Candy Canes & Corpses

by Abby L. Vandiver

  “You’re probably right,” said Char, setting it on the floorboard near her feet and covering it up with an old shopping bag. “We wouldn’t want to draw too much attention to it.”

  Once inside, the two glanced around the eatery. Tess was right; the place was packed. When her eyes caught sight of Max Dovelin sitting alone at ‘their’ table beneath the painting, she nudged Char in the ribs and said, “There’s Max. I wonder if he knows about Rachael yet.”

  “I don’t know how long it takes to question somebody,” said Char quietly. “But I can’t imagine that he would be sitting there, drinking coffee if he did know.”

  “I’m going to go talk to him,” said Tess.

  “Okay. Do you want me to get anything else besides the lattes?”

  “Sure, whatever looks good.”

  Tess pushed through the crowd. When she got to the table where Max was sitting, sipping on a mug of something with a plate containing a half-eaten muffin, she cleared her throat and said, “Excuse me, do you mind if I share your table?”

  “Huh?” Max looked up at her, his shoulders slouched and his eyes filled with sadness.

  Tess gestured to the other tables. “It’s packed in here, and I was wondering if you wouldn’t mind if my friend and I shared your table with you.”

  He glanced around. “Oh, yeah, sure.” He set his cup down and scooted up in his chair.

  “Thank you,” she said, pulling out a chair and sitting down. “I’m Tess, by the way.”

  “Max,” he murmured, but didn’t say anything else.

  It was clear to Tess that he was not in the mood to converse. She debated whether or not she should pretend not to know who he was in the hopes of getting him to talk, or if she should say something about his girlfriend.

  Over her shoulder she heard, “We were so sorry to hear about Rachael.” Char set a tray with two lattes and two apple turnovers down on the table. She pulled the chair out next to Tess and sat down.

  “Do I know you?” asked Max, his brow creased.

  “No, but we-”

  Tess put a discreet hand on Char’s leg, stopping her. She didn’t want anything that Char might say to scare him away, so she cut in and said, “We saw it on the news that she was missing.”

  Max picked up his mug and took a sip. He lowered his head and said, “Thanks.”

  “Has there been any progress on finding your fiancé?” said Tess.

  “She wasn’t my fiancé,” he muttered without looking up.

  Tess glanced sideways at Char. “Oh, I’m sorry. I could have sworn the young lady up there behind the counter, I can’t remember her name . . .”

  Max glanced up. “Talia.”

  “That’s right, Talia,” said Tess. “She told us that you had asked Rachael to marry you.”

  “She’s got a big mouth,” said Max, taking another sip. He set the cup down and threw his napkin on the half-eaten muffin, and he looked like he was getting ready to leave.

  “I don’t think she meant any harm,” said Tess trying to keep him there. “She was just proud of the fact that you two met right here, and that this was considered you and Rachael’s table.”

  His eyes seemed to soften, and he settled back in his seat. “Yeah, we did meet here, two years ago.”

  “Talia said that you two were inseparable and that you had planned on asking Rachael to marry you at Trois Poules.” Tess took a sip of coffee.

  “Yeah, we were and I did,” said Max.

  “So, you did ask her to marry you?” said Tess.

  “Yes, this past Friday night. But she said she needed some time to think about it.”

  “So, that’s why you didn’t call her for a couple of days?” said Char, taking a bite of the turnover.

  Max nodded. “I wanted to call her, to go see her, but I was giving her space, just like she asked for.” He let out a deep sigh. “And now it’s too late.” He scooted his chair back and stood up.

  “Why is that?” said Tess.

  Max placed his hands on the table, leaned down close to Tess and through gritted teeth said, “Because she’s dead!”

  Chapter Thirteen

  The two women watched as Max stormed out of the deli without looking back. Through the widow they saw him yank open the driver’s door of the expensive car parked right in front of them, get behind the wheel, and a moment later peel out.

  “Well,” said Char, “Clearly, the police told him about finding Rachael’s body.”

  Tess nodded and took a sip of her latte. “Detective Curtis must have questioned him first thing this morning.”

  Char took a bite of the turnover and chewed. “I don’t really understand how police procedures work, but the fact that he was in here drinking coffee must mean that they don’t consider him a suspect.”

  “Or, they do,” said Tess, “but they don’t have any solid evidence to arrest him.”

  “Maybe that’s where the book comes in,” said Char and then took a sip of her latte. “The first part of the book led us to Rachael’s body. Maybe the second part of the book will lead us to her killer.”

  “Well, if that’s the case,” said Tess, “then we better hurry up and find those golden rings.”

  The two women scarfed down the turnovers, slammed the lattes back and within minutes were back in the Durango and headed down Main Street.

  “I know the poem says that the rings are not for the hand, but a place to stand,” said Char, picking up the book from the floor and turning it to the pop-up of the hands. “But maybe we need to go to the jewelry store in order to find out what it really means.”

  “I’m willing to give it a try, since we have no idea what place it’s actually referring to,” said Tess.

  Within a couple of minutes, Tess pulled the Durango right up in front of Bentley’s Jewelers, the only jewelry store in town.

  As they got out, Char pointed to the vacant shop next door to the jewelry store and said, “I wonder what happened to the tobacco shop that used to be there? Charlie’s going to be upset when he finds out they’re gone.”

  “I’m sure there’s one in Rome he can go to,” said Tess opening up the glass door to the jewelry store. The two walked in and stood near the main glass counter, showcasing an elaborate diamond tiara sitting inside an opened red-lacquered box.

  “Wow,” said Char, looking down at it. “That thing has got to be worth a pretty penny.”

  “If you haven’t bought me my Christmas present yet,” said Tess with a chuckle, “this might look rather fetching on me, don’t you think?”

  “Where’s Mr. Bentley?” Char looked around the busy store. “I’ll just have him wrap it up.” She laughed. “Or would you prefer to wear it?”

  Mr. Bentley, the store’s proprietor, was in a conversation with a large man wearing jeans, a blue turtleneck, and sporting a tool belt around his waist.

  The store owner pointed to a section of the brick wall that separated his store from the empty place next door. He gestured broadly with his hands and said, “I want the opening right here. I was thinking maybe a large archway.”

  “Sure thing, Mr. Bentley.” The man wearing the tool belt unclipped a tape measure from his belt and took some measurements. Then he pulled a large red, flat, carpenter’s pencil from behind his ear and drew an arch on the wall. “This look about right?” he said, looking over his shoulder at the jeweler.

  “Perfect.”

  “You got it, Mr. Bentley,” said the carpenter. He made a few more marks on the wall then slipped the red pencil back behind his ear.

  Seeing the two women, the jeweler excused himself and walked over to them.

  “Good morning, ladies,” said Mr. Bentley, a gentleman about their age dressed in a nicely tailored gray pinstripe suit. “May I help you find something?”

  Before Tess could say anything, Char blurted out, “What happened to the tobacco shop next door?”

  “Oh, they moved,” he said.

  “Where to?” asked Char.

  �
��I think they moved close to the fitness center. You know, the one as you head out of town?”

  “I wonder why they did that?” said Char. “Main Street is such a great location, lots of people walking by.”

  “Guess they couldn’t afford to pay the increase in rent,” he told her then glanced around at the people milling about and perusing the glass cases filled with jewelry. He puffed out his chest and gestured to his customers. “But I could, and with my business doing so well, I needed to expand.” He glanced back over his shoulder at the carpenter still taking measurements and marking the wall. “Lucky for me, the person who was originally going to be renting that space won’t be, so now I can.”

  “Who was going to rent it?” asked Tess.

  “Some artist, but I can’t remember her name,” he said and then mumbled, “the last thing this town needed was another artist.” He quickly plastered a salesman’s smile on his face.

  Tess and Char glanced at each other, and Tess said, “It wasn’t by any chance Rachael Warren, was it?”

  “Could have been,” he said, his brow furrowed. “The name sounds familiar.” He smiled. “So, were you two ladies looking for anything in particular?” He gestured to one of the other cases. “A gold bracelet, perhaps? Or maybe a nice ring?”

  “Oh no,” said Tess. “That’s all right, but thank you anyway. Good luck with your renovation.”

  As the two walked out of the jewelry store, Tess looked back at Mr. Bentley, their eyes locking. His smile had been replaced with a noticeable scowl.

  Well, that was interesting,” said Char after the two women were inside the Durango.

  “I know, right?” said Tess. She put the key in the ignition and cranked the vehicle to life. “So, Rachael had planned on setting up a gallery of her work here on Main Street.”

  “She must have been selling a lot in order to be able to pay the monthly rent on the space.”

  “I wonder how much rent was,” said Tess as she pulled away from the curb and slowly headed down Main Street.

  “Apparently, a lot more than what the tobacco shop could afford.”

  “Maybe we should go talk to the owner of the building,” said Tess.

  “Do you know who that is?”

  “No,” said Tess, shaking her head. “But I’ll bet my banker, Mr. Walker, would know. I’ll give him a call later.”

  “Mr. Bentley said the tobacco shop moved close to the fitness center. Do you mind taking a drive by there? I’d like to pick up a little something for Charlie for Christmas.”

  “Sure,” said Tess. She glanced in the rearview mirror and not seeing any traffic, she flipped the Durango around and headed in the opposite direction.

  Five minutes later, they pulled up next to a small stand-alone shop right across the road from the Whispering River’s YMCA and Fitness Center parking lot.

  The fitness center was actually the old elementary school and its out buildings that had been refurbished and turned into several fitness related businesses. With a yoga and aerobics studio, a workout clothing store, a juice bar, a vitamin shop, a weight room and a spin class, the complex seemed to have a little bit of everything to keep the residence of Whispering River in tiptop shape during the long winter months.

  The two women got out of the car, and started to walk up the sidewalk to the tobacco shop when Tess stopped abruptly and grabbed Char by the coat sleeve, pulling her to a stop.

  “Look!” she said, pointing to one of the larger out buildings.

  “Look at what?” said Char.

  “That sign on the building over there.”

  Perched on top of one of the stand-alone buildings was a bright yellow billboard with black lettering that said, “Golden Gloves Boxing.” Underneath it, the sign boasted that this particular boxing establishment had been the training facility for five Golden Glove winners.

  “Golden Gloves Boxing.” said Char as she read the sign out loud.

  “Not for the hand, but a place to stand,” said Tess.

  “Oh my gosh, could the book be referring to a boxing ring?” said Char.

  “Let’s go find out.”

  The two women crossed the road and walked across the large, partially filled, parking lot to a separate building that was situated just left of the main fitness complex.

  They opened the front door to the boxing facility and walked up to a reception desk where a fit looking man wearing a black tank top, with a Golden Gloves logo on it, had his back to them. Leaning back against the counter, the man was talking on his cell phone.

  “Yeah, she was here Saturday morning, said she needed a sparring partner, needed to work something out.” The man paused, as if listening. “I don’t know, she didn’t say, only that she had some thinking to do. So, we boxed for about an hour. Then she left.” He laughed. “Yeah, she kicked my butt! She’s a lot tougher than she looks.”

  “Ah-hmm,” said Tess, clearing her throat.

  The man turned around. “Gotta go. Talk to you later.” He hung up the phone, set it on the counter and said, “Hi. Can I help you?”

  Tess glanced at a small Band-Aid above the guy’s right eye that barely covered a cut. Not really knowing why they were there, except to find something that might have to do with Rachael’s murder, she said, “We just wanted to look around.”

  “Sure thing. I’ll show you the facility.” The guy came from behind the counter and looked them both up and down. “If you’re looking to get in shape, you’ve come to the right place. We’ve got everything you need right here.” Then he led them into a large room. “I’m Gabe, by the way. I own the place.”

  On the left side of the room, various shapes and sizes of punching bags hung down from the ceiling, suspended on chains. The right side contained mostly free-weights, kettle bells, jump ropes, and stationary bikes. A large roped boxing ring occupied the center of the room, which currently had two people dressed in boxing gear standing inside the ropes.

  “We saw on your sign outside that five Golden Glove winners have been trained here,” said Tess.

  “That’s right,” said Gabe. “I’m pretty proud to say that we’ve also been voted best training facility in the state five years in a row.” He looked at the women. “Are you two interested in learning how to box?”

  Tess let out a laugh. “Us? Box? No thanks.”

  “Boxing isn’t just for guys, you know.” He pointed to the boxing ring. “Lots of women use the facilities, too.”

  Inside the ring, a woman wearing hot pink boxing gloves and matching head gear, hopped from foot to foot, her hands positioned around her face as she seemed to be sparring with a man.

  As quick as a striking snake, the woman attacked the man with a series of side martial-arts type kicks, but he blocked them. Then she jabbed a one-two punch into the man’s face, followed by a hit to the stomach. When he doubled over, she threw a right undercut to his jaw, sending him teetering on his feet. His knees buckled and he collapsed onto the padded rubber floor.

  “You okay?” Tess heard her say to the downed man. She quickly pulled the Velcro straps from around the wrists of her gloves, yanked them off and dropped them to the floor. She offered the man a hand, helping him back to his feet. “Sorry about that.”

  “You’ve been practicing,” he told her.

  The woman pulled the head gear from off her head, allowing a cascade of blonde hair to fall around her face and shoulders. She picked up her gloves, then the two sparring partners moved from the ring over to a teardrop shaped punching bag and continued the workout.

  “That was impressive,” said Char. She looked over at Gabe, his Popeye arms folded across his chest. “Can you teach me how to do all that?”

  “You bet I can,” he said.

  Char glanced over at Tess and mumbled, “You know, for the next time Charlie gives me grief.”

  “So how about it? You ladies interested in joining?”

  Still not sure why they were there, Tess looked over at the woman punching the teardrop bag with
such precision that it sounded like she was playing a rat-ta-tat-tat rhythm on a snare drum. Then a thought hit her, and she said, “You wouldn’t happen to know if Rachael Warren is a member here, would you?”

  “Yes, as a matter of fact she is,” said the owner. He pointed to the cut above his eyebrow. “That’s how I got this little beauty.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  The owner had told them that Rachael came in there Saturday morning, they sparred for about an hour and then she left.

  “Did she say where she was going?” asked Tess.

  Gabe shook his head. “No, and I didn’t ask. I could tell just by the way she attacked me that she was upset about something.”

  “Well, did you ask her what she was upset about?” said Char.

  “Nope.” The guy touched the wound on his head, making him wince. “I’ve learned, especially from the ladies around here, that when a woman’s upset, asking them questions only makes it worse.” He wrinkled his brow. “But I do remember one thing she said, right before she karate kicked me in the head.”

  “Yeah?” said Tess. “What was it?”

  “She said ‘no one messes with me and gets away with it.’ And then she blasted me in the head.”

  “Do you know what she meant by that?” asked Char.

  “No, and I wasn’t going to pry, not when I was sprawled out on the floor with her standing over me.” He frowned. “Why all the questions about Rachael Warren?”

  “Oh, we were just curious, you know, her being missing and all,” said Tess.

  “Do you know her?” he asked.

  “Well . . .”

  “We’re more friends with her boyfriend, Max Dovelin,” said Char.

  “Oh yeah, the boyfriend,” he muttered. “Spoiled rich kid.”

  “Rich kid?” Tess thought about the new Lexus the two saw him getting into.

  “Yeah, his family owns several businesses and a bunch of land around here.” He narrowed his eyes. “I’m surprised you didn’t know that about him, being that you’re his friends.”

  “We’re more like acquaintances,” said Char.

  “Well, thank you for your time,” said Tess, moving toward the door.