Marry Christmas Murder

by Stephanie Blackmoore

  A little sly stab of pain hit my middle. Mere minutes ago, I’d been on the precipice of suggesting we spend more time together to strengthen our relationship and deepen our commitment. And now Garrett was moving away.

  “What about the proposed partnership practicing with Olivia?” I blurted out. Now that she had her heart set on permanently relocating to Port Quincy, my friend’s heart would be broken if she knew Garrett was rescinding his offer.

  “I haven’t accepted yet. I wanted to float this idea with you.” Garrett’s hazel eyes filled with tenderness and concern. A small feather of hope drifted up from my middle. “Besides, if I were to direct the clinic in Pittsburgh, I’d be happy to hand over my whole practice to Olivia.”

  The feather of hope vaporized in a pop of despair. I grabbed the ice water before me and choked down half the tall glass in an effort to choke back the tears I felt forming.

  “Hey, that’s why we’re discussing this.” Garrett reached across the table and tucked his finger under my chin. “Right now this is just an idea. I haven’t accepted yet. I wanted to hear what you have to say.”

  But I didn’t trust myself to say anything just yet. I wanted to scream that Garrett should stay in Port Quincy. But he was so giddy at the prospect of running the new law clinic. The stars in his eyes were so bright. It wouldn’t be fair to immediately demand he remain in Port Quincy.

  “It’s a lot to think about,” I ended lamely. I pushed my food around on my plate for fifteen minutes before choking down a few bites. What was normally a delicious dish tasted like sand and ash in my mouth.

  “Does Summer know?” I wondered what Garrett’s wonderful daughter thought of his potential plans.

  Garrett slowly nodded. “She knows it’s a possibility. But nothing is set in stone.”

  We walked back to his office through the fog in what should have been companionable silence. But my heart was thumping in my chest. The idea of Garrett moving away was heavier than the opaque atmosphere.

  Just six months ago I’d pushed to keep our relationship low key. And now maybe Garrett was moving on to greener pastures professionally, at least.

  He held the door open for me when we reached the lobby. His office resided in a once-shabby art deco office building. Garrett had chipped in some funds for the owner of the building to repaint. The space was now a lovely bright cream and mustard yellow. I felt the cool chill ebb from my bones as I adjusted to the arid, forced air in the lobby.

  “I’m not going to just up and leave, Mallory.” Garrett gathered me in his arms and gave me an intent and tender gaze. “If we can find a way to make it work, I’m game to take the position. But if not, I want to prioritize us.”

  The cloud of doubt lifted, and I turned up my face to meet Garrett with a kiss. As our lips met, an electric spark from the dry air shocked me. We laughed and ran the soles of our feet on the carpet to diffuse further sparks and try the kiss again. This time we made our own sparks.

  “I’ll see you again soon,” Garrett promised when we finally pulled apart.

  “Of that you can be sure.”

  I nearly skipped from the lobby. I was riding high, impervious to the drizzle and fog that awaited me outside, just beyond Garrett’s embrace.

  * * *

  Though I was electrified by the kiss I’d shared with Garrett, I needed to ground my priorities and turn to earth bound matters. The toy drive I’d inherited was due to go off in a mere five days. I opened my bag and patted the thick folder of papers Alan had handed me regarding the event and headed back to March Homes headquarters.

  Someone had mercifully removed the yellow crime scene tape. The lobby was scrubbed of all vestiges of Paws and Poinsettias save for the poinsettias themselves. The riotous bloom of pink and cream plants were clustered in pretty islands on windowsills and coffee tables in the lobby. Someone had found the red poinsettias Lacey and I had used before my mother redid our design and the scarlet plants were woven through the design.

  “Mallory, dear, so good to see you.” Goldie crossed the lobby and took my hands in hers. “Lacey did a good job with the toy drive, as it was her baby, so I don’t think you’ll need to do too much to bring the project to fruition.”

  I nodded and retrieved the folder from my bag. “Lacey had planned on having the reception for the toy drive right here in the lobby.” I glanced around the room. It was as if the murder had never taken place in the now cool light of day. But everyone in town knew better.

  “We were going to have a splashy ceremony before we distributed the toys.” Goldie raised her hand to her chin. “But that doesn’t seem right after what happened. Tell you what. It’ll be more altruistic to just count the toys, match them up with families’ requests, and deliver them.”

  I felt a sigh of relief whoosh from my lungs. “Fantastic. I emailed the list of volunteers last night and everyone is still on board to help.”

  Goldie cocked her head in thought. “My dad loves to play Santa, as you can imagine. Perhaps we can still get a few photos of Rudy and Clementine in their Mr. and Mrs. Claus getups distributing toys.”

  I nodded my assent and reflected on how obsessed Goldie was about her family’s image. The important thing was to collect the toys and distribute them to children who might not have any toys under the tree, but Goldie also wanted her publicity photo.

  “I’m sorry I’m late.” Rachel whooshed through the glass doors and found Goldie and me in the lobby. “Your mother is the most challenging yoga instructor I’ve ever had.” She turned her head to the left, seeming to try to stretch her neck. “Man, is Clementine limber.”

  “My mother is always at the cutting edge of each exercise regime currently in fashion,” Goldie drily responded.

  “Well, now that we’re all here, let’s do a quick inventory of all of the toys businesses have dropped off so far.” I retrieved the printed spreadsheet Lacey had compiled from the folder.

  “Are there more toys than there were a few days ago?” Rachel got out a pen and notepad, ready to inventory.

  “Lots more.” Goldie beamed. “The hardware store and several businesses from the mall dropped off a huge load of toys for the boys and girls of Port Quincy.”

  Rachel and I followed Goldie’s retreating form to the refurbished brass elevator in the corner of the lobby. Goldie inserted a key into a slot amidst the elevator buttons. No one could reach the bottom level of the former department store without the key.

  The shiny doors slid open. I blinked in disbelief. There had been hundreds of toys, including dolls, plush stuffed animals, board games, and bikes when I’d set up the lobby for Paws and Poinsettias. The room had looked like Santa’s workshop, and I’d giggled at the time imagining Rudy at home in the space.

  But there was literally nothing to laugh at.

  “Where are all the toys?” Goldie turned in a panicked circle in the now empty, cavernous basement. She was like Cindy Lou Who on Christmas Day, after the Grinch had absconded with all of Whoville’s Toys.

  “Let’s call Truman.”

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  “This is a despicable and heartless crime.” Truman shook his head in disgust at the empty basement. He seemed more perturbed by the stolen toy drive proceeds than he was by Lacey’s death.

  “Things really aren’t going well for them, are they?” Rachel nodded toward the March family. Goldie was distraught. Olivia had arrived on the scene. She’d journeyed from Pittsburgh to quickly select a bridal gown from the stock at my friend Bev’s store. Our appointment was in half an hour, but it may as well have been in a million years. Olivia’s attention and concern was with her family and their most recent setback. She soothed her mother as she gave her statement about when she’d last visited the basement.

  “I think I’ve figured it out.” Goldie jabbed her finger in the air to punctuate her statement. “Someone wants us to leave Port Quincy. Someone who is furious we are developing land he thinks is rightfully his.”

  “Let me guess. You’re
going to suggest Greg Gibson.” Truman tried to tamp down a thread of amusement woven amidst the thin-set line of his mouth. “I read the legal paper today, too. I know he’s suing his parents for selling their land to your company.”

  Goldie threw her hands in the air. “Then you know he’s the one! Who else could be so upset as to steal from the hands of innocent children?” She gestured around the now-empty basement. “And I know he’s behind the spray paint on Olivia’s car.”

  Truman blinked impassively, which seemed to irritate Goldie even more. “Mrs. March, Greg Gibson is resorting to seeking redress of his claims in court. There’s no evidence he vandalized your daughter’s car.” He held up his hand. “But of course I will be looking into the matter, all the same.”

  Goldie was momentarily chastened. A loud ping from Olivia’s cell phone made her jump.

  “Excuse me, Mom.” Olivia stepped away from her mother and hurriedly scanned the screen of her phone. Dark storm clouds gathered in her eyes.

  “It’s the Fisher case.” Olivia bit her lip and closed her eyes. “I swear, they’re making me run the gauntlet right at the end before they bestow the hallowed title of partner.” She jabbed at the screen and tossed the phone deep into her cavernous purse. Her eyes scanned my face before she spoke again. “Garrett told me about possibly taking the clinic gig.”

  I gulped and nodded. “He thinks it can work only seeing each other on weekends.” I gave a bitter laugh. “Which is what our relationship has already descended to as of late.”

  A slow blush graced Olivia’s high cheekbones.

  Nice one, Mallory. Extract your foot from your mouth.

  “I mean, there’s nothing wrong with only seeing your significant other on weekends—”

  Olivia cut me off with a genuinely joyous laugh. I felt myself deflate with relief. “I know what you mean, Mallory. That’s why I was so excited and eager to join Garrett’s practice. I’d have more control over my own practice, I’d have a five-minute commute, and most importantly, I’d see Toby each and every day.” Her pretty dark eyes grew wistful. “I’m not sure I want to jump in and take over Garrett’s whole practice if he goes. And,” she bestowed a gentle look, “he did say he wanted to discuss it with you. I think he’d give up the opportunity to stay here permanently, Mallory.”

  I nodded, a lump of misery forming in my throat. “That’s the thing. I’d never forgive myself if I held him back.”

  It was true. Of course I didn’t want Garrett to move to Pittsburgh. He’d guaranteed we’d see each other on the weekends, but with the unique hours of a wedding planner, that would only mean spending Sundays with Garrett, Summer, and his family. And although it was the way things were at present, I now knew I wanted more.

  Olivia and I stood in sad silence. We were each in our own kind of limbo, professionally and romantically. Thankfully Rachel snapped us back to reality.

  “Sorry to interrupt, ladies. But your dress fitting is in five minutes.” Rachel held up her sparkly rose gold Michael Kors watch and gave it an impatient tap.

  “Mom will kill me.” Olivia glanced at her mother, then seemed to shiver at her word choice. Lacey had collapsed one floor above us just three days ago. “But I can’t make it.”

  “I love you like a sister, but you’ll need to break the news to your mom.” I didn’t want to be on the receiving end of an already distraught Goldie’s anger.

  Olivia dug around her purse and came up with a foil-lined bag filled with gingersnaps. “Want one?”

  Rachel and I shook our heads as we watched Olivia cram the cookie into her mouth. I guess my mother wasn’t the only one in town who reduced her daughter to stress eating.

  Gingersnaps.

  I scanned Olivia’s outfit choice for the day. She was clad in a loose burgundy knit dress over black leggings and boots. The dress featured a subtle empire waist. To top it off, she wore a pretty holly berry-patterned scarf that hung over her midsection.

  “I have a crazy idea.” Olivia seemed oblivious to my quick once-over and a smirk gathered on her face. “We’re nearly the same size, Mallory. Could you try on some dresses for me and select them?”

  I shook my head. “Oh no, no way, no how.” I flicked my eyes over Olivia’s figure again. Even with the pregnancy I assumed she was concealing, she was finer boned than I was.

  “We’re both just a hair over five feet.” Olivia nodded, warming to the idea despite my protestations.

  “I’m an eight. You’re a what, four or six?” I rested my eyes expectantly on Olivia’s midsection. “I mean . . .”

  Olivia glanced at her belly, then at me. “The jig’s up, huh?” A sheepish grin spread over her face.

  “I’m so happy for you!” I gave Olivia a fierce hug and remembered just in time that we were still in the basement with Truman and Goldie, though a good twenty feet away. I toned down my voice and they were none the wiser.

  “When are you due?” Happiness sparkled in my sister’s eyes as she gave Olivia a hug.

  “Mid-June. I really don’t think my parents or grandparents have a clue.” She frowned. “They’re all surprisingly old-fashioned, though, even Clementine. Especially Clementine.” She let out a gust of air. “Thus, the moved-up wedding date.”

  It all made sense now that Olivia’s pregnancy was confirmed. The wedding, the wish for a shorter commute, and the reticence at making partner.

  “So you’ll do it? You’ll try on some dresses for me, and pick the one you think will look best?” Olivia’s eyes were alight with mirth and hope. I couldn’t deny her.

  “Of course.”

  I wasn’t sure who was more excited at the prospect of me trying on wedding dresses, Olivia or my sister. The bride dashed off to break the news to Goldie that she had to run.

  Faith Hendricks, Truman’s partner, showed up minutes later. Truman asked me a brief series of questions, then released us to continue processing the scene.

  “I knew she was up the duff!” Rachel nearly crowed her guess when the elevator doors safely shut us in. “And I can’t wait to take pictures of you trying on gowns.” She slipped her sequined purple cell phone from her bag and primed the camera feature. I grabbed the phone and dumped it back into her bag as the doors of the elevator opened and we crossed the lobby.

  “Uh-uh.”

  “But what if we want to send some pictures to Olivia to help her decide?” Rachel wasn’t taking no for an answer.

  “Over my dead body.” I glanced down the moment I said it, and Rachel and I realized we were crossing the threshold of the March building right where Lacey fell. Our laughter died in our throats.

  We walked in tense silence three blocks east to my friend Bev Mitchell’s bridal shop. Her window display was all decked out for the holidays. Cotton batting snow infused with iridescent pastel glitter lined the bottom of the display. A dress form wearing an impossibly heavily beaded gown of seed pearls in snowflake patterns held center stage in the middle of the display, seated in a silver sleigh. A dress form clad in a gray tuxedo sat beside the bride. Hundreds of blue, lavender, and mint snowflakes rained down on the scene on an invisible fishing line. Interspersed among the snowflakes were tiny silver bells, in a nod to the shop’s name. The gorgeous tableau distracted us from our worries a bit as we pushed open the doors to the Silver Bells dress shop.

  “Hello, Mallory and Rachel!” Bev pulled my sister and me into a hug by way of greeting. The dress storeowner was all dressed up for the holiday season in a red velvet tunic and red plaid leggings. Her towering blonde beehive featured glittery red holly berries. A ruby candy cane adorned her necklace. She scanned behind us, expectant.

  “And where is the bride?”

  “Unfortunately, it’s no surprise Olivia couldn’t make it.” Clementine held the door open for Goldie and the two March women marched in. “I wish my dear grandchild would try to find a new career here in Port Quincy. That law firm will be the end of her.”

  I wondered if Clementine knew anything about Garrett
possibly rescinding his offer. My fingers reflexively reached for the citrine pendant I wore around my neck. I’d often twist the modest stone around my fingers when I was anxious, like a worry stone or talisman.

  “It’s gone.” I blurted out my revelation as my fingers fluttered against my naked collarbone.

  “Your necklace?” Rachel frowned and peered at me. “The one Garrett gave you?”

  I gulped and nodded. “I know it was still on when we had lunch a few hours ago at the Greasy Spoon. I’ll text him.” I didn’t expect a response, as Garrett was so undeniably busy these days. Somehow the thought of losing the necklace he’d given me last Christmas was like a bad omen. I couldn’t keep a hold on the man I was in love with nor the things he’d given me.

  “Don’t fret, Mallory. It’ll turn up.”

  “Let’s get this show on the road.” Clementine clapped her hands together, the bright green tips of her reverse French manicure gleaming in the shop’s lights. “Trying on dresses for Olivia is a novel solution, Mallory.” She graced me with a warm smile. “I think this just might work.”

  Phew.

  I was glad Clementine seemed to have gotten over the fact that Olivia wasn’t wearing the family wedding gown.

  Bev’s eyebrows shot up upon hearing the plan, and then she shook her head and chuckled. Her eyes seemed to bore into me. “This’ll be so fun, Mallory. I’ve waited ages to get you into my store to try on a gown rather than just help brides select theirs. I thought you trying on gowns would be under somewhat different circumstances, but I’ll take what I can get.”

  I felt my heart accelerate, but then I relaxed. I didn’t want word to spread around town that I was trying on wedding dresses for myself. I especially didn’t want Garrett to know. But Bev Mitchell was the reigning queen bee of gossip. All tall tales and tidbits of news started and ended in this very store. Fortunately, Bev would set them straight and let everyone know I was just serving as Olivia’s stunt double.

  “Now, let’s see. This would be lovely for a late December wedding.” Bev flicked her plump fingers over a rack of white and cream confections, selecting a slinky mermaid with a flared train. I took in the clingy midsection and shook my head.