“Why do you think that?”
Nancy shrugged and dragged a fry through ketchup.
“Was it because of certain errands she had you go on? Like to the bank.” The only reason Jenna would allow Nancy to make the deposits for her was that she held something over Nancy’s head—like being the source of the information she was using as blackmail.
Nancy stared at me, mouth open.
“You dropped some slips at the bookstore. I tried to give them back to you.”
Her lips trembled. “Do you still have them? I need them back.”
I shook my head. “I threw them away.”
“We have to get them.” Nancy waved for the waitress. “Check and to-go boxes.” Her voice was shrill.
“The police would have them by now.”
Nancy paled and collapsed back into her chair.
I jumped up. “Are you okay?”
She motioned for me to sit back down. I took a seat beside her, scooting as close as I could. People were once again staring at us.
Tears cascaded down her face. “It’s too late. I wanted to protect her. Her memory.”
“She was blackmailing people?” The expression on Nancy’s face told me I was correct. “You have to tell the police.”
Nancy shook her head. “It doesn’t matter anymore. No one needs to know what she was doing.”
“Of course, it matters. You don’t—”
She glared at me defiantly. “If you do, I’ll deny it. I’ll say I don’t know what you’re talking about. You’re lying.”
“Someone killed your friend. Do you want them to get away with it?”
She shook her head.
I leaned closer. “Then why won’t you talk to the police? Are you afraid people will blame you for what Jenna was doing?”
“I don’t care about that.”
“Then why? Jenna deserves justice.”
Nancy rested her head on mine. Her whispered words were full of terror. “Because she was blackmailing almost everyone in town. I don’t know who I can trust.”
Nineteen
Everyone in town. Nancy’s words filled every space in my head as I drove home fighting the instinct to turn around and go to the police station. The thing stopping me wasn’t my fear that a police officer was involved, but the fact that Orville warned me how my meddling was putting me on the suspect list, and a slight part of me didn’t want to know what was happening with Rachel right now.
What should I do? I pulled into my driveway, sitting there as sadness settled over me, pushing down on my spirit. The heaviness sapped my energy. I didn’t want to leave my vehicle. Go into my house. I just wanted to sit and focus on the guilt eating at me. I pulled my phone from my purse. The screen was dark. I had forgotten to turn it back on when I left Yule Log.
I switched it on. Multiple messages from Bright popped up. Either we had a crafting emergency, or she was tired of waiting for me to fill her in on the parade and contacted me for details. I was sure it was all over the news. It wasn’t every day that a woman was murdered in a Christmas-named town right before the annual Christmas parade.
I was right. Bright wasn’t a beat around the bush kind of person. She got straight to the point.
Please tell me the police didn’t wrap you up in this murder.
Not formally. I messaged back. Though I’m doing a good job of putting myself on that particular list.
Talk.
In as few characters as I could, I typed out my suspicions, having to go back a few times to correct words. It would’ve been easier to type everything on the computer, but I had to get it out of me. Christmas surprise secrets were the only ones I liked keeping. This was too much for me. For Nancy. She got it out by entrusting it to me, now I was handing—sharing—it with Bright.
I closed out of messenger. Bright would help me figure out what to do. I knew she wouldn’t judge me. She’d understand my reluctance to go to the police but also why my conscience demanded I do so.
Slipping out of the car, I noticed the plastic mail bin by my front door. My mail person was a gem. She’d leave my packages and regular mail in a bin if it didn’t fit in my mailbox, saving me a trip to the post office during my busy season.
I balanced the box against my hip, opened the door, and then flipped on the light switch that would bring my inflatables to life. The bright, happy Christmas beings and critters always brought me joy. I needed it in abundance tonight.
Ebenezer whistled, shrill and angry from his habitat. He didn’t want to stay in there one minute longer. Balancing the box in one hand, I placed the ramp into Ebenezer’s area. Better for him to use some of his energy figuring how to get out than me lifting him out. He’d tear through the house. I didn’t want him knocking the safety gate into the Christmas tree and bringing it down.
I carried in the box and placed it on the dining room table. Who was Nancy afraid of? Who in town could make her afraid of going to the police? One of the officers? The police chief? Or Mayor Vine. She had worked for him. It was possible the mayor “borrowed” the money from the town and Jenna discovered it, promising to keep quiet if he paid her off. For the plan to work, they’d need money added back into the town’s account. The best solution was tying the missing money to Samuel and having me pay it back in order to protect myself, Cassie, and her grandmother.
But, the only way to keep a secret was to make sure only one person knew about it. It was a secret the mayor wouldn’t want anyone else to know…and now I did. Did that put me in danger?
While I waited for Bright’s advice, I pulled up the picture of the naughty list sign Jenna had made. Besides the names being city council members was there anything else in common? What sort of secrets could Jenna have on them? The only name out of place was Eric. The ugliest thing I knew about him was his drinking and driving problem. That was something everyone in town knew. Why would Jenna add him to her sign?
Had she included him for another reason? Or she thought it best to add a non-council person’s name to the list?
The council members all had access to the budget numbers. Did they know about the missing money? Was everyone keeping it quiet from the town? Or was Jenna blackmailing the mayor for something else and one of the other members stole the money. Norman. Pastor Heath. Rachel. My stomach tightened. Another motive for Rachel to have committed the crime. Had Rachel been telling me the truth on how Jenna was killed?
I’m going to the police, I messaged Bright. I’d hand over the receipts I found at Eric’s house, let them sort it out. It was better to let the police find out and announce to the town who was a thief. Or more accurately, I didn’t want to discover that it was one of my friends.
Good. Because now I don’t have to try and convince you that’s the right thing.
Which was what deep down in my heart I had wanted: Bright, my partner, the one person whose advice I’d follow, to tell me what to do. I hadn’t wanted it all on my shoulders. Having someone to bounce ideas off, to lean on, was what I missed most about having a husband, a companion, a life partner. It was lonely and stressful to always rely on yourself to make huge decisions.
That was what I wanted from Brett, to take some of the responsibility of the decision regarding the winnings, and it wasn’t fair. I was keeping him at arm’s length, friendship wise, yet was waiting for him to tell me what to do with the money. Not because he was my lawyer, but because I didn’t want to make the decision myself. The wrong decision myself.
Which was what I had to do. Decide. Myself. It was time to stop using others as an excuse for not making a solid decision or waiting for them to do it for me and then getting a little snippy. Either I was responsible for my life or I wasn’t.
I’m asking an officer to come here. I messaged.
What will the neighbors think?
That the police are watching me.
I called Orville’s cell phone.
“Talk.”
Since Orville preferred brevity, I complied. “I have some potential evidence. Was told Jenna was blackmailing people.”
“Where are you?”
“Home.”
“Be there in fifteen minutes.”
Fifteen minutes didn’t give me enough to work on any order. Though it was plenty of time to work myself into a knot of worry. Who else knew I had this evidence? Nancy knew I had the bank slips but threw them away. Had she believed that the police had them now? The diner had been packed. Had anyone overheard us?
Eric. He had to know by now that along with his gun, I took the bank slips that were on the table. Would he come here looking for the items? Or go straight for Cassie?
Cassie is safe. I reminded myself. Repeatedly. Paul was keeping an eye on her. He wouldn’t let anything happen to her. Soon, she’d be at her grandmother’s house and not at home alone. There was safety in numbers.
Bonnie. Bonnie would be home alone.
The doorbell rang, and I almost jumped out of my skin. I peeled back a corner of the curtain and peeked out. Orville.
I whipped open the door. “Have you found Eric?” Please, please, say yes.
He shook his head. “We’re still searching. Matter-of-fact, I have to make this quick. There was a possible sighting of him. You should stay home tonight. We have reason to believe the man is armed.”
I grimaced. Not anymore. “The items I have are in my car. And I wouldn’t worry about Eric being armed.” I walked over and braced myself against the passenger door of my Traverse. He wasn’t going to like this one bit.
“Merry, what do you have?”
I opened the car door and stood on the other side, thankful for the physical barrier between me and Orville. “Eric’s gun.”
“You have what?” His eyes grew two sizes.
“Eric’s gun that he pulled on me this morning. When I grabbed the gun from the table, I also picked up bank slips. I didn’t think it was a good idea to let him keep the gun. He had threatened Cassie.”
“Where is it?” Orville sounded old. Drained. I feared I might be the death, or at least the loss of sanity, for the poor guy.
“In the glove compartment.”
Orville retrieved it.
He shut the car door. “Can you do me a favor and stay home?”
“I’ll try.”
Not very hard. I had to warn Bonnie.
Twenty
I pulled into Bonnie’s driveway and left the engine on. The two-story house was dark. It would be invisible against the night sky if not for the Christmas lights on the houses on either side. What most people hated about winter, the early darkness, was what I loved. The stars shone earlier. Christmas lights were brighter. I hadn’t noticed before tonight that it also brought out loneliness. Grief. Cassie’s house was devoid of Christmas. There were no decorations on the porch, in the yard, on the house.
Emotions crashed over me, threatening to pull me into an abyss of pain and longing. Lies. Dreams. Secrets. Hopes. All of it was mixed up in the time I spent with Samuel, dating him and then married to him. There were some good memories mixed in with the not so good, I hoped in years to come I’d remember those a little more and have the bad ones fade. I hated feeling so much animosity for a dead man. Cassie would need me, and it would be hard for her to come to me and trust me if she sensed the anger toward her father that was rooted in my heart.
Taking in a deep breath, I slid out of the car and went to the front door. It had been months since I had lived there, and yet it felt like almost a decade. So much had happened to me since I divorced—or thought I had divorced—Samuel: finding him dead, betrayed by a friend, threatened in my own home, almost shot. I wished I could still be that same happy, woman with a child-like attitude of believing and expecting the best from everyone. My life had its ups and downs, but a circumstance had never changed me.
Until now.
I rang the doorbell, hearing it echo though the house. The darkness started making me antsy, conjuring up visions of eyes peered at me from the bushes. I slipped my cell phone from my pocket and clutched it in my hand. I rang the doorbell again and followed it with a knock. My cold fingers felt the word “Waters” that was etched on the knocker. I shoved my hands into my coat pockets. There wasn’t a sign of movement in the house. The porch light remained off.
Was Bonnie not home? My mind slipped into judgmental thoughts. How could Bonnie stay in the house of the man who might not have been her husband? Deceived her? Didn’t she feel betrayed by him? Or she didn’t care because she had loved him? Had I ever truly loved Samuel or had I loved the fact he needed me, and I was once again a mom? In my head I knew that just because my children moved out didn’t take away my mom status. My heart had said differently. I had been lost and alone.
Samuel understood what it felt to be left even though our circumstances were different. And later I discovered that Samuel’s behavior contributed to women leaving him. The person I felt sorry for was Cassie, a girl who so desperately wanted a mother. I had hoped to fill that need for her. During our tumultuous divorce, I had felt it was best for me to pull back. For my sanity, I needed as little to do with Samuel as possible.
I still had my children. I had people I was connected to—a family to claim and to claim me. With Samuel gone, Bonnie was alone. Her parents had passed away years ago and she had no siblings. No children. And at her age, mid-forties like me, the chance she would find someone was dwindling away. Bonnie and Cassie could become friends, if not a makeshift family for each other. The two had never gotten along though they had declared a truce and treated each other like roommates forced to occupy a living space at a college dorm. I hoped the living situation continued to work out for them. Cassie was only eighteen. Too young to live alone.
Sighing, I walked back to my car and got inside, placing my hands in front of the heater vents. What if I was still married to Samuel? Did that make the house mine? My gut clenched. Could I sign it over to her? Was there still a mortgage? How would Cassie pay it? I had been so wrapped up in the parade and my business, I hadn’t even thought about how Cassie was doing financially.
I pulled out my phone and called the one person who could relieve a few of my worries. Brett.
He answered on the second ring. “I still haven’t heard anything, Merry. The courts are a little slow with the impending holidays. It is the weekend.” He sounded weary.
No greeting. No how was I doing or asking about holiday plans with the kids. Just straight to business. Was I only calling him now when I had a problem? When was the last time I called him to invite him over to share lunch or dinner with me and the kids? Or just to thank him for all the work he was doing to help me straighten out my life? When had I asked about how he was doing? He and his wife had recently separated.
Shame flickered through me. I was handing off a lot of burdens to Brett. He and I had remained friends after our divorce, not just for our children’s sake but because we truly liked each other. We made great friends. Lousy married partners. And I wasn’t being a good friend lately, I had turned into a me person.
“Sorry. I guess I have been a little pushy.” I had wanted to say that I wasn’t calling about my issues, but I was tired of dropping little white lies here and there.
“Anything wrong?”
“I’m fine.”
Brett and I remained connected, neither of us talking.
“It’s been a long week. I didn’t mean to make you feel bad if you called to ask a question. I’m your lawyer.”
I cringed. That was what I had said I wanted, a professional relationship between us. Lawyer and client. “I miss us also being friends. I feel bad the only reason I call is because of a problem.”
“It’s not like you’re going to call to arrange dates for birthday parties. The kids didn’t invi
te me to either of their last ones.”
“Me neither. And I have a feeling it’s better that way.” From what I heard, Raleigh’s last birthday party involved a trip to a casino to see a male revue show. I wasn’t up to seeing my daughter put dollar bills in some man’s thong.
“What can I help you with?”
I told him my concerns about Cassie’s house. “Is there anything we can do?”
“Sign the lottery ticket and pay off the mortgage. It’ll be a safe investment for Cassie. She could rent out a room to Bonnie and that would give Cassie some money for monthly living expenses. The majority of the money would remain in a trust account for her and gain interest. The only issue would be going against Helen’s wishes. Helen is adamant about not giving Cassie the money.”
“I know, she thinks it will ruin Cassie’s life. I think I could convince her this is a good idea. Helen’s house is falling apart. I might also get Helen to agree to move in with Cassie and Bonnie. There is a bedroom on the first floor.”
“Helen’s health is declining.”
I nodded, even though Brett couldn’t see me. “Cassie hasn’t noticed yet.”
“Maybe she has.”
“She hasn’t said anything to me.”
“Because that would make it real.”
I stared at the dark, blank canvas of the house. Samuel’s Christmas display had rivaled mine. It was also what drew me to him. I had always told myself if I got married again, it would be to a Christmas man.
Cassie loved Christmas as did her father. It was sad to see the house dark and not one strand of light on the house. It had to be hard for Cassie to want to decorate the house when it was a father-daughter tradition. I should see if my children or Paul could come down and help me decorate it. I was sure he’d lend a hand if asked.
As would Brett.
“What are doing the next few days?”
“Why?”
“There’s a house in Season’s Greetings that could use some major Christmas cheer.”
BETTER WATCH OUT Page 16