by Meg Macy
Jay groaned. “No way, Sasha. You aren’t joking?”
“I wish I were. The police won’t know for certain until the autopsy report is finished. If Detective Hunter ever bothers to tell us anything, that is.”
“Who?”
“A different county detective is investigating. Nothing like Mason, who’s a decent guy. Sharp, too, and on track most of the time. Hunter’s full of arrogance.”
I left a few treats on the cat tower, plus filled a Kong toy with peanut butter, before we headed upstairs. I took my time and explained everything—the floats in the parade, how my mother found Cal Bloom, and that Flynn and his latest girlfriend had accompanied us. When Rosie jumped on the big bed, I shooed her off.
“Oh no, you have to sleep in your own bed tonight, over there.” I set the Kong treat down on the thick cushion and turned back to Jay. “The whole thing’s a mess about the mayor, but who would want to kill him? It takes a lot for someone to do that. Tony Crocker was so sore about losing the election, but would he have offed him? And then there’s Cissy Davison. She might have been mad if she found out Cal Bloom had a half-naked photo.”
“I hope you mean of her, not the mayor.” Jay winked.
I playfully tossed a pillow his way. “And now Mom wants me to prove Alison Bloom is innocent. If she’s a suspect—”
“How about we skip talking over the whole murder business,” he murmured against my ear and pulled me close. “I’m still pretty chilled from that long drive.”
“I can help you with that.”
I grabbed the afghan blanket off the window seat and held it out. I laughed hard at his sour expression and then ended up in a tug of war over it. Jay let me win, but snatched a pillow from the floor and swung it; I danced aside before it landed on my backside. Giggling, I tripped over Rosie and fell backward on the bed.
Jay stretched out beside me, one arm keeping me in place. “I’d rather you warm me up in a different way.” He trailed a few kisses on my neck and mouth. “Unless you’re too tired?”
I kissed him. “Maybe you can convince me to stay awake.”
Chapter 10
Jay and I lazed around the next morning, chatting during a late breakfast of thick waffles and an egg casserole. Maddie had made it all before she left for the graphics studio. The kitchen was a huge mess, but Jay helped clean up; after that, we curled up together in front of the cozy fireplace, sharing the warmth, memories of previous winters, stories of our families, friends, and holiday fun. At last I nudged him in the ribs.
“So what do you think about the mayor’s death? I think someone killed him.”
“Wow. You really won’t let that go.” He smoothed a stray blond strand of my hair away from my eyes. “I’m not sure what to say. I barely remember what happened on Thanksgiving, except for that pumpkin pie. You apologized fifty times for the burned crust.”
“Thank goodness whipped cream hides mistakes.”
“Very true.” Jay planted a kiss on my ear. “I’ve seen Bloom around the village my whole life. Everyone thought he was a real character. Always played Santa Claus at the K of C hall on Baker Road every Christmas, before the city council voted for the parade and tree lighting. Your dad came up with the Santa Bear mascot idea, you know.”
“Really?” I smiled. “All I remember is how Dad tried to talk Uncle Ross into wearing the costume. That went over like a lead balloon.”
“Your uncle doesn’t like kids?”
“From a distance. I don’t think it bothered him he never had any.”
“Too bad. Hope you want a few.”
I snuggled against him, smiling. “You bet. When Cal Bloom volunteered, he didn’t need any padding with the bear costume. Everyone thought he was perfect. The mayor loves—did love—the spotlight, as you know. Now we’ll have to come up with a different mascot.”
“I don’t see why. Everyone will forget what happened by next year.”
“I doubt it. Murder seems to be increasing around here.”
Jay rubbed my shoulders. “Relax, Sasha. Forget it and focus on everything between now and the New Year. Once I’m done with this woodcarving class, I’ll open my studio near the village. Maybe you can help me find the perfect spot. I’d rather not freeze in my parents’ barn over the winter.”
“Hmm. I’ll have to think about that. The city council is supposed to open Theodore Lane at Main Street, but they may postpone the vote due to Cal Bloom’s death. Depends on who the mayoral pro tem is, I guess. I never paid attention to local politics. Or national, either.”
“Did you vote in the last election?”
“Forgot. Totally.”
He laughed and kissed my temple. “I’ll remind you next time.”
A comfortable silence reigned. I savored the last few minutes before Jay had to leave. Reluctantly, I posed a question. “Do you know Kristen Bloom at all? Cal’s daughter. Your older brother, Paul, graduated with her, I think.”
“Yeah. Want me to ask him if she’s capable of patricide?”
“Stop teasing.”
“Sorry. Your dad said it might have been an accident, though.”
“Remember, no power source was anywhere near where we found him. But I’d like to cross both Alison and Kristen off the suspect list.”
“Okay, I’ll call.” Jay retrieved his phone from the end table and punched in a series of numbers. “Hey, bro. Got a few minutes?”
While they talked, if you could call a series of grunts, short words, uh-huhs, and mumbles as conversation, I made a thick sandwich of turkey, leftover bacon, tomato, and lettuce on rye for him to eat on the long drive back to Grayling. I also filled a thermos of fresh coffee and added a handful of cookies I’d bought yesterday from Mary Kate’s Bear-zaar booth. That would tide him over. Jay would only need to stop for gas.
He slid his arms around my waist while I stood at the kitchen island, nuzzling the bare skin of my neck. “Thanks for breakfast, and now lunch. You’re too good to me.”
I turned to accept a deep kiss. “So what did Paul say?”
“Kristen blew him off when he asked her out once, so he never bothered her again. Paul doesn’t know squat about anything that happens in Silver Hollow. He keeps his head down. Not much to tell me about our family, either. I hear more than he does.”
“That’s because you’re close with Lauren. How’s she doing? Assuming you’ve talked to her recently. She told me about breaking up, and how terrible that was.”
“Yeah, she’s bummed. Swamped with—”
Rosie jumped up from her spot near the fireplace, barking like mad. I heard a hard rap on the back door. Wishing I’d exchanged my fleece robe for clothes, I jumped to my feet. Who would drop by on a snowy Sunday at noon? My parents had a key, along with Ross and Eve. They knew Jay was here, and like Maddie, wanted to give us privacy. Then again, maybe it was Detective Mason coming with news of the investigation.
Flynn stood on the back porch in his wool coat, hands in his pockets, his blond hair frosted with snowflakes. I yanked the door open. “What are you doing here?”
My ex-husband pushed past me with a smirk. When Jay rose from the sofa, Flynn jerked a thumb his way. “Aha. Having a little booty call?”
“None of—What do you want?”
“Hey, no problem, Kirby,” he said and shook Jay’s hand. “I figured you might be curious about something I found out, Sasha.”
“Oh?” Jay scratched his stubbly jaw. “What’s that, Hanson?”
“That other detective who’s investigating Bloom’s death came by to question me.”
“Detective Hunter?” I asked, noting the gleam in Flynn’s eye.
“Yeah, on Friday. Guy looked familiar, but I couldn’t place him. Until last night. I’d been meeting with a client for dinner about a few weeks ago at the Gandy Dancer, over in Ann Arbor. That’s where I saw him. Guess they didn’t figure that you can’t keep a secret for long, even outside of Silver Hollow.”
“That’s true. So you went to that e
xpensive restaurant near the train station?” I slid an arm around Jay’s waist. “What a nice tax write-off.”
“Hey, I gotta keep up my image. Remember that Flynn Wins. So if you ever need a lawyer, Kirby, call my office.”
“The Legal Eagles? From what Mike Blake said, you’ve pretty much erased your partners out of the spotlight. Bet you’ll rename it Hanson’s Law Firm soon.”
“So what if I do?”
I hushed them both. “Back to Detective Hunter, guys. He’s gotta eat, so what’s the big deal about seeing him at a restaurant?”
My ex grinned. “You might ask who was with him that night.”
Despite his annoying smugness, I took the bait. “Okay. Who?”
“Kristen Bloom.”
“So? Maybe they’re friends—”
“More than friends,” Flynn interrupted. “Holding hands, and kissing between sips of champagne. Then he handed her a velvet box. That’s when I paid more attention, because the necklace had a huge diamond. Sparkled so much, no one could miss it, or how she squealed like a prize pig. Hunter seemed pleased, too.”
“You’re sure it was him?”
“As sure as you’re standing here.”
“Wouldn’t that be a conflict of interest, investigating his girlfriend’s father’s death, and possible murder?”
“Like, yeah. Big time.” Flynn slapped his leather gloves against the palm of one hand. “So I told Blake and Branson, since Mark is representing Mrs. Bloom. He needed to know. You might want to mention it to Detective Mason the next time he comes around. And he will. The cops’ success rate in Silver Hollow depends on your help, remember.”
I ignored that. “What else do you know about Kristen?”
“Money problems, at least rumors of it. So long. I got work to do.”
“Hey, have you heard about a racy photo of Cissy Davison?”
That stopped him in his tracks. I repeated my question, since he’d already descended the porch steps. The wind tore the door out of my grasp and nearly slammed it shut. Flynn cocked his head and grinned, almost wickedly, his eyes gleaming.
“What about it?”
“How would Cal Bloom have gotten that photo, or a copy?”
“No idea. If he’d stolen it, or tried to publish it, that would be a statutory violation.” Flynn glanced around, as if we were being spied upon, and then leaned forward. “All she could do was ask me to send him a letter demanding its return. It’s her private property, after all. But Bloom denied having it.”
“Wow.”
“I’d guess that Gus Antonini showed it around to his friends, and probably had more than one copy. I learned my lesson about incriminating photos.” He tapped a finger against his cheek. “Let me tell you, Mrs. Bloom wasn’t happy to see that letter.”
“So what if—”
“Gotta run, I’m late.” He rushed toward his car in the parking lot.
I shut the door and turned to Jay, who’d walked up behind me. “That is seriously creepy about the photo. The mayor always seemed so family oriented.”
“Who knew he was such a dirty old man in secret,” he said, chuckling. “I’d better head out, Sasha, before it gets dark.”
“Already?”
I kissed him hard, hoping to stave off his departure. It worked for another half hour. Once Jay left, though, I cuddled with Rosie before the gas fireplace. Detective Mason probably didn’t know about that photo, or that his colleague was dating Kristen Bloom. Mason seemed a stickler for protocol and standards, while Hunter had an attitude problem. How could he keep an open mind about suspects? Especially if Mrs. Bloom was first on the list.
Only time would tell.
The snow stopped by three o’clock, so I decided to take a long hot shower. Once I dried my hair, I donned jeans, a heavy sweater, boots, coat, gloves, and hat. When I grabbed Rosie’s leash, she raced around me with eagerness.
“Good girl. Time for a nice brisk walk after a lazy day.”
The hired snowplow had cleared our driveway, parking lot, and Theodore Lane to the curve. I fastened Rosie’s Velcro boots on her four paws, and doubled over with laughter at how she high-stepped in an awkward gait until she grew accustomed to the weird feeling again. Rosie disliked snow more than the boots, however. We skirted the few drifts that covered the sidewalk and walked along the street instead. I saw few cars out this late in the day.
Warm sunshine cheered me, but more clouds scudded across the sky. Hopefully Jay would make it back safe and sound. He’d promised to text once he arrived at his friend’s cabin. I’d have rented an apartment for that long, but he liked roughing it. I crossed Kermit and headed to Fresh Grounds. A little pick-me-up sounded good, with a cookie. Maybe two. Hang the tight-fitting dress. The more I heard about the wedding, the more confident I felt that Aunt Eve wanted a casual event. All eyes would be on the bride, anyway.
I tied Rosie’s leash to the lamp post outside the coffee shop. “I’ll be right back, sweetie, with a treat for you. I promise.”
Inside, I waved to Wendy Clark. “Congrats on getting into the final round in the bake-off contest. The Little Lord Fauntleroy bear’s adorable!”
“Thanks. Mary Kate’s not all that thrilled with the name change, but I figured we’d better steer clear of any trouble with Lois Nichols.”
“I totally get that.”
Wendy had wiped crumbs off the counter with a damp cloth. “Enough about her. What can I make for you this afternoon, miss?”
I had to laugh at her teasing tone. “A chai latte, skim milk, and don’t skip the whip. Plus, hmm.” I eyed the Christmas cookies in the case and pointed to a huge tree with red cinnamon imperials. “I’ll take one of those. And two doggie treats for Rosie, of course.”
“Two for her, one for you? It’s usually the other way around.” Wendy snickered while she bagged up my purchase and then handed over my tea. “Enjoy.”
I headed outside into the cold once more, fed Rosie her treats, and munched my cookie. Wendy’s stories about Lois Nichols bothered me. How could Maddie and I have missed such obvious character flaws when we hired her? Lois had worked in our family business for over a year. I’d heard a few inklings of trouble with other workers, but we hadn’t dug deep enough to discover the problem. That had been a big mistake. We hadn’t anticipated Will Taylor’s sly attempt to control production back in late summer, either.
Maddie and I planned our cookie contest to include locals, whether or not they had real baking experience. We wanted village residents to feel a part of our holiday celebrations. I truly hoped Lois wouldn’t undermine the bake-off contest.
That would sour everything.
The coffee shop’s door swung wide, knocking my elbow, but I managed to hang on to my chai tea. The short dark-haired woman looked vaguely familiar when she apologized.
“You’re Sasha Silverman, right? I’m Alison Bloom.”
“Oh! Hello—”
“Surprised I’m not in jail?”
“No,” I sputtered. “I didn’t expect to meet you here. On the street, I mean.”
She laughed, a pleasant sound that made me sympathize with her plight. Alison Bloom wore carefully applied makeup that made her look forty instead of closer to sixty; her eyes had a puffiness from a crying jag, however, that couldn’t be hidden. Her spiked hairstyle, with barely noticeable strands of gray, also lent an appearance of youth. And her black jeans, camel coat, plaid scarf, plus chunky gold jewelry gave her a classic look. Genuine snakeskin boots with three-inch heels lent a bit of pizazz.
“Judith said you helped prove Ross Silverman’s innocence. I hope you can do the same for me.” Alison sighed. “I’m only guilty of neglecting my husband since my mother went into the Silver Birches. Cal and I have been through a lot together, but I never expected this.”
“I’m so sorry for your loss. And for Kristen, too.”
“My stepdaughter? Yes, she’s quite upset about her dad.”
“Stepdaughter?” I blinked. “I thought—�
�
“Most people assume that,” Alison interrupted, “but Cal’s first wife divorced him when Kristen was seven or eight. I tried hard to be a mother to her. We had a difficult time adjusting over the years. Thank you, though. We appreciate everyone’s support.” She eyed my dog. “What a sweet puppy.”
“She’s full grown, actually.”
“Do you have time to spare for a longer chat?”
“I can’t take Rosie into Fresh Grounds, but how about the bookstore?”
Alison glanced at The Cat’s Cradle bookstore. “Sure.”
After I gulped most of my tea, I tossed the cup in the trash and led the way to the shop. Elle was on the phone with a customer. I waved Alison toward the back and then mouthed “we need privacy” so my friend wouldn’t interrupt us.
“I know Mom expects me to prove your innocence,” I began, “but your alibi should take care of that. I mean, you do have one. Right?”
“Yes. I was with my mother at the Silver Birches on Wednesday.”
“At night, too, before and during the parade?”
Alison gazed at the ceiling and bit her lip. “Let’s see, I didn’t leave until very late. But Kristen came to visit with—oh, um. A friend.”
“You mean Detective Hunter.”
Her eyes widened. “You know about him?”
“I heard they’re dating, yes. Secrets don’t stay secret for long in a small town.”
“Yes, I’m beginning to realize that. Kristen went home, oh, around four o’clock or so. I’m not sure. With Detective Hunter.”
“Do the police know they’re dating?”
“I have no idea. But I’m grateful to the Legal Eagles for keeping them at bay. You must have heard they took me in for questioning. In the middle of the night.”
“Is it true you were planning to divorce the mayor?” I asked, watching for her reaction. Alison looked annoyed but quickly hid that. “Over his drinking problem.”
“I threatened, of course, but I didn’t file the papers.”
