by Meg Macy
“I might take you up on that. Right now, we have to get those wizard bears done.”
“Sure.”
Isabel headed out to her car. I ambled over to the house, dead tired, yearning for a nap. The spicy tomato scent and the sound of bubbling cheese on top of Mom’s lasagna in the oven boosted my flagging energy. Mmm. I fastened Rosie’s coat, harness, and leash. I’d better walk the dog now before the snow piled up on the walk.
“Alexandra Victoria Silverman!” Mom waved a wooden spoon at me, but I quickly ducked back outside again. “I’ve got a bone to pick with you—”
“What’s up now?” I watched snowflakes drift around Rosie while she sniffed the frozen, dead grass. “Guess I’ll have to face the music, Rosie. But let’s get you moving.”
Dad parked the car and waved, heading inside with a bag from Jackson’s Market. Rosie and I walked fast to Kermit Street and back. A short stroll, but the snow had already covered our foot and paw prints by the time we returned.
Inside, I found Dad slashing a long bread loaf lengthwise. He buttered both halves and added the garlic Mom had chopped. Since they were busy, I rushed upstairs to change into my warmest flannel pajama pants and a cozy sweatshirt. Then I dragged myself back to the kitchen. I should have joined Aunt Eve for soup and avoided Mom. Too late now.
“So what gives?” I asked in my most innocent tone.
She pointed the chef’s knife at me. “You’re supposed to prove Alison’s innocence, not guilt! For heaven’s sake, Sasha. You told everyone about Kristen dating Detective Hunter, and then got him tossed off the case.”
“Wasn’t me.”
“You can blame me for that, Judith.” Dad kissed her cheek and slid the pan under the broiler. “Alison ought to thank me for it, too.”
“She’s not thankful at all, since that other detective dragged her back to the police station for another interview! That makes three times already. They keep asking the same questions, too, over and over.”
I gathered up plates and flatware and started setting the table. “If you must know, Flynn told me he saw Phil Hunter with Kristen in Ann Arbor. At a restaurant.”
That stopped Mom cold. “He’s sure it was Kristen?”
“Yes, and Hunter gave her that diamond necklace,” I added. “The one she wore to the funeral. You must have noticed it.”
“Hard to miss, really. Who else knew they were dating?”
“Digger Sykes told me, if you’re talking about Kristen Bloom.” Maddie had breezed inside, bringing a whiff of cold air and swirling snowflakes with her. “That means everyone in the whole county knows.”
“I’m glad Chief Russell asked Mason to take the case,” I said. “Hunter should have refused to investigate in the first place.”
Dad popped a bit of bread crust into his mouth. “Any sharp defense attorney would have used that relationship to help his client. Hunter’s too close to remain objective.”
Mom drew the lasagna pan out and then retrieved the garlic bread from the second oven. “I’d like to know why that hefty detective—”
“His name’s Mason,” I interrupted.
“Why is he hounding Alison? She was with her mother, the whole day of the parade. And she didn’t leave until late that night.”
I glanced at Dad, wondering how they’d both react. “Actually, someone saw Mrs. Bloom leaving the Silver Birches. Mason has yet to confirm it, though.”
Mom waved a hand. “Alison would never lie.”
“Ask her if she increased the benefits of her husband’s life insurance policy.”
Both my parents stared at me in shock, as if I’d reported that the Leaning Tower of Pisa in Italy had toppled to the ground. Maddie tiptoed around them to fetch glasses, uncorked the wine, and poured. I grabbed the salad bowl and set it on the table. While my parents muttered together, Mom kept shaking her head.
“I won’t believe it,” she said. “No. I won’t.”
“I’ve half a mind to go ask her,” Dad said, “but it won’t matter. Alison’s business is hers, not ours. If the police find evidence, they’ll arrest her.”
“Alex, she wouldn’t have killed Cal.”
Mom’s pleadings continued when we started dinner. My sister and I picked at our large portions, pulling the cheese into long strings like we used to do as children, but I didn’t touch my wine. Even the garlic bread wasn’t appetizing. A lump had formed in my stomach. I felt bad for my mother, who must feel betrayed. What if Elle or Mary Kate had lied to me and killed their husbands? I’d feel horrible.
It couldn’t have been an accident. The killer had bashed Cal Bloom’s skull, making sure he was dead.
“—told me Vivian Grant planned to expand her bakery.”
My ears pricked up at that. “Pretty in Pink? It’s right next to the Silver Scoop on Kermit Street, before the curve.”
“I know,” Mom said. “The last time I talked to Alison, the night before the funeral, she was furious. Cal had paid off Kristen’s loan the day before the parade. And he signed over the deed for that property to his daughter. Now she’s selling the Silver Scoop.”
“And sitting pretty now,” I said slowly. “She can open her yoga studio without Isabel French or any other business partner.”
“A yoga studio! Of all the crazy ideas.”
“Is that Alison’s opinion?”
Mom refused to meet my gaze. “Maybe, although I agree. That kind of thing might be popular in Ann Arbor, but here? Besides, the Silver Scoop has been around forever. Why let Vivian Grant take it over?”
“Maybe I should buy it,” Dad said, although I suspected he was joking.
“Kristen always dreamed of opening a yoga studio. Why shouldn’t she?” Maddie set aside her empty glass. “Nobody has the right to criticize that.”
“Hear, hear,” I said.
My mother swiped my glass, her cheeks as dark as the burgundy wine, and gulped half the contents. Dad cleared his throat and changed the subject.
“So, Judith. How are the wedding plans going for—”
“Don’t patronize me, Alex Silverman. You just said you should buy it!” Mom launched into a heated defense of Alison Bloom once more. “Maybe that was bad timing about the life insurance policy. I bet Cal wanted to make sure there’d be plenty for Kristen and Alison in case something happened to him. He was prediabetic, after all, and refused to change his diet. Plus everyone knew he had a weak heart.”
“The timing does seem unfortunate,” Dad said mildly.
“No matter what, Mom,” I said, “it’s impossible to prove that Mrs. Bloom is innocent. She left the Silver Birches, argued with him before we found him, and didn’t say where she was all that time. It wasn’t an accident, either.”
“Maybe she ran to Jackson’s Market for something. Her mother always needs adult diapers. You could ask—”
“That’s Detective Mason’s job,” Dad interrupted. “Let him do his job. And leave Alison alone for a while. She needs time to grieve.”
“But she’s not. Alone, I mean,” Maddie said. “Digger saw her Saturday night at Quinn’s Pub, with some guy. I think he’s helping Eric Dyer with his microbrewery. Might be his dad.”
“Keith Dyer? Wow.” I explained meeting him at the funeral home. “Nice guy.”
“I doubt if he’s anything more than an acquaintance,” Mom said at last.
“That’s not what Digger said.”
“I’m calling Alison.” She rushed off, while we sat in shocked silence.
Dad finally spoke. “I talked to Keith. He retired last year from one of the big three auto companies. Chrysler, I think. Told me how difficult ice wine is to make, waiting for the right moment. The grapes on the vine have to be partially frozen, and then they harvest them by hand. Working fast, night or day, or else they’re ruined.”
“I thought that place brewed only beer.”
“Apparently not. The grapes begin to freeze but the sugar inside doesn’t. If they miss the timing, they have to toss the whol
e crop.”
“Wow.” I was interested to taste ice wine now, and turned to my sister. “Have you met Eric and his dad yet?”
Maddie shrugged. “Yeah. Didn’t really impress me.”
“Keith, or Eric?”
Dad was teasing her, but my sister scowled.
“When did you talk to Eric?” I asked.
“He hired me to do a flyer for their holiday event between Christmas and New Year’s. A tasting of all his most popular brews. Some caterer from Ann Arbor is making the food. Crème brûlée, pecan pie, and all kinds of stuff. You’d think Eric would hire a few local bakers.”
“Why didn’t you tell him that?”
She sniffed in disdain. “Said he doesn’t know what Silver Hollow can offer. Like that’s any excuse. Lame.”
“It took a while for us to be accepted, remember,” I said. “Some people will never come around, either. Like Jack Cullen.”
“I heard he’s in the hospital now. Flu, I think.” Dad sounded sad. “And he’s not expected to make it. First Cal, then Tom Richardson, and now Cullen.”
“Threes, they always come in threes,” Maddie said. “Weird.”
“That’s a silly superstition,” Mom said, returning to her seat. “I didn’t get Alison on the phone, so I left her a voice mail.”
I had a feeling she wouldn’t get a return call. It sounded strange to me that Alison Bloom would be spending time with Keith Dyer so soon after her husband’s funeral. In a pub, of all places. Talk about inviting gossip. Mom tore chunks of garlic bread and then shredded them onto her plate, lost in thought. Dad and Maddie returned to discussing ice wine’s unique flavors, although neither of them had tasted it yet.
My thoughts wandered back to Vivian Grant. Now I knew the real story—she wanted that building. In order to expand Pretty in Pink, taking over the Silver Scoop would be a cheaper alternative than building a new addition or moving to another location.
Given what Phil Hunter said, plus Kristen’s grief and difficulties with Alison, I no longer believed she’d taken part in her dad’s murder. But could Alison have lifted her husband’s dead weight? Had she enlisted Keith Dyer’s help? He seemed so friendly, but who could tell what a person was really like after one encounter? Given her husband’s affairs, Alison may have gotten involved with a lover as payback or promised Dyer a cut of the insurance money.
I’d have to tip off Mason about that new development.
I still hadn’t cleared Cissy and Gus, though. That intimate photo was still floating out there. Somewhere. Tony Crocker also remained on my list, however unlikely. With Mason investigating, things might start heating up.
That might make the killer uncomfortable and lead to a mistake.
Chapter 21
I glanced at the clock. Nearly one, but I didn’t care. I couldn’t sleep after eating Mom’s spicy lasagna anyway. Jay had called two hours ago, as we weren’t caught up on events since his brief visit after the Bear-zaar. It felt like a month ago.
“The visitation was so awkward. Nobody mentioned what happened at the parade.”
“Bet they talked about it nonstop beforehand,” Jay said with a chuckle. “Everyone was all talked out by the funeral.”
“Ha. Anyway, remember how Flynn told us about Kristen dating Phil Hunter? Chief Russell booted him off the case, and Mason took over. He’s been buzzing around the village every day since. But he hasn’t come by to tell me anything.”
“I hope he doesn’t. Stay out of it, Sasha. I’d feel terrible not being there in case you run up against major trouble like last time. Don’t take any risks.”
“I wish you were here, right beside me.”
“Miss you, too. It won’t be long before Christmas Eve. Hey, got any ideas for a present? I’d hate to give you something you don’t want.”
“Anything. Books, earrings. Mostly you, back home.”
“Soon as I finish up, I’m there. This workshop hasn’t turned out like I expected. They run things with a ton of red tape and hassle. I’d rather take students on my own terms. But I’m gonna need a studio to get that going.”
Jay breathed a long sigh. I pictured him snuggled in a down sleeping bag. His friend’s run-down hunting cabin had to be cold without heat. He cooked in the fireplace, and used a rigged shower and portable toilet. Way too extreme for me. I preferred to camp at the “Hamp.” Heated hotel, thick and comfortable mattress, clean bathroom with a hot shower, soap, fluffy towels, plus a coffee maker, hair dryer, and maid service. He thought I was joking, at first.
Some things were worth the money, and absolute necessities in my life.
We’d agreed that he could go camping and hiking to his heart’s content, whenever he wanted. If Jay wanted me to tag along, I’d make a reservation. He could sleep in a tent and fend off real bears. The only bears I wanted to meet were in my shop.
“So Mrs. Davison has a Cape Cod on Kermit Street for rent?” he asked. “Are you sure it doesn’t have a measly shed out in the yard?”
“A garage with a space heater. Harry Nichols used it for taxidermy before his cancer. At least that’s what Digger Sykes said. His brother Larry helped out, too, skinning the critters before Harry had to undergo chemo treatments.”
“Now I remember. Paul took his prize fish to Nichols, who did a decent job.”
“I’ll ask Mrs. Davison again.” I nestled deeper into the pile of pillows behind me on the bed. Rosie snuggled close. “The open house is tomorrow, remember. Actually, today. We’ve got a lot to do this morning, making room for tables, the games, and everything else. I’d better get some sleep.”
“Hard to believe it’s halfway through December,” Jay said. “I’ll be home a week from tomorrow. We’ll celebrate big time.”
“I can’t wait.”
We exchanged our usual sweet nothings before promising to talk again by the weekend. No chance until then, for sure, given everything we had on our plates. I gave Rosie an extra hug and then tried to sleep. After a restless night, with maybe four hours under my belt, I groped my way into the shower and dried my hair.
“Six thirty. We did this already for the Bear-zaar,” I grumbled. “How do some people get up so early with a smile on their face?”
Maddie’s singing in the shower answered my question. Ugh. My nerves didn’t help, plus I’d had a bad dream where I dropped all the cookies and dumped a whole bowl of punch.
“Lucky we’re not serving that.” I headed to the closet. “But the cookies!”
My dog snored on the bed while I dressed in a special outfit for our open house. The gorgeous burgundy Mikado silk midi skirt had pleats at the waist but flared at the bottom, and looked sleek with a cashmere sweater. I chose flats for comfort, added my silver teddy bear pin and sparkly earrings, and twisted my hair up into a messy bun. I shoved a few rhinestone pins to tame the loose strands near my face, then swiped a layer of gloss over my red lipstick.
“Come on, Rosie. Time to get you outside before breakfast. No whining, either.”
Maddie was already in the kitchen, in black velvet leggings and a fire-engine red top studded with flashing lights. She laughed at my surprise. “I can turn them off and on. See? Battery operated, the wires are all hidden inside. Isn’t it sweet?”
“Your feet will be sore,” I said, pointing to her four-inch red satin heels with ribbon bows at her ankles. “How do you expect to walk around in those things all day?”
“Let me worry about that.” Maddie twirled, cocking her head. “Like my haircut?”
“What’s—oh! I see the difference now. It’s all red underneath.”
“Lynn did it, at Luxe Salon. It’s called an undercut pixie and she talked me into adding the reverse ombre effect, dying red in the back and leaving my normal hair color alone. Perfect for the holidays.” My sister poured our coffee into large travel holders. “Doctor your own. I don’t know how much sugar you want.”
“How’s Zoe Fisher working out at Silver Moon?”
“She knows a lot ab
out computer software, that’s a big plus. She produces newsletters for companies on the side, so I’m hoping we get new contracts. Next year, of course. We’re swamped right now.”
I waved a hand at our coffee. “No muffins? Not even a bagel. Yeesh.”
“Tighten your belt. Work first.”
Rosie returned from outside. Thankfully, the weather forecast predicted a warmer day than usual. The snowstorm had ended up as a dud. What little remained would melt by noon in the bright sunshine. But the wind this early in the morning had a bite and sent a shiver through me. Rosie refused to eat anything. Instead, she trotted to her crate where her teddy bear waited and tugged the soft fleece blanket over herself with her teeth.
I laughed, wishing I’d gotten a video. Instead I snapped a photo.
“That’s something you can use for our Facebook page or newsletter.”
“Good. Remember to take as many pictures of kids with their bears. Everyone loves to see selfies, and customers who can’t make it will love seeing what happened. Mary Kate and Hilda dropped off their cookies. Flora’s bringing her own, she wants to set them up. Carry that stack and I’ll open the doors for you.”
“If you weren’t wearing those silly heels, you could help,” I said. The boxes, while not heavy, blocked my view. I hoped my nightmare wouldn’t come true.
Maddie led the way down the hall, opening doors for me, until we reached the office. Once I set my burden on Aunt Eve’s desk, Mary Kate carried in a tray. Elle popped up from behind in a red and green elf outfit with pointy ears and a cap over her dark hair.
“Ta-da! We wanted to surprise you, Sasha.” She pointed to one ear. “I borrowed these from the hobbit costume I wore on Halloween.”
“Cute! And I thought I smelled bacon.” I stared at the scrambled eggs, hash browns, a jug of orange juice, fruit, and a platter of donuts and cinnamon buns. “We all need aprons.”
“Bingo. Elle the Elf has come prepared,” Mary Kate said. “I only brought the pastries. Maddie ordered everything else from the Sunshine Café. I almost never get a chance to relax in the morning, so Wendy baked all these. And Garrett said to spend the morning here. I’d love to help. I can replenish the cookies or do whatever you need.”
