A Berry Horrible Holiday

by A. R. Winters

  I glanced at Joel. His plate was full too, but he hadn't yet taken a bite. "What's wrong?"

  He was glaring at Brad. Brad was grinning back.

  Trying to lead by example—yep, that's what I was doing, I swear—I picked up a spare rib and ducked my head to take a bite. The magnificently caramelized sauce-crusted meat slipped right off the bone, leaving me with a mouthful of air.

  I gave up using my fingers and resorted to a fork. When I finally got a bite into my mouth, I closed my eyes and tapped the table with my fist while humming to myself. The tender meat all but melted in my mouth. When I opened my eyes after swallowing it down, every nearby eye was on me.

  Brad was no longer grinning. "Red, you're killing me."

  Confused, I looked up at Joel. Brad's grin had transferred to him. He slid an arm around my back while staring at Brad. "Yet she's all mine... tonight."

  "You guys keep this up, and I'll bunk with Zoey," I snipped.

  Brad was back to happy, but Joel looked panicked.

  "Nope, no can do," Zoey said before taking a bite of mashed potatoes.

  Joel's panic transferred to me. Bunking with Zoey had become my backup plan the second I saw her and Brad in front of the tent.

  "Why not?" I managed to keep the whine out of my voice, barely.

  "Got stuff to do. Some of the guys are coming over around midnight. We're going to study the butterfly effect."

  "Do I need to leave?" Brad asked. "Should I be hearing this?"

  "Butterfly effect?" I asked.

  "I'm gonna hack a server in Belgium."

  "Nope, don’t wanna hear this. Lalalalala!" Brad stuck his fingers in his ears, got up from the table, and headed off.

  Zoey continued. "I'll make the temp in a major hotel go up while setting the lighting on a two-minute interval flicker. Then, we'll monitor the response systems and use machine learning to identify the impact on Belgium's stock market trading, policy creation, and any other anomalies that can be identified."

  "Oh..." I cleared my throat. "I could come. I could help." I sounded nervous and hated myself for showing it.

  Zoey's gaze was deadpan. "Belgium." It was all she said.

  Deflated, I glanced up at Joel. He smiled encouragingly back. I refocused across the table. "Zoey—"

  "No."

  I narrowed my eyes at her. "Payback's a... witch."

  Zoey's smile was saccharin in return. "Bring it, Berry."

  Chapter 4

  "Joel, I think we should talk about something," I said. We'd climbed the two flights of stairs to get us to the third floor. My belly was full of Mama Hendrix's amazing cooking, and now we were standing in front of our B&B bedroom door. We were about to go to bed, and all that food in my belly had been joined by a whole cluster of runaway butterflies.

  Joel took a large cast iron key out of his pocket. I thought I might hyperventilate. I wanted to run away. Literally. I wanted my feet to pretend they were walking on hot coals and get me out of here!

  "It's just that—" I prattled on while Joel slid the key into the door's lock and turned it, “when I agreed to our romantic weekend alone, I..." Here I was, a grown woman, yet I couldn’t find the nerve to say what needed saying.

  Joel turned the knob and the door swung open. Rather than lead the way in though, he turned to me. "After you," he said with a flourish of his arm over the room's threshold.

  I hesitated. I didn't even want to look inside. This would be my first time seeing the room. Joel had brought our bags up after we arrived, while I stayed below and socialized.

  "Joel..."

  He captured my hand and bent to kiss it as he lifted it to his lips. "Trust me."

  That was it. He’d swooned me. I was doomed. The man was too charming to say no to, so I stepped through into the room. Then stopped.

  The room was beautiful in every imaginable way. It was spacious and homey. There was a large dresser with personal-sized amenities like lotion, candies, and fresh flowers on top. A huge window on the far wall was sure to have a glorious view of natural woodlands stretching for miles. But none of that was what gave me pause.

  "There are two beds," I said, stating the obvious.

  "Mmhmm," Joel said, moving up close to stand behind me. His voice was low, and I could feel the heat of him. "There's even a modesty partition between the beds."

  It was a lovely three-part hinged wooden frame that stood taller than me. Cream-colored fabric stretched taut over it. The screen was positioned so that the occupants of each bed would still be able to see each other's faces. We'd be able to visit and talk. We could even stretch our arms to link our fingers.

  "Joel..." I said. Again, I was speechless, but this time it wasn't fear that had my tongue. Joel was quickly stealing my heart, and I didn't know what to do about it. I wasn't even sure I should try. "Are all the rooms like this?"

  He laughed, a comforting rumble that washed over me. "No, only this one and only for you."

  Eggs prepared five different ways filled the long yard table the next morning. There was scrambled. Over easy. Sunny side up. Omelets with spinach, tomato, and goat cheese. Bacon and caramelized onion quiche. There was even french toast, although some might argue that isn't an egg dish. As far as I was concerned, it was one of the best. There were even vegan burrito wraps. Mama Hendrix had thought of everything.

  Everyone from last night had adopted pretty much the same seating spots this morning. I was next to Joel, and Zoey and Brad were sitting across from us.

  Brad was openly glowering at Joel.

  Joel was openly, gleefully smiling back at Brad.

  Nothing had happened between Joel and me, nothing physical anyway. We'd talked until the wee hours of the morning, sharing stories about our lives. But Brad appeared to be under the impression that more had occurred. I wasn't going to set him straight—it was none of his business—and Joel certainly wasn't going to tell him.

  The words "it's none of his business" wedged themselves in my mind and refused to budge.

  Well, it isn't any of his business, I argued with myself.

  But what if, I thought, the roles had been reversed? What if I was dating Brad at the same time as some other lady? What if things had progressed between them to a level of intimacy that went well beyond casual? Would that be any of my business?

  I wasn't sure, and that uncertainty washed some of my smug self-assurance away.

  I did my best to push my doubts aside as the table chattered and we ate our breakfast. Joel, Zoey, Brad, and I stayed mostly quiet. People soon splintered off into groups of twos and threes to head off in pursuit of their day's objectives.

  "Wanna walk the trails again?" Joel patted his stomach. "Work off some of last night's dinner and this morning's breakfast?"

  "Sure!"

  I saw Brad move as if to follow as Joel, and I stood up. I also saw Zoey's lightning fast hand fall on Brad's arm to hold him in place. It settled him, and he sat back down, but his glowering intensified.

  It was hard putting Brad's unhappiness behind me as I walked next to Joel, linked arm-in-arm. Joel was easy company, and he knew me better than I'd given him credit. To say I felt torn between the two men was an understatement, but I boxed those feelings up and put a bow on it. I'd deal with it at another time. A time when I had some solitude to think.

  I focused on the here and now as Joel and I climbed a gentle slope in the trail. Solar lanterns hung off poles. They weren't lit right now during the early morning sun, but I was hopeful we'd be able to enjoy walking among them tonight.

  "What do you want… long-term?" I asked. Okay, so I'm not that great at living in the here and now. But it was still a good question to ask. If there was ever any question that would make a man run, it was that one.

  "Mmm, to grow the newspaper. Transition to a fully electronic platform. I'd stash reader tablets at all the local businesses in town so that it would be like having a newspaper lying around waiting to be read."

  "Like it used to be," I said.
>
  "Yeah."

  I loved Joel's innovative ambitions, but his answer didn't touch on what I really wanted to know. Nothing he'd just said about his future had anything to do with me.

  John and Monica, the newlyweds, crested the hill ahead of us, heading our way. Well, they would have been heading our way if they were making any actual progress. Instead, they were chasing and catching each other from one side of the path to the other. Their antics were fun to watch.

  When Joel and I had gotten two-thirds of the way up the slope, Monica broke away from John's romantic clutches and squealed her way down the path toward us. Joel and I parted to let her pass, but the ground fell away in a divot that turned my ankle, and I could feel myself falling.

  "Kylie!" Joel yelled. He leaped forward to catch me, but our fingers merely brushed each other in passing.

  I turned into an early-season snowball. I rolled and bounced and thought I might break apart. The hill that the mulch trail had been gently climbing was in itself quite steep on its side. And tall. Did I mention tall? I thought I'd never reach the bottom—at least not still breathing.

  When I finally came to rest, I lay there motionless for a moment.

  Breathing: check.

  Limb movement: check.

  World-spinning dizziness: double check.

  Aches and pains: oh God, yes. Check.

  "Kylie!" Joel yelled again. His feet were heavy thuds on the near-frozen earth above me. I worried he'd fall too. At least he'd be able to use my body as a cushion.

  The spinning world slowed its turn, and I blinked repeatedly to bring my surroundings into focus. I was at the edge of some trees. That wasn't unique, certainly not here. But something seemed off... out of place. I didn't know if it was shapes or colors, but something was wrong.

  I dared to push myself up onto my elbow. I craned my head forward and peered more intently into the gentle shadows of the woods. There was all manner of cragginess in the tall standing trees, yet something was out of place. Something was different.

  I blinked, squinted, and then jerked my head back.

  Joel finally reached me and fell to his knees beside me. "Kylie," he said, fear thick in his voice. "Are you okay? Do you need help? Don't move. Have you broken anything?"

  Monica's voice called down from the top of the hill. "Is she okay? Should we run and get someone? Kylie, I'm so sorry!"

  Ignoring them both, I strained to get to my feet then staggered.

  "Kylie!" Joel was at my side, trying to get me to halt, but I stumbled forward like a drunken goat on unsure footing. His strong, steadying hands kept me from falling down once or twice.

  "No, no, no, no, no. Not here," I lamented. "This was our special weekend!"

  They weren't the least unselfish words I'd ever spoken. It was such a me-me-me thing to say as I stared at the pair of brown-overall-covered legs sticking straight up out of the ground. They'd been staked and tied to stay upright, like a person might do a young tree sapling. But this wasn't a tree. It was a person—planted head first.

  Chapter 5

  Back at the top of the hill, my knees were pulled up to my chest and my arms wrapped around them. I had bits of dried leaves in my hair, a sprained ankle, and bumps, bruises, and cuts galore.

  I stared into the trees below. Tilting my head just so, I could see the dead man's legs sticking straight up into the air.

  I sat alone. But I wasn't alone. People swarmed all around me.

  It was a stark difference compared to earlier. Everything had been quiet and still in those first few minutes after I'd done the Jack and Jill down the hill and discovered the dead man, planted. A memory now frozen in time.

  The warm, soft weight of a blanket settled over my shoulders. I craned my head up and around to see who had done it. "Brad," I breathed. His name carried an eager desperation I hadn't meant it to.

  " How ya doin'?" He sat down next to me and placed a comfortable and welcome arm around me.

  I leaned into him. "Why'd it have to happen here too?" I whined.

  "What? You mean why'd someone have to die—horribly, from the looks of it—during your vacation? Have your plans disrupted, did ya, Red?"

  I tsked my objection to his rebuke and slapped his side, but he laughed and pulled me tighter.

  He kissed the top of my head. "I get it. You'd thought you'd left all the dyin' behind."

  At the bottom of the hill, Joel squatted, moved, bent, and contorted to capture every angle imaginable with his camera. Back home in Camden Falls, he was a newspaper man who doubled as a crime scene photographer for the local police force. Running back to the B&B to get his camera had been his first instinct after helping me climb back up the hill.

  "You okay?" Brad asked.

  The sound of unfamiliar voices reached our ears before I could answer. At the lead of a small group was a woman dressed in a law enforcement uniform. The way all eyes were on her as she talked and walked made it clear that she was the one in charge. Her skin was sun-kissed. Her cheekbones were strong yet elegant. Her eyes were exotic. She could be best described as the love child of Halle Berry and Michelle Pfeiffer—in a single word, stunning.

  Brad was on his feet before I knew that he had moved. His question about my wellbeing was forgotten.

  He stepped in the law lady's path as she neared, yet it was she who spoke first.

  "Hi. What's your name?" She took immediate control.

  I was twisted all the way around, straining my neck to look up to see the exchange.

  "Brad Calderos. I'm an officer with the Kentucky State Police."

  "A bit out of your jurisdiction." A definite power move, making sure Brad understood he didn't have any authority. "I'm Sheriff Palke." She scowled as she turned her attention to the bottom of the hill. "Is it common in Kentucky to allow a civilian to contaminate a crime scene?"

  "That's Joel Mullen," Brad said. "He's a crime scene photographer."

  "Certified?" she asked.

  "Yes, ma'am."

  She wasn't asking a thing about me. I might as well have been invisible.

  "Who's been down there?" Sheriff Palke asked.

  "Kylie was," Brad said, and all eyes turned to me. Invisible no longer.

  Sheriff Palke squatted so that she was eye level with me. Her entourage shaped themselves into a half-moon behind her. "What happened?" she asked.

  "I lost my footing and fell down the hill. When I stopped falling, I spotted... him." I assumed it was a him. Shoes that big certainly supported the idea it was a him instead of a her.

  "Then what?"

  "Joel came down the hill after me, then he helped me climb back up."

  "Did you touch anything while you were down there?"

  "Just the ground."

  She smiled. "And how close was that ground to the body?"

  I gave her my best guestimate. "Twenty feet, maybe?"

  "And did the photographer—Joel—touch anything?"

  "Just me."

  Her smile broadened, and her dark eyes brightened. She reached forward to pick a leaf out of my hair with a hand that could have modeled jewelry. "Do you need medical attention?"

  "No."

  My "no" was joined by the echo of someone else's noes. I looked past Sheriff Palke to see Mama Hendrix hoofing her way up the mulch trail, arms pumping, with an alarmingly ruddy face. "No, no, no, no, no, no, no!" she chanted.

  The slender young Monica was having to jog to keep up with her.

  Sheriff Palke stood, her back stiff and her feet squared. "Ma'am, I need you to calm down," she said, intercepting Mama Hendrix.

  It wasn't enough.

  Mama Hendrix bobbed and weaved and managed to slip past the younger woman. The older woman staggered down the steep slope toward the trees below until, halfway down, she stopped. She gasped as her hand flew to cover her mouth. Her knees gave way, and she sat down hard on the cold, hard ground. "Oh, no, no, no."

  Sheriff Palke reached Mama Hendrix's side. "Do you recognize who it is?"


  "Doug… I think it’s Doug." She pointed. “Those are his boots.”

  "And who is Doug?" Sheriff Palke asked.

  "He oversees my orchards."

  Sheriff Palke guided Mama Hendrix to her feet and turned her around to start the journey back up the hill.

  I sucked in a breath of air when I saw Mama Hendrix's face. It had a dewy pastiness that had me wondering if Mama Hendrix might be the one in need of medical assistance very, very soon! She looked terrible.

  My heart broke as her shocked gaze traveled from one person to the next. "Who?" she kept saying. "Who did this? Who?" Sheriff Palke was on one side, guiding her back to the top of the hill, and Brad was soon on her other side.

  I tried to get out of the way but sidestepped into Zoey. "Where'd you come from?" I asked. I could have sworn she hadn't been there a moment before. Her geek squad entourage stood at a distance. One took a step forward to get closer, but the lift of a single arching eyebrow from her quailed him and put him back in line with the others.

  Instead of answering my question, Zoey looked past me. "Incoming."

  This time it was Rita, trailed by her father Michael. She got close to us and then detoured to do a boot-scoot down the steep slope before anyone could stop her.

  "Go get her," Sheriff Palke said, and a small herd of sheriff's deputies scuttled after her. But not Brad. He didn't move from Sheriff Palke's side. Instead, he stood closer and leaned in at the shoulder.

  My eyes narrowed, and my very own honey badger jealousy monster stirred from its hibernation within me.

  "What're you going to do?" Zoey asked.

  "I'm gonna snatch the hair out of her head."

  "Not about Xena Warrior Princess. About the dead guy," Zoey clarified.

  We watched as the deputies guided Rita back up to the top of the hill. Her eyes were streaming with tears and she was laughing hysterically all the time. At the top of the hill, her father waited, his face pinched with heavy concern.

  "Absolutely nothing," I said as the deputies handed Rita over to her father. Her father held her tight and walked her back toward the B&B. "I am not getting involved. People dying everywhere I go is a curse, and I'm done with it."