by Kathi Daley
“Had you heard that Buford inherited a bunch of money a while back?”
Hope’s gaze grew guarded. “Yes, I do know that. Do you think that his death is related to the money he inherited?”
“I think it might be. According to Cass, Buford cashed out and then hid the money. Cass has no idea what he did with it. He didn’t appear to have made any investments, nor had he opened any bank accounts. There isn’t evidence of large purchases or gifts to others. I did think that maybe Buford was Secret Santa for half a minute, but half the Secret Santa gifts have been delivered after his death, so it couldn’t have been him. Besides, while I didn’t know the man well, what I did know about him, doesn’t lead me to believe he was the Secret Santa type.”
“Maybe he hid the money in his home,” Hope said.
“Cass looked. It isn’t there. I think at this point, Cass is operating under the assumption that whoever killed him, took the money.”
She frowned. “Oh, I don’t know. I mean, who even knew about the inheritance at the time of Buford’s death?”
“I don’t think a lot of people did,” I admitted, “but some of the guys from the bar knew.” I glanced at the clock. “I gotta go. If you find out any more about Ford, let me know, and if I find out anything, I’ll text you.”
“Sounds good.”
Chapter 18
Donnie Dingman didn’t know any more about the person behind his Secret Santa gift than anyone else I’d spoken to, so I decided to take a chance and stop by the clinic. I wasn’t confident that Doctor Nolan would know any more about the identity of Secret Santa than any of the other gift recipients did, but I figured that it couldn’t hurt to stop by and speak to him about it.
“Sure, I know who purchased the x-ray machine.”
“You do?” I really wasn’t expecting that answer.
He nodded as his eyes danced with merriment. “Sure. The machine that was purchased is a very expensive and very specialized piece of equipment. I was the one who picked it out.”
“So you know who Secret Santa is?”
He chuckled. “Yes, I guess I do.”
“Who is it?” I held my breath as I waited for an answer.
“Secret Santa is a very good and giving individual who wishes to remain anonymous. I, for one, have no intention of spilling the beans, and if you want my opinion, you shouldn’t either, even if you do manage to figure it out, which quite frankly, I don’t think you will.”
It seemed that keeping Secret Santa’s identity a secret was a sentiment shared by pretty much everyone in town other than Dex.
“Look, I get that you are a reporter,” Doctor Nolan continued. “And I get that it is a reporter’s job to uncover and report the truth, even if that truth will hurt an exceptionally awesome person in the end. But this is a small town, where relationships matter. I don’t think it is going to do you, or the newspaper any good to reveal a harmless secret no one really wants to be revealed.”
“So it is your opinion that members of the community will be angry if Secret Santa’s identity is revealed.”
“And how. In my opinion, if you plan to continue to live here in Foxtail Lake beyond the holiday, you might want to reconsider your plan to ruin everyone’s fun.”
I groaned and leaned back against the counter. “Yeah. I’ve come to that conclusion as well. Of course, it will probably mean that I’ll be fired from a job I don’t even technically have yet.”
Doctor Nolan put a hand on my shoulder. “Dex is not an unreasonable guy. I’ve known him for a long time, and while I can see him totally being seduced by the chance to be reprinted in the Post, I think that once he has a chance to really think about things, he’ll come around to our way of thinking.”
“You think?”
He nodded. “I do. I’ve read the material you’ve published so far. It’s good. Really good. Dex knows that. He won’t throw away a reporter with potential over a single act of consciousness.”
“You know if I don’t do the story, he’ll just assign it to Brock.”
“I suppose that’s true, but between you and me, I don’t think Brock has the creativity to figure the whole thing out.”
Creativity to figure the whole thing out. That, I realized, was a clue in and of itself.
After I left the clinic, I headed over to the sheriff’s office. I knew Cass would be busy, but I hoped I was catching him at a good time, and he’d have a few minutes to catch me up. I was sure now that word had gotten out that he’d brought Ford in for questioning, half the people in town would be curious about the rest of the story. I was equally certain that he wouldn’t have time to return everyone’s call, but Cass and I had a special relationship, and I hoped he’d speak to me.
“I spoke to Rupert yesterday,” Cass began after he’d indicated I should take a seat in the chair across from his desk. “He told me that Buford and Ford had exchanged fisticuffs during the afternoon of the day Buford died.”
“Fisticuffs?” I asked.
“His phrasing. Anyway, he told me that he had no idea what the men were arguing about, but at one point, they were really going at it. Eventually, some of the other men who were hanging around broke it up, and after a bit of discussion, they sent Buford home to sleep it off. According to Rupert, Ford left on foot shortly after Buford left on foot. As far as I can tell, Buford never made it home.”
“So do you think Ford followed Buford and the men continued their sparring match, resulting in Buford passing out in the snow?”
“I believe that is a possibility, which is why I wanted to call Ford in and have an official record of my discussion with the man.”
“And?”
“And at first he blurted out that he was indeed responsible for Buford’s death. He had me in a panic for a minute since I really didn’t want to have to arrest the guy for murder, but then he elaborated.”
“What did he say?”
“He confirmed that he and Buford had a disagreement over a favor Buford had asked of him that he was having second thoughts about agreeing to do. He shared that both he and Buford had been drinking, and the argument escalated to the point where punches were exchanged. He’d been stressing over the fact that one of the blows he’d delivered might have been the one that led Buford to pass out. He swears that the man was alive and conscious when he left the bar, but he also said it occurred to him that Buford could have had a delayed reaction and that he, in fact, had been the one to kill his best friend.”
“Wow. Poor Ford. No wonder he has been so depressed. I assume that you aren’t convinced that Buford died after having a delayed response to one of the blows delivered by Ford.”
“I hope not, but I’m not a doctor or a coroner. I guess I’ll have to wait to see what the coroner comes back with. If it is possible that Buford passed out due to a blow delivered by Ford, things are going to get complicated. At this point, I am holding Ford until I can have a discussion with the sheriff and the DA.”
“I wonder why Ford didn’t come to you and explain what happened at the time of Buford’s death.”
“I suppose he was scared. It’s understandable that he would be.”
“Yeah, I guess. So what are you going to do now?”
“As I already mentioned, I need to have a discussion with the sheriff and the DA to see what they want to do. I also plan to continue to look into things. If the blow to the head led to Buford’s death, I’m not sure any sort of blow delivered with Ford’s fists could have done that much damage. In my mind, Buford could have come across someone else between the time he left the bar and the time he fell down unconscious in the snow.”
“Someone who hit him with a heavy object which, caused him to pass out.”
“Exactly.”
“Buford must have been in a real mood to have fought with Dennis and Ford on the day of his death. I wonder what was going on. At the beginning of this investigation, you told me that while Buford had been drinking, he hadn’t really been all that drunk. If it wasn’t
the alcohol that turned him violent, what did?”
“I don’t know. I guess he might have just been having a bad day. It happens.”
“I spoke to Hope earlier, and she told me that she had spoken to Buford before he went to the bar. She said he was in a good mood, and that all he planned to do was throw back a beer with his friends. Something must have happened that changed his mood after he left the library.”
Cass narrowed his gaze. “I hadn’t heard that Hope had spoken to Buford on the day he died. I guess I’ll stop by the library and have a chat with her. Maybe she can fill in some of the blanks. I’d really like to figure this out before the DA decides to prosecute Ford for Buford’s death because, in my mind, it seems likely that he will do just that.”
Chapter 19
Saturday
This just couldn’t get any worse.
I looked at myself in the mirror and groaned. “I thought I was going to be wearing a sweater with the tights.”
“You were,” Hope confirmed, “but one of the volunteers ripped the sweater last week, so we needed an alternative.”
“Ripped the sweater? You only had one sweater?”
“No, we have several, but the others are all checked out to other volunteers. The sweater that was ripped is the one we’d set aside for you to use this weekend. I know this costume is a bit much, but it was all we had with such short notice. Personally, I think you look adorable.”
Adorable? The heavy red sweater that had fallen to a point just past mid-thigh had been replaced with a green leotard topping the green tights. The outfit did include a short red skirt that barely covered my backside, but when combined with the red boots, I looked more like a holiday hooker than an elf.
“Are you sure there isn’t another option?” I turned just a bit to confirm that my backside was actually covered. It was, but still.
“I’m afraid this is all I have. But you really needn’t worry. You are completely covered from the neck down. The shorts and t-shirts you probably wore over the summer were much more revealing.”
I supposed Hope had a point. It wasn’t like there was skin showing, but the overall effect was just so… I really didn’t want to dwell on it. If wearing this outfit was going to help Hope, I’d do it. She’d been nothing but nice to me since I’d been back.
“Okay, where do I go, and what do I do?”
Hope explained the routine and sent me on my way. Santa was a man named Dover Ledford. He’d worked at the local hardware store in town for a lot of years before retiring, and seemed to know pretty much everyone who stopped by to grab a photo with Santa and to share their wishes. The four-hour shift I’d agreed to, actually flew by. I would have considered it a complete success had Cass not stopped by during the last hour, making me feel self-conscience about my outfit all over again.
“Aren’t you a cute elf,” he chuckled.
I wanted to tell him to bite me, but instead, I just smiled. “Are you working today?” I’d noticed that he was wearing his uniform.
“Rafe, Trent, and I are volunteering our time to provide security over the weekend.”
“That’s nice. Any problems?”
“Not so far. Are you volunteering all day?”
“Just until two. After that, I thought I’d look around and maybe grab a bite to eat. How about you? Will you be here all day?”
“My shift goes until five when Trent takes over. If you’re still in town, maybe we can meet up and grab some dinner.”
I nodded. “I’d like that. Text when you’re done, and we’ll figure out where to meet.” I glanced back at the line. “I should get back.”
“Okay. Have fun, and I’ll see you later.”
“Wait,” I said as he started to walk away. “What happened with Ford? Did you arrest him?”
“No, he has been released on his own recognizance. I’m not saying he is totally in the clear, but at this point, we don’t have enough to charge him, and I really don’t consider him a flight risk. Besides, I’m fairly confident that the coroner will determine that the blows suffered during the fight Ford and Buford engaged in were not the reason he passed out.”
“So, with time, he should be cleared.”
“I hope so. We’ll talk more over dinner.”
I nodded as he walked away.
The rest of the shift flew by, and I was actually looking forward to tomorrow’s volunteer duty. After I changed back into my street clothes, I headed toward the community center where the craft displays had been set up. I thought it would be nice to buy a hand-crafted decoration of some sort for Ethel. Other than the tree Paisley and I had purchased and decorated, she really hadn’t taken the time to set out any other items. Perhaps a centerpiece for her dining table or a wreath for her door. Nothing that she’d have to fuss with, but something she would see often and could enjoy. I knew that Tom and Gracie planned to bring Paisley by later in the day. I supposed I’d spend some time with them before meeting up with Cass for dinner.
“Oh, good. I’m glad I ran into you.”
I looked up from the table centerpieces I’d been looking through. “Hi, Dex. How are you? Were you looking for me?”
He nodded. “I have a job for you if you are free for a couple of hours.”
I narrowed my gaze. “What sort of job?”
“I need someone to cover the ice fishing competition out at Logan Pond. Brock was going to do it, but he got held up with some family issues.”
“What do you mean by cover?” I asked, picturing the frozen landscape and below freezing temperatures that covering the event was going to entail.
“I just need someone to head out there, take some photos of the participants with their fish, and maybe get a few quotes to weave into a story.”
Okay, that sounded doable. “Okay. Should I go now?”
He nodded. “The event should already be underway. You can turn the photos and story into me on Monday, along with your Secret Santa story. How are you doing on it?”
I forced a smile. “Great. Really, really great.”
As I drove along the frozen highway toward Logan Pond, it occurred to me that this assignment might actually be a godsend. I planned to let Dex know on Monday that I’d decided I was unable to identify Secret Santa. Maybe having a second story to offer would soften the blow a bit. When I arrived at Logan Pond, I was expecting to find the entrants spread out across the surface of the frozen lake, but instead found everyone standing in one location. I wasn’t an expert on ice fishing, but wasn’t everyone supposed to have their own hole?
“What’s going on?” I asked the man closest to where I was standing after joining the group.
He stepped aside. I took a step forward and gasped. “Is that?”
“Ford Fisher,” the man confirmed as my eyes focused onto the frozen body just below the surface of a thin sheet of ice.
Chapter 20
“Has anyone called Cass?” I asked as soon as I was able to gather my thoughts.
“He’s on his way,” someone in the crowd said.
“What happened? Did he fall in?” I asked.
“Don’t know,” the man standing closest to me answered. “He was there just below the surface when we all arrived.”
“I thought this event had been going on for a while now.” Surely, these men hadn’t been standing around gawking at the body under the ice for the past couple of hours.
“Snowmobile races went long. We just got here a few minutes before you did.”
I guess that explained why they’d just called Cass. I knew he’d been in town, so I figured he’d be here in the next ten or fifteen minutes. He made it in eight.
“What do you think happened?” I asked Cass as we waited for the fire department to arrive. The local station had men equipped and trained for ice rescues. I supposed that even though this was a retrieval and not a rescue, they were the best equipped to handle things.
“I have no idea. I dropped Ford off at his home yesterday morning after I’d received word
that the DA was going to do some more research before deciding whether to file charges. He told me he planned to stay in this weekend. He said he had some things he needed to go over in his mind. At no point did he mention coming out here to the pond. I really can’t imagine why he was here.”
“Maybe he decided to do some ice fishing,” I suggested. “It would have been nice and quiet out here yesterday. Just the sort of place one might go to get in touch with their emotions.”
Cass looked around. “That could be what occurred, but if he was here to fish and simply fell in, where is his stuff?”
Good question.
“And look what he has on,” Cass continued. “He is wearing a jacket, but not the heavy down sort one would wear if they were going to spend any time out in the elements.”
I supposed that was true.
“If I had to guess, I imagine we are going to find that Ford died elsewhere and was dumped here. I guess the coroner will be able to tell us whether he drowned or not, but before we can know any of that, we need to get him out of the water and down to the morgue.”
I turned around at the sound of sirens. “It sounds like the fire department is here.”
The next couple of hours were filled with the sounds of men shouting as strategies were discussed, and equipment was positioned. I decided to wait in my car. I couldn’t quite bring myself to leave before the retrieval had been completed, but I didn’t want to get in the way. Besides, it was cold. Very, very cold. Watching the action from the toasty interior of my car made the most sense any way you looked at it.