A Christmas to Dismember

by Addison Moore

  I’m not a big drinker, but I like the idea of holding something I can splash into someone’s face should they get too frisky.

  The woman checking us in takes our phone numbers and gives us each a sticker with a code on it to wear over our chests.

  She smiles up at us. “Just text back single and ready to mingle once you get the alert and then deep dive into the crowd to meet your soulmate. If you see someone you like, just text his code to us, and at the end of the mingle we’ll do all the heavy lifting as far as exchanging phone numbers. It’s just an extra step in security we like to take. Have a good time!”

  My expression sours.

  I’ve already found my soulmate. Another reason I should cut my losses and head to the bakery down the street and stuff my face with cream puffs until this dating disaster is over.

  Our phones each ping at once, and we quickly type in the requisite phrase. My phone pings again, and I stare at it a moment.

  “That’s funny. They just sent me another text.”

  Macy takes my phone from me and examines it. “Nope, they just sent it once.”

  “But I could swear I just sent the requisite text back.” I back out of the screen and a little yelp escapes me. “Oh no, no, no, no, no. I just texted Jasper single and ready to mingle!”

  A guttural laugh comes from Georgie as she examines my screen from over my shoulder.

  “You’ve got a lot of ’splaining to do, kiddo. Don’t worry. Hux is a top-notch divorce attorney. He’ll get you out without a hitch to your giddy-up.” She presses a kiss to Rudolph’s nose, and he pants and looks as if he’s smiling from ear to ear. “Turn up the cute stuff, furry pants. We’re off to the races.” Georgie disappears into the crowd as the music increases a notch—a love ballad Jasper and I danced to at our wedding.

  Just great.

  I quickly input single and ready to mingle once again—into the proper thread and instantly receive a text saying that I’m cleared to roam the premises.

  Macy leans in. “Oh geez,” she hisses as if she just touched a hot plate. “Dibs on the hulk with the neck tattoo.”

  “I don’t know,” I say, craning my neck to get a better look at him. “He looks more like the bouncer you should have at your wedding rather than the groom.”

  “Who said anything about a wedding?” She pulls Fish out and cradles her like an infant she was about to breast-feed. “I’ve got my secret weapon. Don’t wait up.”

  “Don’t wait up?” I call after her. “But you drove!”

  “And just like that, the cheese stands alone,” I mutter.

  The very married cheese.

  My phone bleats in my hand, and it’s a text from Jasper.

  Is this a role-play thing? Or should I be expecting some legal documents from your attorney this afternoon?

  I text right back. Very funny. Let’s go with the first option. Can’t wait to see you tonight! I pepper the text with a bunch of smoochy emojis before I hit send, but deep down, I know there aren’t enough smoochy emojis in the world to make up for my latest debacle.

  A man comes up with wire-rimmed glasses and a greasy smile. Handsome in a shifty sort of way, bald, ruddy cheeks, and pointed nose with a mirror shine. He’s swilling his wine my way, and a part of me wonders if that’s code for something. I haven’t dated in forever. Even before I met Jasper I was pretty rusty in this department.

  “Twenty-three.” He points to the coded sticker on my chest. “I’m liking what I see. My name is Jack. I work in real estate. You wouldn’t believe the master bedrooms I have access to—furnished, too.” He waggles his brows. “Cheaper than a hotel. How about it? You ready to play house?”

  “Gah!” I turn and quickly shuffle into the crowd. “I do not belong here,” I growl out the words in haste as I do my best to spot Eve. Instead, I spot her mini me in the corner with a couple of young girls about her age, and somehow they’ve managed to snatch Rudolph away from Georgie. It’s probably for the better. For some reason, Georgie Conner doesn’t need any help in picking up men of any age, and that cute little pup really did put her at an unfair advantage.

  “Pardon me?” a deep voice interrupts my thoughts, and I look up to see a tall, handsome steed of a man with a shock of red hair and a toothy smile.

  He seems nice in a down-home wholesome way, and for a second I wish I had worn a sticker with Macy’s code on it in the event I accidentally bump into her Mr. Right. I could have doubled her inventory for the afternoon.

  “Did it hurt when you fell out of Heaven?” he asks. “Because I think you’re an angel.”

  “Yikes.” I can’t help but make a face.

  “That bad, huh?” He winces as if he already knew the answer.

  “It’s not bad if you were trying to make me laugh. What do you do for a living? I take it you’re not on the road honing a comedy routine.”

  He chuckles, and there’s something warm and inviting about him.

  “I’m an investment broker. I got corralled into coming here by my brother.” He takes a moment to frown into the crowd. “But”—his eyes sweep over my features—“I’m beginning to think this just might be the best thing that’s ever happened to me. I’m Brad Wilson.” He holds out his hand and gives a sturdy shake. Impressive. Firm, yet not too aggressive.

  He leans in and…I think he’s sniffing my hair.

  I pull back abruptly “I’m Bizzy Baker—Wilder.” I add that all important last bit quickly. “I just got hitched last September. And would you believe I keep forgetting that I’m married?” A nervous laugh titters from me, but Brad doesn’t look so amused.

  “What?” His expression irons out. “Did you say you’re—married? Geez.” He growls out at the crowd, “I knew this was going to be a big waste of time.” He stalks off without so much as a goodbye.

  “Hey! Wait! I didn’t get your number! You’d make a great brother-in-law!” I call out after him, but it’s no use.

  The sound of a woman tittering from behind sends me spinning on my heels.

  Standing before me is a chestnut brunette with deep olive skin, the face of a supermodel, the body of a Victoria’s Secret Angel, and the mind and heart of the devil himself. In fact, I’m pretty sure she’s a direct relation of that nefarious underworld warlord.

  “Camila?” I blurt her name out before I can process what’s happening. Camila Ryder is Jasper’s ex-fiancée—the same ex-fiancée who happened to weasel her way into becoming his secretary down at the homicide division. Recently, we’ve sort of made peace with one another—sort of being the operative phrase.

  “Don’t worry, Bizzy,” she says, fiddling with her phone. “I won’t say a word to Jasper.” Her thumb taps over her screen as she holds up her phone. “They say a picture is worth a thousand words.” I see Jasper’s name just above a picture of that redheaded man, Brad, sniffing my hair, and I groan at the sight.

  “Give me that.” I try my best to snatch the phone out of her hand, but it’s too late. She’s sent him the text.

  “Why would you send that to him?” I speed the words out in a panic.

  “Why wouldn’t I?” She hikes up a notch to get a better look at the crowd. “Five o’clock shadow, red chinos, you’re mine.” She takes off, and I shake my head at her. Camila deserves whatever Red Chinos has in store for her and then some.

  My phone bleats in my hand, and I squeeze my eyes tightly a moment before I have the courage to look at it.

  What the hell is happening?

  That’s what I’d like to know.

  “Bizzy?” a woman chimes once again, and I look up, fully expecting to see Camila, but I’m more than pleased I don’t.

  “Eve!” I practically jump out of my skin with excitement. Thank God. I can finally get the inquisition going and make a beeline for that bakery as I try to explain this nightmare away to my husband—that is, if I still have a husband once the day is over. The irony of losing my Mr. Right at an event geared toward finding one isn’t lost on me. “Fancy seeing you h
ere.” A nervous laugh titters from me. “But I guess you would be here. I mean, you own the place.”

  She offers up a warm laugh of her own. “That would be true. A friend of mine coerced me into hosting the event. Believe it or not, the registers are ringing overtime, so I guess in that respect it’s not a bad thing.” And heaven knows I can use the cash. She shrugs my way. “I just saw your sister, and she mentioned the two of you were coming out to do a little shopping. I guess you got a little more than you bargained for.”

  I nod. “I’m strictly here for moral support—and to do a little shopping. How are you holding up after the other night?”

  Her features darken. “You mean at the inn?” Her eyes shift side to side as if she was about to whisper a secret my way. “I’m not doing well. I was hoping to reconnect with Quinn. I never expected that night to end the way it did.” But I’ve dreamed of it ending exactly that way for years.

  My eyes spring wide open. “I don’t think any of us expected that. How did you know him?”

  “Actually, we ran in the same circles. I was just as highbrow as the next billionaire.” She makes a face. “Okay, so I didn’t quite have billions, but my father left me a comfortable sum.”

  “That’s great. At least you won’t have to worry about your financial future.” Not that I forgot what Angelica told me. But I’m fishing to see if their stories line up. Angelica could have gotten the details wrong.

  “Nope, the well is dry. I married an idiot and he gambled away my inheritance. After the divorce, I hardly had enough to get this place going. The rent is high, and I barely make ends meet here.” Quinn Bennet was supposed to be my ticket back to Easy Street. She glowers into the crowd. And he would have been had he not opened his mouth and shredded me with his words. He knew I couldn’t stand to hear those things. But he kept pushing and pushing. Why did he have to push so hard? I couldn’t take it. And now I have a broken heart to deal with because he took things too far.

  My lips part as I try to decipher what she meant.

  Could she have taken an axe to Quinn? She did say he pushed her. I guess even the kindest soul could be moved to murder someone if they’re pushed to the edge.

  I lift my glass to her. “Here’s hoping you have your best sales to date.”

  She hikes her glass to mine. “And here’s hoping they continue on this way forevermore. It’s not cheap being a single mother.”

  “I’m sorry. My mother pretty much raised my siblings and me on her own. My father was still in the picture, and we’re on good terms, but she towed the line.”

  She nods. “Same here.” She squints to the back where Elsie and her friends are cooing over Rudolph. “Would you look at that? She’s wanted a puppy ever since she was little. Let’s hope that cute little thing gives her the puppy fix she needs.”

  “If she’s a true dog lover, this will only make things worse. Rudolph is sort of addictive.”

  “Hey?” Her brows furrow. “Is that the dog from the other night? The one Santa gave to Quinn?”

  “That would be him. I’m taking care of him for now.”

  “That’s so nice of you, Bizzy.” She sighs. “Quinn really did like you. We corresponded a few times over the years, and he always brought up the inn. He said the woman who ran it is a saint.”

  A laugh bucks from me. “Time and distance can put a halo on just about anyone’s head.”

  “Not Quinn’s,” she quips as she averts her eyes. “He wasn’t just a handsome devil. I’m convinced he spent each morning filing down his horns.”

  “Did the two of you date?” Maybe if I come at it this way she’ll offer up a dark confession—at least internally.

  She sniffs as she nods. “I thought we would marry, but fate and Quinn had other plans.” Her shoulders sag a moment. “You know, I had actually convinced myself that he was the great love of my life. And yet, after seeing him the other night, it became clear I had invented a fantasy version of us that never existed. It was a tough pill to swallow.”

  Tears gloss her eyes, and my heart breaks for her.

  I couldn’t imagine being in her shoes—falling in love with Jasper, only to find out he was someone other than I thought.

  My phone bleats again, and I don’t dare glance at it. There’s no way I’m ruining the momentum.

  “Eve, what do you think happened to Quinn that night? I mean, outside of the obvious. Who could have done something like that?”

  “Oh wow.” She blows out a breath. “That’s a tough question. Quinn was a pro at infuriating people. You probably weren’t familiar with that side of him. It was mostly reserved for friends and family.” She glances out at the crowd. “If I had to guess, I’d say this reeks of Arthur.”

  “Arthur? Arthur Silver?” My eyes widen a notch. Come to think of it, he did do a disappearing act at some point in the night. In fact, he disappeared right after Quinn did.

  She nods. “Arthur was his accountant. He did all the heavy lifting as far as paying Quinn’s bills, his taxes, his payrolls. Arthur and Quinn were partners in the financial management company Arthur works under. Of course, Quinn promised him the moon—work for me for free and the company is half yours. I don’t know all the grisly details, but Arthur has been strapped for cash. He needed a stream of income from his most lucrative client, but Quinn’s rationale was that his name brought on the big guns and Quinn could bilk them for all they were worth. It didn’t quite work that way I guess. They argued over money. I heard them arguing over it that very night.” Right before I argued with the cold-hearted Brit myself. Her features harden. “And Arthur is strong. He could have easily swung that axe in a lethal manner. Of course, I couldn’t.” With the exception of those rage-fueled moments I had toward the end, but Bizzy doesn’t care to know that. Someone calls her name from afar, and she waves with a laugh. “Would you excuse me? I see an old friend.” She darts off, screaming with delight, and I’m left wondering if she made Quinn scream with horror that night.

  My phone bleats in my hand again, and I turn it over to see seven more messages, all from a very worried Jasper.

  Great.

  Let’s hope there won’t be much screaming tonight once I confess to my husband I spent the afternoon with a room full of single men.

  Jasper is levelheaded. I’m sure once I explain it all, he’ll understand.

  The important thing is that we catch Quinn’s killer so we can get on with the holidays.

  Next stop on the Homicidal Holidays Express: Arthur Silver.

  Christmas is coming, and I have a feeling I’m just a few short steps away from wrapping up a killer and gifting him to the Seaview County Sheriff’s Department.

  Chapter 8

  The Sugar Plum Tree Lot sits high on a snowy ridge just a short drive from the Country Cottage Inn.

  It’s dark this evening, but they’ve got enough string lights up above to make you feel as if you’re in a whole new solar system. Throngs of bodies have chosen to congregate here, this snowy December evening. There are bounce houses for the younger set, booths selling hot cocoa and cookies, and even one selling hard hot apple cider and donuts. Santa is here, and oddly he’s here in duplicate. Actually, about twelve different men are here dressed as the head elf, and each one seems to be missing that bowl full of jelly belly and housing washboard abs under the red furry suit instead.

  “I don’t know what that’s about,” I say, holding Fish close. “And I’m not sure I want to find out.”

  “Don’t worry, Bizzy.” Macy pulls back her shoulders with her next breath. “Your big sis is here to protect you from those naughty looking Santas. I’d best go investigate.”

  “Wait just a minute.” Georgie scoops Rudolph from my sister’s hands. “The dude magnet stays with me.”

  “Fine.” Macy forces a smile to her face. “I’ve got a couple of built-in magnets that can make any man howl ho ho ho.” She takes off, leading with her chest like a woman on a mission to find something sexy in her stocking come Christmas mo
rning.

  After that dating debacle at Elora’s Closet, I thought it was best I meet up with Jasper on neutral territory, so I convinced him we needed to pick out our tree tonight. And Macy and Georgie opted to hang out as well. And to be honest, despite the chainsaws going off, the never-ending screams of the children, and the potential to have an eight-foot noble topple onto you, this is a far less hostile environment.

  A dark laugh strums from Georgie as she cranes her neck past me. “Hang onto your Santa hat, Ruddy. The fireworks are about to go off.”

  I turn to find Jasper and Sherlock headed this way. Jasper has on a heavy wool coat, and with those broad shoulders of his, it gives him the body of a linebacker. Not to mention those pale silver eyes of his are glowing in the night. His expression is stern, but that only makes him that much more handsome. It’s unfair that anger and overall irritation seem to work in his favor. And if I have my way, they’ll work in my favor in just a few hours as well.

  “Jasper.” I give a little hop as I press a kiss to his lips.

  Sherlock barks. He’s not thrilled, Bizzy. But he chuckled a few times on the way over.

  I bite down on a smile. Jasper was probably chuckling to himself because he was plotting on how to get rid of his philandering wife before the new year.

  “How was your day?” The words come out a touch too bright. In hindsight, I probably should have emoted a modicum of remorse.

  “You go first.”

  Fish squirms in my arms and mewls, You’re squeezing the life out of me, Bizzy. Just tell him you were picking up men for the good of the investigation. He’ll forgive you.

  Sherlock barks once again. If not, there’s always bacon. Bacon makes everything better. Can you marry bacon?

  Sadly, I foresee a frying pan full of bacon in my future, and maybe every day until January as I try to make this up to Jasper. I never thought I’d be bribing my husband to stay in our marriage by way of salted pork fat. And for a second, I marvel at how quickly we devolved to this point.