.
“Nobody,” said Lenny. “That’s why I think Everett has it. He has to have it.”
“I don’t know what to believe.”
He smiled at the frolicking reindeer. “You’ve grown cynical, Wren.”
“And you’re a criminal. I thought you’d come back unchanged by your life in prison, but I was wrong.”
He looked at her like she’d hit him. She didn’t like giving her friend home truths but he needed to know.
“Are you going to tell the sheriff or Keegan any of this?” he asked calmly. “I wouldn’t.”
Wren’s eyes widened in shock. “Are you threatening me?”
“No! No!” he protested. “Wren, you’re my friend. I’ve done nothing illegal. It was immoral, maybe, but not illegal.”
“That’s debatable.”
Fiona cleared her throat and looked at Wren sternly. She ignored her.
“Please Wren,” Lenny begged. “If they know about the diamond, they’ll think I killed Delia. I don’t want Keegan to think I’m that kind of person.”
“Stay away from Keegan,” Wren stated. “And stop texting him and inviting him over. Stop giving him false hope. He doesn’t need you.”
“I beg to differ.”
Wren was at a crossroads. Should she trust one of her oldest friends, or inform the police on him? She was so torn.
“I don’t know you,” said Fiona, addressing Lenny. “I’m going to be impartial in all this. It seems to me that you have been changed by your stint in prison, but not enough that you would murder someone. You didn’t kill Delia.”
“Thanks,” said Lenny. “Fiona, is it?”
“You’re going down a bad path. You know that. You have to give up this search for the diamond. You have to settle down and become the person your friends used to love, otherwise you won’t have anything left.”
“I can’t give up on the diamond.”
“Is it worth becoming even darker than you are now? Do you like who you are now, a man who pulls a gun on people, who makes deals, who rummages around in demolished buildings while people around him are hurt? Is that the person you want to be?”
Lenny shook his head. “The diamond was all I had to keep me going. My family didn’t want me. Keegan didn’t want me.”
“You have Wanda. You have me. Keegan is coming around. You could have everything.”
“You just told me to stay away from Keegan. Make your mind up.”
“Lenny...”
Wren tried to take his hand but he pushed it away.
No...
“I have to find the diamond,” Lenny stated. “With or without your help.”
“I won’t tell Sheriff Fisher, but I am disappointed in you.”
She walked away, the reindeer making noises in the back garden behind her. She still wasn’t sure what to do, but for the time being she would keep Lenny’s secret safe. When she found out who killed Delia then she would inform the sheriff.
When they got outside Wren had to sit down on Wanda’s wall. She was emotionally drained.
“That didn’t go as I expected,” Wren admitted. “It all felt so bitter and horrible. It was like talking to a stranger.”
“I honestly don’t know what to think,” said Fiona. “But I for one wouldn’t cross him off my suspect list just yet.”
“I haven’t even made a list yet.”
“Then perhaps we should start. It might help to focus your thoughts.”
They headed to the Metropolitan. Gracie was already there, having chewed open the box of coffee filters. She was rolling around in a pile of filters, meowing and pawing at the air, hyped up on life. Her little belly already looked swollen, as did her nipples.
I wonder what the kittens are going to look like?
Wren shook her head. For a second there she had been jealous of her own cat. That was silly.
“Right,” said Fiona. She zeroed in on the laptop and sat by it. She opened up a notepad. The angel was a whiz with modern technology now. “Where do we start?”
Everett Rickard – He was involved in the diamond thing with Lenny. He hated his mother. He was also, maybe, having an affair. Did Delia know about the diamond? Did she know about the affair? Or did Everett kill her because of years of emotional abuse?
Chelsea Rickard – She had also spent years suffering at the hands of her mother-in-law.
Kerry Rickard – I still don’t believe her story about the crash. Something doesn’t add up.
Camden King – Sorry, Uncle Camden, but Delia tried to ruin your marriage.
Jenny King – Sorry, Aunt Jenny, but Delia tried to ruin your marriage.
Lenny – Lenny was seen to threaten Delia. He claimed it was a misunderstanding, but I don’t believe him. Was Delia somehow involved in the diamond operation? Did Lenny kill Delia because she took the diamond?
The list seemed long, longer than the one she’d made for Garrett’s murder. The case was complicated enough already, but this only showed what an enormous task she had ahead of her.
“Who had the most to gain should Delia die?” Fiona mused.
“They all did,” said Wren. “That woman was a complete monster. They loved her, and of course they’d miss her, but you can’t not feel huge relief when someone who makes your life a constant misery is suddenly gone.”
“I know what you mean,” said Fiona. “I loved my father so much, but when he died from the Spanish flu, I felt relief. His drinking was just ruining the family.” The angel looked like she was trying really hard not to cry. “He hit my mom, and he shouted at her, and...” She cleaned her glasses with the sleeve of her dress, calm. “Anyway, from what I can see not one person really, truly hated Delia enough to kill her.”
“There are still things we don’t know. What if Delia knew about the diamond? That would give Everett and Lenny plenty of motive to kill her. And what about Veronica? What has she got to do with all this?”
“Maybe Camden lied. Maybe he did sleep with Delia.”
She hadn’t considered this. It was a possibility. Wren vaguely remembered a scandal from twenty years ago involving Camden and the mother of one of Reba’s friends. Had it been an affair? Did Camden have a history of cheating on his wife? What if Camden killed Delia to shut her up? Or what if Jenny killed Delia because she’d had enough of her philandering husband?
Mom would know what really happened. She knows all the family gossip.
“There’s a lot of suspects now,” said Fiona. “I’m confused.”
“We have to carry on,” said Wren. “We have to solve this.”
“Are you still doing this to prove to Lenny’s family that he didn’t do it?”
She shook her head. “No. I’m doing this to prove to myself that he didn’t do it.”
Chapter 20
“Come in,” Dot called, inviting them inside. She was in a jolly mood, full of smiles. “Come in! I’m trimming the tree.”
Wren spotted Anthony, her mother’s ex-lover. “What’s he doing here?”
“He suddenly turned up with a gift for me, and so I had to give him some hot cocoa. I’m always a hospitable host first and foremost.”
Anthony was hanging a red bauble on the tree. He gave her a kindly smile, but Wren just ignored him. She couldn’t have this. Her father had only been in jail a few months and this man was sniffing around her mother like a dog in heat.
“We’re not up to anything scandalous,” Dot protested. “He’s just a friend now. I need friends at a time like this.”
“I don’t like it,” Wren said grumpily.
Dot led them into the kitchen. There was a huge wrapped gift on the table. It was about the size of a microwave.
“Is that it?” Wren demanded crossly.
“Stop being so high and mighty,” Dot snapped. “You’re starting to get on my nerves.”
Wren sat down, staring at the offending gift. She trusted her mother, but she didn’t trust Anthony. He was a lothario. He’d seduce her mother again the moment her back was turned.
“I ordered you a tree,” said Dot, placing a plate of cookies on the table. “I knew you hadn’t got one and I can’t abide a tree-less house.”
“I was getting around to it,” said Wren, taking a cookie. It was as hard as diamond. She nearly broke a tooth on it. Her mother wasn’t a very good baker. “I’ve just had a lot on my mind.”
“Investigating murders will do that to you.”
So she knew. It was typical. The whole town probably knew she was looking into Delia’s murder by now. She didn’t like people talking about her privately in their homes.
“What do you know of Camden?” Wren asked. She stuck to what she came for. Her mother wouldn’t be swayed about Anthony. “He told me that Delia tried to seduce him and threatened to ruin his marriage.”
Dot eyed her wearily and said, “Hmm.”
“That’s what I want to know. There was a scandal a while back. Is Uncle Camden capable of having an affair?”
Her eyes travelled to Anthony, who was precariously trying to plant a bauble on a high branch. She hoped he fell into the tree.
“Camden is a great man,” said Dot. “He’s a wonderful father and I respect him a lot, but many years he had an affair.”
Wren was shocked, though not surprised. “Does Jenny know about it?”
“Of course she does. Who do you think she confides in? I’m her best friend.”
“No wonder she looks so... anxious all the time.”
Wren saw her aunt in a while new light now. How could the woman not be cold when she was worried her husband might be with another woman all the time?
“I’m disappointed in Camden,” Wren admitted. “He’s not the man I thought he was.”
“The affair was a long time ago. He’s been forgiven. He’s still a good man.”
Wren imagined Camden in his Santa suit, giving gifts to children. He was a good man. But how could she ever look at him again knowing what she knew?
“Why are you asking all this?” Dot asked. “Do you honestly think he slept with Delia and killed her to keep his secret? That’s preposterous!”
“I looked up to Camden,” said Wren. “Now I’m thinking I was mistaken.”
She couldn’t wait to leave. She didn’t want her mother to try and defend her uncle’s actions. He was a cheater. He made Aunt Jenny question her marriage and herself. Why did she put up with it? Why didn’t she leave him?
“You’re wondering why Jenny doesn’t leave,” Dot stated. “Perhaps you should ask her.”
“I will,” said Wren. “She’s on my list.”
“You’re not going to accuse her of murder, are you?”
Wren didn’t answer her. Of course she was. Jenny had an even bigger motive to murder Delia now.
WREN POPPED INTO THE Metropolitan to check on Gracie before she headed to see Aunt Jenny. Her cat was peacefully asleep on the counter, her whiskers twitching as she dreamed of cream and mice. She didn’t want to disturb her but she needed to go for her ultrasound. She had to be healthy.
Now where did I leave that cat carrier?
The door into the back rooms opened. Wren looked up to see Aarna.
“Oh hey!” Aarna called. “I let myself in.”
“Why?” Wren asked.
“I thought I’d have a look around the place,” Aarna explained. She had her ever-present cellphone in one hand. “I could come up with some ideas on how to make the décor more modern.”
“Jordan says I can’t change a thing.”
Aarna’s face fell. “Oh. I suppose it looks okay as it is.” She looked around and smiled. “I hear you’re investigating Delia’s murder. I wouldn’t bother if I were you. That woman was a pain.”
Wren was intrigued. How could a person who liked everything and everybody have such negative words to say about a local?
“What did she do?” Wren asked.
“She’s racist is what she is,” said Aarna. She was getting angry now. “She wouldn’t let me in her store when I was kid one time, and I overheard her talking, saying I must have been bathing in curry because I stank the place out. I told my mom and she had words with Delia. They were not pleasant. My mom is good in a fist fight is all I can say.”
Aarna left, leaving Wren thinking. Delia being racist wasn’t something she’d never considered, but it made sense now. Chelsea and Lenny’s father had been Native American, their mother white (and Wanda’s daughter). It explained why Delia had always hated Chelsea. Would that give Chelsea another motive to kill Delia?
She was about to put Gracie in her cat carrier when the door-bell jangled. It was Aunt Jenny. She didn’t look too pleased.
“I got a call from your mom while I was out shopping and I saw you come in here,” said Jenny. “Shall we start the interrogation now?”
“Aunt Jenny...”
“I was at home with Callista when Delia was murdered.” Callista was Camden and Jenny’s youngest daughter. She was paraplegic and still lived at home. “We were wrapping gifts. You can ask her.”
“I believe you.”
They awkwardly stared at each other for a few moments. Wren hadn’t expected her aunt to be so bitter.
“Why are you looking at me like you feel sorry for me?” Jenny asked. “Don’t feel sorry for me.”
Wren smiled. “Why do you put up with it? I would’ve dumped him years ago.”
“I stay with him because I love him.”
Wren pulled her aunt into a hug. The woman needed it.
“I admit I did despise Delia a little bit,” said Jenny. “A lot, actually. That woman blackmailed us for the sheer pleasure of it. But I learned a long time ago to turn the other cheek.”
“You should’ve gone to the police.”
“Maybe I should have. I would’ve loved to see her locked up.”
They talked about Christmas Eve dinner for a while. The entire family was going to Jenny’s house and she was excited. Not as much as Fiona, of course. The angel couldn’t wait to meet all the family members she hadn’t met yet.
When Jenny left Wren found the cat carrier. Gracie just walked in, as carefree as you like. She was obviously as concerned about her pregnancy as Wren was.
“It will be okay,” Wren assured her. “There’s nothing to worry about.”
Wren was worried. The last time she’d had an ultrasound herself, she had found a whopping great tumor. She only hoped her little cat was healthy.
Chapter 21
Everett wasn’t at the surgery that day. The locum vet, a young Asian woman called Doctor Anita Chang, said he was taking a few days off to grieve. Wren was highly dubious about that. He was most likely dancing on his mother’s grave or trying to sell the Christmas Diamond, if indeed he did have it.
The ultrasound was a success. Gracie was carrying five kittens and she was as healthy as she could be. Doctor Chang even congratulated Wren on how well the cat was looked after. Wren felt quite proud about that.
After taking Gracie back home and giving her bowl full of nibbles, Wren found Fiona baking in the kitchen. Why didn’t the angel want to come out with her this morning? What was she doing that was so important?
“What are you doing?” Wren asked, curious.
Fiona grinned and said, “I’m baking bread. I want to contribute something for Christmas Eve dinner. I don’t want Jenny making everything. Besides, they don’t know me. They don’t know I’m actually family.”
Fiona hurried over to the oven, pulled on some oven gloves, and to
ok a tray out of the oven. It was a perfectly baked, golden loaf of white bread. It filled the kitchen with such delicious aromas that Wren couldn’t help but want to eat it right away.
“Christmas Eve dinner is not for another week,” said Wren.
“This is just a practice loaf,” said Fiona. She took a long sniff of the bread and sighed in pleasure. “I used to bake bread all the time, for Joe and Mom and the boys in London. I loved it. There’s nothing better for a tired soldier after a long day shooting things than a slice of home baked bread.”
“It looks stunning.”
“Now all I have to do is churn my own butter. Do you have a butter churn?”
Wren laughed. “You know what? I do not.”
The angel shrugged and Wren left her to it. She couldn’t wait to see what her house smelled like when she got back.
THE BREAD HAD COME out perfect, which vexed Fiona. She thought she’d have to practice a bit first before she made the perfect loaf. Now she didn’t know what to do. She’d planned for a day of baking and now she had nothing.
She phoned Bill.
“Hello?” he answered.
“Hi,” she said shyly. Her voice wavered like it was being broadcast through a badly tuned radio. “Hello. Nice day.”
“It is.”
“Very cold though.”
“Yes. Very cold.”
“It’s Fiona by the way.”
“I know.”
She smiled. It was going well, and his flirting was outrageous. Fiona felt like she was being seduced by some gigolo.
“Do you like bread?” she asked.
“I love bread,” he answered.
She nodded. “Good.” She paused before saying, “Well, I, erm... my gazebo needs fixing. Yes. It’s broken or something.”
“Broken or something?”
“Yes. Can you come tomorrow?”
“Yes.”
She hung up and smiled a bit before she remembered that nothing good could come from this.
“But it still feels good,” she whispered.
THE NEXT PERSON ON Wren’s suspects list was Chelsea Rickard. She wasn’t looking forward to this one, figuring she might be tricky, so she went to the Metropolitan first and made two black coffees with nutmeg in them. A gift was always welcome, and it would give her an excuse to be as Chelsea’s house other than looking for Delia’s killer.