"Oh, thank you so much. He'd love it," I said. "How much?"
"It's in such good shape I could probably get a pretty penny for it, but I picked it up for only fifty dollars. I normally ask double, but since you're local, how about seventy-five?"
"How about sixty and a couple of beeswax candles?" I asked.
"It's a deal; that'll make a great gift for my sister," she said.
I smiled, relieved I could give up on the scarf. Maybe in another three Christmases it would be ready, but life was just too busy for extended knitting for now. "I don't have the cash with me, but could you put it aside for me?"
"How about I stop by the booth at the end of the Market, and we can settle up then?"
"Actually, I'm hoping Tobias will be there," I said. "Can you hold on to it for me? I'll come pick it up tomorrow."
"My pleasure," she said. "I'm glad it's going to such a good home."
I stepped out of the shop feeling much lighter. I hadn't realized how worried I'd been about finishing Tobias's scarf. I loved giving handmade things, but I had a feeling that with the amount of cold weather we got in Texas, there wouldn't be too many opportunities for it to be worn. Besides, I had a feeling the antique veterinary kit would be a more special gift.
I was still in good spirits as I wove through the Christmas Market. I was considering splurging on a cone of candied almonds when raised voices caught my attention.
"Your daughter killed my son!" It was a woman's voice, filled with rage and loss. I hurried over to where a crowd of onlookers had gathered. Linda Stone stood, face almost purple, pointing a finger at an equally stricken looking woman I recognized as Mandy’s mother, Valeria Vargas.
"Your son didn't deserve my daughter. But she did not lay a finger on him. Maybe it was one of his hussies... or one of their husbands who did it!" Valeria yelled back. "My daughter is innocent." Mandy stood next to her, looking fretful, and was talking into her ear, though she wasn't listening.
"Then what is she doing sitting in jail?" Linda shot back. "I knew he should have married Rhonda. Knew it. But once your girl got her claws into him, everything went downhill. His life was never the same after that."
"Oh, please. If it weren't for Isabella, they would have lost the house six months ago. I don't like to speak ill of the dead, but your son was a worthless, cheating layabout. I wish my daughter had never laid eyes on him."
Before Randy’s mother could respond, Mayor Niederberger stepped in. "Now, now. I know things are hot right now, and there's been a lot of tragedy, but let's not talk about it here, okay?"
"But..."
"I know, Linda. It's been a terrible time for you. But this isn't going to help anything." She looked over at William Stone, who was standing there with a stricken look on his broad face. "Billy, why don't you take her over to that bench on the green to cool down?" Without waiting for him to act, she turned to Valeria. "I know it's been a horrible shock this week. The police are still working on the case... and so's Lucy here," she added, throwing me under the bus.
Valeria’s eyes lit up. "Lucy? You don't believe it either?"
"I'm helping Mandy try to figure out what happened," I said in a low voice, aware of about fifty pairs of listening ears. I walked over and took Valeria gently by the elbow. "I'd love to talk with you, though. Why don't you and Mandy come with me?"
She acquiesced, and walked with me, still sobbing, toward my booth. Mandy walked with me for a little bit, then excused herself. "I've got a few more things to take care of for the paper," she told me. "I'll come find you at the booth."
"I've got her," I promised. "I'll keep her at the booth."
"Thanks," Mandy said, and hurried away.
"I just can't believe my baby's in jail," Valeria wailed as I tried to shield her from onlookers; she seemed unaware that Mandy had left. "She was the sweetest girl; she would never do something as brutal as that."
I guided her to my booth, then sat her down on one of the folding chairs I'd brought with me, back and away from the main booth. Flora nodded and continued to woman the booth while I took care of Valeria, pulling up a chair next to her and rubbing her back while she sobbed. "What was going on between them recently?" I asked gently.
"Oh, same as always. He couldn't keep a job. Drank all their money away. I think he was counting on that inheritance, and just biding his time until the money came through."
"Was the ranch coming to him?"
She nodded. "It was supposed to, eventually. I know his sister was hoping for it, but he always talked about what he'd do when the ranch was his." She rolled her eyes. "Run it into the ground, most likely."
"He wasn't the best businessman in the world, I gather."
"If it weren't for Isabella's job, they'd be out on the street. As it was, we helped them a few times. Last time, though, Isabella told him to ask his parents instead."
"And they gave him a job back at the ranch?"
"Well, that's what Randy said, but you couldn't believe anything from his mouth. When Isabella suspected he was still sweet on Rhonda, he told her she was crazy, that there was nothing between Rhonda and him." She wiped her eyes. "And it turns out he was back here romancing her the whole time."
"When did she find out?"
"Rhonda's husband Keith called and told her. And then she looked on his computer, and found they'd been talking for months. And there were pictures, too." She buried her head in her arms, and I made soothing noises until she got herself back together.
"That sounds horrible," I said. "He wasn't a very nice man, was he?"
"Not at all," she said, weeping. "He made enemies everywhere he went. He got fired a few weeks ago."
Before I could say anything else, Tobias appeared.
"Hey," I said, smiling at him.
"Your hair looks terrific," he said right away. I raised my hand to my hair; I'd almost forgotten about it.
"Thanks," I told him. "This is Mandy and Isabella's mother, Valeria. Valeria, this is Tobias."
"I’ve seen you at Rosita’s," he said. "I'm sorry about all the family trouble."
"Me too," she said in a voice so full of loss it hurt my heart. As I reached out to squeeze her shoulder, a scream sounded from the other end of the Market.
"Stay here," I told her, and ran over toward the source of the scream, with Tobias at my side.
14
It came from the restrooms near the courthouse. Three people were standing near the small building, their hands to their mouths.
"What is it?" Tobias asked.
"It's... I went in to use the bathroom," the girl closest to the door said, "and she was in there, on the floor!"
"I'll go look," I told Tobias. After all, it was the ladies' room.
I pulled open the door and stepped inside. Lying on the floor next to one of the stalls was Julie, the young waitress I'd talked with at Rosita's. I hurried over and checked her pulse; there was nothing, and her chest was motionless.
"Tobias," I called. "I need you."
The door burst open, and he came through. "No pulse," I told him. "And I don't think she's breathing."
"No," he said. "She's not. Call 911," he said as he did a thorough inspection of the young woman and rolled her over. I pulled my phone out of my pocket and called, but I somehow knew it would be too late; and as soon as I saw the other side of Julie, I realized I was right.
We now had two murders in Buttercup the week before Christmas.
"I feel terrible," I said as we waited outside the bathrooms for the paramedics to do their job. "She was going to tell me something about Randy the other day, but she didn't get a chance. If I'd gone back and asked, maybe this wouldn't have happened."
"When did that happen?"
"When I was making tamales at Rosita's," I said. "She saw him come back to the restaurant that night and argue with Isabella."
"What else did she see?"
"She told me she saw Isabella leave, but she was angry."
"This was in the middle of
the night, right? What was she doing there?"
The thought had crossed my mind, too. "Do you think she was meeting Randy for a tryst? That would point to jealousy as the motive for murder."
"Only Isabella's in jail."
"Well, that's one saving grace, at least. She won't be charged with two murders."
Tobias grimaced. "Wasn't that her mom you were just talking to?"
I hadn't made that connection yet. "You don't think she killed her?"
"She knew her," Tobias pointed out. "They both worked at the restaurant; Valeria was her boss, really."
"But to stab her with a knife at the Christmas Market... I just can't see her doing that."
"Maybe not," he said. "But I don't want you alone with her. In fact, until we figure this out, I don't want you alone with anyone."
We stood in silence for a moment, and he put an arm around me. "She was just about to tell me something about Randy—Mr. Stone, she called him—when Mandy showed up, so she stopped talking."
"Any idea what it might have been about?"
I shook my head. "I can't even remember what we'd been talking about, to be honest. It's been a whirlwind of a week."
"Still no sign of Rhonda?"
"No," I said. "But I really do think she was the person I saw at the guest house. I went to the salon she works at today, and she talked with one of the other stylists. Said she was going to be out of town for a while, had somewhere to stay. The stylist said it sounded fishy, but she didn't know what Rhonda was doing."
"What would she be doing at the Stones' house, though? I mean, if Randy was still alive, I could see it, but why would anyone else want her there?"
"I don't know," I said. "I don't even know for sure that she's there. I wish there were some way to find out."
"I have to go back to check on that cow tomorrow," he said. "Why don't you come with me?"
"Wouldn't that seem too weird?"
"I don't really care," he said, pulling me in to him. "You're my girlfriend. It's the holiday season. We like to hang out together."
"Thanks," I said, feeling warm all over. "I needed to hear that."
"I know it's not a good time," he said. "But we should probably talk about Christmas sometime soon."
"Probably," I said, feeling apprehensive again. "Do you have plans?"
Before he could answer, Deputy Shames called to us. "You're the ones who found her?"
"Actually, it was this young woman here," I said, indicating the huddle of teenagers not far from the bathroom door. "We went in to see if there was anything we could do."
"What time was that?"
"About thirty minutes ago, I'd say." I glanced at my watch and realized I'd left Flora alone the whole night, and that as far as I knew, Valeria was still sitting on a chair in the back of the booth. I knew Flora was supposed to have a date with Gus; I needed to get back to spell her. "Do you mind if I head back to my booth? I've got a helper there, but I think she's got somewhere to go."
"That's fine," she said, "but please stick around until I've had a chance to talk to you. Dr. Brandt, can I ask you a few questions in the meantime?"
"Of course," he said, giving me a peck on the cheek and squeezing my hand. "I'll be over in a few," he promised, and I hurried back to the booth.
Flora seemed to be doing just fine without me, although she was full of questions. Mandy’s mother, I noticed, was no longer at the booth. "Where did Valeria go?" I asked.
"She went to get some nuts after you left," Flora told me. "Mandy came looking for her, too. What happened?"
"There was another murder," I told her. I realized I hadn't seen Mandy; that was a bit surprising, because she was the editor of the Buttercup Zephyr. "A young woman. She worked as a waitress at Rosita's."
Flora's eyes widened. "But Isabella's in jail! She couldn't have done it!"
"No," I said. "She couldn't have." But Mandy could. Had my friend killed Randy to protect her sister... and then done in Julie to cover her tracks? I didn't like thinking about it, but I had to consider it.
Although carols still played and shoppers drifted by, the holiday feel had gone from the evening for me. Not so much for Flora, though, who was in the throes of early love.
"He wants to spend Christmas with me," she said. "Can you believe it? We've only been dating a few days, and he's going to have me over for a full Christmas dinner!"
"That's great," I said, trying to muster enthusiasm. I was happy for her, but I had other things on my mind. "Where does he live, anyway?"
"Out off of 71, on the way to La Grange."
"Take your time," I said.
"I’ll try," she said. "But sometimes things are just meant to be, you know?"
I hoped she was right.
Tobias and I had parted ways after the Market, the topic of Christmas no longer on either of our minds. I went home and did my chores, then slept fitfully, the scene at Rosita's replaying in my dreams. Why hadn't I gone to talk to Julie earlier?
And was it really possible my friend was a killer?
That was the thought that kept sneaking into my mind as I took care of all the animals and checked the rows of baby lettuces and broccoli the next morning. It was cold and clear, and the sky was a deep, pristine blue above the bleached gold of the fields. There had been a frost the night before, and the grass crackled as I walked on it. I took a deep breath of the frosty air, which was laced with a touch of woodsmoke. It brought back wonderful memories of Christmas on the farm as a girl. Serafine had told me that my grandmother was still here, looking after me. I hadn't felt her presence in a while, but now, for just a moment, I thought I detected a touch of her rose scent on a stray breeze. "I miss you, Grandma," I said, hoping she could somehow hear me.
There was no answer, of course, but I felt better for saying it, and turned to check on the goats and cows, who all looked very anxious to see me. I fed everyone carrots and praised them for not heading down to the Christmas Market to eat candied almonds again this year, then fed and watered my small flock of chickens, who weren't looking very happy about the cold weather. As I finished gathering eggs—only two this morning—I paused, looking down at the little house on the knoll. It looked picture-perfect from where I stood; for a moment, I could see what it would look like when the renovations were done.
If they were done.
Again, that scent of rose on the breeze. I smiled, feeling my grandmother's encouragement. "Thank you," I told her, and headed into the house. If only I could ask her who the murderer was, I thought. Although I wasn't sure I'd like the answer.
I was still thinking about the unsolved murders when I finished cleaning up my breakfast dishes. The first death had taken place at Rosita's, and both murders had Rosita's in common. Something told me Rosita's—or somebody at Rosita's—was likely at the center of them.
I'd been planning on making a batch of candy cane fudge but decided I'd come back and do that later in the day; right now, I thought a breakfast taco would be just the thing.
Even if I'd just finished breakfast.
It was a pleasant drive to Rosita's; the sky was still that deep, cerulean blue, and the houses, with their wreaths on the doors and garlands and ribbons festooning their front porches, were a lovely reminder of the season. We might not have much snow in Texas, but Texans certainly enjoyed decorating for the holiday. The mistletoe had sold out again last night. Which made me think of the mistletoe in Randy's hair. Where had it come from? Had someone put it there as a decoy, or had he been somewhere else right before he got to Rosita's? Maybe with someone else?
I wasn't sure how I was going to find out any answers, but I'd do my best . And if nothing else, I decided, at least I'd pick up a tub of salsa.
Rosita's was crowded as usual when I pulled into the parking lot. I recognized the town librarian heading out to her truck with a big bag of either tamales or breakfast tacos, and I could hear the bustle even before I got to the door.
A young woman I didn't recognize was at the c
ounter. "Can I help you?" she asked.
I surveyed the busy restaurant, which was filled with gossip. It seemed the recent goings-on involving Rosita's had been excellent for business.
"Table for one, please," I said.
"It'll be about five minutes," she told me. "We're busy this morning."
"I can see," I told her, glancing down at the plastic name tag pinned to her shirt. "Camille, right? I’m Lucy Resnick. I'm sorry about the loss of one of your coworkers."
Her mouth drooped. "Yeah. It's creepy. We were friends."
"Were you?" I asked. "Do you have any idea what happened?"
She shook her head. "I was supposed to meet her at the Market; we were going to go shopping for our families. But by the time I got there, she was gone." Her eyes grew shiny with tears.
"That's awful," I said. "It's hard to believe anyone would do something like that."
"I know," she said, swiping at her eyes. "I mean, what did anyone have to gain? She was a waitress; she didn't have tons of money. She was going to go to school for accounting in the spring. And now..." She took a deep breath. "I'm sorry."
"There's no need to be sorry," I said. "It's a loss. Did Julie have family, a boyfriend..."
"She has... had a boyfriend. I don't think they were that serious, though. I think she was seeing someone else, too."
"A few days ago, when I was here helping make tamales, she was going to tell me something about Randy Stone, but someone interrupted us. She didn't happen to mention anything to you, did she?"
She hesitated for a moment before shaking her head. "No," she said, but her face looked more guarded.
"Look," I said quietly, leaning over the counter. "If you know something about Randy, you should tell me. I'm not sure why someone killed Julie, but it might have something to do with what she was going to tell me but didn't. Please... just tell me."
She took a deep breath and seemed to be debating what to do. Then, after a moment, she let out a long breath. "She was seeing him. Mr. Stone."
I blinked. "What?"
"They were seeing each other," she said.
Mistletoe Murder (Dewberry Farm Mysteries Book 4) Page 11