Christmas Card Murder

by Leslie Meier

  “I’m going over to Sal and Rosana’s house.”

  “Wise move,” Mona said.

  “I’ll call you later,” Hayley said as she rushed back out the door, hopped in her car, and sped across town to Sal Moretti’s modest two-story house on Snow Street. She parked in front, steeled herself for what she might hear, and then got out of her car. With renewed determination, she marched up the steps of the front porch and rang the bell.

  After a few moments, Rosana answered the door.

  “Hayley, what a nice surprise! Come in, come in,” Rosana chirped, the effects of her hangover obviously having mercifully subsided.

  Hayley stepped into the foyer. She smelled some kind of bread baking in the oven and could hear Sal cursing in the living room. “Is this a good time?”

  “Oh, yes, Sal’s just struggling to put the Christmas lights on the tree. I’ve been nagging him for a week to get it done, but you know how he procrastinates.”

  “Would you mind if I go talk to him?”

  Worry lines suddenly appeared on Rosana’s forehead. “No, of course not. Is it something serious?”

  “It might be.”

  Rosana grabbed a fistful of Hayley’s sweater. “What is it? Is it about, you know what?”

  Hayley nodded.

  Rosana began to crumble. “Oh, dear, it’s Sal, isn’t it? I knew it! I knew it all along!”

  “No, it’s not Sal,” Hayley said, trying to be reassuring. “At least I don’t think so. But—”

  “But what?” Rosana wailed, her bottom lip quivering.

  “He may know something.”

  “Oh, dear,” Rosana fretted, wringing her hands.

  Hayley gently pushed past Rosana and headed into the living room, where Sal was wrestling with a bulky string of Christmas lights he was desperately trying to untangle. He saw Hayley and bellowed, “I am so over Christmas already! All this ridiculous buildup, and then after opening one brand-new tie and eating a little ham, it’s all over and done with, just like that!”

  “Here, Sal, let me help you,” Hayley said, carefully taking the lights from him and setting to work at unsnarling them.

  “What are you doing here?” Sal groused.

  “Merry Christmas to you too, Sal,” Hayley said.

  “I’m sorry, I just get stressed when the wife strong-arms me into decorating the tree. I hate Christmas.”

  “You hate every holiday.”

  “Can’t argue with that.”

  Hayley could hear Rosana bustling around in the kitchen, keeping herself occupied, and pretending she wasn’t eavesdropping on their conversation.

  “Sal, I came by to ask you something.”

  “You’re not getting a raise, Hayley. Your Christmas bonus is going to have to be enough this year.”

  “I didn’t get a Christmas bonus.”

  “Exactly.”

  Hayley sighed. “That’s not why I came. You finally drilled it into my head that I will never get a raise in this lifetime after the last three times I asked.”

  “Good. Then my work is done.”

  “Why are you covering for Bruce?”

  She finished untangling the Christmas lights and handed them back to Sal, who stared at her blankly.

  “What do you mean?”

  “I know Bruce didn’t go ice fishing with you yesterday.”

  “No . . . uh . . . he did . . . In fact, we—“

  “I found his ice-fishing equipment in the basement, untouched, from last year. How could he go fishing without his pole and supplies?”

  “He borrowed some of my stuff,” Sal insisted.

  She could tell by his flushed face that he wasn’t being honest with her.

  “Sal, I’ve worked for you a long time. I know when you’re not telling me the truth.”

  Sal’s shoulders slumped as he realized he was caught.

  “Okay, yes, he wasn’t with me yesterday.”

  A baking pan clattered to the floor in the kitchen. This startling revelation had obviously spooked Rosana.

  “Where was he?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Sal . . .”

  “I don’t know, Hayley! And that’s the God’s honest truth! Bruce said he had to go do something, and he didn’t want you to know, so he asked me to say he was ice fishing with me.”

  “Come on, Sal, he must have told you what he was doing?”

  Sal vigorously shook his head. “No, he didn’t. All he said was, he didn’t want me to know. He was afraid if I did, I might slip and say something to you.”

  Hayley’s stomach started flip-flopping.

  Sal stepped forward and placed a beefy hand on Hayley’s shoulder. “Are you okay? You don’t look good.”

  “I . . . I . . . I’m f-fine,” Hayley stuttered.

  But she wasn’t.

  She wasn’t fine at all.

  “I’m sure whatever he was doing was innocent enough. I mean, we’re talking about Bruce Linney. He’s basically a Boy Scout, right?”

  Hayley nodded and forced a smile. Outside, she appeared to be agreeing with Sal. But inside was an entirely different feeling. A sickening sense of dread was rapidly building inside her.

  And now in the forefront of her mind was the looming decision she knew she was going to have to make.

  Should she go to the police with this new information?

  And if she did, would it lead to her own husband’s arrest for murder?

  Island Food & Spirits

  By Hayley Powell

  One of my favorite Christmas traditions is pulling out my recipe box from the pantry and whipping up some of my favorite seasonal appetizer recipes. I take these to my friends’ holiday parties or serve them at my own annual shindig I host every year at my house for close family and friends.

  Last night, I came upon an index card in the box with my Aunt Diane’s handwritten Christmas Pin Wheel appetizer recipe. I had been gorging on those delicious treats ever since I was a little kid! Well, of course, I couldn’t resist and set about searching the kitchen for all the necessary ingredients. My party was in two days’ time, so I couldn’t help patting myself on the back for being so ahead of the game.

  As many of you know, I’m a huge procrastinator. I know, I know, I can hear a few of you now yelling, “And terrible organizer!” My boss, Sal, has alerted me to that fact on several occasions—and I happen to be the office manager at the Island Times! Organizing is in my job description. Luckily, I haven’t been fired yet. I will tell you what I told him, though. I’m a work in progress. I just haven’t made much progress as of yet. But I’m an eternal optimist! Someday I will be meticulously organized!

  I have really tried over the years. About nine years ago, I looked around my house to see that the Halloween decorations were still up and it was three days past Thanksgiving! I decided now was the time to get my butt in gear. I grabbed a big garbage bag and threw out the pumpkins on the front doorstep, ripped off the paper decorations of witches, ghosts, and goblins off the windows, and even dumped the papier-mâché Thanksgiving turkey from the dining-room table! Then I spent the next two hours dusting and vacuuming! When I was done, I folded my arms proudly and thought to myself, Now, who’s not an organized person? A couple of weeks later, the answer came back to me in vivid detail. Me!

  You see, I was sitting at my desk at work, jotting down an upcoming dentist appointment in my calendar, when I suddenly realized to my horror that I only had one week left before my annual Christmas gathering at the house. I had yet to even send out the invites, plan my menu, and, most important, lose the extra seven pounds I had gained at Halloween, not to mention five more at Thanksgiving from the stuffing alone!

  I raced home from work, fed the kids, and ordered them up to their rooms to do their homework so I could get cracking on the party planning. First up, a save-the-date e-mail to all my guests. The following morning, the RSVPs began pouring in, twenty out of twenty-five had already confirmed, along with what side dishes, appetizers,
and desserts they would be bringing.

  I spent the next week baking and cooking to prepare, and before I knew it, it was Friday, the day before the Christmas party. I took the day off from work to drive the kids to the airport in Bangor to catch an early flight to their father’s, where they would be spending their Christmas vacation; then I finished a little shopping at the mall. I arrived home in plenty of time to toss some ingredients in the slow cooker for a make-ahead spaghetti sauce I could serve on Christmas Day.

  I was feeling quite proud of myself. This new organized me was such a nice improvement over the usual harried and messy me, and so I decided to pamper myself and take a nice, long, luxurious bubble bath upstairs. I filled the tub with water and a decadent dollop of Herbivore Coconut Milk Bath Soak, and sank down into it with a heavy sigh. I popped in my wireless earbuds and listened on my iPod to a string of country hits sung by my favorite crooner, Wade Springer. I drifted off to sleep with lovely thoughts of Wade snuggled in that tiny bathtub with me (this, of course, was before I married my husband, Bruce).

  My sweet Wade dream soon gave way to a nightmare. At least I thought it was a nightmare. I was in pitch blackness and all I could hear were feet stomping and people yelling followed by loud pounding on the door.

  Suddenly I was jolted awake and sat up with a start. I popped open my eyes and tore the buds out of my ears. I could still hear the yelling and pounding. It wasn’t a dream! Before I could react, the door to the bathroom flew open and I found myself staring at a half-dozen heads, all wide-eyed, staring at me lying naked in the tub. Luckily, the last remaining bubbles allowed me a modicum of modesty. Still, I sank back down in the tub as Liddy, Mona, and my brother, Randy, pushed everybody back out into the hallway.

  “It’s okay,” Randy assured them all. “She’s alive.”

  Liddy threw me a towel, which I wrapped around my midsection as I stood up.

  “Of course, I’m okay!” I wailed. “Why are you all here?”

  “We’re here for the party!” Mona bellowed.

  “The party is not until tomorrow night!” I explained.

  They all stared at me in disbelief.

  And that’s when I discovered I was not the fastidious organizer I had thought I was. In my haste to get out my save-the-date e-mail, I typed the wrong date. I told everyone the party was on Friday, not Saturday. Tonight.

  When everyone began arriving, a mystery quickly began brewing as to the whereabouts of the hostess. Things started to get tense when they saw what looked like blood splattered all over the kitchen. Upon closer inspection, it turned out to be spaghetti sauce. My oversized cat, Blueberry, had accidentally knocked the slow cooker off the counter. Although if I was being honest, I would swear he pushed it intentionally in order to crush my Shih Tzu, Leroy, as he innocently passed by underneath. In any event, both pets were found hiding under the kitchen table, licking sauce off themselves. Well, panic quickly set in and the search began for my body, which they all found very much alive upstairs naked in the bathtub.

  I was crestfallen that I had mismanaged everything so badly, but I have been blessed with the most wonderful friends and family in the world. Everybody pitched in, mopping the kitchen, turning on the tree lights, putting on Christmas carols, setting out all the appetizers, and, most important for this crowd, stirring the cocktails.

  Within minutes, we were in full party mode, singing and laughing, and as my brother handed me a perfect Eggnog Martini, I realized that this beautiful night with friends and family was the best Christmas gift I could ever ask for.

  Well, except maybe for some organizational skills.

  Randy’s Eggnog Martini

  Ingredients:

  3 ounces eggnog

  1 ounce vanilla vodka

  1 ounce Amaretto liqueur

  Fresh nutmeg

  Fill a shaker with ice and add all your ingredients. Shake until well blended and pour into a chilled martini glass. Grate a little fresh nutmeg over the top.

  Christmas Pin Wheel Appetizers

  Ingredients:

  2 (8-ounce) packages cream cheese, room temperature

  1 package ranch dressing mix

  1 (4-ounce) jar pimentos, drained and patted dry

  1 cup finely shredded sharp cheddar cheese

  4 (12-inch) spinach flour tortillas

  1 (4-ounce) can green chilies, drained and patted dry

  1 (2.25-ounce) can of sliced black olives, drained and patted dry

  2 green onions, chopped

  ½ cup small diced yellow pepper

  In a large bowl, mix together the cream cheese and ranch dressing mix and mix until combined.

  Add the rest of the ingredients into the cream cheese mixture and continue mixing until combined.

  Divide the cream cheese mixture onto the 4 tortillas. Using a spatula, spread evenly over all tortillas.

  Tightly roll up the tortilla and wrap in saran wrap and store in the refrigerator for at least 2 hours or even overnight.

  Remove tortillas from fridge and using a serrated knife, cut into ½-inch slices and place on plate. You’ll be the hit of any holiday party!

  Chapter Eleven

  If Hayley was sure of one thing, it was that her brother, Randy, was a good actor. There had been a time when Randy had decided he wanted to be the next Daniel Day-Lewis and moved to New York and studied at the American Academy of Dramatic Arts. However, the unrelenting rejection and frustration of life as a struggling actor ultimately became too much to handle, and he had moved back home to Maine. A wise decision in hindsight, because it was there he had started a successful business and met the love of his life.

  But Randy had skills, which were on full display in his senior year of high school when the girl who was cast in the high-school production of Fiddler on the Roof came down with a case of mono. There was no one to play Fruma-Sarah, the ghost of Lazar Wolf’s dead wife, who returns to haunt Tevye. Randy, who had a small role as a Russian dancer, gamely volunteered to fill in at the last minute on opening night. It was unquestionably a triumph of a performance, although some would argue it wasn’t due to Randy’s strong singing voice and embodiment of the character. Rather, it was more because when he was hoisted up in the air wearing a harness, and had been flung around so wildly by the stage crew on the ground controlling the pulleys, he had unfortunately become dizzy and nauseous and had thrown up on the first row of the audience. Still, Randy had made an indelible impression and it was at that moment he had decided he wanted to become an actor.

  So it was somewhat surprising that his performance now, in his own living room, sitting next to his husband, Sergio, was far less impressive. When Hayley had reluctantly shown up at their door with the disturbing news about Bruce, and how he had blatantly lied to her about his whereabouts on the night Carol Waterman had been murdered, both her brother and his husband had not reacted with the utter shock and concern she had expected.

  “Huh,” Randy had said with a shrug. “Didn’t see that coming.”

  “I will be sure to look into it,” Sergio quickly added, before casually offering her a Bailey’s Irish Cream. They had been enjoying the drink themselves while decorating their lush green Christmas tree in the corner of the living room, next to the crackling flames in the fireplace.

  “Did you not hear what I just said? Bruce is clearly hiding something! There is the disturbing possibility that he was having a secret affair with Carol Waterman, and he may have been the one who killed her!” Hayley wailed.

  Randy shot Sergio a not-so-subtle furtive look.

  “I just saw that!” Hayley snapped.

  “What?” Randy said, feigning innocence before shooting Sergio yet another look.

  “That! That look! You keep doing that, like you two already know something!”

  Randy threw his hands up in the air. “We don’t know anything!”

  “Sergio, I spent nearly an hour in my car before coming over here. I couldn’t bear the thought of going behind my husband’s b
ack, exposing him as a liar, but I ultimately decided I had to do what’s right. So here I am, standing right here, betraying him, and all you can say is, you’ll look into it?”

  “Hayley, Bruce is not the killer,” Sergio said calmly.

  “How do we know that?” Hayley cried. “He lied to me! He didn’t smell like fish the way Sal did when he showed up at the party! He said he had gone home and taken a shower! He could have lied about that, too, because he never went fishing! I just don’t understand why Sal would cover for him!”

  Randy shot Sergio another knowing look.

  “Stop doing that!” Hayley howled. “Why are you two being so cagey?”

  There was an agonizing silence before Randy finally spoke up. “We should tell her.”

  “Tell me what?” Hayley shouted, becoming more hysterical by the minute.

  Sergio sighed. “Come with us.”

  They both quietly headed for the kitchen.

  Hayley paused, confused, and then followed them.

  Sergio opened the door that led out to their attached garage and flipped on a light before stepping aside and ushering Hayley past him, where she stopped in her tracks and gasped.

  Parked on the far side of the garage was a brand-new lightning-blue Ford Escape sport utility vehicle, with a giant red bow tied around the exterior.

  “What? I don’t . . . understand . . .”

  “It’s your Christmas present,” Sergio said.

  “My what . . . ?” Hayley gasped as she stared at the shiny new vehicle.

  “From Bruce,” Randy gently explained.

  Hayley walked over to the SUV and stood in front of it, unable to take her eyes off it. It was a beautiful car, and it had been an achingly long time since Hayley had driven a brand-spanking-new car.