Christmas Cocoa Murder

by Carlene O'Connor

  “And then what?” I asked, meeting Rita’s eye. She looked scared, but also really, really annoyed. “The cops won’t let you walk away from this.”

  “They aren’t here,” he said. “I know you’ll call them the moment you are able, but you can give me a head start.”

  “Why would we do that?” Bob asked.

  Troy’s only answer was to pull the string of lights tighter.

  “They’ll find you,” Yuri said. “The rest of us will make sure of that.”

  “Put the cord down,” I said. “Let Rita go.” I held out a hand, took a tentative step toward him.

  He lifted his elbows, tightening the cord. Rita was forced to stand on her tiptoes, lest her breath be cut off entirely.

  “Troy, no!” June shouted, lifting her own hand toward him. “She didn’t do anything to you.”

  He met her eye, his entire posture softening. “I’m so sorry, June,” he said. “I was scared. I didn’t want to get caught. I didn’t mean for you to get caught up in it like this.”

  “I know,” she said. “But I did.” She glanced around the room. “We all did. You can’t change that.” A tear slid down her cheek. “Please. Let her go. This isn’t you.”

  He closed his eyes, his arms slackening ever so slightly.

  Rita made him pay for the lapse.

  Her fist bunched the moment she felt the cord loosen on her throat, and she pistoned her arm backward, directly into Troy’s stomach.

  His breath left him in an expelled “Oof!” and he staggered back a step, his grip on the cord loosening completely. He opened his mouth to say something, but before he could, Rita spun around and kicked him hard on the shin.

  “Don’t you ever touch me like that again!” she shouted, kicking him again.

  Troy scuttled away from her, right into Bob’s and Yuri’s waiting arms. Instead of fighting them off, he sagged into their grip.

  “Come on,” I said, putting an arm around Rita to keep her from going after the detained man. Both her fists were bunched, and she was panting like an angry bull. “Let’s get out of here.”

  Rita huffed, checked to make sure her hair was in place, and then, together, we gathered everyone’s codes.

  Everyone handed them over quietly. Even Troy motioned to his pocket, where he’d shoved his, without resisting. Bob pulled the slip of paper free and handed it over.

  Since Bob and Yuri’s hands were full, I did the honors and punched in the numbers. The door opened, and everyone piled out, making straight for the lockers and their cell phones.

  I paused just outside the door and looked back into the room. The big gift still sat unopened in the middle of the table.

  “I wonder what’s inside,” Rita said, rubbing at her throat. “Do you think we should open it? You know, finish the room?”

  I glanced at the others. Bob and Yuri had a firm grip on Troy. June stood nearby, watching her boyfriend, and, very likely, keeping him from doing anything stupid. Both Carol and Jerry were on their phones. I hoped one of them was calling the police.

  “I think we’re done,” I said, putting a comforting arm around Rita’s shoulders. “Let’s leave some mystery for Santa.”

  Rita grinned. “Lewis would have liked that,” she said.

  Sirens rose in the distance. I squeezed Rita close, glad she was okay. “Yeah, I think you’re right.”

  Then, together, we waited for the police to arrive.

  Chapter Ten

  Troy Carpenter didn’t protest as the police took him into custody. Paul Dalton was one of the cops who showed, as was John Buchannan, who wasn’t one of my biggest fans.

  “Of course you’re here,” Buchannan said as soon as he saw me. “It never fails.” He shook his head and wandered into the main room to secure the scene.

  The next hour was spent answering questions and waiting for the chance to go home. I’d hoped Paul would take my statement, but he was busy with Troy, so instead, a young, unfamiliar cop who looked overwhelmed by this whole thing took me aside. After only a few moments, I realized he was new to the force and this was his first murder. Lucky for him, I’d already solved the case, so he wouldn’t get to experience the joys of searching for suspects.

  Once Rita and I had given our statements, we were given permission to go. We left just as the ambulance drove off with Lewis Coates inside. I sent a quick prayer after him, hoping that wherever he was now, he was happier.

  After dropping Rita off at home, I headed for my own place, anxious for things to get back to normal.

  “Hey, Misfit,” I said as I stepped inside the house. My fluffy orange cat was sprawled on the couch, dozing. He didn’t look up as I entered. Christmas tree ornaments were scattered around the floor, but at least the tree was still standing, for which I was thankful. I swear Misfit must be part-tree cat for as much as he liked to climb it.

  As I cleaned up and readied the bedrooms for Dad and Laura’s visit, I kept thinking about Lewis Coates, Troy Carpenter, and the rest of the escape room participants. During such a happy time of the year, how could someone let their fears drive them to murder? It was enough to make me depressed.

  The house came together, the sun went down, and the snow began to fall in earnest.

  It would have been perfect, but the quiet was getting to me. I tried turning on the TV, tried talking to Misfit, but it just wasn’t working this time. While my house would be full to bursting over the next week or so, I couldn’t stand being alone now.

  That was how I found myself sitting at a table at Death by Coffee twenty minutes after closing time, a hot mug of coffee in my grip, relating my harrowing experience with an escape room to my best friend and her husband.

  “That sounds horrible,” Vicki said. Her black-and-white cat, Trouble, was snoozing in her lap. She’d somehow gotten him into a cat-sized Christmas sweater, and had come away with all her fingers intact.

  “It was,” I said. “And to be trapped with a killer like that.” I shuddered. Things could have been a lot worse if June hadn’t been there to talk Troy down.

  “It’s a good thing you were there.” Mason sat next to Vicki, an empty mug in his hand.

  “I guess. I just wish I could get through a holiday without someone dying.”

  “No one died on Thanksgiving,” Vicki said.

  “Or Easter,” Mason added.

  “Halloween was pretty quiet this year too,” Vicki said with a grin.

  “Okay, I get it,” I grumbled, swirling my coffee around. Small chunks of the cookie I use instead of sugar and creamer floated up from the bottom of the mug. Yum.

  The lights were off in the bookstore section of the shop, as were the ones to the back. The CLOSED sign hung in the window, and the only light on was the one above where we sat. Which was why it was a surprise when there was a knock at the glass door.

  It was too dark outside to make out who it was. Mason popped up and answered as I finished off my coffee and began spooning gooey chunks of cookie into my mouth.

  “It’s all over now.” Vicki reached across the table and briefly took my hand. “You can relax.”

  “I’m trying,” I said, showing her a soggy bit of cookie before eating it.

  She made a disgusted face as Mason returned with another man in tow.

  “I hope it’s okay I stopped by,” Paul Dalton said. “I saw the light on and thought that maybe Krissy would be here.” His eyes fell on me and he smiled, though it was a tired smile. It had been a long day for all of us.

  Warmth flowed through me hearing my name come from his lips. “I’m here,” I said, hurriedly wiping my mouth in case I’d smeared chocolate on it.

  “Krissy was telling us about what happened,” Vicki said.

  “Can I get you something? Coffee? Hot cocoa?” Mason asked.

  I cringed at the mention of hot cocoa, but, thankfully, Paul asked for a coffee.

  As Mason went to get it for him, I asked, “Did Troy confess?”

  Paul sank into a chair and took off h
is hat. His hair was a mess, and his eyes were a little sunken in, but I still found myself staring, wishing I could run my fingers through that hair of his. He was barely able to suppress a yawn when he spoke.

  “He did. There wasn’t much else he could do. Mr. Coates recorded everything, apparently. It didn’t take long to find a clip of Mr. Carpenter swapping the mugs. He stared right at the camera when he did it, too, as if daring Lewis to do something about it.”

  So there was a camera in the room somewhere. “If you go back a few days, you’ll probably find another recording of Troy. I don’t think today was his first trip to the escape room.”

  “We might not need it,” Paul said. “With the video we have now, plus everyone’s statements, and Mr. Carpenter’s confession, there’s not much he can do to talk his way out of this one.”

  “If there was a camera, how did he think he would get away with it?” Vicki asked.

  “He probably planned on deleting everything once he escaped the room,” I said.

  Paul nodded. “Or he could have simply stolen the laptop. Everything was saved to a hard drive, and not on the cloud. It was how he knew how to escape his room. He snuck in earlier and found the codes needed on the laptop.”

  “But Lewis changed the last code, didn’t he?”

  “Must have,” Paul said. “I don’t know why he did, and doubt we’ll ever know for sure.”

  It was a good thing he did. If we’d escaped right away, there was a good chance Troy would have been long gone before anyone pieced together what had happened.

  “Why’d he do it anyway?” Mason asked, handing Paul his coffee.

  “I don’t have all the details yet,” Paul said. “But it looks like Mr. Carpenter was skimming money from clients. When the bank hired Mr. Coates to upgrade their computers’ security systems, he came across some incriminating evidence. Or, that’s what Mr. Carpenter thought. There’s no evidence Lewis Coates ever confronted him about anything, or turned him in.”

  “Are you saying it might have all been a misunderstanding?” Vicki asked.

  “Could be.” Paul shook his head sadly. “He got paranoid, confronted Mr. Coates about it, and when Lewis didn’t admit to finding anything, he decided to silence him, just in case. I won’t know for sure until we talk to Carpenter some more.”

  We all stared into our coffee mugs for a few minutes. I kept thinking about June, about that look on her face when she realized her boyfriend was a murderer. I wondered if she had anyone else she could go to for the holidays. It was going to be a rough couple of months for her.

  Snow was still falling outside. It wasn’t coming down hard, but since the ground was already covered, it was beginning to pile up. A salt truck drifted down the road, closely followed by a car filled with a family singing loud enough to be heard inside Death by Coffee.

  “I should probably go,” I said when they were gone.

  “We should too.” Vicki looked down at Trouble, but didn’t make a move to rise.

  Paul glanced over his shoulder, out the window. “It was kind of slick out there when I got here. We should probably wait and let the salt do its work.”

  When he turned back to the table, his eyes met mine. Quite suddenly, the room felt a little too hot, and time seemed to slow to a crawl.

  “You’re probably right,” Mason said, popping up from his chair. “Let me get everyone a refill.”

  No one complained, so he did just that.

  Seconds passed where no one spoke. Mason filled each and every mug and then sat back down. Unlike at home, the silence now felt right. Comforting. I could have sat there, sipping my coffee, and would have been content.

  Mason was the one to raise his mug. “To family,” he said.

  Mugs were raised around the table.

  “To family,” Vicki said.

  My eyes met Paul’s. When we spoke, we did so together.

  “To family.”

  I brought my mug to my lips, and knew that those weren’t mere idle words, but a promise.

  And it was one I expected to keep.