by Laura Quinn
After a brief service, the mourners were asked to pay their last respects before filing out to their cars. Claire rode with Marti, leaving her car in the overflow lot of the funeral home. Bob drove separately, anticipating a breaking story given the previous night’s antics. During the twelve-mile drive to the cemetery, Marti filled her in with her surveillance efforts, which yielded little information. The rest of the trip was spent discussing Claire’s breakthrough in sticking up for herself. They took bets as to how soon the women of NoHa would be on hand to console the jilted coach.
After a short service at the cemetery, Patrick O’Shea Junior invited everyone to lunch at the French restaurant, offering maps to the few out-of-towners. The choice venue ensured everyone would attend.
Marti had been texting furiously since they left the tent. As she fired off another note, she told Claire her predicament. “I can’t believe my client’s husband is adamant about settling this today, after his attorney wouldn’t even return my calls for the last two weeks.”
“You better go,” Claire advised, switching to Bob’s car. At the restaurant, Lula insisted they join her at the main table. Claire wanted to retreat when she saw Ed was already there, in gratitude for his service. Two women sat on either side of him, giggling like schoolgirls, despite the circumstances. Ed tried to make eye contact with Claire several times, but she kept up conversation with Bob and other table mates.
Rather than a set menu, diners were invited to order ala cart. Claire couldn’t help but notice the number of filet mignon and lobster plates that were ordered, along with a steady stream of expensive wine. For herself, she ordered a gorgonzola pear chicken salad with hot herbal tea. Bob ordered a Provencal beef and chanterelle and black coffee. Neither could resist the hefty slices of cranberry and caramelized onion focaccia, served fresh from the oven.
Ed ordered chicken croquettes with remoulade sauce and dauphine potatoes and a rum and Coke. He followed it with an order of chocolate-mint souffle. Claire marveled at how the man could eat all that and still look the way he did.
Chief Pete approached the table and whispered in the widow’s ear. Delilah, her sister, and security guard followed him to the lobby. Claire and Bob trailed behind, under the guise of waiting for their car. Bob tipped the valet to take his time to bring it around, and they pretended to admire a painting of Provence while they strained to hear the hushed voices from around the corner. Soon, Lula eliminated the challenge.
“This is completely outrageous! No, absolutely not!” she shouted. “She just buried her husband! Have you no respect?”
“Lula, dear, I would rather get this over with now,” her sister whispered.
Lula walked to the corner with the chief to discuss his request out of Delilah’s hearing range.
“How can you expect her to go to the station?” she demanded. “That’s so cold.”
“It’s standard procedure, as is arresting people who interfere with police investigations.” Although Claire didn’t dare turn around, she felt his glare burning through her back.
“What could possibly be so critical?”
“Murder.”
“That evil man continues to hound her, even from the grave!” Lula decried. “I’ll ask her to go to the station, but only if I can accompany her. We’ll take the limo. I will not have her riding in one of your patrol cars!”
Claire gasped as someone tapped her shoulder.
“Let’s talk outside,” Bob whispered. They got into his car, waiting in the parking lot until he finished the conversation on his cell phone. Claire saw Delilah, face paler than the snow, leaving in handcuffs.
“What’s going on?” Claire asked as they drove back to the funeral home.
“My source said the murder weapon was found in the storeroom this morning and they just matched Delilah’s fingerprints on it. I’m going to try to get a statement at the police department.”
“I don’t believe it,” Claire said. “Did they check for other prints?”
“Let’s just say it isn’t looking good for her. As soon as I get the details, you and Marti will be the first to know.”
“Sure,” Claire said distractedly as she got into her car. This felt all wrong. While Claire waited for her engine to warm up, she left a message for Marti with the updates. She dialed Bob’s number.
“I just left a minute ago,” he answered. “I don’t have any new information yet.”
“This isn’t right. How did they find the weapon so quickly? That shop is filled with items, and they couldn’t have been there more than thirty minutes before they had something bagged.”
“Maybe the coroner’s report indicated a specific shape,” Bob speculated.
“I suppose, though it would still be like looking for a needle in a haystack in there.” Claire pulled into her garage. “I’ll be very interested to hear what you find out.”
Baron greeted Claire at home and she shared bits of chicken from her lunch with him and the starving cats, who had just finished eating their bowls of kibble. Claire changed into jeans and a holiday sweatshirt before playing with Baron in the backyard. When she picked up her purse without putting on his leash, Baron sat in front of the door and pouted.
“The windchill is going to be twenty below tonight, too cold for you to be out,” she explained. “Besides, we have a big day tomorrow with Santa photos.” Baron lowered his head and somehow made his eyes look more pitiful. She promised they could go to the fest the next day, gave him a large treat, then slipped out the door. She tried to dig out of the guilt avalanche by reminding herself Baron needed to rest.
Traffic was heavy at the mall as shoppers rushed to finish their lists. She was able to nab a space from a departing couple, who miraculously crammed ten shopping bags into an already-stuffed trunk.
Her own shop was filled with customers and she took over the register so Emma could take a break. Zac was on the floor, helping customers, while Peggy caught up on baking the doughs Claire had prepared that morning. Although a few people knew about the arrest, most of the customers were focused on dog treats. Everyone asked where Baron was, disappointed not to see the furry star.
Taking advantage of a lull, Claire asked Peggy to meet her in the office for a recap of the day. She pulled a register report and looked at it as she turned the corner to the back, straight into a spritz to the face.
“What the f…fudgesicles is that?” Claire sputtered, wiping droplets from her eyes.
“It’s sage and lavender,” Peggy said, spraying her boss again for good measure. “I knew you wouldn’t want me to burn sage leaves, which really would be more effective, so I mixed this to get rid of the evil spirits clinging to you.”
“I wasn’t even close to the casket.”
“It doesn’t matter. I can tell you’re absolutely drenched in bad spirits,” she said, spritzing the air around her. “And I know you’re investigating the murder, so I made these protection charms for you and Baron. It’s an essential oil blend, perfectly safe.”
Claire resigned herself to the herbal cleanses; she had brought this on herself. Once the fragrant necklace was put on, with the solemn oath to leave it in place until this murder business was done, Peggy relaxed. She reported on the top customers and sales, and the list of treats that still needed restocking. Claire thanked her for all her excellent work, especially covering for her at the Winter Fest the prior night, promising to compensate her accordingly.
Peggy surprised her with a request. “I would love to play Santa tomorrow.”
Claire tried not to looked shocked as she nodded her head. “In fact, once the photo session is done, you can leave, with pay of course.”
“Really?” The young lady smiled more brightly than Claire had ever witnessed. “I kind of met someone yesterday at the fest. He said he might stop by tomorrow and asked if I wanted to go skating. He’s kind of bashful, but so cute. He’ll be so surprised when Santa gives him a personalized note with my number.”
For a moment, Claire th
ought she was talking with Emma, as Peggy ebulliently detailed every moment with the handsome graduate student. Zac stood awestruck at the transformation as he waited to tell them the store was closed. While her employees zoned the store, Claire pulled the ingredients she needed for the ginger cookies, pumpkin pies and smoremen. She planned to relieve some of her guilt by baking at home. Emma helped her boss pack the totes, filling her in on the romantic night her boyfriend planned at the skating rink. Claire marveled that anyone would brave the dangerously cold air, forgetting what it was like to be a teenager.
“Love is in the air,” Claire told Baron when she arrived home, catching him up on what he missed. After a quick trip out, Baron lay by the fireplace to defrost while Claire started work on the doughs. In the midst of measuring out heaps of ginger, her phone rang “Do They Know It’s Christmas”, Bob’s assigned ringtone. Moments later, Marti’s name flashed on her screen. Conferencing the three, the Mystery Maven meeting began on speakerphone.
Hercule meowed from his perch on top of the bookcase in the living room. “Hercule says hi, from a distance,” Claire explained. “They don’t like that I’ve taken over all the countertops, so they’ve moved to higher ground to supervise.”
Bob and Marti said hello to their furry nephews and niece, setting off Clarence and Darrow, who talked with Baron while the humans waited.
“Boys, enough. We’ve got urgent matters to discuss,” Marti said, ending the canine conversation. The attorney made amends by promising they could talk again tomorrow.
“You got the guilt trip too, eh?” Claire guessed. “So, what’s going on? Surprisingly, I didn’t hear any gossip at the shop.”
“You’re not going to like it,” Bob warned. He proceeded to report that not only did the murder weapon show just two sets of prints, Delilah’s and Donald’s, the police now had motive. “Donald Jr. says his dad was going to leave her,” he explained.
“No way he would leave his golden goose,” Claire said. “I don’t believe that for a minute.”
“He obviously hates Delilah,” Marti said. “Why do they believe him? Maybe he killed his dad himself.”
“He claims to have proof, plus he has a solid alibi. He was in South Africa that week. His passport shows he didn’t arrive back at O’Hare until Thursday morning.”
“He could have hired someone to do it,” Claire said.
“Hitmen don’t usually clobber victims with antique statues; they bring their own weapons. Professionals don’t leave anything to chance,” Bob said.
“I hate to say it, but this is beginning to sound more like a heat-of-the-moment crime,” Marti said. “If it’s true that he was leaving her, we may have to accept that Delilah snapped. The good news is that a crime of passion generally gets a much lower sentence.”
“Are you crazy?” Claire objected. “There’s no way she killed him! You may as well think I did it.”
“We’re just playing devil’s advocate,” Bob said. “Delilah is a very nice lady, and we don’t want to think she is capable of this, but we don’t really know her.”
“And, who could blame her if she did? Once the jury hears about the real Donald, they may not even convict her,” Marti said. “Especially if we can help prove the illegal smuggling case.”
“You’ll be glad to hear that after securing the murder weapon, they found plenty of evidence in the shop,” Bob said. “Officer Conners is working with the federal agents to build a case against the son. They’re hoping to flip him and get to the big players.”
“That just proves my point,” Claire said. “Donald must have been involved with some very dangerous people, not to mention all the scams he was pulling. How can they think Delilah is their best subject? Chief Pete is going for the easiest target again.”
“We’ll keep investigating,” Marti said, placating her friend. Bob agreed and all three planned to meet at the Winter Fest after the shop closed the next day.
Claire took her frustration out on the cranberry bagel wreaths, which she kneaded by hand rather than using the mix-master. The cats scampered upstairs when she slammed a bowl of chilled gingerbread dough onto the granite counter and banged it into submission with her marble rolling pin. “They don’t understand what Delilah went through,” Claire said aloud. Baron sat up and offered his paw in support. “She didn’t do it and I’m going to prove it, if it’s the last thing I do.”
Chapter 17
Sunday, December 17th
Jack Frost set a festive stage for the final day of the North Haven Winter Fest, the artic plunge having decorated the trees with icicles that glistened in the morning sun. The day’s warmer temperature overwhelmed Lakeside Park with jolly patrons, including many four-pawed guests. Baron and Claire led the full dog parade through the candy-cane lined paths, cheered on by an enthusiastic crowd. To Mike’s relief, the canines were very orderly, though more than a few humans went off-path while taking selfies.
Prizes for several categories were awarded, including the daintiest plum fairy badge to Pixie the Great Dane. While still on stage, Claire reminded everyone that Santa photos would be taken until two-thirty, with all proceeds benefitting the local shelters After visiting with human and canine friends, Claire and Baron dropped off the tote of freshly-made treats to Carrie’s stand to sell.
Even stopping to greet all his fans, Baron and Claire opened the shop on time. When Peggy arrived, she spritzed her boss for good luck, then helped the photography students set up an extra-festive scene upstairs. Marti coordinated the shelters and the teens showed up early. They set up velvet ropes to direct traffic on both floors and devised a lottery system for photos, so people could shop while they waited.
Everything was going so well, Claire considered dousing herself with lavender and sage daily.
“You’re doing a good job,” Deloris Dill said. “I’m getting another picture of my Corgi to submit to the international corgi calendar committee. Bea told me unofficially my baby has December.”
If the shop weren’t filled with customers, Claire might have sat down to recover from the woozy feeling left by a happy Deloris.
Marti came down with an update on the adoption success, leaving her friend frozen in a smile. “What’s wrong?” she asked.
“Absolutely nothing,” Claire said, knocking on the wooden counter to ward off a jinx.
She took Baron for a quick walk before checking on the photo sessions upstairs. She reminded everyone that Santa Paws had to meet Santa Claus at three o’clock. To her surprise, the final photo was taken precisely on time and in just one take. Claire told Peggy how everyone praised her role as Santa and thanked her again for the magic elixir. She offered to take over in the suit so the jolly young elf could leave.
“If it’s all the same, I’d like to do it. I’m having so much fun,” Peggy said.
Claire did a double-take. “That’s great. Do you know what to do?”
“Sure. I pose with the other Santa by the clocktower before getting on the fire truck for a ride back to the North Pole.”
“Yes, that’s about it. Ernie will drive you around the block, then will drop you off behind the shop,” Claire said. “Then, change and enjoy the rest of your day.”
Bob arrived just in time to personally cover the two Santas’ publicized meeting. He was live-streaming the event, a new avenue for the newspaper to stay relevant. Zac stayed with the editor, as a technical assistant. Most of the shoppers followed Santa Paws, and Emma asked if she could go out with Baron.
Claire agreed, staying behind to help the few customers who remained. She cast the live stream to the large screen in the café, so everyone could watch it.
Peggy looked like a celebrity, waving, ho-ho-hoing and petting every dog along the way. She stopped to announce Baron was at the top of the nice list. The other Santa, who had been posing with human children, brought his team of reindeer with him. The costumed adults pranced on cue while the two Santas threw out miniature candy canes from a large red sack. Photos were taken
as the north pole citizens posed with their many fans.
As the clock struck three-fifteen, the garland bedecked firetruck drove up with lights flashing. Santa Claus ran over to the driver’s side to put a Santa hat on the fireman while Santa Paws stepped up to put on a red velvet jingle collar on Dot. Dancing reindeer accompanied both, to the delight of the cheering crowds.
In the wink of an eye, the dalmatian growled, someone screamed, and Santa Paws drop-kicked the reindeer who tried to strangle her with a string of Christmas lights. A dark sedan peeled out of the parking lot, but Ernie jumped out of the truck into the basket lift to radio in the getaway car’s path until the police could catch up with it. Hunter sat stunned, watching, while Peggy stood with her boot on the fallen assailant’s throat until a squad car arrived to arrest him. The crowd, recovered from their shock, cheered the martial arts champ. Peggy stayed in costume, and character, until the police removed the reindeer’s mask, at which point she screamed and kicked him in the south pole.
Several hours later, after their statements were taken, the three friends met at Claire’s house. Baron, Clarence and Darrow slept in front of the fireplace, exhausted from the day’s activities. Marti opened a second bottle of wine while Claire cleaned up the remnants of their pizza delivery.
Bob toasted to the highest website hits in the history of the paper. “It was at least ten times more than any other post we’ve done, thanks to our video of Peggy’s heroics. It’s gone viral; the hashtags SantaPawsPower, SantaSlaysStooge and NoHaNorthPoleProtector are still trending.”
“If they only knew Peggy caused it,” Marti said. “That maniac could have killed her, not to mention nearly giving Delilah a heart attack at the wake.”
“She couldn’t have known,” Claire said. “I’m sure Don Jr. was just as convincing a conman as his father was.” After her statement to the police, Peggy was in tears as she confessed to Claire what had transpired in the park the day before.