We Wish You a Merry Murder

by Valerie Wolzien

  Susan had once heard Derek Stevenson describe his wife as looking as if she had been born with a million. It wasn’t a look achieved by accident.

  Susan didn’t know much about Derek and Elizabeth as a couple. Elizabeth had told her that they had met through mutual friends and had gotten married almost immediately. Their two children had followed shortly thereafter. Elizabeth continued working, and a succession of nannies and au pairs had preceded the children’s boarding school years. It was Elizabeth’s work that was important, not her family. And it was Elizabeth’s looks and her work that her husband bragged about—when he wasn’t correcting her social skills. But, if Susan hadn’t always thought of the Stevensons as a typically happy suburban couple, she hadn’t thought of them as unhappy, either.

  In some ways, the St. Johns were the opposite of the Stevensons. Not just because they were always quibbling and bitching at each other. But because, despite Elizabeth’s high-powered career, she thought of Derek as the dominant force in the marriage. At the St. John house, the wife ruled.

  Or so it seemed. Certainly Barbara St. John was the most verbal member of the duet. And a lot of her words were aimed at explaining the superiority of herself over her husband. Like the Stevensons, the St. Johns had come from different classes. Barbara St. John spent a fair amount of time telling everyone about it. She was the one who knew all the best places to eat and what to eat there. She also picked out their vacation destinations: Cambridge Beaches in Bermuda last spring, the Hassler in Rome in the fall, and everyone had been informed that they were on their way to Little Dix just as soon as the New Year’s rush was over. Susan thought of Barbara as a person whose label consciousness extended beyond the way she dressed. She bought and did what was the best and the most expensive, and she made sure that it showed. No small discreet getaways for the St. Johns; their destination had to be well known—otherwise how would everyone know it was exclusive and expensive? Jeffrey St. John was different. Susan had always thought of him as a man unprepared for his own success. His small business selling rustic furnishings from the Minnesota lake area had grown to encompass crafts from the South, Southwest, and Northwest (the middle of the country apparently unable to produce anything sufficiently chic), and had bulged from one small store to almost fifty outlets in various fashionable shopping areas around the country. Jeffrey, who had dropped out of art college because it was too restricting and too bourgeois, had accomplished the miracle of accidentally becoming a successful businessman. Susan had always gotten the impression that it embarrassed him.

  Or maybe it was the way his wife talked about his success that he found so embarrassing. Barbara adored broadcasting the opening of each new shop almost as much as she deplored (loudly) their increasingly high tax bill. She courted publicity, and there were frequently articles in local papers about her husband and his shops, with her own picture prominently displayed. Her husband never appeared comfortable with all the fuss. Jeffrey St. John, Susan had noticed, was beginning to drink too much.

  So which of the four had a close connection to Evan? Derek had gone to prep school with Kelly, which implied a long relationship with the family. Maybe Evan had some financial dealings with Jeffrey. Possibly Jeffrey had been financed by Evan? Barbara had become good friends with Rebecca almost as soon as she arrived in Hancock. Was there another reason for the relationship other than similarity of temperament? Well, here she was with more questions than answers—again.

  Susan looked up at the stage as the junior high chorus made their noisy entrance onto the wooden risers placed upon one side of the stage. Chad, short for his age, was one of the first boys to take his place in the front row. Then he and a blond boy that Susan didn’t recognize started whispering and giggling together. Well, there was nothing she could do about it from this distance. The high school chorus was mounting risers on the other side of the stage, and Susan was distracted by the appearance of Thomas—or was it Travis?

  It must be interesting being identical twins, Susan had always thought. Of course, she’d heard stories of fooling teachers and friends. Even Rebecca admitted that sometimes, from a distance, she couldn’t tell her own sons apart. Had the twins planned on that? Had they even used it to get away and kill their stepfather? Had one boy pretended to be both of them while the other was luring Evan to Kelly’s house and shooting him in the head? But what was the motive? Something simple and oedipal? Did Thomas and Travis get along with Evan? Was the reason that Evan was always looking for employment for them just to get them out of the house? And what sort of trouble had they been in with the police, if that rumor was true? Or did that even make a difference when it came to Evan’s death? Had Kathleen gotten a chance to talk to the boys? she wondered.

  These questions kept Susan occupied throughout the chorus’ performance. On the final note of a medley of rock Christmas carols, she decided that the more she thought, the more questions she had. She had a feeling that Kathleen would say something about that being a beginning, at least. She didn’t want to hear it. Applause woke her up at the end of the concert, and she joined in enthusiastically. She felt remarkably refreshed.

  After one last bow, the students broke ranks, hurrying off the stage to join their families and friends. In the rush, Susan lost track of Chad, but found someone else.

  “Kathleen, what in the world are you doing here? There can’t be another person in this audience who isn’t a relative of one of the performers—except the teachers.”

  “I’m meeting Thomas and Travis. They were busy before the show, but offered to talk to me afterward. Besides, it was a nice performance. I enjoyed it. And I see Chad got new pants—”

  “Susan, thank goodness I found you so quickly. Do you mind if Chrissy joins Jeffrey, Seth, and me for hot chocolate at the club?” Barbara St. John asked, appearing behind Kathleen.

  “No, it’s nice of you to include her,” Susan agreed at once.

  “We’ll get her home before eleven,” Barbara promised. “I love Chad’s new pants,” she added, hurrying off.

  “New … ?”

  “I’d love it if you’d talk to Travis and Thomas with me,” Kathleen added. “Couldn’t you make some sort of excuse to stay here? They’re helping take down the lights; I told them I’d wait around until they were done.”

  “Sure, I guess so. Why does everyone ask me about … ? Chad, honey. You were wonderful!”

  “I think you forgot something, Mom.”

  “Forgot … ?”

  “Oh, there’s Sean. Mom, can I spend the night at his house? I know it’s a school night, but we’re not doing any work these days and we’ll go to bed early. Please. His mom said it was okay. Please!?”

  “It is a school night …” Susan began as her husband joined her. “Why don’t you ask your father?” she continued. “If he agrees, it’s fine with me.”

  “Moving up to a higher authority?” Jed kidded his son. “What do you want now?”

  “I want to spend the night with Sean. I know it’s a school night, but none of our teachers are giving us any work, and we’ll go to bed right away, and it’s vacation in just two days, and …”

  “Why don’t we find Sean and his parents and talk with them,” Jed suggested, putting his arm around his son’s shoulders.

  “Great, they were right over by the stage …”

  Susan was watching them walk off when she realized that she had left all the tags on the rear pocket of her son’s new slacks. “No wonder everyone’s been kidding me about his new clothes,” she commented to Kathleen.

  “There’s Thomas—or Travis. Come on. I’d better remind them that I want to talk.” Kathleen hurried off through the thinning crowd.

  Susan followed, wondering if Rebecca was around somewhere. Or if she was still in the city.

  “Mrs. Gordon? Travis is still in the light booth, but he’ll be done in a few minutes. Do you want to go up there? It’s pretty private, and Mr. Amato—he’s the history teacher who runs the stage crew—won’t mind.”<
br />
  “Good idea. Mrs. Henshaw is going to join us.”

  “Fine. Follow me.”

  He led them around dozens of parents standing chatting in small groups at the back of the room and through a small door built into the wood paneling.

  “The stairs are kind of narrow,” he called back over his shoulder.

  “We’re fine,” Kathleen assured him, pulling her short, straight skirt up higher.

  “Trav!” Thomas called ahead of them.

  It was almost a warning of their presence, Susan thought.

  And a needed one, she decided a second later. As they entered the dark room, two people were scrambling up from the floor, rather embarrassedly straightening out and tucking in clothing as they went.

  “Hello, Mrs. Henshaw.”

  “Hello, Amelia.”

  “My parents will be waiting for me,” the girl said to Travis, who was standing there with his hands in his pockets, looking embarrassed.

  “See you tomorrow,” he mumbled, and turned back to the projector.

  “We said we would answer some of Mrs. Gordon’s questions—about the night that Evan disappeared.” Thomas was trying to bring his brother back to the present.

  “I can answer while I wind these wires,” Travis mumbled.

  “Fine.” Kathleen took control of the situation. “I wonder if one of you could just review the whole evening from the time the first guest arrived.”

  “Why don’t you start with Kelly bringing the salad to your house?” Susan suggested quickly.

  “We weren’t there when she came; that is, we were upstairs in our room,” Travis said, pulling apart one of the large lights hanging from the ceiling.

  “The first we heard about it was when Mom called upstairs and asked if one of us would sweep off the front steps,” his brother explained.

  “So you didn’t know when the doorbell rang?” Susan asked.

  “No. It had been ringing for hours—delivery men, and caterers, and everything.”

  “I went down and swept off the steps,” Thomas said. “They were a mess. I didn’t know it was a salad, though, not until later. I thought the florist had dropped something, there were a lot of flowers—and even some of those strange little white berries that everyone uses at Christmastime.”

  “Berries? You mean mistletoe?” Susan asked.

  “Yeah, if that’s the stuff that people kiss under,” Thomas agreed. Travis looked up at the ceiling of the booth. It was empty.

  Kathleen was smiling as she asked the next question. “When did you two join your parents for the party?”

  “Mom had told us to be around to greet the guests, so we came down when the St. Johns arrived,” Thomas said.

  “They were the first guests?”

  “Yeah. Mom and Mrs. St. John are pretty good friends.” Travis shrugged. “You know how it is.”

  “And you stayed around talking to guests for the whole party until Evan vanished?”

  The twins exchanged looks.

  “Look, is this confidential or anything?” Thomas asked finally.

  “We’re not here to find out if you were doing anything wrong,” Susan assured him. “We just want to find out exactly what happened that night.”

  “Well …” Thomas paused, then plunged in. “We were planning on relaxing in the shed. We had a supply of booze, and we added to it throughout the evening. So sometimes one of us was out of the house for a few minutes. But not for long at the beginning of the party. Then, as the party got going, we decided that we wouldn’t be missed and we went out to the shed and had a little party of our own.”

  “And that’s all we know—until you and the policeman and Kelly Knowlson showed up,” Travis added.

  “You—” Susan started, but Kathleen interrupted, kicking her in the shin at the same time.

  “When did you hear that Evan had disappeared?”

  “That night Mom said that he had some sort of emergency and had to go in to the office. The next day after school she said he had been called out of town. The first we heard about his disappearing was when Mom told us she had hired you to find him. Yesterday.”

  “Did you get along with your stepfather?” Kathleen asked.

  Twin shrugs.

  “All right,” Thomas answered.

  “Do you have any idea where he is right now?”

  “None.” It was Thomas who answered, Travis having resumed his examination of the ceiling.

  “How are you two guys going to get home?” Kathleen asked.

  “Amelia was going to drive us—” Travis started.

  “There’s always someone around to go home with,” his brother interrupted.

  “Why don’t you come with me?” Kathleen suggested. “Then we can talk some more.”

  To her relief, the boys agreed. But she didn’t get much more information on the drive to their house, and she had to push to get invited in. There weren’t many lights on, and she was afraid that their mother had gone to bed. But, to her surprise, Rebecca Knowlson came to the door, still in the clothes she had been wearing for the concert.

  “I was hoping you’d still be up.”

  Rebecca walked back to the desk she had been sitting at before Kathleen arrived. “I’m trying to finish this pile of Christmas cards tonight.” She sat down.

  “You send a lot of cards,” Kathleen said, taking a seat without waiting to be asked.

  “It’s mainly business. That’s why I’m so busy. It’s important that people don’t think we’ve forgotten them—or their investments.”

  “Really? I don’t send cards to my clients,” Kathleen said.

  “You should think about it. It’s important to some people.” She put down the pen she had just picked up. “But you didn’t come here to talk to me about Christmas cards. Do you have any information about Evan?” Rebecca got right to the point.

  “No, but I wanted to talk with you, if you don’t mind. I know it’s late, but since Thomas and Travis needed a ride home, I thought I could give them a lift and then speak to you. There are one or two points that I’d like to clear up.”

  “Of course. Do you mind if I stuff envelopes while we talk?”

  Kathleen would have preferred Rebecca’s full attention—as well as a chance to see her face—but she couldn’t very well say so.

  “Fine. Did you get finished in the city today?” It was a trick that sometimes worked: surprise the suspect. This time it didn’t.

  “Yes. In fact, one of the reasons I went in to the office was to pick up the list of cards that were sent out last year to check them against the list of cards that we mailed last week. And I had to drop off some Christmas gifts as well.” True to her word, she began stuffing envelopes.

  “And yesterday?” If at first you don’t succeed, try, try again.

  “Christmas shopping. You know how it is; I thought I had everything done, but then some last minute errands came up. I was hoping it would be easier to get it all done at one time in the city.”

  “Did you find anything at the office that might be a clue to why Evan vanished?”

  Rebecca turned and looked at Kathleen. “Nothing. And I spent a lot of time there. I went through all the mail twice, through records of the work he was doing last week, through his notes on projects coming up. I spent a few hours in his private office, and I didn’t find anything.”

  “It sounds like hard work,” Kathleen said.

  “I went through all his records,” Rebecca repeated.

  “There are a few more things I need to talk to you about.” Kathleen was hesitant.

  “Anything, if it will help us find Evan.”

  “I was wondering if I could go through the hard disk on your computer and see if it recorded who called Evan the night of your party. I seem to remember that it was programmed to record all calls.” Kathleen looked at Rebecca carefully. How would she react to this request?

  Apparently calmly.

  “I erased that program yesterday morning when I was loo
king for something else. That’s why I had to go in to the office today.” Rebecca looked her straight in the eye.

  So why shouldn’t she be calm? If there had been something to hide, it was gone now.

  “There is something else,” Kathleen said, trying to hide her disappointment. “Thomas and Travis are lying to me about the night of your party.”

  “What are you talking about specifically?”

  Kathleen thought Rebecca sounded wary. “They claim they were in the shed between your property and Kelly’s house for a lot longer than they possibly could have been there.”

  “They’re probably just not sure of the time.” Did she sound relieved? “They’re teenagers. They have no idea what’s going on around them. And, to be honest, they were drinking that night, so their reporting is probably less reliable than usual—and usually it’s not very good.

  “I have to admit,” Rebecca continued, “those two boys have been a big worry to me ever since their father and I divorced. They were at a difficult age when we broke up, and they started having trouble in school … I’m sure you don’t have to know about that. It’s all in the past now.”

  “How did they react when you married Evan?” Kathleen wanted to keep her talking.

  “Fine. They like him.” It was the standard answer.

  “Susan told me that Evan was trying to help them get jobs out on the Island this summer; it’s nice to hear about a concerned stepfather.” Kathleen hoped Rebecca would talk more.

  It didn’t work.

  “Yes. Evan is like that.”

  “Then they’re upset by his disappearance.”

  Rebecca seemed startled by the thought. “I guess they are,” she said slowly. “I’ve been so busy that I haven’t worried about them very much. I guess I’m not a very good parent.”

  Kathleen left the house thinking that Rebecca’s last statement might have been the only honest one.

  TWENTY-FIVE

  “I’m so glad to find you up.” Kathleen threw her coat over a kitchen chair.