by Louise Lynn
"Someone can seem nice on the surface and still be bad underneath," Esther said soberly, and reached for one of her pastries. She chose apple.
Hazel smiled at her younger sister. "To quote Stephen Sondheim: ‘nice is different than good.’"
Esther returned the smile and nodded. "I'm surprised you remember that. It was ages ago.”
"Isn't that from Into the Woods? Did you guys get to put that on in high school?" Violet said, and nearly bounced in her seat from excitement. If there was one thing Violet liked as much as literature, it was the theater.
"Oh I remember that," Maureen said and a grin spread across her face. "Wasn't there a big hoopla about censoring the wolf’s song? Carol Collins was involved in that too," she said sourly.
Hazel nodded, remembering as suddenly as you do, the details behind that incident. "Yeah, and you were furious. They had a big PTA meeting. I think that's the only one you ever went to, mom."
Maureen pushed her hair, frizzier than Hazel's own, back from her face. "PTA meetings aren’t everything, but I was not about to let Carol get away with it. Trying to cut a perfectly good song that has a very good message in the end, by the way. Little Red Riding Hood’s song doesn't make any sense if you don't see the wolf song prior to that."
Hazel agreed, but she also didn't think that was her mother's only reason for protesting quite so much. "I remember Marjorie got the part of Cinderella and her mom wouldn't let her participate in the play.”
Esther's eyes lit up. "Oh yeah. She cried in the girl’s bathroom for hours about that.”
Their mother shook her head. “Carol had a way of ruining lives. At least all she made her daughter do was cry. She could have done much worse,” she said darkly.
Ruth looked around at all of them, exasperated in the way only a nine-year-old can be. "I don't know what anybody is talking about, but Scrooge didn't kill Santa. I said he was nice. He gives us candy canes, even though he's supposed to be mean. All the urchins get candy canes from him. None of the other grown-ups ever give us anything," she said and crossed her arms, like that completely settled the matter.
Esther reached across and ruffled Ruth's hair. "Sorry, sweetie. We understand that Scrooge is nice, and the police don't know what happened yet. We hope it wasn't him.”
“If I had to put money on it, I’d say it was Carol herself. Poor John probably did something against her dogma and she decided to take care of it the old-testament way.”
“That’s crazy! Carol might be unpleasant, but I don’t think she’s a killer,” Esther said and frowned.
Maureen gave her a level look. “Oh? And you know Carol well, I take it? You girls have no clue what that woman is capable of, and I’m not saying that out of misplaced spite. She has blood on her hands, trust me. And some things need a reckoning. If you ask me, she deserved it more than John.”
Hazel stared at her niece, and set down the pastry she was about to bite. “Wait. He gives you guys candy canes? How often?"
Ruth shrugged. "A lot. Yesterday he had a whole bunch in his suit."
Violet made a strangled yelp and widened her eyes when Hazel glanced at her. "She's right. He gave me and Milo candy canes too. He said everyone needed to keep their energy up in the cold. I didn't think anything of it, but now. . . "
"But now what?" Esther said and looked around at them, with nearly the same indignation as Ruth had just a few moments before.
“Nothing," Hazel said and tried to plaster a smile on her face. Spreading rumors of how John Collins died wouldn’t go over well.
However, their mother ruined it by reaching for the last pastry. "Oh, didn't you hear? That's how he died. Candy canes right to the eyes. I wonder how the killer managed to make them sharp enough?"
Hazel tamped down the desire to laugh at the expression on Esther's face.
Everyone stared at Maureen, and she blinked as if she hadn’t said anything amiss.
Needless to say, they finished their breakfast without any more talk of murder, musicals, or candy canes.
Chapter 9
After their meal, and much convincing from both Hazel and Maureen, their mother took Violet and Ruth to the emergency city council meeting to get the lowdown on what was going to happen with the play and the Christmas Fair in general. That left Hazel and Esther to clean up before they both had to get to their respective businesses.
"I still don't like sending Ruth and Violet back to that place, considering what happened last night," Esther said as she set the dishes into the dishwasher with far too much care.
Hazel would've felt better if she was handling them normally. Unlike most people, when Esther was upset, she didn't slam things around; she became overly protective of them.
"I really don't think whoever did it is going to walk into the council meeting brandishing candy canes and start stabbing people in the face with them," Hazel said, though a shudder traveled up her spine at the thought.
She'd received a text about the emergency council meeting that morning, but not everyone in their family needed to go, especially since they didn't all have booths at the fair.
"And Farrah said she needed all the players there today. And they haven't found Mr. Stone yet so—” She didn't need to finish that sentence for Esther to catch what she meant.
"So regardless of what mom says about Carol Collins, you actually think he did it?" Esther said and tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear.
Hazel shrugged. "I don't know. He was there last night. But mom also didn't say that because she has a grudge against Carol. The woman was highly suspicious. She asked if it could’ve been suicide. And she didn't seem upset in the least," Hazel said and thought about the furious look in Carol Collins’s eyes the night before.
Esther nodded absently and let out a heavy sigh. "Grief is a strange thing. You know, sometimes when you lose a spouse, you're more angry than upset. I know I felt that way towards Matt for a bit. I'm not happy with myself for it, but it's normal," she said and gave Hazel a watery smile.
Hazel squeezed Esther tightly and kissed her forehead. "I know, and you're not a bad person for feeling that way.”
Esther hadn't talked about her deceased husband in several months, but Hazel knew it still hurt, even though she had a new beau. Raj had also lost his wife a few years before, so they probably comforted each other.
"I'm sure they'll be safe for a little bit, and I know for a fact Colton is going to increase the number of deputies there. He's not going to let anyone else get hurt."
Esther nodded tightly. "It's not that I don't trust Colton, but whoever did this, do you think what mom said is right? That this has something to do with a past indiscretion?"
"Who knows? She didn’t really fill in any details.”
"Oh, on a better note, Violet spilled the beans about Colton's parents coming for Christmas. What's your plan to impress them?" Esther said and her smile was brighter this time.
Hazel groaned. "I don't know, but it's obviously not going to be anything homemade. Do you think they’d like one of my wildlife calendars or a postcard?"
Esther laughed. "Maybe. You're an impressive photographer, but I can help you bake some Christmas cookies, if you want. It'll be just like old times," she said and wrapped a plaid scarf around her neck.
“As in you bake and I eat?"
Esther rolled her eyes. "You can at least cut the dough and frost the cookies, can't you?"
Hazel nodded, though she didn't mention that she couldn't do it nearly as well as Esther. Her cookies ended up looking like rejects. Esther’s cookies looked fit for a magazine cover.
Anthony Ray butted his head against her leg, and Hazel reached down to pet him. "Ready for your harness?"
He meowed, which she took to be a yes, and went to get it. As she did, her phone chimed an incoming text.
Esther read it to her. ”It's from Deputy Simmons. He says Sheriff Cross left the SD card with the photos at the Marley place. What does that mean?"
Hazel let out
a heavy sigh and glanced at the message. "It means I have to go back to that hideous old house and get it. Oh well, at least it keeps me out of the cold for a little bit."
"Oh right, I heard about that. Marley Sinclair dead. I thought he died years ago," Esther said and shook her head.
Everyone had been saying that lately, Hazel realized, and squeezed Esther’s shoulder. "I'll keep an extra special eye on Ruth and Violet today. Promise."
Esther nodded tightly, and they both tugged on their heavy winter coats to step out into the snow.
Marley Sinclair's house looked even more desolate and foreboding in the steadily falling snow and overcast gloom than it had the day before in the bright winter sunshine.
Hazel parked outside of the gate, which stood open a couple of feet. It made her feel like something dark and sinister was creeping into the town. It was a silly thought, since she didn't really believe in dark and sinister things that weren't flesh and blood, but still, an icy cold shiver shot up her spine nonetheless.
She'd made a quick call to Sheriff Cross on the way over, and confirmed that he had indeed misplaced the SD card. He apologized for asking her to run the errand, but he had to be at the city council meeting. Not to mention he sounded absolutely exhausted. Though he did thank her for arranging to have his parents picked up by someone other than himself.
"And you still haven't found Albert Stone?" Hazel had asked.
He let out a heavy sigh, one that she knew would deepen the lines at the corners of his eyes even if she weren't there to see it. "Not yet. And I'm afraid if we do find him he's not going to be of much use."
"Yeah. Well, good luck today."
"You too,” he said, and she heard the smile in his voice.
No matter what else was going on, at least they had each other.
She thought about that as she walked up the steps toward Marley Sinclair's house, Anthony Ray trotting at her side. She’d stopped at the Sheriff's Office to pick up the keys, and she fiddled with them in her gloved fingers.
There were no lights on in the windows, and she knew the body was gone, but she couldn't help picturing Mr. Sinclair sitting upright in that chair as he had the morning before.
Dying alone right before Christmas was sad enough, but dying when everyone in town already assumed you were dead—that was worse.
While she could have easily made a new copy of the crime scene photos and handed them over to the Sheriff's Office, the concern was someone else getting their hands on them and distributing them to the public.
Darla Maple, the editor of the Cedar Valley Post, was one such person who Hazel would not put above doing such a thing. If she had photos of John Collins’s dead body, she’d publish those as well. As it were, the headline that morning read: Santa Murdered! A Christmas Killing Unsolved!
Hazel had rolled her eyes, and vowed to help Sheriff Cross wrap this up as quickly as possible.
The door to the house creaked open after she turned the key, and her boots rang hollow on the wooden floors.
She knocked the snow on the mat, and let Anthony Ray slink in ahead of her.
While the interior wasn't warm, it was warmer than outside by a good thirty degrees.
She shut the door and let out a breath.
Around her, the house screamed in silence, the sort of silence that accompanies death. Hazel wished she weren't so familiar with that sound.
She only gave a quick glance in the room where Marley had been found dead. She knew the SD card wouldn't be there. Next she headed into the kitchen where she'd remembered making a copy of the photos in the first place.
Anthony Ray sniffed the air, and seemed intent on heading up the stairs, so Hazel had to tug him aside. "We don't need to go up there. This is just a quick stop before you get to go prowling around the fair again."
He gave her an indignant look but eventually gave up struggling.
Sure enough, the little card sat on the spotless countertops, and Hazel shoved it into her purse so she could get out of there.
As she headed toward the door, Anthony Ray tugged his leash up the stairs again. Hazel turned to pull him back when she heard a noise in the rooms above.
She froze.
No way that was her mother as well, at least, she hoped not.
Heart pounding, she pulled out her cell phone and dialed Sheriff Cross’s number.
"Police. This is a crime scene," she said, trying to make her voice sound as menacing as possible.
A dark figure appeared at the top of the stairs, the long black frock coat and top hat in place. "I only wanted to reminisce. I haven't moved anything, I swear. I know the production must be furious with me, but after I heard of Marley's passing, I just couldn't –" Scrooge said, his eyes hollow and the makeup he wore the day before cracked and fading from his sallow cheeks.
Hazel's fingers trembled, and she held the phone to her ear.
"Hazel? What's wrong?" Sheriff Cross said, his voice a whisper. That meant he was probably sitting in on the council meeting right now.
“I found Albert Stone at Marley Sinclair's place."
"Alive or dead?"
Albert Stone took a few steps down the stairs, and Hazel inadvertently took a few steps back. "Alive."
"I'll be right over," Colton said.
She was sure he would've stayed on the phone with her until he arrived, but Anthony Ray chose that moment to dart forward, which made Hazel let go of the leash and nearly drop her phone all at once. In an effort to catch it before it cracked against the wooden floors, she accidentally hung up on him.
"What's going on? Did you just call the police on me? I didn't show up for one production. That's not worthy of arrest these days, is it?” the old man said, his earlier demeanor now alight with something Hazel didn't like.
When Anthony Ray reached him, he sniffed the man's boots and pants and then continued on his way up the stairs.
Some help he was.
"I called the police because you're in Marley Sinclair's house, number one. Number two, the sheriff needs to talk to you about John Collins." She jutted her chin out with as much confidence as she could muster.
She hadn't come inside expecting any kind of confrontation, so she didn't have a tripod this time. And there was nothing in the hall that looked like it would make a good weapon, not even an umbrella in the stand by the door.
Of course Marley Sinclair would be the sort of rich person that didn't have numerous heavy knickknacks lying around.
"What about Mr. Collins?" Mr. Stone said and stopped halfway down the stairs. He held onto the railing, his fingers blanching against the dark wood.
"He's dead." Hazel heard herself saying, and watched the man's face for his reaction.
To her surprise, his eyes widened and he let out a strangled cry. "First Marley and now John?” For a moment, he looked like a pale water colored version of himself, and Hazel was afraid he was going to topple forward down the stairs. Instead, the man leaned back and sat heavily. "This is not natural. It's the devil’s work. Or—no—more like an avenging angel." His hands shook.
"What do you mean?" Hazel said and took a tentative step toward him. Her cat was upstairs somewhere making who knew what kind of mess and now Mr. Stone was acting the part of Scrooge beset with his own ghosts.
Albert Stone stared past her, but she didn't think he saw her at all. "I've tried so hard to be a good man all these years. I've tried to atone for the sins of the past, but perhaps I didn't atone hard enough. Marley and John. You know what this means, don't you?" he said and his eyes locked on hers.
Hazel shook her head slowly. "Honestly, I have no idea what you're talking about, but the sheriff needs to speak with you. You were the last person seen walking toward the area where John was murdered."
Mr. Stone looked as if someone had slapped him in the face. "Murdered? You just said he died. I said there would be a reckoning, and this proves it," the man said and stood on shaky legs.
"You have to stay here and wait for Sheriff
Cross," Hazel said and stood in front of the door. She hoped if he made a move, she could keep him at bay. He didn't have his silver handled walking stick on him, but he was taller than her by several inches.
"I'll speak with Sheriff Cross, but I didn't kill John Collins. I didn't even see him after our altercation yesterday evening."
Hazel put her hands on her hips. Suspects often lied, even to her. "Oh really? Because plenty of people saw you heading back toward Santa's Village after you were supposed to go to the community center theater."
A flush rose to his cheeks—the only color therein. "I turned around part way, and Charles can attest to that. He said he was going to go on ahead while I turned back to have another word with John. But when I arrived at Santa's Village it was dark and he was nowhere to be seen. So, I left the fair. You don't understand, young lady. I've been playing this part of Scrooge for twenty years, and while I love it dearly, the news of my old friend’s death shook me to my core."
Hazel raised an eyebrow. Part of her wished he was telling the truth, the other part of her couldn't believe it. "So you walked all the way here? It's a good three miles from the fair, and it was freezing cold last night."
“I didn't walk."
She narrowed her eyes.
From what she’d learned the night before, Albert Stone's car was still parked near the Christmas Fair. "Then how did you get here? A cab?"
His eyes brightened suddenly. “It was one of those newfangled things all the young people are using. Some German word."
"Uber?" she said and wondered how on earth Mr. Stone managed to hire an Uber when he didn't even look like he knew how to use a cell phone. Or that Cedar Valley even had active Uber drivers.
He nodded. "You don't believe me, but isn't there some sort of record? I made the appointment and they picked me up. That nice young lady who’s directing the play suggested it. On nights when the road is too slick, she said instead of driving we hire one of them to take us back to our homes. I swear.”