by Sarah Fox
As before, I was met only with silence.
After another step, I froze.
It was dark, but my eyes were adjusting, and the shadows didn’t keep me from recognizing the lump on the ground as Freddy Mancini.
The darkness also didn’t stop me from seeing the ice pick stuck into his chest.
Chapter 5
I let out a strangled cry and stepped back so fast that I nearly fell over. I tried to retrieve my phone from my pocket, but my hands were too clumsy in their mittens.
“Help!” I yelled as I tore off my mittens so I could grasp my phone.
I yelled again as I tried to wake up the device with cold, shaking fingers.
No one was close enough to hear me. I tore out of the gap between the buildings and onto the sidewalk. I called for help once more, this time directing my voice toward the village green.
I was about to run up the steps and into the town hall to find someone when I heard swift footsteps crunching through the snow. Mel was running across the green toward me.
“Mel!” I said with a rush of relief as she reached my side. “It’s Freddy.”
I pointed into the shadows, my hand trembling.
Mel cautiously approached Freddy, and I followed. She crouched down and pulled off one of her gloves, touching her fingers to Freddy’s neck. When she turned back my way, her face was grim.
“Have you called nine-one-one?” she asked.
“I’m just about to.” I tried waking up my phone again, without success. I slapped a hand to my forehead, realizing I’d meant to charge it that morning. “The battery died.”
“I’ll call.” Mel unzipped her jacket and fished her phone out of an inside pocket.
I had to turn away then. Now that my eyes had become more adjusted to the darkness, I could see the stain where Freddy’s blood had seeped into the snow.
Swallowing hard, I tried to keep my emotions under control. I hadn’t liked what little I’d seen of the man, but who could have done such a thing?
With that question circling in my mind, I truly registered for the first time that we were at the scene of a crime. I didn’t think there was any possible way that Freddy could have ended up on his back, an ice pick through his heart, as a result of an accident.
Mel had finished speaking with the 911 operator, so I asked if I could borrow her phone.
“Do you have a flashlight app on here?” I asked as she handed me the device.
She pointed out the app. “Why?”
The light came on and I directed it toward Freddy’s body, even though I would have preferred to look anywhere else.
I shuddered at the sight of Freddy’s pasty face and his blood-soaked jacket. The red snow around his body made my stomach churn. Still, I leaned forward, catching sight of something. A small tuft of orange wool was caught on a rough spot on the ice pick’s wooden handle.
“Sadie, we should back off,” Mel said. “This is a crime scene.”
She was right, and I didn’t really want to keep looking at Freddy anyway. I returned her phone to her and shoved my useless one into my pocket as we moved to the front of the town hall. I pulled my damp mittens back on, shivering harder now, and only partly from the cold.
I had to stifle another shudder as we stood on the sidewalk, waiting for the police to arrive. It was eerie, knowing a murder had taken place so close to where we stood. And it must have happened recently. Freddy hadn’t left the town hall all that long ago.
I jumped when a car door slammed somewhere in the distance. My heart pounded as I glanced left, and then right, worried Freddy’s killer might leap out at us at any moment.
“Whoever killed him is probably long gone,” Mel said as if she’d read my thoughts.
Ruby and Dan jogged across the green toward us. As they crossed the street, Mel and I stepped forward so they wouldn’t go past the town hall steps.
“Is something wrong, Mel?” Ruby asked. “We saw you take off running like your house was on fire.”
“I heard Sadie call for help,” Mel said.
Everyone’s eyes turned to me.
“It’s Freddy,” I said. “He’s dead.”
Ruby gasped, her eyes going wide.
Dan gaped at us for a second or two. “How? Where?” he managed to ask eventually.
I pointed at the space between the buildings. “Down there. And it looks like he was murdered.”
“Murdered?” Ruby echoed the word faintly.
Despite the fact that her cheeks were pink from the cold, she looked like she was about to pass out. Mel and I each grabbed one of her arms.
“Maybe you should sit down,” I suggested.
We helped her over to a bench next to the town hall steps and she sank down. I sat next to her, feeling a tad shaky myself.
“Has anyone called the police?” Dan asked.
Mel told him she had. He took a step toward the shadowy space next to the building, but Mel put out an arm to stop him.
“It’s a crime scene. We should stay back. Besides, it’s not a pretty sight.”
Dan nodded. “Right.” He glanced around helplessly, like he didn’t know what to do next.
By then we’d drawn the attention of the other competitors and a few people who’d emerged from the town hall. They all migrated toward us, asking why we were gathered on the sidewalk. When they were all together in a group, Mel explained the situation and asked them to stay put. After a moment of shocked silence, they started pelting questions at her.
“I don’t have any answers for you,” she said, raising her voice to speak over them. “Let’s wait for the police to arrive.”
Judging by the sirens piercing through the night air, that wouldn’t take long.
A group of people coming from the direction of the Inkwell headed our way.
“What’s going on?” one of them asked.
“Freddy Mancini’s been murdered,” a woman called out.
After another chorus of gasps, the newcomers pressed closer. Despite Mel’s instructions to the contrary, a few individuals tried to shuffle around to the side of the building to get a look at Freddy’s body.
“Ms. Coleman? What’s going on?” A tall, muscular man stood on the sidewalk, his form more imposing than usual with the extra bulk from his winter jacket.
“Jason!” I exhaled with relief. He was the head of security at Grayson’s brewery. “There’s been a murder. The body’s between the buildings.” I pointed. “And these people are getting too close to the crime scene.”
That was all I needed to say. Jason immediately took charge.
“Everyone back up,” he ordered, herding the crowd toward the town hall steps. “No one but the police can go in there.”
The curious onlookers shot questions at him, but he ignored them and continued to direct them farther way. By then, two police cruisers had pulled up to the curb, their sirens shut off now but their lights still flashing.
Satisfied that everyone was well away from the crime scene, Jason turned to meet the approaching officers. He exchanged a few quiet words with them and then pointed in the direction of Freddy’s body. After that, he returned to the base of the steps, standing like a statue, his arms crossed over his broad chest, his gaze on the police as they disappeared between the two buildings.
It didn’t take long for the officers to return to the sidewalk. The female officer came our way, while her male counterpart spoke into his radio.
“Who was first on the scene?” Officer Rogers asked.
I knew her name from interactions we’d had back in the fall when my ex was killed and someone had vandalized the pub.
I raised my hand.
“Ms. Coleman,” she said, obviously remembering me as well. “Did you make the call?”
“That was me,” Mel spoke up.
“I’ll speak to you each in turn,” Rogers said. “Could you join me for a moment, Ms. Coleman?”
I nodded and got up from the bench, following Officer Rogers away from the curious crowd wat
ching us. The male police officer, whose name I didn’t know, was still speaking quietly into his radio.
Once we were out of earshot of the onlookers, Officer Rogers asked me how I’d come to find Freddy’s body. I relayed the story to her and then answered her questions about what I’d seen and heard in the moments before and after I’d stumbled upon Freddy. I mentioned the clatter I’d heard, but I couldn’t tell her what had caused it.
Was it Freddy’s killer, knocking something over as he or she made an escape?
By the time I’d given her all the information I had, I was shivering uncontrollably. While Rogers motioned for Mel to join her, I headed across Creekside Road to the Inkwell. Rogers had told me I could leave the scene, and I couldn’t get away fast enough. I needed to get warm and I didn’t want the crowd of onlookers peppering me with questions.
I hurried across the footbridge and into the Inkwell. The warmth of the pub enveloped me like a hug as soon as I had the door shut behind me. Unfortunately, that wasn’t enough to stop my shivering. The cold had seeped into my bones by then.
My teeth chattering, I forced a smile onto my face and greeted customers as I made my way across the room to the bar, where Damien was mixing cocktails.
“I’m sorry I was gone so long,” I said. “And my phone died. Did I miss any texts from you?”
“No,” he replied. “But I was going to check in with you if you didn’t show up soon.”
“I’m sorry,” I said again. “I was delayed unexpectedly.”
Damien set a Count Dracula cocktail on a tray along with two Huckleberry Gins and a pint of beer. “Did that have anything to do with the police presence on Hemlock Street?”
“You know about that?”
“A couple of customers came in and spread the news.”
“So you know about Freddy?”
“As in Mancini?” Damien asked. “The chef who’s competing in the ice sculpture competition?”
“That’s him. Do you know him?”
“Not personally.” He eyed me with apprehension. “What happened?”
I lowered my voice. “He’s dead. Murdered.”
“Freddy Mancini’s been murdered?” a woman said from nearby.
Apparently, I hadn’t lowered my voice far enough.
Vera Anderson, the owner of a local boutique, had just emerged from the short corridor that led to the washrooms. “Is that why the police are across the way? Who did it?” She snapped the questions at me as if she were an impatient teacher and me a disagreeable student.
“Yes and I don’t know,” I said.
She turned her back on me as she produced her phone from her designer handbag and headed briskly for the table where two of her friends were waiting for her.
Now that Vera knew about the murder, I didn’t doubt that the whole town would know about it in short order. I felt a twinge of guilt for letting the cat out of the bag, but I figured it wouldn’t have taken much longer for the news to spread anyway. News and rumors alike tended to travel at turbo speed in Shady Creek.
I rubbed my arms, still suffering from the effects of standing out in the cold for so long. Not to mention the effects of finding Freddy’s body.
Damien picked up the tray of drinks. “You look half frozen. You’d better get a hot drink into you.”
That sounded like a good idea. First, though, I hurried upstairs to my apartment to shed my winter gear. Wimsey was cozied up on the couch, nice and toasty warm. I allowed myself a few seconds to cuddle him, but then I returned to the pub, where I immediately made myself a cup of tea.
I tried to take a sip of the drink right away, only to end up burning my tongue, so I set the cup aside reluctantly. The pub was fairly busy, so I got to work, helping Damien with taking orders, mixing drinks, and serving customers, sneaking sips of my tea whenever I could spare a moment. The hot drink and the work helped to warm me up, and slowly the deep chill left my bones. I couldn’t say the same for the eerie prickling sensation that kept running up and down my spine.
Almost everyone in the Inkwell was talking about the murder now; theories about who might have done the deed were thrown around. I heard one of Vera Anderson’s friends suggest that the murderer could have been a woman scorned by the successful chef. Across the room, as I delivered pints to some Inkwell regulars, I heard a man say it was probably a mob hit, related to Freddy’s business dealings in Boston.
I didn’t put too much stock in what people were saying. The theories would probably continue to fly around until the killer was caught. Still, I couldn’t help but wonder about the crime myself. In just one day, Freddy had managed to upset several people, any one of whom might have struck out at him in anger.
But which one?
I didn’t have the answer to that question, but maybe the culprit wasn’t anyone I knew. If Freddy could ruffle so many feathers here in Shady Creek in the space of a single day, surely he’d made plenty of enemies in Boston.
The problem was that his murder had happened here, not in the city where he lived and worked. And that was why I couldn’t rid myself of the prickle running along my spine. With a killer lurking in Shady Creek, how could any of us townsfolk feel safe?
Chapter 6
I slept late the next morning. Or, as late as Wimsey would let me, anyway. When he meowed into my ear, I rolled onto my back with a groan. He climbed up onto my shoulder and I cracked open my eyes to find his blue ones staring back at me. I closed my eyes again, but he tapped my chin with his paw and meowed more insistently. I knew from experience that he wasn’t about to give up. He wanted his breakfast, and he wasn’t known for his patience where meals were concerned.
My vision still bleary from sleep, I stumbled into the kitchen and dutifully provided His Lordship with breakfast and fresh water. Then I attended to my own most pressing need by putting some coffee on to brew. A niggling feeling of dread and apprehension worked its way into my mind, but it wasn’t until I was heading for the shower that the previous day’s events came rushing back to me and I remembered Freddy’s death.
His murder.
Not even a hot shower could wash away the memory of Freddy lying in the bloodstained snow with an ice pick in his chest. I wanted to hear news of the killer’s arrest, to know the case had been wrapped up quickly, peace and order restored in Shady Creek. That wasn’t to be, however. When I finally got myself out the door after a cup of coffee and two slices of toast, it didn’t take me long to find out that the murderer was still on the loose.
As soon as I stepped out the front door, I saw that the police were busy over by the town hall. An officer was stationed on each side of the building to keep people away and I recognized Detective Marquez and Police Chief Walters on the green, speaking with some of Mel’s competitors. Freddy’s unfinished sculpture stood abandoned, a reminder of the life cut short.
Mel was hard at work on her dragon and I decided not to interrupt her. Eldon Howes was the officer stationed on this side of the town hall, so I crossed the corner of the green to approach him.
“Morning, Officer Howes,” I greeted. “Has anyone been arrested yet?”
“Not yet,” he said, “but the investigation is still in its early stages.”
I couldn’t help but feel disappointed, though I knew he was right. Freddy hadn’t even been dead for twenty-four hours. No doubt the police still had plenty of work ahead of them, but I hoped they’d catch the culprit before too long.
I recalled the tuft of orange wool I’d seen snagged on the ice pick. I’d mentioned it to Officer Rogers, but she hadn’t given me any indication as to whether it was of any interest to her. Was it significant or had it been there long before the killer had used the tool to kill Freddy?
As much as I wanted to know the answer to that question, I knew I might never find out.
I wished Officer Howes a good day and he tipped his hat at me. I crossed the green, thinking about the murder and not taking much time to admire the almost-finished sculptures. Was someone so des
perate to win the money and magazine coverage that they had killed Freddy to improve their chances of becoming the victorious sculptor? If that was the case, was Mel in danger?
That thought stopped me in my tracks. I considered sharing my concern with Mel, but she was so intent on her work that I didn’t want to disturb her. She was safe at the moment; she was out in the open with police officers close by. I’d have to warn her later on, though. If Freddy’s killer had been motivated by a desire to win the competition, he or she might well lash out again, and it was no secret that Mel was one of the frontrunners.
Comforted by the fact that Detective Marquez and Chief Walters were still on the green, I continued on my way to Aunt Gilda’s salon. Betty and my aunt were busy with clients, cutting and styling their hair, but Gilda put down her scissors as soon as she saw me.
“I just heard about you finding Freddy,” she said as she pulled me into a hug. “That must have been terrible.”
“It was.”
She stepped back and held me at arm’s length. “Are you all right? Do you need something to eat or drink? I baked some forgotten cookies yesterday.”
“I’m okay,” I assured her. “And I can’t stay long, but I won’t say no to a cookie.”
“They’re over with the coffee and tea.” Aunt Gilda picked up her scissors again.
I helped myself to one of the meringue-and-chocolate-chip forgotten cookies, a traditional Christmas treat in my family. They got their name from the fact that, once baked, they stayed in the oven overnight.
Betty and the two women having their hair cut wanted to hear the story of how I’d found Freddy, so I stayed long enough to give them a brief outline of the events. On my way out of the salon, I snagged another forgotten cookie and munched on it as I made my way to Shontelle’s shop, the Treasure Chest. If she didn’t already know about my unfortunate discovery, I wanted her to hear about it from me.
Instead of going straight into the store, I peeked through the large front window. Shontelle had her hands full with at least three customers browsing and another three lined up at the cash counter. I decided not to bother her and instead sent her a text message once I’d returned home.
