Christmas with the Franks

by Leena Clover

  There was a fleet of fancy cars parked inside. One of them was an old Mustang, a 1960s muscle car. A Mercedes convertible and a Land Rover were parked next to it. But something else stole our breath away. A gleaming red Ferrari stood at the other end of the barn.

  “These people are loaded all right,” I whistled.

  I heard a hum and I noticed a small room tucked into a corner. It was almost dark. We crept up to it and peeped in through a window. The room was a crude office of sorts. A tray table was placed in the center of the room with a pile of paper on it. There was a phone on the desk, and a metal chair next to it. Ted Junior was sitting in the chair, talking on the phone. He banged a fist on the table, raising his voice.

  “The old man is not an issue anymore. Didn’t I tell you everything would be fine? Nothing can stop this merger now.”

  Tony pulled me away and almost dragged me out of the barn. We heard footsteps behind us and hid by the side of the building, out of breath. Ted Junior walked out, a smile on his face.

  Tony held me back until Ted was out of sight.

  “What was that about?” I hissed. “You don’t think he …”

  “He could have been talking to anyone,” Tony warned. “Don’t take it out of context.”

  “We know Junior was pushing for new investors,” I reminded him. “Looks like he is getting his way now.”

  Tony looked a bit distracted as we took a circuitous route back to the house.

  “What’s wrong, bubba?” I asked. “Cat got your tongue?”

  I tried to remember what we had been talking about before.

  “Why don’t we get dinner sometime?” he asked suddenly.

  I looked up in surprise. Tony and I have at least one meal together on most days. We get lunch at the food court or the diner, go out to get Thai food, or he eats at our place. Was he trying to say something else?

  “Yeah, because we never get a meal together,” I kidded.

  “You remember when we went to Nancy’s?”

  A fancy diner had opened up in town for a brief time. Tony and I had gone on a pretend dinner date there to do a bit of sleuthing.

  “Yes?”

  “Let’s go for a proper dinner like that.”

  Was Tony asking me out on a date? He had taken long enough to get around to it.

  “Just say when,” I nodded casually.

  Tony perked up and a smile spread across his face.

  “Let’s hope we get home soon now,” he said.

  We called Tony’s parents after that. They promised us they would look into getting the roads cleaned up soon.

  The wind had picked up a bit and my fingers felt frozen inside my gloves. We shivered as we ran the last few steps to the house. Chamberlain was putting fresh logs on the fire in the living room.

  “Your grandparents have gone up for a nap,” Dad told me. “I’m going up myself.”

  He looked at Tony and raised his eyebrows.

  “Are you going to stay down here?”

  Tony nodded. They were probably functioning under some unspoken code. One of them would stick around where I was, making sure I was alright.

  “Your aura has changed,” Madam Isadora announced suddenly. “I see some orange, with a sliver of red.”

  “What does that mean?” Tony asked, humoring her.

  “Sunshine,” she sang out, spreading her arms wide. “Rainbows. Roses.”

  Dad muttered something under his breath.

  “It’s a sign,” she said seriously. “There’s love in the air…”

  Madam Isadora looked bewildered, as if she was reading something she couldn’t understand.

  Tony and I both blushed, refusing to look at each other.

  Chapter 16

  Chorizo was back in her old spot on Ted Junior’s desk. Stan was twirling a pencil in his hands, looking harassed. William Derry lingered at the door, hopping from one foot to the other.

  “I can’t come in here,” he pleaded. “I don’t like cats.”

  “Shoo…shoo…”

  Stan wasn’t having much success in getting Chorizo to budge from her position. I went to the game room, looking for Julie. She came and picked up the cat, clutching her close to her chest. She glared at William Derry as she went out.

  “Poor kitty …” she cooed, nuzzling against the cat.

  William Derry shuddered and finally entered the room.

  “Can’t abide by them,” he said, clearing his throat. “Don’t know how people allow them to run wild.”

  He cleared his throat continuously and fidgeted in his chair.

  “Shall we start?” Stan asked. “We have a busy day ahead of us.”

  “Need to get home to my girls,” Mr. Derry griped. “I wasn’t supposed to stay over. It’s Christmas time. I am on vacation, you know. Paid time off. I want to spend it with my family.”

  “We all want to get home,” Stan seethed. “But there’s nothing to be done until the roads are clear. Shall we begin now, Mr. Derry?”

  William Derry wiped his bald head and nodded. He seemed to be around fifty, almost the same age as Ted Junior, but the similarities ended there.

  “When did you get here last night?”

  “About 6 PM,” Derry replied. “It took me a good hour to get here. Didn’t want to be late for the boss’s dinner party, you know. Wife said better get here early.”

  “What did you do?” I asked.

  “That butler fella took me to the living room. Mr. Frank was busy, old Mr. Frank I mean. There was no one else around.”

  “What can you tell us about the old man? Anything special you want us to note?”

  “He was still going strong. Would have lived over a hundred if someone hadn’t shot him down in cold blood.”

  William Derry leaned forward, clearing his throat.

  “Came to the plant every day, just like he did thirty years ago when I was a trainee. He was in total control of everything. Knew what’s going on in every corner of the office.”

  “What about Ted Junior?” I asked.

  I remembered reading somewhere that he was the President of the company.

  “Ted Junior is President alright,” Derry nodded. “But the old man retained control. No one dared go against him.”

  “Who gave the orders? Wasn’t it confusing for the employees, having two big bosses?”

  “Ted Junior took care of operations. But the big decisions came from the old man.”

  “Did they get along?” Stan knew the answer to that.

  “Weren’t you here for dinner last night?” Derry asked incredulously. “That’s right. You came here afterwards.”

  He turned and looked at me.

  “Tell him.”

  “Why don’t you tell us what you thought, Mr. Derry?”

  “It’s the same old feud. They have been fighting over it for years. Ted Junior was losing his patience though.”

  “Care to elaborate?” Stan quirked his eyebrow.

  “The plant’s getting a bit old. It needs a complete overhaul. We need new machinery and stuff. The old man wanted to spend their own money and modernize. Junior wanted to bring in partners. The partners would put in the money for the modernization.”

  “Wasn’t there a third solution that would work for both of them?” I asked.

  “I’ll tell you what I think,” Derry muttered. “They were just having a bit of fun. They didn’t care if the plant shut down. Look around this house. They’ve got it in spades.”

  “You’re saying father and son were putting on an act?”

  “That’s what the word on the floor was all this time. But something changed recently. Ted Junior was acting aggressive all of a sudden. He was trying to convince the old man to retire. Wanted him to go on some kind of cruise.”

  “Junior’s mother goes on a cruise,” I said. “Not old Mr. Frank. You must be mistaken.”

  Derry shook his head.

  “Old man’s been talking about this cruise for years. He wants to go to Cabo.
That is somewhere in Mexico, on the other side of the country.”

  “How do you know that?” Stan asked.

  “I saw it in a movie once.”

  “Not Cabo. I mean how do you know Mr. Frank wanted to go on this cruise?”

  “Word gets around. He wanted the whole family to go. Even Mrs. Frank and Mr. Noah. But Mrs. Frank wouldn’t give him the time of day.”

  “What was Ted Junior going to do about it?”

  “He said he was going to take care of it.”

  “Was Mr. Frank against the Employee of the Year award?” I asked.

  Who knew? Maybe Derry had taken offense about something silly. He was an outsider but he had known the old man for a long time. He might have nursed some kind of resentment against him or hated him for some reason.

  Derry sounded ruffled when I mentioned the award.

  “So you picked up on that? The old man thought he paid us more than enough. He was against any kind of bonuses or special events for the staff.”

  “Were you afraid they would take your award away?”

  “Ted Junior won’t let that happen,” Derry said confidently. “He went to some fancy business school. He had modern ideas about keeping the workforce happy.”

  “Can you think of anyone who might have hated the old man?” Stan asked.

  “Not really,” Derry said.

  “Where were you when the shot was fired?” Stan asked.

  “Right there in the living room with a bunch of people.”

  “Do you remember who else was present there?”

  “I can’t tell you exactly, but I can show you.”

  “How do you mean?”

  “I like to doodle,” Derry said, clearing his throat again. “I was doing a spot of sketching after dinner, waiting for a good time to take my leave.”

  Derry fished out a piece of paper from his pocket. He unfolded it and put it on the desk, smoothing out the wrinkles with his hand.

  I could make out the general outlines. There was our family, Madam Isadora with her turban and Crystal right beside her.

  “Can I keep this?” Stan asked, picking up the paper. “This might help us.”

  “It’s all yours,” Derry said.

  “You must have done something big to win the prize,” I said.

  “It wasn’t easy,” Derry boasted. “There’s a lot of competition. I worked a lot of late nights through the year.”

  “What’s the big deal about it?” I asked.

  “Are you kidding? Having dinner with the boss, that too Christmas dinner at this mansion? It’s an honor. No one ever gets invited here.”

  “Wasn’t Noah asking you about a cash prize?”

  “I didn’t mind the extra money,” Derry conceded. “We can finally take that trip to Disney.”

  Derry began grumbling again about getting home.

  “Let us know if you think of anything else, Mr. Derry,” Stan told him. “Anything that struck you as odd, or didn’t make sense. I don’t care how trivial it is.”

  Derry dabbed his pate with the handkerchief and got up to leave.

  “Sally’s flying home tomorrow,” I told Stan. “What are the chances we can get out of here by then?”

  “I don’t know. There hasn’t been any update from town.”

  I pleaded with Stan until he placed a call to the police department in Swan Creek. The town had a limited number of snow plows and they were all in operation, clearing the streets in town. The Frank estate was their last priority.

  “We are ten miles out from the state road. Even if they spare a truck for us, it will take them a long time to get here. And there’s more snow coming. They are saying there’s no point coming out here today.”

  “What do the Franks do when this happens?” I mused. “Surely they must have some trucks of their own?”

  We went out to look for Ted Junior.

  “You’re right, Meera,” Junior said. “We do have some trucks that can be fitted with snow removal equipment. The men in the garage usually handle it. But none of them have come in to work today.”

  “Can we rig them up?” I asked hopefully.

  Ted Junior shrugged. He seemed preoccupied.

  “Sure. You can try.”

  Stan pointed a finger toward the window. It was barely 3 PM but it was almost dark outside. A few flurries were starting up.

  “Best wait until tomorrow,” he advised.

  I went back to Junior’s study and flopped onto the couch. I stifled a yawn and tried hard to keep my eyes open.

  “I need coffee.”

  Stan picked up the intercom and requested a pot. There was a knock on the door and Chamberlain arrived, bearing a tray. He fixed my coffee with cream and sugar and handed me a cup. I chose a cookie from a plate.

  “What’s happening out there, Chamberlain?”

  “Most people have retired to their rooms, Miss,” he said. “Mrs. Frank is not feeling too good. She’s in bed and Miss Julie is in her room, keeping her company.”

  “What’s wrong with Amanda? She seemed alright at lunch.”

  “I mean the older Mrs. Frank,” Chamberlain explained.

  Was Sophia beginning to feel her loss? Or was she just putting on an act?

  I sidled close to Chamberlain and sniffed. If he dipped in the bottle like someone had said, he should stink at least a little bit.

  “Will that be all, Miss?” Chamberlain asked, startling me.

  I nodded and thanked the butler for taking care of us. A familiar tune filtered through the hallway as I closed the study door.

  “What was that?” Stan asked.

  “Sounded like a Christmas song,” I said, raising my eyebrows.

  “Doesn’t sound like anyone’s mourning the old man,” Stan observed.

  “Do you think this was planned? Or did someone just grab an opportunity?”

  “We’ve talked to almost everyone,” Stan cried, looking frustrated. “But we know nothing.”

  “Or we know a lot,” I corrected. “We need to try and make sense out of what we know.”

  There was a rap on the door. Motee Ba stood outside, looking worried.

  “Your Pappa wants to go home now,” she said.

  “We can’t do that, Motee Ba. We already talked about it.”

  “He wants to know what’s happening with the roads.”

  Stan explained what was going on with the snow plows. Motee Ba grew more excited.

  “But Meera! Your mother’s coming home tomorrow. You need to go to the airport and pick her up. And Jeet’s coming home too. He’s already told me what he wants for his dinner.”

  “Their flight doesn’t come in until late evening,” I told her. “We have the whole day tomorrow. We’ll think of something.”

  I escorted her to the living room and settled her in a chair by the fire. I took Tony’s phone and put in a call to the diner. Sylvie’s voice sounded sweet in my ear. Motee Ba brightened up a bit when she heard Sylvie was on the phone. She began talking to her old friend, moaning about our situation.

  “She’s getting restless,” I observed.

  “I’m losing it myself,” Tony grumbled. “We need to get out of here soon.”

  We had a long night ahead of us.

  I spotted Crystal on one of the couches. She was rifling through a stack of magazines, her feet up on the table. Dressed in faded jeans and a thick sweater, she looked like an innocent school girl. A very beautiful one though.

  “Are you ready to come talk to us?” I asked her.

  She yawned and stretched like a cat.

  “I’m right behind you, Meera. I need to visit the powder room.”

  Stan jerked awake when I went into the study.

  “Crystal’s coming in,” I told him. “How many people have you talked to since yesterday?”

  “Lost count,” he mumbled. “Julie was here looking for you.”

  “What did she want?”

  “Wouldn’t say. You’re the only one she wanted.”


  Chapter 17

  I am a jeans and tee kind of girl. I never pay much attention to my appearance. It’s one of my Motee Ba’s pet peeves. My cousins in New Jersey spend endless hours in front of the mirror, primping all the time. I find it exhausting. I’d rather slave over the stove and come up with a new recipe.

  I didn’t know how much time Crystal spent dressing up, but she was gorgeous. I had to tell myself to stop staring at her. She was taller than my own five feet ten inches, easily over six feet. Her deep green eyes were a different shade from my aquamarine. She had come in cradling Chorizo in her arms. Now she sat with one foot tucked under her hip. She put Chorizo on the desk and the cat squatted in the middle of the table, assuming her rightful place of honor.

  Stan’s ears were red so I guessed he was blushing furiously. He hadn’t even said a single word yet.

  “Ask me anything, Detective,” Crystal purred.

  Her voice was sweet and melodious and Stan stared back at her, speechless for a moment.

  I wrapped my knuckles on the desk, trying to get his attention.

  “Thanks for coming in to talk to us, Miss,” he said. “You have been quite patient.”

  Crystal’s lips settled into a pout.

  “I don’t have a choice, do I? I know it’s my duty to help the police. How can I help you today?”

  Her eyes filled up suddenly and she paused to swallow a lump.

  “Who could harm such a sweet man? He was such a dear. Dear old Teddy.”

  I held back a snort. The thought of 20 year old Crystal calling 80 something year old Mr. Frank ‘Teddy’ was funny alright.

  “He was my best friend, you know,” Crystal went on. “We were buds.”

  “How did you know the victim?” Stan asked.

  “We met by chance,” Crystal said.

  I guessed where they had met. Old Mr. Frank must have fancied a wild night out.

  “He came to see your performance?”

  Crystal’s green eyes flashed with annoyance.

  “He wasn’t that kind of man.”

  “Then how did you meet, Miss?” Stan pressed.

  “At the grocery store. I had just got off work. It was barely seven in the morning. I was picking up some milk when I bumped into him. He crashed to the floor, poor man. I helped him up.”