“Oh! And there was some shiny rainbow stuff in the puddles. Like gasoline on the ground after it rains.”
“Yes. This was definitely arson.” Truman cocked his head in thought. “After Lacey’s death, the March family moved most of their business records to the cabin office. According to Goldie, most of their recent documents are backed up in the cloud. But their older records are gone.”
How convenient.
Truman glanced at the open door and rose to shut it.
“I spoke with Nina Adams.”
“How is she doing?” The poor woman had lost two of her daughters, one to a disappearance, and now Lacey. Her funeral had been yesterday.
“Lacey was in dire need of a kidney transplant.” Truman let the tidbit hang in the air.
I took the bait. “Then why did she drink so much at Paws and Poinsettias?” I would’ve thought drinking alcohol was contraindicated in a person needing a new kidney.
“Maybe she was so distraught that the Marches wanted to replace her that she thought she would go out with a bang.”
“I’m not sure.” I frowned. “She asked my mom for a regular Hawaiian blue punch with no alcohol.” I hated to even bring my mother back into this conversation.
“But she was already totally inebriated by then.” He frowned. “Maybe not by choice.”
“If the Marches wanted to fire Lacey, they could have done so. They didn’t need to slip her a mickey and poison her with antifreeze!”
Tread lightly, Mallory.
I remembered just in time that I needed to keep it under wraps that my mother had waltzed into the B and B just days ago with a giant bottle of half-empty antifreeze. I squirmed in my poofy chintz chair, just imagining how apoplectic Truman would be if he knew I was concealing that little fact.
“And if the March family was unhappy with Lacey, then you definitely don’t need to suspect my mom.” My feeling of guilt led me to prattle on.
Truman studied me carefully over tented fingers. “Who said anything about suspecting your mother?” He blinked and grew even more serious. “Something’s not right, here, Mallory. If I were Carole, I’d watch out.”
A shiver skipped down my spine. On one hand, I was cheered. If Truman wanted to protect my mother, he truly didn’t think she had anything to do with Lacey’s death. But the fact that he thought she could be in trouble was not okay.
“There are the perfect motive, means, and opportunity to accuse your mother,” he continued.
“But you just said—”
Truman held up his hand. “Carole desperately wanted to work as a stager for March Homes.” He held up one finger. “She undid all of Lacey’s work the eve of Paws and Poinsettias.” He held up a second finger. “She happened to be at the bar and poured Lacey her last drink.”
“It’s a setup,” I whispered. “But who, and why, and how?”
Truman rubbed his lined forehead. “I don’t know. Just watch out for your mother, okay? She won’t give me the time of day.”
My mind floated back to Olivia. It seemed like such a simple explanation now, that she’d poured out her drink that evening because she was pregnant. But Truman should know, so he could decide. I wrestled with revealing a piece of information that would undoubtedly lead my friend back into Truman’s laser beam of inquisition. I opened my mouth to spill the beans when the doorbell clanged.
I heard my mother fussing over Goldie and Alan March. I stood to greet them in the hall.
“Thank you, Mallory.” Goldie sported deep purple circles under her eyes. For the first time ever, I saw her chignon in an unkempt state. Alan seemed to prop up his wife. I took their coats and sent them to the kitchen for a restorative breakfast I knew Rachel and Doug were whipping up.
My mother turned to Truman with a cold glare in her pretty green eyes. I supposed she was still angry with the chief for the questioning he’d put her through. She had no idea he was concerned with her welfare and had tasked me with warning her.
“Carole,” Truman began.
“You can leave now, Truman.” My mother stood ramrod straight, formidable even in her floral flannel dressing gown.
The chief sent me a sheepish gaze and let himself out.
The rest of December was going to be a doozy.
Fa-la-la-la-uh-oh.
* * *
I spent the rest of the morning settling Goldie and Alan into their rooms at Thistle Park. Another room was prepped for Clementine, as soon as she returned from the hospital. Truman had assured me Rudy would be on the mend soon, released as early as that evening.
With a more hopeful heart, I headed back to Silver Bells to return the resplendent brocade gown. Despite the March family wedding gown having gone up in smoke, Olivia still didn’t feel at home in the gown I’d tried on in the dress shop. I returned the dress with a hint of wistfulness. As I handed Bev the garment bag, the vision of myself in the dress and the feeling I’d had kissing Garrett flooded back in a blizzard of emotion. I left the store feeling more confused than ever. And ran smack into Judge Ursula Frank.
“Oh! I’m so sorry, judge. I’m not sure where my mind is these days.”
The judge reached out to steady me and gave a commiserative nod. “Toby told me about Rudy and the cabin. It’s just awful.” She wore a camel-colored cashmere coat over her black robes. Her crown of braids was tightly coiled around her head. But despite the frigid weather, she still sported her ubiquitous Birkenstocks. In the summer, her trademark sandals revealed her long, pale toes. Today her feet were clad in a pair of jaunty holiday socks. Snoopy and Woodstock frolicked near a doghouse, while Charlie Brown decorated a shabby tree.
“I just want Olivia and her family to be safe,” the judge said. “I can’t understand why people don’t settle their differences in the orderly world of the courts.”
“I can imagine some people are upset about all of the new developments but not enough to try to kill Rudy over it.” I noticed a sheaf of thick card stock in neon shades of orange, yellow, and pink tucked under the judge’s arm.
“It should be unfathomable. But unfortunately I can think of a few people who would fit the bill.”
I gulped and raised an eyebrow.
The judge leaned in conspiratorially. “Greg Gibson is suing his own parents regarding the sale of their land to March Homes. He doesn’t have much of a case, but he will get his day in court.” Her dark gray eyes flashed with anger. “He is simply an inveterate hothead. His first appearance in my chambers earned him contempt when he said I’d better decide the case the right way.”
I gulped. I would never want to cross the formidable judge, and declaring how she should decide a case was not the way to endear oneself to her.
“When I set him in his place, he muttered under his breath that he would make me pay if I did not. That’s when I handed down the contempt order.” She waved the neon papers under my nose. The colorful fliers featured an adorable picture of Hemingway next to a Christmas tree, with the judge’s plea and offer of a hefty reward for his return or information on the kitty’s whereabouts. “I have to wonder if Mr. Gibson had a part in my dear Hemingway’s disappearance.”
I patted the judge on the arm. “I’m so sorry you haven’t found your cat. I couldn’t imagine the stress.”
I wasn’t prepared for the judge’s next actions. She burst into tears, her pillar of strength persona melted away in a puddle of lost pet grief.
“There, there.” I patted Ursula on the back and gently steered her two doors down. “Maybe a nice cup of cocoa or tea would make you feel better.” The judge allowed me to take the pile of fliers from her. I opened the door to Pellegrino’s restaurant and ushered the sniffling jurist inside.
Five minutes later we were sitting in a deep, dark wood booth. A pretty, lacquered red pot of peppermint tea steamed between us. The judge had reclaimed some of her stern strength and regally nodded at the movers and shakers of Port Quincy who sent her smiles and waves in deference. I thought it would look odd that
we were dining together, but then again, this could just be construed as a planning session with the mother of the groom.
A server took our order but not before the judge convinced her to tape a flier about Hemingway to the hostess podium at the entrance of the restaurant. The college-aged server had accepted the neon orange flier with a smirk, but from the corner of my eye I observed her dutifully taping up the card stock.
“Hemingway isn’t the only thing on my mind.” The judge sipped her tea and let out a sigh. She cocked her head and seemed to be considering me. “I can trust Garrett to be discreet about any matter. I suppose I can ask the same of you.”
I gulped and nodded. Come to think of it, Garrett had never spilled the beans about one iota of the judge’s business.
“March Homes may not be the most squeaky-clean establishment.” The judge winced as she made her statement. “I worry about their reputation tarnishing my son’s.”
I set my cup of tea onto the table before my shaking hand belied my nervousness. “Go on.” We were silent as the server returned with our soups.
Ursula frowned and set down her soup spoon as soon as she’d left us alone. “Let’s just say I’d hoped Olivia would stay at Russell Carey, make partner, and not involve herself in her family’s business. Come to think of it, I’d be happy if she didn’t even relocate to Port Quincy. She needs to keep them at arm’s length.”
I was stunned into silence. The mother of the groom didn’t want his soon-to-be bride to move to his hometown? A stray thought bubbled up from the recesses of my memory. Olivia’s own father, Alan, had been remiss about Olivia joining the family business. He’d been pushing Olivia to stay at her firm and not become counsel for March Homes.
“It seems that no one wants Olivia to have a presence in Port Quincy. Except for your son, of course.” I nearly clapped my hand against my mouth. I hadn’t meant to spit out my thoughts, they’d just sailed out unbidden.
Judge Frank shook her head, the braids anchored firmly into a heavy halo. “No, no, no. Make no mistake, I love Olivia. She is like a daughter to me. I’ll admit I was a bit shocked at the pace of the engagement, but I truly believe my son has found his soul mate. It’s just her family . . .” The judge trailed off.
I was this close to demanding the judge to spill it, whatever it was. The woman was usually direct to a fault, but today all I could get from her was a series of confusing riddles. I bit into a warm, crusty roll in frustration.
“I’ve even thought of warning Garrett about taking on Olivia as a partner and bringing in March Homes as a client.” The judge took another sip of peppermint tea and brightened. “But now that he’ll be helming the clinic at Pitt, I don’t need to worry about overstepping there.”
I coughed, a morsel of roll going down the wrong pipe. “I was under the impression he was just considering taking the clinic offer.” Little alarm bells were clanging somewhere in my conscience.
“Oh, you have nothing to worry about, dear.” The judge bestowed me with a warm smile, the first one I’d seen from her since literally running into her nearly an hour ago.
Phew.
“You are both careerists, like I was with my husband. Your relationship will manage just fine with Garrett in Pittsburgh and you in Port Quincy.” The judge let out a chuckle after taking in my astonished face. “You can have it all, Mallory. My husband was head of the surgery department at the hospital, and I had my law practice and then ascended to the bench. But we still managed to raise Toby and have a little time for each other.”
But I don’t want just a little time with Garrett.
My heart began to accelerate unbidden. Did the judge know something about Garrett’s decision-making status that I didn’t?
But Judge Frank had returned to the seemingly juicier topic at hand. Her former mirth dimmed. “I’ve been on the bench for thirty years. And before that I practiced on both sides, as a prosecutor and a defense attorney. I have my hunches. And I have some big ones about the March family.” She sat back and glanced at her purple Swatch watch. “Then again, rumors can be just that. Completely unfounded. And ultimately, I do believe in innocence until proven guilty.”
I wanted to press her further before she left our impromptu lunch. “Does Olivia have any idea you suspect improprieties with her family’s business?” I kept my voice even. It only seemed fair to try to protect my friend. The judge was looking out for her son, of course, and seemed to love Olivia, but I wasn’t sure Olivia was getting a fair shake.
“I’ve dropped a few hints,” the judge admitted. “I can’t just come out and accuse my future daughter-in-law’s family of shady business deals when it might not even be true, now can I?” She shook her head. “No, I’ve just encouraged her to claim the partnership she’s worked so hard for. That way she and my son can continue to grow in their careers, her family can expand their business, and we’ll see where the chips fall.”
I shivered. Olivia seemed to be functioning as an unwitting chess piece in a complicated game played by her grandparents, her parents, and her fiancé’s mother. I wasn’t sure how it all fit together, but it wasn’t right.
“I’ve said too much.” Ursula Frank briefly colored. “I really shouldn’t have aired my concerns. And I do take solace in the fact that Olivia is her own person. She’s not a chip off the old block.” The judge carefully folded her cloth napkin and placed the pretty fabric with its candy cane pattern atop the table.
“I guess not,” I softly agreed. The piped in muzak changed from an instrumental version of the hallelujah chorus to a string composition of “Away in a Manger.” The judge broke out in a wistful smile.
“I don’t want you to get the wrong idea, Mallory. Olivia is a very special person to me. She really is incredible, as incredible as the story of how she came to be adopted by Goldie and Alan.” She included me in her smile and gestured upward toward the ceiling.
I frowned, not understanding.
“Oh, come on. ‘Away in a Manger.’” The judge’s eyebrows fell in a realization I wasn’t in on some secret. Her smile fell. “You don’t know? Oh dear.” She blushed anew and muttered something unintelligible, seeming to beat a hasty retreat.
Thankfully for her, Garrett rescued her from having to provide an explanation.
“Two of my favorite people.” Garrett smiled and joined me in the booth. The judge beamed at her protégé, seeming nearly as proud of Garrett as she was of her own son, Toby.
“We should have a toast before I go.” The judge made to wave down our server. “We can celebrate your acceptance of the clinic position, Garrett.”
He must have felt me stiffen. I felt a strained smile slide from my face.
“I haven’t accepted, Ursula,” Garrett gently informed the judge.
“Well, see to it that you do.” The judge bestowed us with a smile that dimmed when she picked up her Hemingway fliers. She swanned out of the restaurant, leaving me confused in her wake.
“I’ll have a piece of pecan pie and a cup of coffee, please.” Garrett put in his order and gently slung his arm around me. He made no move to relocate to the other side of the booth. “Ursula is jumping the gun a bit. I haven’t accepted the clinic offer.”
Yeah, not yet.
It was telling enough that he hadn’t rejected it, either. The proposition to move nearly two hours away was still very much on the table.
“It is ultimately your decision, Garrett. Yours and Summer’s, too.”
Garrett turned to face me, a bit awkwardly in the booth side we shared. “No way. It’s your decision, too. I’ve been a bit distracted. But seeing you in that wedding dress . . .” He trailed off, his voice growing husky. I leaned in for a quick kiss when an “ahem” startled us apart.
“Your pies.” The server gave us a cheeky smirk as she set down two slices of pecan and a piping hot silver carafe of coffee. Now that the moment was ruined, I decided to plunge in with what I’d just learned.
“The judge has some concerns about Olivia
joining your practice.” My voice sounded small and miserable.
Garrett dropped his arm from my shoulder and his brows creased together. “What kind of concerns?”
I reiterated the nebulous and largely unfounded hunches of the judge, based on rumor and feelings alone. But Garrett didn’t seem to think her wishy-washy claims were unsubstantial.
He rubbed his chin, the start of a sexy five o’clock shadow beginning there. “This changes things.”
Ruh-roh.
I cursed my need to be transparent.
“I’ve worked so hard on building this practice from nothing. And it sounds like Olivia isn’t aware of anything untoward her family’s business is involved in. Nevertheless, I wouldn’t want to jeopardize all I’ve built if Ursula thinks there are reasons to be concerned.”
“Maybe you should talk to Olivia first.” I hastily tried to walk back the beans I’d unceremoniously spilled all over the floor. “I think Judge Frank is just a little emotional right now, what with her son getting married and trying to find Hemingway.”
But Garrett shook his head. “I was excited to work with Olivia, but if that even happened now, she definitely couldn’t bring any of her family’s business to the table.” A realization stole over his handsome features. “I’ll admit, Ursula has been pushing pretty hard for me to take the clinic position. Now I know why.”
I began to grow desperate. The music had changed to a treacly version of “I saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus,” and I wanted to silence the speakers to get a moment to think. “Maybe the judge is wrong.”
Garrett appeared particularly affronted. “Oh no, her judgment is usually spot on.”
“Well then, if there’s any truth to these random rumors about March Homes, then maybe I need to loop my mother in, too.”
Garrett frowned and pushed away his piece of pie. “She’s a grown-up, Mallory. And this seems like a delicate situation. I’m sure your mom is going to be just fine. She’s just working as a stager for them, right?”
I bristled at his brush off of my concerns. “Yes, but if you’re worried enough to rescind your offer to Olivia, then I’m allowed to be worried about my mother working for March Homes, too.”
Marry Christmas Murder Page 12
