Have Yourself a Merry Little Murder

by K. J. Emrick

  “The power just went out. I’ve got the flashlight.” She turned it on and handed it to him. “I’ll get the lantern lit. Just give me a second.”

  Jon held the flashlight for her as she worked a lighter over the wick and then adjusted the trim and settled the glass chimney back in place. Soft, warm light bathed the kitchen, and the harsher white of the flashlight glared wherever Jon pointed it. Now she could see the expression on Jon’s face. He was unhappy about something, and it wasn’t the lights.

  “What is it?” she asked him. “Did Lana… did she hurt herself?”

  Jon’s expression soured further. “She tried to. If you hadn’t messaged me when you did, we might not have gotten to her in time. That would have been a very black mark on our department, I can tell you that. We’ve never, ever, had an in-house suicide at our department and I certainly didn’t want to be the first chief in our history to let it happen.”

  “No one saw her doing anything? There’s cameras in the holding area for just this reason, right?”

  “All of us were busy with taking statements. Even then I’m not sure it would have mattered because what she did was tear off pieces of her shirt and swallow them. Basically, she was trying to choke herself to death so she could just lie down and die, and it almost worked.”

  “I know. I saw her ghost, remember? She was on the cusp of death when I saw her. One foot in the grave, as they say. A few more seconds and it would have been too late. You saved her life.”

  “Actually, I think you saved her life. You and those amazing gifts of yours.” He shook his head, tapping the flashlight against his thigh, making the shadows dance. “You know what this means, right? This is just one more piece of evidence against her. A jury will see this as her trying to kill herself out of remorse for what she did.”

  “I don’t think that’s what it was, Jon. I think she was so desperate to see her son again that she was willing to kill herself to make that happen. She just missed her son that much.”

  “Maybe so, but I don’t think that makes it look better for her, and I can’t have you go on the witness stand and testify to the emotional state of her almost-dead spirit. No. I’ve got to charge her officially now. There’s just no one else who could have done the crime. She won’t speak up and say there was anyone else there. Nobody else could have known they were coming to town except the Levisons and they all have alibis. The murder weapon in her purse. She has motive because of the affair. That’s it. That’s everything in a nice, neat package wrapped up with a bow. There isn’t a jury in the world that wouldn’t convict her.”

  “You don’t sound too happy about it.”

  “I’m not,” he admitted. “Something just doesn’t feel right about this whole thing.”

  “I agree, but you’re right that there just aren’t any other suspects. You’re sure there was nothing in the statements from Casey and Lloyd and their family?’

  “Just alibis. None of them was ever alone. None of them did this.” He stepped closer and hugged her close for a quick moment. “I think we just need to accept the fact that we’ve found the killer. It just happened quicker than it usually does.”

  Darcy still wasn’t sure. Both her gift and Jon’s cop instincts told them Lana wasn’t the murderer. What were the chances of them both agreeing that the wrong person was in jail?

  “Did she say anything to you?” she asked him, with her head leaning against his shoulder. “Even after she almost choked to death?”

  “Well, actually… I guess it’s not that she didn’t say anything. It’s just that what she did say isn’t helpful.”

  “I think anything might be helpful at this point.”

  He laughed softly into her ear. “Think so? When we got her airway cleared, she said just one word. Listen.”

  Darcy stepped back, and looked up at his face, studying it in the light from the lantern. There was that word again. Listen. Well, that’s exactly what she’d been trying to do. She listened to everyone from Mark Franks to Willamena Duell, Casey Levison to Joel Harris. She hadn’t heard anything of use yet.

  So what, exactly, was she supposed to be listening for?

  “Come on,” Jon said, giving her one more squeeze before letting her go. “Let’s check on the kids. We should get out the extra blankets, too. It’s going to get really cold in this house if the power stays off for long. I don’t even have any wood stored up for the fireplace. Is Izzy still with us?”

  “Yeah, she is. Her and Mark Franks were texting up a storm before she went to bed. I’m glad she’s been here to watch the kids so we could investigate the mystery.”

  “Sure, just so we could end up charging Lana with the killings in the end anyway. Hold on, did you say Izzy… and Mark? When did that start?”

  “Recently, I think. I just found out myself. She’s mad at me, by the way, for accusing Mark when I shouldn’t have.”

  “Huh. Why didn’t you tell me those two were a thing?”

  “Honestly, I kind of forgot about it with everything that’s going on.”

  “Understandable. Just like we forgot to talk about Colby getting a cellphone?”

  “Yeah. I guess I’m going to have to give in on that one, aren’t I?”

  Jon held her hand and started moving them toward the doorway to the living room. “She is growing up, Darcy. She’s still our little girl, but she’s getting there quick. She’s going to need a phone of her own. Just think about the hours she spends on our landline talking to that Audrey friend of hers. If she had a cellphone—”

  “We’d never see her again?”

  He gave her a look that was hard to read in the shifting shadows. “She’s getting to be that age where she needs that kind of freedom. We can always do what we did for you, get her a phone that only texts and connects to the internet. No phone calls, if you’re worried about ghosts calling her.”

  “I am, among other things, but can we talk about it when the lights are on?”

  It was kind of eerie walking through the living room with the Christmas tree standing there dark and solemn, and the animatronic Santa standing still and unmoving. It was like Christmas had been frozen in place. Darcy really hoped this didn’t last long. Christmas was only three days off and she didn’t want her kids to have to spend it huddled under blankets eating whatever canned food was left in the cupboards. She was not going to let Zane start eating dog food again no matter how bad the storm got.

  “It will be okay,” Jon told her, as if he could read her mind.

  She smiled at him behind his back as they went up the stairs. “You always know the right thing to say.”

  “Yeah, I’m a real Romeo like that.”

  Up on the second floor they went to the linen closet first, getting out the extra blankets. Jon balanced a couple of them in his arms while the flashlight’s beam bounced in front of him. Darcy had the other three. This should be enough to keep everyone warm through the rest of the night.

  The floor creaked softly under them as they went. Those were normal sounds in the winter months for an old house like this. She’d been listening to her home carefully for the past few days, worried about the weight of all that snow on the roof. Maybe she was just being paranoid…

  Above them, a new kind of creaking sent a shiver running up her spine. She hadn’t realized she’d said anything about it until Jon answered her.

  “It’s a good house. It’s got good bones. They built things to last when they built this place. We might get a few leaks, but that’s all. I’m more worried about water getting into the basement to tell you the truth. Those stones down there are loose in spots. Maybe we should go check on that next.”

  “Don’t you need to coordinate with the department?” Darcy asked him. “If the power is out all over town then your guys are going to be even busier than before.”

  “Yeah, but Wilson’s still there. Sean Fitzwallis, too. They can handle it for a little bit while I make sure my family’s taken care of, too.”

  She lo
ved him for that. A whole town to take care of, and his family still came first. The snow could wait. The roof could wait. The cellar could wait. His family was more important. It was kind of like what Casey Levison had been saying. Three brothers, three separate families, but still so close to each other that they got together for Christmas. She remembered the things he said in Jon’s office, about all of them being together just before the snowstorm started. The same day Brian and Joel Harris had been murdered.

  A memory snagged at her. She stopped in the hallway, thinking about it.

  Oh, for Pete’s sake. Suddenly she knew exactly who the killer was. It had been right there in front of her, and she would have realized it before now if she’d only listened. The murderer was someone who knew the Levison brothers, who knew this town, but who was actually from somewhere else. It all came together, and she was sure this was the answer.

  She just had to prove it.

  But how?

  The roof creaked above her again, and she heard the wind blowing hard against the window in the bathroom. In spite of Jon’s assurances, she was having serious concerns about their grand old house. It had kept them safe for years, given them a place to raise their family, but this storm was stressing everything to the limit, people and buildings alike. Every snowflake that fell might be the one that broke the snowman’s back.

  Well, it wasn’t like she could do anything about the weather. She needed to set that aside, check on the kids, and then…

  “Jon, we need to get to the church.”

  His free hand was on Colby’s doorknob, and as he turned to look at her he nearly dropped the blankets. He fumbled with them, grabbed them up to his chest. “The church? Why?”

  “We need to get Izzy up,” she said, not actually answering him. She was thinking ahead and had only half heard his question. “She can watch the house and the kids. I hope she doesn’t mind. I don’t know how long we’ll be out but I’m grateful she’s here to help, you know?’

  “Yes, I know, but why are we waking her up?”

  A door opened down the hall and Izzy leaned out, wearing an oversized sweater and a pair of fuzzy pajama bottoms she’d brought over from her house, hiding a huge yawn behind her hand. “I’m already up, thank you very much. You guys are about as stealthy as a herd of elephants walking on thumbtacks.”

  “Sorry,” Jon apologized. “We were only coming up to check on the kids, but apparently Darcy’s had other ideas.”

  “Yeah, she has a lot of ideas, doesn’t she?” Izzy yawned again. “What happened to the lights?”

  “Power’s out. We’re bringing everyone extra blankets.”

  “Mmm. Gimme,” she said sleepily, wiggling her fingers at him. “Is it the whole town? Is the whole town dark?”

  “We don’t know. I’ve got to find out yet, but I want to get an extra blanket to Colby and Zane first. Then, apparently, I need to go to church.”

  “How come?”

  Jon looked at Darcy, and she brought her racing thoughts back to the present moment. “Because,” she told them, “that’s where we’re going to find the killer.”

  “There it is,” Izzy chuckled softly. “Darcy Sweet is on the case.”

  If anything, it was snowing harder now.

  Darcy was chilled to the bone by the time she and Jon set their skis up against the outer wall of the church. There were floodlights out here, throwing light against the mass of falling snow, but that didn’t mean there was power on this end of town. Darcy could tell by looking at them that they were emergency backup lights, working off stored solar power from earlier when the sun had tried its best to peek down through the clouds. So far, she and Jon hadn’t passed a single house or business with lights on, except for a place just off Main Street where they heard a generator running. The rest of the town was completely dark.

  “The police station has a backup generator, too,” Jon reminded her. “We’ll be okay for a while, but I don’t know what everyone here in Phin’s shelter is going to do.”

  “Maybe we can have someone donate a generator to the church?” Darcy suggested, stamping her feet on the church’s welcome mat to warm them.

  But Jon shook his head. “We’d basically be asking someone to take power away from their own home to do that. Plus you have to hook those things up and that’s not as easy as plugging one in to a wall socket. Not to mention the trouble we’d have getting it here in the first place. You saw how high these snowbanks are.”

  Darcy looked back along the path they had just skied. He was right. It was odd to be standing on snow that was five feet deep and more in places, up above the tops of cars parked on the street. Higher than mailboxes. They’d sunk in more than once on the way here, and that was just from their own body weight. What would it take to move a generator from one place to another in all of this?

  This storm was truly scary. The perfect backdrop for a terrible murder.

  Jon held the door open for her, against the wind and the driving snow. “I tell you, Darcy, if this keeps up, we might have to look at evacuating the whole town.”

  For a moment she wasn’t sure if she’d heard him right. Evacuate the town? That was something she’d never heard of. Ever. How would that even work? Where would they go? How would they go? The thought of abandoning Misty Hollow to the weather actually scared her more than the storm itself did.

  “Jon…”

  The door closed with an audible snap. In the dark of the foyer, Jon found her gloved hands and pulled them close to his chest. “It’s okay, Darcy. We’ve got time before we have to worry about that. Let’s find our killer and take care of this, and then after that I’ll worry about what we need to do to keep Misty Hollow going.”

  “I always thought this town could withstand anything,” she said, a tremble in her voice that she couldn’t stop.

  She felt his lips on hers. “You know what?” he said to her softly. “I’m pretty sure this town will go on forever, long after you and I have gone to join Great Aunt Millie in her tea party in the sky.”

  That made her laugh, and his touch made her feel better. After all, this was a church they were standing in. If she was going to find hope anywhere, why wouldn’t it be here?

  Although, there was a killer in this building as well. Death and hope, all in one place.

  “Come on,” Jon said to her. He unzipped his coat, and took out his cellphone, and shook it twice to turn on the flashlight app so they could see. “Let’s go find the guy we’re looking for.”

  They heard footsteps coming up the stairs from around the corner. In the dark, the wavering beam of a flashlight painted the cheap paneling with white light and moved along the floor. Jon tensed and stood in front of Darcy, directing his own light in that direction. They waited as the footsteps came closer, and closer.

  And closer.

  Then the man holding the flashlight came into view. He stopped when he saw them, and he smiled.

  “Well, hi guys,” Akers Pennington said to them. His dark face looked ghostly in Jon’s weak light. “You guys here to see Pastor Phin?”

  “Actually,” Jon told him, “we’re here to talk to you.”

  Chapter 12

  “You want to talk to me? How come?”

  “Is everyone else downstairs?” Jon asked him. “We’d like to talk to you in private.”

  “Me?” Akers said again, as if he couldn’t understand why the chief of police would be here, looking for him.

  Darcy knew. “You told us you know just about everyone in this shelter, right? That’s what you said?”

  Akers looked confused. “Uh, well, sure. I like to get to know them. Learn about their troubles, learn about their families and such. Makes them feel better about being stuck here.”

  “Sure, makes sense,” Jon said. He folded his arms, keeping the light from his phone pointed out, his mind already twenty questions ahead as usual. Darcy had seen him like this lots of times before, whenever he was interrogating a suspect.

  With the weather
the way it was, there was no chance of bringing the killer down to the station to interview them there. It was going to have to be done right here.

  “Akers,” she said, moving closer to him. “Do you know Casey Levison? His brothers, his family?”

  Akers nodded. With his own flashlight pointed at the floor, his wide face was crisscrossed with shadows. “Sure I do. Not very well, because they’re hardly ever in town, but sure. I know most everybody in town, same as you guys.” His heavy eyebrows bushed together over his unseen eyes. “What’s this all about, Jon? This still about the murder in town? Seems like I knew that woman you took out of here, too. She was kind of familiar. You know, except for the screaming.”

  Darcy and Jon exchanged a look. That was exactly what they were hoping Akers would say.

  “Well, since you know everybody here,” Jon said to him, “let me ask you this… do you know anybody from Vermont?”

  “Uh, well sure,” Akers said with a shrug. “Casey and his family come from Vermont originally. Good people, even if they weren’t born here.”

  Jon stepped closer still, and then he lowered his voice to ask, “Any of the people in the shelter from Vermont?”

  Akers nodded. “Yeah, actually there is.”

  “Any of them fix roofs for a living?”

  Akers hesitated only a moment before nodding again. “Yes, there is.”

  “Tell me. Is that man here now?”

  Akers bobbed his head up and down again, and then pointed back down the hallway, to the stairs that would lead down to the basement shelter.

  Darcy smiled. There it was. This was why Jon and Darcy had come to the shelter, and why they needed to talk to Akers first. He knew the people here, and rather than go through the process of getting identification from everyone, spending an hour or more asking everyone the same questions until the killer got spooked and tried to run, they could just have Akers point the man out to them. With any luck, he was downstairs right now, sleeping.

  Lana Harris was not the killer. Once Darcy had followed her instincts, and once she had stopped to listen, the answer to the mystery became obvious.