Purrfect Slaying

by Louise Lynn

  “The wreaths are bare, like the woods in winter and the cold hearts of bitter old men,” Tess said in that dreamy voice of hers.

  “Exactly, and bare wreaths are not what people need this time of year. They need wreaths full of fresh pine and cedar and bright ribbons and baubles. If they want to see a winter wood, they just have to look around!” Maureen said and fluttered her hands like a stage magician showing off a new trick.

  Hazel raised a brow. “While I appreciate your input on proper wreaths, that’s not what I wanted to talk about. You said something about Carol and John Collins being involved in something shady? What were you talking about?”

  Her mother’s eyes glinted. “Oh, gossip! I thought you didn’t like it when I did that.”

  “I don’t like it when you spread rumors around town about a sensitive investigation, but—”

  “But when the rumors might help the investigation, you change your tune? At least you admit they’re helpful. Well, if you must know, I don’t know what John or Albert did. Best to ask Albert yourself. I’ve seen him walk by several times already. That means he didn’t meet the same terrible fate as John Collins. And Sheriff Cross didn’t lock him up, for whatever reason.”

  Hazel leaned against the booth and Anthony Ray jumped on the counter to bat at the feathers hanging from a dream catcher. “Colton questioned him, and he’s checking out Albert’s alibi as well. If you didn’t know anything, why did you mention a reckoning? Albert said the same thing this morning. That can’t be a coincidence.”

  Maureen gave Hazel a long hard look, then sighed and tightened the scarf around her neck. “This isn’t like that business with Roberta. I don’t know much of what happened, only that they seemed to be involved in something and had a falling out. When I was a girl, they were good friends and Marley Sinclair was their mentor. The only other person besides Albert who might know something needs a visit anyhow. Must be neighborly, no matter how much I hate that woman. Look, I even made her a fruitcake.”

  Hazel eyed the dubious cake wrapped in shiny red plastic. It looked more like a brick than something to eat. “Are you sure you don’t want to bring her something from Esther’s bakery?”

  “Of course not. This is Carol Collins we’re going to visit in order to pay our respects and what not. But I don’t have to give her something good. She’s just going to throw it away.”

  Hazel frowned. “Then why give her anything at all?”

  Her mother gave her an exasperated look. “So I can be the bigger person, and she can be the petty one. This way, I was kind enough to give her a fruitcake, and she’s going to toss it because I gave it to her. Don’t worry, dear. It’s no loss. The thing is a year old.”

  Hazel bit back the desire to laugh and shook her head instead. “If you insist. But do you really think Carol will talk about anything her husband might have done wrong?”

  “Knowing Carol, she’s looking for the chance to sing about it,” Maureen said and marched away.

  As Hazel turned to follow, Tess caught her arm. “Whispers rise and shadows stir. For sins of the past, there is no cure.”

  Well, that wasn’t ominous at all, Hazel thought, and gave a quick nod.

  Anthony Ray charged ahead of her, and she hoped her mother was right about both things. That Carol would talk about the past, and that she’d throw away that old fruitcake instead of trying to eat it.

  Chapter 11

  The bell to the Christmas shop tingled their arrival as Hazel and her mother stepped inside. A gust of snow followed them, and Hazel was suddenly reminded why she hardly ever stepped in there. Carol Collins herself was only one reason. The other was the shop’s excessive warmth. After stepping in from freezing temperatures, it felt like she was standing in a sauna.

  She swore she felt a drop of sweat dripping down her neck under her scarf, and she frowned.

  The other thing was the shop itself was altogether creepy.

  Hazel was the sort that thought Christmas things should be resigned to Christmasy times of year, from the first snowfall until just after New Year's, if she had her way. However, Carol Collins was obviously the type that thought Christmas was a year-round event, at least for show. Her own actions were never particularly Christmas-like though.

  Not to mention the shop was filled with delicate Christmas villages that seemed the sort of thing Anthony Ray wanted to topple over and crash through like a monster in a Godzilla film.

  Hazel kept a tight rein on her cat and sucked in a breath of air that smelled like artificial pine and overly sweet cinnamon apple spice.

  "Maureen, can I help you with something?" Carol Collins said from her spot behind the counter, and glared down her nose at them. It was simpler to do with Hazel's mother, considering Hazel was five feet nine and several inches taller than Carol Collins.

  "Oh, I wasn't certain you'd be open today, but of course, no rest for the weary. I'm so terribly sorry about what happened to John. My condolences," Maureen said and walked up to the counter, her many layers flowing behind her.

  Hazel wondered if they would knock over one of the delicate arrays of ornaments lined up on the various tables here and there, and what exactly Carol Collins would do if that occurred.

  However, the layers avoided the ornaments, and Maureen made it to the counter. She set down the fruitcake, and Carol Collins eyed it like a teacher might a gift from her largest troublemaker. "Yes, well, it's just like John for this to happen. This time of year, at the Christmas Fair no less," she said and carefully pulled the fruitcake toward her.

  Hazel wondered if she’d throw it out right then, but she only set it behind the counter. "Do you have any idea who would want to hurt your husband in such gruesome fashion?" Hazel asked and cast a stern glance at her cat.

  Anthony Ray’s tail twitched, but he didn't make any sudden moves toward the many Christmas trees on display. She had a feeling he’d try to climb them if she let her guard down.

  "You mean besides Albert Stone? John wasn't much for making enemies. I'm actually more surprised he didn't do in Albert instead of the other way around. Though, I'm not sure Albert actually had anything to do with this," she said, and watched Maureen as she turned to look at one of the trees.

  It was decorated in all blue and white, which Hazel knew her mother despised. She was the type who wanted as many colors as possible exploding everywhere on the Christmas tree with as many mismatched ornaments as she could arrange.

  Hazel thought Carol would absolutely hate their Christmas decorations, and nearly smiled at that idea.

  "Wait, you don't think Albert did this?" Hazel said. That was a surprise. Here she thought Carol would be pointing the finger at Albert, regardless if he’d done it or not.

  Carol let out a delicate snort. “Of course not. Albert Stone is a fool and a coward, and he wouldn't have the guts to kill John like that. I'm not sure of anyone who would outside of Marley Sinclair, but he's dead too," she said.

  "Calling your dead husband a coward doesn't seem very Christian to me," Maureen said in an offhand way.

  Carol's face turned the same red as her painted nails. She wore one of her typical sweater sets and a pair of sensible slacks. The sweater was a cheery Kelly green with tiny rhinestones embellished all over it. Her hair was done up neatly, the exact opposite of Maureen and her frizzy curls and colorful layers of tunics, skirts, and leggings.

  Hazel realized that perhaps they disliked each other because they were absolute opposites in every way.

  "You're going to lecture me on what it is to be a good Christian? I don't suppose I see you at church every Sunday," she said and held her head up high and haughty.

  Maureen gave her a sunny smile. “Oh, I don't go to that old Presbyterian Church every Sunday. I've been going to Temple lately, and before that it was the church that meets on Saturday. It fits in with my schedule a touch better. And the people are lovely there. Not so uptight."

  Carol Collins looked ready to kick them out, so Hazel stepped in front of he
r mother. They came here to learn about the truth of some past indiscretions, and they hadn't even come close to doing that. "Setting aside church preferences," she said and tried to smile without it looking strained. "I spoke with Albert Stone this morning and he seemed to hint that both Marley and John's death seemed like an act of reckoning. That they both did something wrong. Do you know anything about that?"

  If Carol's face had been red before, it drained of all color now. She looked like a bleached version of herself, and her eyes darted to the leash in Hazel's hand. “I do not allow pets in my store."

  Hazel fought the urge to roll her eyes. "Mother, would you take Anthony Ray outside so I can have a word with Mrs. Collins?"

  Her mother looked ready to object, but Carol let out a heavy sigh. "No, she needn't go. I am not sure exactly what Mr. Stone was talking about, but as far as I can see, there is no reckoning for John. He didn't commit any atrocity, besides being a terrible husband. But Albert, coward that he is, would say something like that. He’s just as bad as Hilde was," the woman said and shook her head.

  Hazel blinked, and she noticed her mother stiffen at the sound of that name. She’d never heard it herself, and raised an eyebrow. "Who was Hilde?"

  "Coward? You’re calling that poor girl a coward after she–"

  The color rose to Carol's cheeks again, and Hazel put her hand on her mother's shoulder. "How was John a terrible husband? I know he just died, but you don't seem in the least shy about sharing his bad qualities with everyone."

  Carol turned her attention from Maureen back to Hazel, and smoothed a hand down her sweater. “Of course not. I have nothing to hide. And John was a terrible husband, which is why we were separated. Had been for nearly a year. And I know what you're going to say, Maureen. That divorce is against God's will, but living with that man was trying my sanity, and after a long word with my pastor and–"

  Maureen threw her hands in the air. "Oh Carol, do you think I care if you and John got a divorce? As far as I can see, that should've happened years ago. You’d been making each other miserable for decades," she said and picked up a little silver bell. The tingling reminded Hazel of what she thought Santa’s sleigh bells sounded like when she was a girl.

  The idea didn’t bring her much comfort now.

  “Well, I didn't need your approval anyway. And yes, John was difficult in many ways. He didn't care about the church or the store. He only cared about his lost business venture from thirty years ago. And it was his fault, mind you. He held onto that anger. Do you know how hard it was to get him into the Santa suit every Christmas? And you saw the atrocious job he did. It's no wonder someone did him in," she said and raised an eyebrow at Maureen. "That bell is pure silver and very expensive. I'm not sure you could afford it on your income."

  Maureen glanced at the price tag and set it down carefully. "Oh that's nothing. But, a pure silver bell doesn't really compare to the wonders that Edgar has brought home over the years, does it, Hazy?" Her smile verged on plastic.

  Hazel sighed. She didn’t want to get into the middle of an argument between Carol Collins and her own mother. "Dad has some impressive things, but that bell is lovely. Has Sheriff Cross spoken to you yet?"

  Carol nodded. “Yes, why?”

  Hazel doubted he'd asked her the pertinent questions. The more she heard, the more it sounded like Carol was the one to have done it. She didn't even point the finger at anyone else. Maybe she wanted to be caught. Certain criminals did that, didn't they?

  "Where were you when it happened?"

  "I was closing up the shop, then I was going to head over and watch A Christmas Carol, like I do every year. I give a speech at the beginning about our wonderful Christmas Fair."

  Hazel nodded slowly. The Christmas shop was near her own studio, and closer to the side of the park that held Santa's Village than the community center, which meant Carol easily could've gone there, killed her husband and been back in twenty minutes.

  A shiver went up her spine. "Did anybody else know how much John hated candy canes?"

  Carol shrugged, which was an out of place gesture for such an uptight woman to make. "How am I supposed to know what other people did and didn’t know about him? If he handed the children a candy cane and said: these things are terrible, then I suppose they knew. If he didn’t, then I suppose they didn’t."

  Well, that line of questioning didn’t work. What else had Carol said? Something about the business venture?

  "What business venture?" she asked, more to keep Carol talking than anything.

  The woman's lips pursed into an unpleasant expression. She looked as if she'd taken a overlarge sip of sour lemonade. "It's been so long now I can't even remember. It was a fools investment, and when it didn't pan out, he lost us a great deal of money. Money I was going to use to open this very shop! It has taken me years to rebuild our standing in the community after that folly, and John never fully recovered. He was never the man I married after that, always an angry shadow of who he used to be."

  Hazel couldn't imagine being married to an angry shadow of a man was easy, nor did she imagine being married to Carol Collins was a treat either. It sounded as if they tortured each other for the last few decades, and she suddenly had a lot more sympathy for Justin and Marjorie. "What did Marjorie and Justin think about the separation, if you don't mind me asking."

  The high points of Carol's cheeks turned red. "I'm not certain what they think because we haven’t told them yet. It was something I was going to discuss with Justin when he came home. Marjorie, well, who knows. She never visits Cedar Valley anymore."

  Hazel thought she knew why Marjorie wouldn't want to come visit her overbearing mother and angry father, but decided not to mention it. Especially since it was looking more and more like Albert Stone hadn't been the one who did it.

  Carol Collins had no alibi to speak of, and she seemed disinterested that he was killed, and not even disturbed by the manner of his murder. The only thing Hazel didn't have on Carol was a clear motive.

  Though, separation often led to divorce, so perhaps that was it.

  “Oh, my dear little Hazy likes to beat around the bush, but Carol, the real question is did you kill John? And if so, I do hope you turn yourself in soon, so the Christmas Fair can get back to normal,” Maureen said with more glee than Hazel thought tasteful.

  That’s why her mother wanted to come.

  For this moment.

  Those high points of color on Carol's cheeks flared, and Hazel swore that she looked about ready to have steam come out of her ears. "How dare you! You come into my place of business and accuse me of a horrendous crime? Yes, my husband was a difficult man, and we hadn't been happy for a long time, but that does not mean that I killed him. We were separated and planning for divorce, why would I want him dead?"

  Hazel bit her lip to keep from saying what she thought Carol's motive might be, but her mother didn't have such scruples.

  "Money, probably. Half the people around here were murdered because of it. In California, where we live, you would've had to split everything down the middle, and since you earn more than John, who hadn’t worked in ages, you would've been paying him spousal support. Probably a hefty sum, which I don't think you'd want to do. Look, dear, I solved it for you. Now, call Sheriff Cross and–"

  "Get out! I did not kill my husband. If I was going to kill anyone. . . Never mind. I suggest you leave before I call the sheriff to have you removed," she said and shook.

  Hazel nodded and hustled her mother and cat out.

  Just as they were leaving, Anthony Ray turned and knocked a bulb from one of the trees. It hit the ground with a faint crash, and Carol let out a howl of rage.

  Hazel decided it was better to keep walking than turn around and deal with it.

  Chapter 12

  “Wait," Celia said, eyes wide and expression torn between mirth and awe, "your mom flat-out accused Carol Collins of murder?"

  Hazel nodded while taking a bite of her late lunch of chic
ken enchiladas. "Yeah, and Carol was not happy."

  Celia had managed to take lunch off for once, and they decided to celebrate with Mexican food. "I can imagine. I wouldn't want to be accused of murder in my own shop. Then again, you said it was empty. She hasn't updated anything in years, so I'm not surprised."

  Hazel nodded absently. "I never really thought about that, but you're right. Christmas trends do change with the times, don't they?"

  Celia nodded. "This year, I hear the new trend is black Christmas ornaments on a white tree. But I don't think anyone in Cedar Valley really follows that. We’re not hip enough.”

  The word Christmas trend sounded strange to Hazel's ears, but she agreed with Celia's assessment regardless. "Following trends or not, I still think it could've been her. She's the only one that has means, motive and a shakier alibi than Albert Stone."

  Celia took a long drink of her margarita. "So, there's proof he took that Uber? Which is so weird. How come I didn't know they had Uber in Cedar Valley now?"

  Hazel chuckled. "I don't think anyone but Albert Stone knew, which is even weirder. Yeah. I got a call from Sheriff Cross earlier saying it checked out, though Albert Stone still had time to commit the crime, so he’s not in the clear yet."

  A visible shudder went up Celia's back. "I hope he didn't do it. I always liked him as Scrooge."

  Hazel had as well. And even after how nasty a Scrooge he could play, or how he’d bickered with John Collins, the thought of him committing the crime seemed unreal. "How's Marcus holding up? He didn't throw up when we found the body, like I did, but he didn't look great either."

  Celia nearly choked on her bite of chimichanga. "He was rattled. And I think he’s still rattled, but he's doing a pretty good job. Don't you just love the grape leaf crown?"