Curse Me Under the Mistletoe

by Kennedy Layne

  Miss Hauver should check the temperature of her chamomile tea. We all know that the waitress tends to let things sit for too long.

  Pearl was being a bit testy, which she happened to get when her spot of warm cream wasn’t heated exactly to her desired temperature. I could see the steam rising out of Gracie Lynn’s teacup.

  Perfection. I can admit to being a tad bit envious.

  “I do recall overhearing Edgar say something about his son-in-law on the morning we had our little disagreement.” Gracie Lynn began to slowly dip the chamomile tea bag in and out of the hot water inside her cup as she allowed the anticipation to build. I could see how she could have someone eagerly awaiting news of his or her future. “Everyone but Abigail knew that Patrick was planning on surprising her by leasing an office here in town so that she could be closer to her parents. Edgar wasn’t a fan of the young lawyer, if you catch my drift. He was very old school, which is why I thought he’d help me locate a loophole in my lease.”

  “Gracie Lynn, who was Edgar sitting with at the diner the day the two of you had your argument?” I asked, setting down what was left of my water. It was always good to think outside the box in murder investigations, and I was all about expanding our suspect list. “Someone from town? Someone you knew?”

  “Oh, yes!” Gracie Lynn exclaimed, making it seem that the individual was as nice as a warm piece of apple pie. “It was Roger Wilkes.”

  It is true that my tolerance for people such as Miss Hauver is rather on the thin side, but it’s rare that I’d like nothing more than to hit my head against this wall behind us. My holiday cheer is getting snowed on between my spot of cream not being the right temperature and this local fortuneteller not seeing the significance of Mr. Booneville’s guest at the diner. We’ll need to remedy this rather quickly, dear hexed one.

  Chapter Ten

  “You can’t eviscerate the local fortuneteller,” Orwin complained, stepping outside and holding the door open so that Piper and I could follow closely behind. Gracie Lynn had already left the diner, saying that she had some clients this afternoon. “What is it with you and that word?”

  It flows off my tongue quite nicely, don’t you think? And what is so wrong with doing this small town a favor, alien hunter? It’s very respectable to be kind to strangers. It’s a way to invite good karma into your life.

  “Good karma would be—”

  “Let’s put our opposing views aside for now,” I interjected into Orwin and Pearl’s banter. “We need to try and figure out how we can pay the Wilkes a visit without them getting suspicious of us.”

  There was an upbeat holiday carol coming out of the numerous speakers that had been positioned around their town square. Laughter from the children still having their snowball fight could be heard over the melody, as well as the wailing coming from the younger ones who were becoming impatient waiting in line to visit good ol’ St. Nick. The patrons walking up and down the sidewalks seemed to have doubled since we’d eaten lunch.

  I wonder if that waitress will be working the dinner shift. We really should find out before returning to a place we know doesn’t put the care into their patrons’ meals.

  “I had to come up with a couple of opposing stories during my run-ins with the landlord and the realtor, so what we say from this point on could come back and bite us on the nose like Jack Frost snorting antifreeze,” I muttered, stepping to the side to allow an elderly couple to enter the diner. I could only hope that Pearl hadn’t retaliated in any way due to her spot of cream not being warmed properly. “Any ideas?”

  Yes, and they all end in eviscerating a particular waitress. By the way, did you notice the way she chomped on that blue gum of hers? Chewing her gum like a cow chews its cud…just disgraceful.

  “Why don’t I head to the boutique with Piper,” Orwin suggested, pushing up his glasses. He’d already put on his leather gloves after having used a tissue to wipe his nose. Being near Pearl all through lunch had wreaked havoc on his sinuses. “I’ll get a quick read on the owner. That will give us time to figure out how to get near Debbie Wilkes.”

  “Sounds good,” Piper said, adjusting her knitted scarf so that the biting wind couldn’t reach her neck. “Lou, are you coming with us?”

  I debated for a moment, but then decided to walk to an office we hadn’t thought to check. It meant having to walk back through the winter wonderland and expose myself to what seemed to be a massive snowball fight that now included some of the parents, but it could be just the incentive we needed to solve this mystery.

  I’m ready to solve this case and get back to our sanctuary. I’ve come to love our home on wheels, along with the microwave that heats beverages to perfection.

  “You two go on ahead,” I said, knowing that Pearl would stay with me if Orwin accompanied Piper. “I think I’ll pay a visit to the Booneville Law Office. What was Edgar’s administrative assistant’s name?”

  Edgar’s hometown business had included him and a paralegal slash administrative assistant. He’d kept his clientele to locals, made a good living, and had never felt the need to expand. Technically, Roy had been his client, so it stood to reason that Edgar had written the very lease agreement that Gracie Lynn had signed. If she had been upset by the fine print, then maybe some of the other residents had hard feelings due to that exact reason.

  The assistant’s name was on one of the papers I’d left in the Jeep, but there had been so many people in connection to this murder. The voicemail on Edgar’s business line had all but said that the office was permanently closed, and to contact another lawyer the next town over for any current cases. The two lawyers must have had an agreement in place for this eventuality.

  Speaking of agreement, it’s possible that the assistant was aware of the verbal pact between Mrs. Booneville and Mrs. Wilkes. Very well done, dear hexed one. This case is sledding right along now that you’ve had the proper nourishment…unlike me.

  “Lynn Markle,” Orwin replied, not bothering to wipe off the flurry that had landed on his right lens. It had melted immediately, leaving an itsy-bitsy pearl of water. “I doubt that she’s there, but it’s definitely worth a shot. Shoot us a text if you can get inside the office. We can meet you there.”

  “Will do.” I slid my hands inside my pockets for warmth, still not willing to give in to the need for gloves. My ability to move things could be done through the leather, but I still loathed the feeling of my hands being smothered. “If you don’t hear from me, meet me back at the knitting shop. I have a few follow-up questions for Julie regarding Debbie and Norma, and I’m hoping you can get a read on her. Julie definitely knows more than she’s saying about Debbie’s resignation.”

  You realize that by going back into the hobby shop, you are all but guaranteeing that we’ll be wearing knitted hats, scarves, and mittens for the rest of the winter? That doesn’t include the toaster cover, oven mitts, coffee coasters, and whatever else can be covered in the RV. My sweet Piper never does things halfway, dear colleagues.

  Orwin and Piper began their walk down to the boutique shop while I navigated the small cobblestone path through the winter wonderland. I was keeping my fingers crossed that this new laid-out plan, plus Orwin’s presence, could accelerate our progress on this murder mystery.

  I have another idea that could potentially hasten our visit, though it does go against one of our top five rules.

  “I’m all ears,” I murmured, noticing that two of Santa’s helpers were standing in line for a hot apple cider. Good ol’ St. Nick must be on break from listening to the list of toys that the children had on their wish list this year. “Besides, it was Orwin who came up with those five rules.”

  And for very good reason, dear hexed one.

  Two of the rules didn’t even apply to Pearl. The binary policies regarding technology had more to do with Orwin’s belief in alien life than they did our government—text in code if the message was something that shouldn’t be intercepted and always have the location services off
unless it was a life or death situation.

  I’m going to try and not take offense to your lack of faith in my abilities, dear hexed one.

  I managed to get through the winter wonderland without being an unintended target in the snowball fight that still ensued in earnest. Maybe there was a contest I didn’t know about, though I didn’t notice it on the town’s holiday events calendar posted at the café. What had grabbed my attention was the wine tasting at the local liquor store tonight at seven o’clock. Now that was a festivity that I could wrap my mind around.

  If I have my way, we won’t be in Covered Bridge at seven o’clock this evening. I’d rather be in our traveling home, enjoying a spot of warm cream that has been heated properly. It’s only a little after noon, so we have many hours given in order to solve this mystery. Now, back to this idea of mine. Ms. Kirkham mentioned that the Wilkes lived on Passage Lane. Why don’t I go pay them a quick visit to see if the couple might be discussing their dubious crime of murder?

  It did appear that the Wilkes might have conspired to commit murder, or at least the wife had ample motive to kill Edgar, but it still seemed as if we were missing a big piece of the puzzle. I was hoping that Ms. Markle might be of help in that department. It did make sense for Pearl to pop in and out of the Wilkes’ residence in an attempt to acquire a confession.

  Pop in and out of the Wilkes’ residence? Do I look like a weasel to you, Miss Lilura? And while we’re on the subject of weasels, since when have you known me to enter a residence without a proper invitation? I will simply show up on their doorstep in my glorious, pristine form. Only a heartless criminal would be able to leave a lovely cat such as myself out in the cold. My own words give me pause.

  “Why is that?” I asked now that we were away from the crowd.

  We’d made it two blocks down, having already passed the café. I’d already checked on my Wrangler since we were on this end of town, and my baby was still sitting pretty.

  That waitress was heartless. We should check to see if she had any motive to kill Mr. Booneville. He might very well have not had his oatmeal heated to the right temperature, and it is possible he complained on one of those cards you wouldn’t allow me to fill out. She could have seen his complaint and decided to poison him with mistletoe.

  “Who knew you had such an imagination on you, Pearl?” Maybe having a bit of distance between Pearl and the diner wasn’t such a bad thing. “Go pay a visit to the Wilkes. Meet me back here as soon as you can.”

  Very well, but I am going to have my sweet Piper add that waitress to our suspect list. Remember, it’s always whom we least expect.

  I pondered that sentiment as I neared the law office of Edgar Booneville. Maybe that’s why I was having such a hard time believing that Debbie and Roger Wilkes would murder Edgar. Norma would have been the obvious suspect, and directly behind her would have been Gracie Lynn. We were all pretty certain that neither one had poisoned Edgar, but what were the odds that the Wilkes would follow through with something so heinous with there being an email trail regarding their motive?

  It was a surprise to find that the door to Edgar’s business was open. Considering that the bell above rang the moment I pushed it open a crack, I didn’t have much choice but to enter. I did so cautiously, not knowing exactly what I would find inside. To my relief, a woman in her sixties was sorting through files on a desk.

  “Excuse me,” I called out softly, not wanting to be the cause of anyone else dropping dead. “Are you Ms. Markle?”

  “Yes, I am,” Lynn replied, studying me over the top of her reading glasses. “May I help you?”

  Now was the time I needed to make a decision on how to handle this situation. Did I say that I was friends with Vanessa? If I went that route, there really would be no need for me to stop by this office. If I went with the journalist spin, it was highly doubtful that Lynn would talk to me. I couldn’t tell her the truth, either. She’d all but kick me to the curb.

  “My name is Lou, and I was hoping you could help me look over a lease I’m about to sign.” I somehow managed not to cringe at the direction I’d taken, not knowing why this case had me all but sideways with my various cover stories. Usually, I picked one and stuck to it. We were less likely to get caught in a lie. Yet here I was, all but holding up a sign and saying I was a liar. “Susan mentioned you by name.”

  “Susan?” Lynn frowned, taking off her glasses as she motioned for me to come closer. “I’m not sure why she would say such a thing. The lawyer who owned this office recently passed away. We’re actually closed, and I was going through active cases to give to Doug Pinkston in Fargo. I can give you his number, if you like.”

  “Susan actually told me about Mr. Booneville,” I confessed, trying my best to appear innocuous. Piper was the one who had the ability to appear innocent, mostly because she was so trustworthy. I’d gotten over that the moment I had my encounter with Ammeline. “I’m sorry for your loss. I almost didn’t even stop by the office, believing you’d be closed.”

  “Well, it was just me and Edgar.” Lynn set down her glasses on top of the files before pushing back her chair. She gave me a sad smile as she picked up her mug and made her way around the desk. “Coming into the office keeps me busy, and these files won’t transfer themselves. Did Susan give you the indication that Edgar had a partner?”

  “No, not at all,” I said truthfully while trying to figure out a way to keep talking about Edgar. “I figured since you worked so long with Mr. Booneville that maybe you’d know a little of the verbiage on the local leases. I have it here in my email, if you could just take a quick peek at it.”

  I made the pretense of pulling out my phone and scrolling through my email while Lynn poured herself another cup of coffee. What I was actually doing was texting Orwin and letting him know that Lynn was working today, and that I would keep her occupied until he and Piper could head this way.

  A strange sensation washed over me, but I chalked it up to not having Pearl here to commentate every now and then. Either that or it was the fact that I caught Lynn watching me in the mirror above the small coffee station.

  “I did help Edgar draft up the paperwork, but I’m really not a lawyer,” Lynn said cautiously after noticing that I’d caught her watching me. “You’re not from here, are you?”

  Lynn Markle had probably been born and raised in Covered Bridge, so she knew very well that I wasn’t from these parts. Mentioning Susan’s name had worked for a brief moment to get my foot in the door. Now that Lynn had time to think about, though, she was probably realizing that Susan wouldn’t have revealed so much to an outsider.

  “No, but I’m in love with this town,” I responded, still keeping up pretenses that I was searching for the lease in my email. I scrunched my nose and met Lynn’s gaze as she strolled toward me. “I’ll admit to being hesitant about opening a shop up in this town, though. I saw the police escort a woman into the back of a police car this morning.”

  I lowered my phone, knowing full well that I’d caught Lynn’s attention. Gossip had a tendency to do that in a small town such as Covered Bridge. Right about now was when Pearl would have told me I’d make a great fisherman. She sure was taking her time over at the Wilkes. I bet they gave her a spot of warm cream.

  “That’s just Gracie Lynn,” Lynn scoffed as she made her way back around her desk. She sat down and wheeled herself close enough so that her elbows rested on the hard surface, maintaining a hold on her coffee. She even blew lightly over the rim in an attempt to cool the coffee. “I wouldn’t worry too much about her. She’s always getting herself into those types of scrapes. If you talked to Susan, then I’m sure you heard all about Gracie Lynn being a suspect in Edgar’s murder. I’m here to tell you that the woman wouldn’t hurt a fly. Do you know that she stopped traffic on the onramp in order to save Mrs. Lewis’ toy poodle? Gracie Lynn is just a bit odd, is all. She’s actually a very nice person.”

  Lynn took a tentative sip of her coffee, testing the temperature.
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  “Edgar was a good man,” Lynn said with a sad smile after setting her coffee cup in between the numerous stacks of files. “He was also a good lawyer, and his contracts were concrete. There was nothing that Gracie Lynn could have done to extend her lease. Besides, I heard through the grapevine that someone wants to open up a printing shop. You know, the ones that do t-shirts, mugs, and such.”

  “If Mr. Booneville was such a good man, who would want to kill him?”

  I wanted to keep the momentum of the conversation flowing now that Lynn didn’t seem so suspicious of my motives anymore. Orwin and Piper couldn’t get here soon enough. He’d be able to get close enough to Lynn to hopefully gain any insight or doubt that might exist about her boss.

  “No one,” Lynn replied with what appeared to be true bewilderment and utter sadness. She reached for her reading glasses, but didn’t put them on. A lot of people needed to keep busy when faced with a tragedy such as this. It was no wonder she had the need to come into the office and get his business affairs in order. She most likely felt she was contributing in some way. “Edgar was loved by everyone, and Gracie Lynn was just upset when she confronted him at the diner. No one had any reason to kill him. Honestly, stuff like this doesn’t happen here. There are rumors that he ingested the poison by mistake, and I’m inclined to agree with that theory.”

  “What about his wife?” I asked, following up that question with a bit of insight that wouldn’t have Lynn mistrustful of my intentions. “I watch a lot of those crime shows on television, and they always have a twist where the victim wasn’t the intended victim.”

  “Norma? Well, she could be a shrewd businesswoman, that’s for sure,” Lynn replied, but she was shaking her head while she did so. “But again, nothing happens like that in Covered Bridge. I think I know the show you’re talking about, though. ‘NCIS’, right? No, no. I think it might have been on ‘Bones’ or ‘Castle’. Oh, I do miss those two shows.”