The Mystery Before Christmas

by Kathi Daley

  “What happened?” I asked Hope after I allowed myself a moment to breathe.

  “He was waiting for me when I arrived. He jumped me before I even knew he was there.”

  “Why?”

  “For some reason, he thought I had Buford’s money. He was determined to get it, and I was sure he was never going to let me go until he did. I’m sure he is the one who killed Buford and Ford. When he tied me up, he made a comment about not making the same mistake again. He said he was going to be sure to get the money before he let his temper get the best of him.”

  “Cass and I discussed the fact that Buford and Ford might have been killed by someone looking for Buford’s money.” I looked at the man, who I suspected would turn out to be Jason, the sister’s kid. “I’m not sure if you heard, but part of the money was found in Ford’s wall.”

  “I heard. Actually, I’m the one who told Cass to look for it in Ford’s house.”

  I turned and looked Hope in the eye. “Are you Secret Santa?”

  Hope froze. “Why would you ask that?”

  “It has been theorized that Buford decided that he didn’t want the money gifted to him by his sister. He didn’t want the nephew to have it either, so he decided to give it away. Since he had no idea how to go about doing that, he enlisted the help of someone in the community with the resources and knowhow to determine who needed a gift from Secret Santa the most and how to get it to them. I thought about the people I’d interviewed and realized that when all was said and done, everyone who received a gift was linked to you in one way or another. It really does make perfect sense.”

  She shifted nervously in her seat. “You know that I can’t confirm this suspicion of yours.”

  “Why not? What is so awful about being Secret Santa? Why don’t you want anyone to know?”

  Hope took my hand in hers. She gave it a squeeze and looked me in the eye. “Being Secret Santa isn’t awful. It is a tremendous gift. A gift that has not only enriched my life but has enchanted the entire community as well. Revealing the identity of Secret Santa would strip away the wonder that everyone seems to feel. If you really think about it, the best part of the gift is the magic of not knowing, of letting the imagination you thought you’d lost somewhere along the way, run wild with possibility.”

  I knew Hope was right. I knew that by revealing Secret Santa’s identity, I would be robbing the community of the fantasy that had captured everyone’s imagination. I also knew that I had a responsibility to Dex. What I didn’t know was what in the heck I was going to do.

  Chapter 26

  Friday

  I’d given the situation a lot of thought and had finally come to a decision. My article wasn’t due until Monday, but I had all the information I needed to wrap up the series, so I decided to turn it in early in order to give Dex the time he needed to do what he felt he needed to do. Hope hadn’t been wrong when she’d said that the real magic of Secret Santa was embodied in his anonymity. It was the mystery and the magic of the whole thing that had brought the joy of the season to the small town of Foxtail Lake at a time when a lot of folks were having a hard time making their miracle happen. I really wanted a full-time job with the newspaper, but there was no way I was going to be the one to destroy everyone’s fun.

  Dex read the article as I sat watching. I could sense the myriad of emotions he might be feeling as a series of expressions crossed his face.

  “So you couldn’t figure out who Secret Santa was.”

  “I know who Secret Santa is. I’m choosing to keep that secret.”

  His lips tightened. “I see.”

  “I know I promised to reveal the name of the man or woman who has been running around town gifting those most in need with exactly what they need, but during the course of this journey, I’ve come to realize that there are more important things than having all the facts. There are mystery and magic and the ability to suspend disbelief just for a moment so that the lingering possibilities have a chance to be heard. There is the sheer joy that can be found in allowing the part of yourself that you thought had died in childhood out long enough to embrace the wonder that comes from not knowing who is behind the beard. I really, really love working here at the newspaper with you, and I really want to make a place for myself in the Foxtail News family, but I need to follow my heart, and my heart is telling me that it would be a mistake to rob the community of the fun they’ve been having.”

  He glanced down at the article in his hands. “I don’t disagree. I’ve been feeling a little bad about the promise I made to my buddy at the Post. I’m sure he is not going to be happy that we aren’t going to provide him with the expose he was hoping for.”

  “He still has a series to run, and I did turn in the story about Buford’s inheritance and his death, as well as Ford’s death by the same man. I suppose the Post has covered stories one would consider to be a bit more sensational, but the facts relating to the money Buford was gifted by his sister are pretty interesting.”

  Dex nodded. “The fact that the money was stolen was a bit of a shocker. Who would have guessed.”

  Certainly not me. When Cass had finally cornered Jason and compelled him to talk, Jason had shared the family secret that everyone related to Cornwall Norris had been keeping for more than sixty years. It seemed that Cornwall was a gangster of sorts back in the nineteen-thirties and forties. Before disappearing from his life in Chicago, he’d participated in almost a dozen bank robberies in seven states. At some point, Cornwall decided to get out while the getting was good, so he took his cut of the loot and moved to a small town just outside Denver. He met and married a woman named Rosa Walker, and together they had two children Hilde and Buford. Rosa died when her children were teenagers, and Cornwall moved the children to Salt Lake City. Eventually, Hilde married and moved to Denver, where she gave birth to a single child, Jason. When Cornwall died, he left what was left of the stolen money equally to Hilde and Buford, but neither child wanted to be associated with his ill-gotten gains, so they argued over what to do with it. Buford’s way of dealing with the unpleasantness of his father’s past was simply to ignore it, so he cut ties with his sister and moved up the mountain to Foxtail Lake.

  Jason knew about the money and assumed that one day it would be his, so when his mother passed, and he found that Hilde had transferred the money to Buford before she died, Jason went a little crazy.

  Buford and Hilde had considered the money a burden, and neither had ever wanted it, but it seemed that Jason wanted it very much. I suppose Buford had his reasons for not wanting Jason to have the money since as soon as he found out what his sister had done, he pulled the money out of the account Hilde had transferred it into and locked it in a drawer in his home. After Hilde died, he decided to dispose of the money once and for all. His father had obtained the money illegally, but Buford figured that if he gave the money away to those who needed it most, maybe the black stain that seemed to have been permanently attached to his family would somehow be lifted. He wasn’t sure about how to go about distributing the money, so he went to Hope, who agreed to help him. When Buford found out that Jason was after the money, he asked his good friend, Ford, to hide it for him until Hope could dispose of all of it, which is how Ford became involved in the whole thing.

  I, of course, wrote up the article to include the fact that both Buford and Ford had been killed over money that Buford’s grandfather had stolen, but I left out Secret Santa and Hope’s role in the whole thing. I decided that would not be a piece of the puzzle that would be revealed by me. I assumed that once the news of Buford’s inheritance was made public, some people might suspect his role as Secret Santa, but suspecting wasn’t knowing, so at least for a time, the magic would be left alive.

  “The story is a good one, and I think the romance of an old-time gangster carrying out bank heists will appeal to the masses,” Dex admitted. “I’ll call my buddy and see what he wants to do. I wish I could have given him what he wanted, but maybe it is best this way.
I really think the mystery of Secret Santa is going to be what draws in the reader and not the promise of a big reveal anyway. I just hope my friend from the Post feels the same way.”

  “So, you aren’t going to fire me?”

  He shook his head. “I would be stupid to do so. For one thing, you are an excellent journalist, who seems to know how to get right to the heart of things; and for another thing, with Brock gone, I really need you. In fact, I have two assignments I need to be done by the end of the day. You interested?”

  “Absolutely. And thanks. I’ll try not to let you down again.”

  He smiled. “You didn’t let me down. I’m as caught up in the magic as everyone else. I’m not sure I want to know who is behind the gifts.”

  I exhaled slowly. “Thank you again. I’m really, really happy to be part of the Foxtail News family.”

  Chapter 27

  Tuesday

  Christmas Eve

  “It looks like they are having fun,” I said to Alastair as we watched Cass and Paisley ice skating on the lake from the attic window.

  “Meow.”

  “Yes, I know that you are unhappy that Milo is spending the day with us, but he is a good dog who hasn’t bothered you a bit. I suggest you make friends with him. Cass and I are spending more time together lately, and Milo comes as part of the package.”

  I hugged the cat to my chest, scratching him behind his ears as I watched the dog, the child, and the man I felt myself drawn to. I knew I was going to need to deal with the feelings I was developing for him at some point, but it was Christmas Eve, and today I just wanted to enjoy the fact that Gracie and Ethel were in the kitchen cooking up a storm, while Tom tinkered with the lights in the yard, and Alastair and I wrapped presents in the attic. I’d meant to have my gifts wrapped before this point, but Dex had been keeping me busy ever since I’d agreed to help him.

  “I guess we should get back to the gift wrapping,” I said to the cat. “Once we’re done, we can go and join Cass and Paisley.”

  With that, the cat wiggled down and headed out the door. I supposed he wasn’t thrilled with the idea of venturing out into the frosty day, but there was something about frostbite and Christmas that seemed to go together.

  I glanced at my laptop and the article I’d been working on for the New Year’s edition. I was far from being done, but at least I had started. I just hoped that the feature I’d been assigned for the following week would be less intense than the Secret Santa series. At least Dex seemed happy with the series, and his buddy, while disappointed there was no big reveal, went ahead and ran both my Christmas Eve story and the story about Cornwall Norris and the stash of money he left behind. Even in death, Cornwall had left behind a legacy of death and destruction. I felt bad for Buford, who’d simply been trying to do the right thing.

  “Callie, are you up there in the attic?” Aunt Gracie called.

  I headed to the top of the stairs and called back. “Yeah, I’m up here.”

  “Have you seen that big platter we use to serve the turkey? I can’t find it anywhere.”

  “Hang on. I’ll come down and look for it.”

  I turned and looked at the pile of gifts I’d wrapped. I still had a few to get to, but they could wait. I picked up the gifts that had been wrapped and headed toward the stairs. After placing the gifts beneath the tree, I headed into the pantry to look for the platter. I was sure I’d seen it buried beneath some other items when I was looking for the last jar of homemade jam.

  “I got it,” I said to Gracie as I slipped it out from under the dishes on top of it.

  “Great. I thought I’d left it somewhere. Dinner will be in an hour if you want to let Cass and Paisley know they should start wrapping it up.”

  I pulled on my heavy coat, which had been left hanging on the rack. “Okay. I’ll let them know. Tom, as well.”

  I headed out the door into the cold and snowy landscape. I headed toward Tom, who seemed to be doing more standing around than anything. “The lights look good.”

  “I know. I just like to tinker. I was about to head in and see if Gracie needs any help.”

  “She said dinner will be in an hour.” I stood back and took in the house, the lights, and the movement that could be seen through the kitchen window. God, I’d missed this. The feeling of family. The feeling of belonging. During all those Christmases I’d chosen not to come home, I hadn’t been aware of what I’d been missing out on, but now that I remembered how it felt to be home, I vowed never to miss another Christmas with the people I loved the most in the world.

  “Guess I should get inside,” Tom said. “I like the hat.”

  I reached up to find the Santa hat I’d slipped on while wrapping gifts. I’d forgotten it was still there. “Seemed festive.”

  Tom leaned forward and kissed me on the cheek. “It is. And the sprig of mistletoe pinned to the brim is a nice touch.”

  I watched Tom as he walked away. I supposed I should remove the mistletoe before I came into contact with Cass. Reaching up, I unpinned it and put it into my jacket pocket.

  “Are you coming out to skate?” Paisley, who had taken off her skates and slipped on her boots, ran over to me.

  “Actually, I’m coming to tell you that dinner will be in an hour, so you should start to wrap it up. I’m sorry I wasn’t able to join you, but I will tomorrow for sure.”

  “Okay. I’m cold anyway. I’m going to see if I can have some hot cocoa.”

  With that, she ran toward the house with Milo hot on her heels. I waited as Cass approached. “It looks like you were having fun.”

  He smiled. “The best time. Paisley is a good skater.”

  “She is,” I nodded. “I’m supposed to let you know that dinner will be in an hour.”

  “Good. I’m starving.” Cass took my hand and pulled me toward the lake. “I want to show you something.”

  I let myself be drug along behind him. He’d carved CC and CW intertwined in the ice.

  “Remember when we did this when we were kids? Carved our initials in the ice,” he asked.

  “I do remember.” My CC was on the top, and the C in Cass’s name hung from the second C in my name and was followed by a very flowery W. “I’d forgotten all about that.”

  “We vowed to be best friends forever. We promised to skate on this lake every winter and to carve our initials in the ice.”

  “We did,” I acknowledged.

  “It seems,” Cass said, turning so we were facing each other, “that we have some time to make up for.”

  I lowered my eyes. “I know. I’m sorry. It was my fault we didn’t keep that promise. I left, but you were here waiting.”

  He ran a finger along my jaw, pausing at my chin to tilt my head up. “I understand why you left. You’ve always been one to follow your heart, and your heart led you elsewhere. I’m not happy that you lost your career, but I am happy you’re back.”

  “I know. Me too.”

  He reached into my pocket and took out the mistletoe I thought I’d cleverly hidden. He held it over our heads.

  “I don’t think…” I started.

  He leaned forward and softly touched his lips to mine before I could complete my protest. I wanted to pull back, but instead, I found my arms around his neck.

  “Merry Christmas, Calliope Rose,” he whispered against my lips.

  “Merry Christmas to you as well, Deputy Wylander.”

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  At what point does a concerned bystander become a stalker?

  I’d been asking myself that a lot lately. I’d first met Star Moonwalker six weeks ago, when I’d stopped by her antique store during my route as a US Postal Service carrier to deliver a certified letter. After a brief discussion, in which the woman revealed to me that she’d first moved to White Eagle to search for her birth parents, I’d discovered that she was most likely my half sister. I’d also discovered that the man she’d hire
d to track down her biological parents, a private investigator named Sam Denton, very well might have been killed by a man I suspected could be my own father.

  Of course, my father being the killer was not the only explanation. It was also possible that Sam Denton had been killed by the same people who were after my father, forcing him to fake his own death fifteen years ago. Either way, I suspected that Star might be in danger because she had continued to dig around in my father’s past even after Denton’s death, so I’d been keeping an eye on her, hence the stalking.

  Not that Star had been aware that I’d been watching her or digging into her past. I’d been very covert in my approach. I’d started by having my boyfriend, Tony Marconi, do a very quiet computer search into her history, while I began spending time in the woman’s antique store, trying to get to know her better. I still didn’t know everything I needed to about the events that occurred at the time of Star’s birth, so I’d been unable to conclusively determine that she and I shared the same biological father, but it did appear as if my father had been traveling with Star’s mother at the time immediately preceding her birth.

  “Tess Thomas?” the woman on the other end of the phone line asked.

  “Yes, this is Tess.” I’d been sitting in my car on hold for a good fifteen minutes, waiting to hear the results of the DNA tests I’d mailed away several weeks before.

  “The two samples that you sent do not indicate a familial link.”

  I narrowed my eyes. “So the individuals who supplied the two samples are not related?”

  “The genetic profiles of the individuals providing the samples demonstrate that it is statistically unlikely a blood relationship exists. A detailed report will be sent to the address you provided within a week. Is there anything else I can help you with?”

  “No. Thank you.” I hung up and then turned and looked at my dog, Tilly, who’d been waiting patiently with me. “Well, what do you know about that?”