A round of laughter ensues as the man Macy was hitting on pops out of his seat for a moment.
Quinn chortles as he glances out at the crowd. “Of course, we wouldn’t end the night without a proper thank you to Warwick, whom many of you know as the sharpest knife in just about any room. Don’t turn your back or he might just cut you with it. Warwick, my old friend, I couldn’t be happier to see your smiling face tonight. You never fail to do what’s right. And you won’t.”
“That’s right.” Warwick waves to the crowd from the second row. “I keep the numbers of the beautiful women to myself.”
The crowd breaks out into a fit of laughter once again, and Jasper and I join in on it. Warwick seems like a decent guy. I’m glad Quinn has good friends in the States.
“Yes, well”—Quinn looks dead ahead at someone seated in the front row, and I follow his gaze to Eve French—“some beautiful women refuse to stop throwing themselves my way.” He gives a little wink, but a bite of embarrassment spears through me for the poor woman.
The sound of a bell ringing comes from the right and in walks Santa Claus, dressed in his traditional red suit. He has a snow-white beard and a velvet sack is attached to his back.
“Ho ho ho!” Santa belts it out like the pro he is. “Have we all been good girls and boys?”
The crowd responds with a resounding yes.
“Well, I have a few treats for you.” Santa opens his sack, and before we know it, it’s raining candy canes and small stuffed animals as the crowd goes wild to catch them. “And Quinn, it’s nice to see you’ve landed on this side of the pond. You’ve saved me a trip.” He lifts a finger. “Never mind. You were on the naughty list this year.”
The audience thunders with laughter.
“Ah, wait a minute, wait a minute.” Santa waves a hand to the crowd and the volume dies down. “I was thinking of another Quinn Bennet. You were actually an exemplary individual this year.” He gives a hard wink our way, much to the delight of the crowd. “You’ve given a lot to a lot of people, Quinn. And for that reason, I have a very special gift for you.” He pulls a large red and white checkered box out of his sack and sets it on the floor.
Quinn twitches his lips at the sight. “Let me guess. The world’s smallest woman?”
A few snickers circle the room, and I make a face at Jasper.
Who knew Quinn Bennet was such a woman-hungry beast?
Quinn lifts the lid off the box and out pops the head of the world’s cutest blond puppy complete with a red ball on his nose that’s blinking on and off. There’s a red satin bow tied around his neck and he looks like the quintessential Christmas puppy.
The crowd loses it in a mixture of laughter and coos as Quinn picks the puppy up and cradles it in his arms.
Quinn looks to the crowd. “Now that Rudolph has arrived, I think we can really start this party. Enjoy your evening, everyone. Please, stop by and say hello to Rudolph and Santa before you leave.” The house lights come back on, and soon the room is swirling with conversations and errant laughter.
Cheery Christmas carols bleat through the speakers and people are mobbing the refreshment tables once again.
The night wears on and the crowd doesn’t thin one bit. Jasper and I make the rounds and talk to Leo and Emmie, Hux and Mackenzie, and we even spot my father and Jasper’s mother from across the room.
Just as we’re about to head that way, Sherlock and Fish run over. Sherlock is dancing a little jig as I scoop Fish up in my arms.
She mewls as she rubs her head over my chest. He’s going to have an accident if you don’t do something quickly. Do they make diapers for dogs? Because at this rate he’ll need them.
Sherlock gives a soft bark. Someone spilled some water and I was kind enough to help get it off the floor. I can’t help it. That stuff goes right through me.
Jasper twists his lips down at his cute pooch. “I don’t need to be a mind reader to know what he needs. I’ll take him out to the garden.”
“I’ll go with you.”
We exit through the side door that leads to a dark wooded area with a fountain illuminating the blue cobbled path that snakes throughout the property. The moon is high overhead, it’s bitter cold and snowy out, and the only sound is the quiet rush of that fountain.
“It’s bliss out here,” I say as Fish jumps out of my arms.
Sherlock trots off to the grass to our left just as Fish lets out a sharp yowl.
Bizzy, I think you need to see this. She jumps on all fours with her back arched, her fur standing on end.
“Hey”—I quickly make my way over to the fountain where she stands frozen solid on the edge of the bottom tier—“what’s the matter? Is the water splashing you a bit too much?” I’m about to pick her up when I spot what looks to be a hand floating in the fountain as the water swirls pink around it. “Jasper?” I call him over. “Do you think this is left over from Halloween?” I’m not sure why I asked the question, but my mind demands I make sense of the sight.
“Let’s find out.” He picks a stick off the ground and is about to jab at it when Sherlock lets out several riotous barks at something near the woods and I spot that sweet puppy with its red ribbon tied around his collar and that red plastic nose of his blinking on and off like a beacon.
Jasper and I head that way and I gasp at the sight.
Lying on the ground is Quinn Bennet with his eyes open as he looks to the sky, the blade of an axe buried deep in his chest, and his left hand is noticeably and horrifically missing.
Quinn Bennet isn’t going to have to worry about throwing the best holiday party Cider Cove has ever seen.
Quinn Bennet is dead.
Chapter 3
“He’s dead,” I pant the words out as Jasper pulls me a few feet away.
“I’m sorry, Bizzy,” Jasper says as he looks past me over at the body. “I’m going to call it in. I need you to take the animals out of here. I’ll text Leo. Stay safe and stay away from anyone acting suspiciously.”
Jasper takes a few steps back toward the corpse as he quickly makes that call, and I take the moment to sweep the area with my gaze.
Dotting the lapel of Quinn’s suit jacket is a single red bead, the color of blood, and in the shape of a tear. I have a feeling I know exactly where that came from—Angelica Chatfield’s dress. A single white glove lies a few feet away, smeared with blood on it. And just behind that there are tiny paw prints in the snow that lead right up to the special angel Santa gifted to Quinn earlier this evening.
“Come here, sweetie,” I say, carefully making a circle around Quinn as I scoop the shivering sweet baby boy off the snow. I gather Fish in my other arm and Sherlock bounds up next to me. “Jasper, there’s a red bead on his jacket.” The words stream frantically from me. “And there’s a glove next to the body. And his hand, it’s—”
“I know.” He looks up from the phone and nods just as the area is miraculously flooded with deputies.
My feet carry me inside to the bustle of voices, now sounding far more worried than they are merry, just as Leo finishes speaking to the crowd from the stage.
The puppy barks then whimpers and Fish pats him gently on the nose.
My name is Fish, and the moving carpet is Sherlock Bones. And don’t worry about the woman carrying you. Her name is Bizzy and she can hear your thoughts and mine.
Sherlock barks up at us. She can understand you, too.
Fish lets out a gurgle of a meow. Only if you’re saying something intelligible.
The tiny pup growls and whimpers. I don’t know what to think. I don’t know what to do or say. Where is that ball they put on my nose? I just want to chew on it and go back to sleep.
“Rudolph?” I look into his sweet brown eyes. “Do you mind if I call you that?”
He gives a soft bark. I don’t see why not. I have no other name.
“I’m sorry you had to witness that,” I whisper. “Did you happen to see anyone out there with Quinn before he—”
&nbs
p; Fell? He barks.
I nod. We’ll go with that.
The cute puppy squirms as he glances to the ceiling. I heard voices. A man and a woman.
“A woman was talking to Quinn?”
A woman was talking to another man. I didn’t see their faces, and then I got lost in the woods. When I came back, Quinn was already asleep.
Sherlock moans. A woman and a man. There could have been two killers.
Fish pats Rudolph on the head with her tail. It doesn’t matter if there were twenty killers, Rudolph. Bizzy could find them all.
“Here’s hoping I can track down whoever did this no matter how many guilty parties there are. He was the owner of this inn. My boss. This just got personal.”
The murmurs in the room grow to impossible decibels as Georgie swoops over with Juni in tow.
“Give me a baby.” Georgie plucks Rudolph right out of my hands. “Something has gone terribly wrong, Bizzy. There’s a bomb on the premises.”
“A what?” I squawk in disbelief.
“No, no.” Juni bats her away. “Some teenager said this was the bomb. There’s a body on the grounds. Leo says there’s been a crime committed. Rumors are circulating that there’s a jewel thief in the room. Trust me, there’s no better way to get a bunch of rich people hopped up in fear than threatening to strip them of their diamonds.” She chuckles at the thought. I’ve done it a few times myself.
Figures.
Georgie holds Rudolph against her shoulder and pats his back as if trying to comfort him just as my mother strides up.
“Are you trying to burp him or beat him?” Mom excavates Rudolph from Georgie’s arms. “Come here, you poor sweet thing. Bizzy, where is Quinn Bennet? I’d like to give him an official invite to our store opening next week. I bet an entire honey hive of socialites will follow him over. Not to mention it’ll be the bees knees to be seen at our place after that.” She swats Juni and they share a cackle.
Juni shakes her head. “That man ain’t showin’ up to no quilt shop. I’ve met men like Quinn before. He won’t even look in that direction unless you’ve got a young hot thing standing naked in your storefront.”
“Good idea.” Mom snaps her fingers. “Bizzy, what are you doing a week from today?”
“Funny, Mother,” I say, and Fish chortles as if she thought it was hilarious, too.
Fish presses her paws against my chest. You’d have no problem walking around in the nude if you just stop shaving. Take a break from the razor and I bet you’ll sprout fur all over in no time.
“That’s what I’m afraid of,” I whisper.
“What’s that?” Mom tips her ear my way. “What’s going on here, Bizzy? I have my cats to get home to and Leo just announced we’re not allowed to leave the building. I think we all know I’d make a jewel thief pretty unhappy.” She holds up her bare left hand. “So if you don’t mind, I’d like to cut out early.”
“It has nothing to do with jewelry,” I say. “Something happened to Quinn.”
Juni sucks in a quick breath. “They’ve kidnapped him!”
“Kidnapped who?” someone in the crowd shouts.
“Nobody,” I shout back, half-afraid I’ll set the room ablaze with rumors. “The sheriff’s department has it all handled.”
Georgie grunts, “Haven’t you learned anything by now, Bizzy? You need to give the people answers before things get wildly out of control. She cups her hand to her mouth. “They’ve captured your leader and they’re coming for the rest of you!”
A round of gasps goes off in the room, followed by dramatic murmuring.
Juni cups her mouth as well and I cringe. “And they’ve unleashed an army of mice in the room, too!”
Half the women hop onto a chair and scream, and I’m half-tempted to join them.
“Would you hush!” I shoot the mother-daughter rumormongering duo a look before I step deeper into the room. “Um, hello,” I shout and garner everyone’s attention at once. “I’m Bizzy Baker—um, Wilder…” Good Lord, I don’t know if I can ever get used to having three names. It’s certainly not convenient when shouting at a panicked crowd. “I’m sorry to inform you, but a very serious crime has been committed on the premises.”
A woman with a gold dress lets out a harrowing cry. “We’re being held hostage, aren’t we?”
“What?” I glance to Leo who is quickly making his way in this direction while slitting his throat with his finger in an effort to stop me from making it worse. “No. There are no terrorists.” Or at least I hope not.
“Then there’s a burglary in process,” someone else shouts.
“No,” I’m quick to answer. “Not that. I promise. You’re all safe.”
Fish purrs, As safe as they can be with a killer on the loose.
Sherlock whimpers, A killer who wants to chop us all to pieces.
“Is there a killer on the loose?” someone shouts from afar, and I open my mouth then close it.
“There is! Isn’t there?” the woman in the gold dress howls, and I cringe because I can’t bring myself to lie to these people.
Macy and Eve French step this way.
“Bizzy?” Macy hisses with that annoyed look she gets when I’m embarrassing her. “Say something or these people are going to think there’s a killer on the loose.”
Eve gasps. “You can’t deny it, can you?” Her eyes round out. “There’s been a murder!”
The word murder echoes around the room like a demonic whisper.
Warwick staggers forward as if he were mortally wounded himself. “Who’s been killed?” he shouts as if speaking for the rest of crowd, and at this point he pretty much is.
The blonde woman, Angelica, the one who sang that gorgeous rendition of “Silent Night,” traipses forward.
“Where’s Quinn?” She gives a frenetic glance around. “My goodness, it was Quinn, wasn’t it?”
Leo tweaks his brows at me. Way to keep the crowd under control.
I shoot him a look. Ironically, that was your job.
Eve staggers forward. “Is it true? Is Quinn Bennet dead?” Her eyes are wide, her chest heaving with her every breath.
“It’s true,” I hear myself say, regardless if I wanted to or not. It seemed inevitable, inescapable even.
Warwick clutches at his chest. “My dear friend.” You’ve met your fate at last.
Eve nods as if she heard his inner rambling. A loss or a gain for the world... I can’t quite decide.
Angelica’s lips flicker. And now to relax until the reading of the will. It’s shaping up to be the best holiday season yet.
The room stirs with conversation as the words dead, Quinn Bennet, and reading of the will go off like the chorus to a very sad song—with the exception that no one seems particularly sad about it.
A swarm of deputies enters the room, and soon they’re taking the names and numbers of those in attendance.
Who knew my wildest dream would come true tonight? a voice calls out from deep in the heart of this madness, and I can’t tell if it was a woman or a man.
How I hope he left it all to me. I deserve it—hell, I’ve earned it, another voice adds to the chaos.
A woman lets out a whoop of a cry just a few feet away, and I look over to find Georgie with that wonky quilt dress that was once on her now clutched in her hand while she waves it over her body like the flag of surrender.
“Oh dear Lord, no.” I groan. Georgie has stripped herself bare, with the exception of what looks to be a dingy white bathing suit of some sort—a one-piece thankfully.
Leo groans at the sight as well. What do you think, Bizzy? Should I arrest her for public nudity?
“She’s not nude. She’s wearing a—” I stop cold as I get a better look at her. “Cuff her, Granger,” I say, holding Fish a little bit tighter.
Georgie’s eyes widen my way as she attempts to snatch the puppy from my mother’s arms.
“You wouldn’t arrest an old lady who’s holding a puppy, would you?” she shouts, and anot
her rumble cycles through the crowd.
Santa ho ho hos his way over and attempts to remove the sweet pup from her and a rather aggressive tug-of-war ensues.
Fish lets out a hair-raising yowl. He’s not taking my Rudolph back. She jumps from my arms, and before I know it, she’s climbed up the back of Santa’s suit and knocked the pointed hat right off his head before making a nest in his snow-white wig.
The poor man does an odd little dance, trying his best to shake the feisty kitty, while Georgie stalks her way through the crowd, holding poor Rudolph like a football. She comes my way, and I rush toward her in an attempt to intercept.
Sherlock jumps up and accidentally launches the tiny pup out of Georgie’s hands, and I watch as Rudolph goes flying, much to the horror of everyone in the room.
Leo makes a heroic dive as he catches the tiny pooch mid-flight, before stumbling wildly to the right and left. And in an effort to regain his balance, he knocks down the tallest of the three evergreens in the room, sending glass ornaments flying every which way as they explode like grenades.
Note to self: Purchase plastic ornaments next year. And definitely ixnay on inviting a killer to the party.
The night continues to spin out in a fit of madness, and yet the crowd hasn’t thinned out a bit.
I did it, a voice calls out. And I’m marking this day down on my calendar. From here on out, I declare it a holiday. Quinn Bennet may have thought he was about to end my life, but I beat him to the punch. He’s dead, and I’m about to have the first peaceful night’s sleep I’ve had in months. Sleep tight, you traitorous bastard. Don’t let the earthworms bite.
Whoever killed Quinn Bennet isn’t feeling the least bit of remorse, and I’ll do whatever it takes to uncover who they are and why they did it.
The killer’s peaceful nights are numbered.
Christmas is quickly approaching, and I won’t let them get away with murder.
Someone has landed themselves on the naughty list, and I’m going to make sure the only gift they receive this year is a pair of state-issued bracelets.
A Christmas to Dismember Page 3
