Christmas Card Murder

by Leslie Meier

  Mona didn’t notice him at first, but Hayley intercepted him as he made a beeline toward the spiked eggnog. “You need to go talk to your wife right now!”

  Dennis looked at Hayley, surprised. “What’s she done now?”

  “It’s not what she’s done! It’s what you’ve done!” Hayley said, squeezing his arm and steering him over to the corner.

  Mona finally spotted them when they were right in front of her.

  “Dennis, where the hell have you been?”

  “Ellsworth,” he mumbled. “Why?”

  “What were you doing up there?”

  “I decided to drive up and do a little Christmas shopping. What’s the big deal? You’ve been yelling at me all month to get off my butt and help out buying stuff for the kids.”

  “So you chose today of all days to do it?” Mona asked.

  “Yeah, why not? What’s so special about today?”

  “Why didn’t you call me back when I called you?”

  “You called me?”

  “Yes, Dennis, don’t you dare lie to me!” Mona fumed.

  Dennis reached into the pocket of his jeans and pulled out his phone. He tried turning it on. “I guess my phone died. I told you my charger’s not working.”

  Mona eyed him suspiciously, not sure if she should believe him or not. Dennis sighed, annoyed, tired of getting the third degree. “Can I go get some eggnog now?”

  “Yes, Dennis, help yourself,” Hayley said.

  Dennis trotted off, smiling at a few people he recognized, and poured himself some eggnog.

  Mona turned to Hayley. “Normally, I can tell if he’s lying. But this time, I can’t be sure. What do you think?”

  “I think we have completely overreacted to that ludicrous Christmas card from Carol Waterman. It was obviously a joke,” Hayley said. “And not a very funny one.”

  Chapter Eight

  Hayley, flanked by Mona and Rosana, rapped on the front door to Carol Waterman’s house.

  Rosana cringed and closed her eyes tight. “Please, Hayley, not so loud.”

  Hayley shot her a grin, knowing the poor woman was suffering mightily on this bright and sunny, yet chilly, mid-December Saturday morning, the day after the office party. “Sorry, Rosana.”

  Rosana rubbed her eyes and nodded, but didn’t have the strength to respond.

  Mona sighed. “How long is this going to take? I got traps to haul today.”

  “We won’t stay long, I promise. I just thought it would be a nice gesture if we stopped in for a quick visit to see if Carol is feeling better.”

  Mona rolled her eyes. “That’s not why we’re here, and you know it. You want to find out what’s behind that crazy Christmas card Carol sent us.”

  Hayley turned to Mona and put a finger to her lips. “Shhhh, Carol doesn’t need to hear that.” She glanced at Rosana. “Cover your ears.”

  Rosana obliged and Hayley knocked on the door several more times, but there was still no answer.

  “She’s not home. Let’s go get some blueberry pancakes at Jordan’s. I’m starving.”

  They were about to turn and leave when Hayley stopped. “Do you hear that?”

  Mona perked up her ears. “Hear what?”

  Hayley listened for a few more seconds. “That.”

  “I don’t hear anything, do you, Rosana?” Mona asked.

  Rosana grabbed her temples, moaning softly. “Just the pounding inside my head.”

  Hayley distinctly heard the sound of faint singing, and as she pressed her ear against Carol’s front door, she knew it was coming from inside the house. “ ‘Deck the Halls.’ Carol is playing Christmas music. She probably can’t hear us.” Hayley hammered on the door again with her fist.

  “Hayley!” Rosana cried, eyes squinting, near tears.

  “Sorry, Rosana,” Hayley mumbled before turning back and screaming through the door, “Hello, Carol! It’s Hayley Powell! I’m here with Mona Barnes and Rosana Moretti! Can we come in?”

  Still, no answer.

  “What’s she doing in there?” Mona scoffed.

  Hayley could hear “Deck the Halls” finally wrapping up and then the first few bars of “Rudolph, the Red-Nosed Reindeer” start playing.

  Hayley reached down and gripped the doorknob, turning it to the right. The door effortlessly opened. “It’s unlocked. Should we go in?”

  “No, that’s breaking and entering!” Rosana cried, turning to flee before Mona grabbed her by the sweater.

  “We’re not breaking in, the door’s unlocked. And we’re only entering because we think she’s home,” Mona barked.

  Hayley gingerly stepped inside the house, stopping in the small foyer to see one of those Amazon Alexa devices perched on top of a side table near a coatrack. The Christmas music was blasting out of it.

  Hayley walked over to it. “Alexa, lower volume.”

  The music dropped in volume.

  “Looks like she’s planning to leave on a trip out of town,” Mona said from behind Hayley. Hayley turned to see Mona pointing to a large suitcase sitting at the bottom of the staircase to their left.

  Hayley marched over and lifted it up. It was heavy, indicating it was packed full of clothes. “Carol, are you home?”

  “I have awful dry mouth,” Rosana murmured. “Do you think Carol would mind if I helped myself to a glass of water?”

  “I’m sure she would be fine with it,” Hayley assured her.

  Rosana shuffled off toward the kitchen.

  Hayley tried calling one more time. “Carol?”

  “She has to be home. I can smell that rancid perfume she wears,” Mona huffed.

  “White Diamonds by Elizabeth Taylor, and I think it’s a lovely scent,” Hayley whispered.

  “Well, I’m choking on it right now!” Mona barked.

  Hayley shook her head and then wandered into the living room, where she suddenly stopped in her tracks, screaming at the top of her lungs.

  She heard Rosana drop a glass in the kitchen and it shattered all over the floor. Mona bounded into the living room in a panic and came up behind Hayley, gasping loudly in Hayley’s ear.

  They both stared in shock at the sight of Carol Waterman lying on the floor underneath her Christmas tree, with all the colored lights still blinking. A decorative garland that had been yanked off the tree was wrapped tightly around Carol’s neck and her head was turned to the side, where they could see her swollen, purplish tongue jetting out of her mouth as her glassy, dead eyes stared up at them.

  Somebody had strangled her to death.

  Chapter Nine

  Police Chief Sergio Alvares was barreling through the front door of Carol Waterman’s house less than three minutes after Hayley had called 911 on her phone. Arriving not far behind him, a county forensics team began expertly combing the premises for evidence as Sergio’s officers, Donnie and Earl, escorted Hayley, Mona, and Rosana outside to wait on the street. They were placed alongside a number of rubberneckers drawn by the flashing blue police lights on top of the two squad cars parked out in front of the house.

  Rosana gripped Hayley’s arm, a bit woozy, her mind still cloudy from the consumption of too much alcohol from the previous evening. “They’re going to find broken pieces of glass all over the kitchen floor. Should I tell them that was me and not the killer stopping for a glass of water before leaving the scene of the crime?”

  Hayley gently patted Rosana’s shoulder. “I’m sure you’ll have the chance to explain all of that when they question us.”

  “So, do you honestly think she was murdered?” Mona whispered, low enough so the curious onlookers crowding around them couldn’t overhear their conversation.

  Hayley nodded as she leaned in closer to Mona and said in a hushed tone, “Definitely. The discoloration of her tongue indicated strangulation, so I’m pretty sure she didn’t wrap that garland around her neck herself.”

  “Oh, boy,” Mona sighed.

  “ ‘Oh, boy’ is right,” Hayley said, her mind ra
cing with a number of disturbing scenarios of what might have happened to poor Carol Waterman.

  Rosana, who was two steps behind Hayley and Mona, suddenly gasped. “You don’t think the killer could have been one of our—”

  “Shhhh,” Mona warned, clapping a hand over Rosana’s mouth. “Not here.”

  The three women decided to move away from the crowd and over to a fir tree located on the far end of Carol’s property. Officer Earl, whose job was to corral all the locals who were quickly gathering at the scene and growing in number, spotted them and called out, loud enough for everyone to hear, “Don’t go too far, ladies! Chief Alvares is going to want to talk to you!”

  “We know, Earl! You don’t have to treat us like suspects!” Rosana wailed before whipping her head back around toward Hayley and Mona. “He thinks we had something to do with this! Which is crazy, right? The idea of us strangling poor Carol Waterman is just preposterous!”

  “It’s not us I’m worried about,” Hayley said somberly. “That packed suitcase by the stairs is what makes me nervous.”

  Mona folded her arms, concerned. “Yeah, I know. If Carol was planning on leaving town, then maybe what she wrote in that Christmas card was actually true.”

  “Oh, dear,” Rosana croaked.

  “If she was telling the truth, and Carol was going to run off with one of our husbands, and something went seriously wrong with the plan—“

  “Oh, dear!” Rosana cried, panicked. “One of our husbands is the killer!”

  Mona covered Rosana’s mouth again with her chubby, callused hand as Hayley glanced around to see if anybody had heard Rosana’s hysterical declaration. Luckily, everyone’s attention was still directed toward the house and what was happening inside.

  “Rosana, please keep your voice down!” Hayley pleaded.

  Rosana nodded her head and Mona released her.

  They stood by the tree, agitated, their minds swirling with a number of unpleasant thoughts for a few more minutes until Sergio finally emerged from the house. A few reporters from both the Island Times and the Bar Harbor Herald raced forward like sharks toward floating chum and shouted a barrage of questions at him. The chief, however, ignored them and marched straight toward Hayley, Mona, and Rosana.

  “He’s coming this way! What are we going to say?” Rosana cried.

  “Stay calm,” Hayley said under her breath. “We just have to be honest about what we know.”

  Sergio offered them all a sincere, rueful smile. “I’m sorry you had to be the ones to stumble upon the crime scene. Can I ask what brought you over to Carol Waterman’s in the first place?”

  “She sent her date a text last night that she wasn’t feeling well and wouldn’t be attending the Island Times office Christmas party, so the three of us decided to come over here and check on her this morning,” Hayley explained evenly.

  “That’s not the reason—“ Rosana said before stopping midsentence.

  Mona sighed loudly as Sergio eyed her suspiciously.

  Rosana turned to Hayley. “You said to be honest!”

  Hayley reached into her back pocket and pulled out a red envelope with Carol’s Christmas card inside and handed it to Sergio. “We also wanted to ask her about this.”

  Sergio opened the card and read the inscription, his lips moving along and his eyes widening when he reached the end. He then closed the card, almost dismissively, before looking back up at Hayley, Mona, and Rosana. “This can not be serious. It’s some kind of joke, right?”

  Hayley shrugged. “We assumed so at first . . . but given what’s happened, we thought it might be evidence, which is why we’re handing it over to you.”

  Sergio stared glumly at the card, which he slid back into the red envelope. He thought for a moment, and then shook his head. “I find it impossible to believe that Bruce or Sal or Dennis had anything to do with—”

  “So do we, but you always say, ‘it’s important to follow all leads, no matter how uncomfortable,’” Hayley reminded him.

  “I did say that, didn’t I?” Sergio muttered. He sighed and then said with more forcefulness, “All right, then. I will talk to all three of them, and see what they have to say.”

  Sergio excused the women and told them they were finally free to go home. Hayley hugged Mona and Rosana tightly. They had all been through a traumatic ordeal together and felt a tight bond. Even Mona didn’t wrestle herself free from Hayley’s hug, she needed a little comfort at this moment, too.

  When Hayley arrived home, she received a text from Bruce that he was heading to the police station because Sergio wanted to talk to him. Hayley drew a breath, worried how her husband might react when he learned he was a suspect because of her. But in her heart, she knew he was innocent, and it wouldn’t matter in the end anyway. Hayley tried busying herself by baking some gingerbread and was in the middle of sifting together the flour, baking soda, salt, cinnamon, ginger, and cloves when her phone buzzed.

  It was a text from Bruce: Just finished chatting with Sergio. Going to swing by the office and do a little work on Monday’s column. He said nothing about his conversation with the police chief. She couldn’t possibly wait until he got home to press him for details. But she did not want to disrupt his Saturday-morning writing session at the office, either, so she called Sergio instead. After waiting on hold a few minutes, Sergio finally picked up.

  “How can I help you, Hayley?”

  She didn’t waste any time on small talk. “What happened with Bruce?”

  “Nothing. I talked to all three of them. Bruce and Sal were ice fishing together out on Eagle Lake, and Dennis was Christmas shopping in Ellsworth. They all seemed pretty believable, so as far as I’m concerned, they’re in the clear for now . . . until we find further evidence.”

  “Did you ask them about Carol’s Christmas card?”

  “Yes, none of them knew anything about it. They all think it was probably Carol just trying to mess with you three.”

  “Okay, thanks, Sergio.”

  Hayley ended the call and stared at her bowl of gingerbread ingredients. She trusted Bruce. She knew in her gut he had to be telling the truth. But something drew her to the door leading down to the basement. She flicked on the light and descended the stairs into the dank, musty room underneath the house. She knew exactly what she was looking for, and after she moved a few boxes to get to a specific corner, she stood there, frozen in place, stunned and dismayed. Because right in front of her, dusty and untouched, in the exact spot where Bruce had stored it last spring with the winter season over, was his ice-fishing equipment.

  Bruce had lied.

  He didn’t go ice fishing.

  So, why would Sal cover for him and say he did?

  Or was Sal lying, too?

  Chapter Ten

  Mona stood in the doorway to her house, eyes blinking, mouth agape. “I don’t believe it.”

  “It’s true, I swear,” Hayley heaved, panting for air, panic rising. “Can I come in?”

  Mona swept the door all the way open and ushered her inside. Hayley expected the usual pandemonium with kids running around in diapers, the older ones upstairs blasting music, food stains on the walls and unidentifiable smears on the tables and countertops. But today it was relatively calm and quiet at the Barnes house, which surprised her.

  “Where is everybody?” Hayley inquired, glancing around.

  “Mom’s got all the little ones. I swear she’s a glutton for punishment. But every so often, she likes to play grandma. I have no idea where the older ones are, probably tearing through town, causing trouble. I think Chet might be home. I heard him slamming around upstairs a while ago. Dennis is in his man cave down in the basement, on his back, watching a football game. No surprise there. Can I get you some coffee?”

  “No!” Hayley gasped. “I’m jacked up enough already.”

  “Have you called Sal and asked him about any of this?”

  Hayley shook her head. “I wanted to talk to you first and get your advice on
what I should do!”

  “You can’t tiptoe around this, Hayley. If Bruce is lying to you, you need to know. Where is he?”

  “At the office.”

  “On a Saturday?”

  “Yes, since he went ice fishing, or at least that’s what the official story is at this point, he fell behind on his workload and had to work on his next column.”

  “What about Sal?”

  “I assume he’s at home with Rosana today.”

  “Maybe you should talk to him first. If Bruce is lying, then so is Sal. Maybe you can get the truth out of him before you confront Bruce, so you’re not going in blind.”

  “Mona, do you think Bruce might be the one—?”

  “Of course not! Bruce writes about crime! He’s no criminal! And Sal is too fat and lazy to lift a finger and strangle anyone! As for Dennis, well, he’s definitely in the clear!”

  “How do you know for sure?”

  At that moment, Mona’s seventeen-year-old son, Chet, ambled into the kitchen and threw open the refrigerator door, lazily perusing the contents inside.

  Mona jerked her head around toward him. “Chet, tell Hayley what you told me earlier.”

  Chet, eyes half-mast, totally annoyed to be drawn into a boring adult conversation, sighed and drawled in a thick Maine accent, “Twenty One Pilots is coming to the Bangor Auditorium, and tickets go on sale tomorrow. Mom won’t give me the money to buy two for me and my girlfriend, Jess, before they sell out!”

  “I’m not talking about that!” Mona barked. “Tell her about going Christmas shopping with your father!”

  Chet stared blankly at his mother, but then a lightbulb, albeit a very small one, popped on in his head. “Oh yeah! I went with Dad yesterday Christmas shopping in Ellsworth.”

  Mona made a sweeping gesture toward her reed-thin, long-haired, gawky son. “See? Dennis is in the clear. Chet is his airtight alibi.”

  “I’m so happy for you,” Hayley mumbled, not feeling any better. “I guess that just solidifies the case against Bruce.”

  The loud cheers from a football game playing on the TV nearly drowned Hayley out. Mona momentarily marched out of the kitchen and screamed, “For the love of God, Dennis, turn down the damn TV!” After a few seconds, Hayley heard the volume lowering just a bit and Mona returned to the kitchen. Chet popped open a can of soda and disappeared back upstairs to his room. In the interim, Hayley had come to a decision.