by T Lockhaven
“Can I give you a hand?” Olivia asked, watching Michael disappear into the kitchen for the third time.
“No, it’s my last trip,” he shouted. He returned with a plate stacked with pastries. “Harry and David cookies,” Michael explained. “They’re from my old boss in Boston. He’s still trying to lure me back, one delicious treat at a time.”
“That’s nice.” Ellie grabbed a coconut macaroon. “But he’ll just have to accept the fact that you’re ours now, so hands off.”
“Agreed.” Olivia laughed. “But let him down slowly so he keeps sending cookies.”
“So,” Ellie asked, “you said that you had hush-hush information. What did you find out?”
“Ladies, you’re not going to believe this one. Our mystery man had photos of Ed Reed with the elf,” Michael said.
“What kind of photos?” Ellie asked, knowing there was more to the story.
“These.” Michael opened the images on his phone. “Swipe through them, they kind of speak for themselves.”
“Is that Drew with a camera in the—?”
“Yep, Drew was sitting in another car, taking pictures of everything. He’s blackmailing Ed. That’s how he got the Santa gig, and I’m pretty sure Ed made a call and that’s how Drew got the Bernstein gig.”
“Wow, as long as he knows Drew has these…he’s not going to do anything. These pictures will destroy Ed,” Ellie stated.
“So what do we do, go to the police?” Olivia asked. “Say that we have proof that an ex-con is extorting Ed Reed? This whole thing could explode in our faces. I mean, if we bust Drew, who’s to stop his assistant from sending those pictures to the news?”
“Yep,” Michael said, “the whole thing could unravel like an ugly Christmas sweater. I wish blackmail worked in reverse. I mean, if you look at Ed, he has Bernie Sanders hair, massive eyebrows—which I have my own theory: that he’s growing them out as a makeshift comb-over—and gargantuan teeth.
“We could tell the woman that if she doesn’t back down, we’ll release the pictures of her going to a hotel with him. Thusly destroying her street cred and saving Ed and his family simultaneously.”
“Thank you, Michael. Now, do you mind if Olivia and I get back to the world of reality and figure out our next move?”
“Sure, yes, certainly. Where were we?”
“So far, all we know is that Drew is guilty of blackmailing Ed. If we could prove that he was behind the theft of Mrs. Mallory’s necklace, then he’d be arrested. Then, most likely Ed’s indiscretions wouldn’t have to be made public.”
“At this point, he may want to take the option of telling his wife that he was fooled by a professional con artist,” Olivia surmised.
“It would be the noble, right thing to do,” Michael acknowledged, “but I don’t know if he has it in him. We don’t really know anything about this guy.”
“So we do nothing?” Ellie asked, exasperated. “And meanwhile, George looks like the town idiot, and this crazy convict is calling all the shots?”
“It’s not like we’re not doing anything,” Michael insisted, “we’re finding out everything we can about Drew, and we’re trying to see if we can pin this other crime on him. And,” he added, “I don’t know Ed personally, but I’m sure he’ll come to some sort of arrangement with Drew. He’s not going to be under his thumb forever.”
The trio jumped as a loud knock, knock, knock came from the back door.
Ellie and Olivia looked at Michael. He shrugged and jumped to his feet—he was just as confused as they were about this late-night visitor.
He hurried through the kitchen, followed by Ellie and Olivia, and flicked on the back light. George stood on his porch, dressed in his Santa suit, peering around anxiously.
“George,” Michael blurted, throwing open the door. “Come in.” He stepped aside as George rushed into the house, his face pale as if he’d seen a ghost, his eyes wild.
“George, are you okay?” Ellie grabbed his hand.
George turned to Ellie and whispered, “He’s dead, Ellie, he’s dead.”
“Who’s dead? George!”
“Drew’s dead, and the police think I killed him.”
“Why on earth would they possibly think that?”
“Turn on the news.” He gasped. “It’s all over the news.”
Michael sprinted into the living room. “Where’s the remote?” he shouted.
“On the coffee table,” Ellie said and joined Michael in the living room.
Michael grabbed the remote and flicked through the channels to the local news. Olivia helped George onto the sofa and stood next to Michael in front of the television.
A newswoman stood on the side of the street beneath a spotlight, wrapped in a brown winter coat, stocking cap, and scarf. Snow swirled all around her. She pointed to a house surrounded by police officers and emergency workers. Television vans and police cars lined the street in front of a large Victorian-styled home.
“George,” Ellie turned to him, “that’s your house!”
George nodded and closed his eyes; it was a nightmare that would never end.
A cluster of CSU officials busily secured the crime scene. Yellow police tape stretched around the entirety of the property. The news cameraman zoomed in, showing a miniature sleigh being pulled by eight tiny reindeer. The sleigh was crushed, and on top of the sleigh, Drew’s body.
“Oh my God.” Ellie’s hand flew to her mouth.
The camera moved from George’s yard, back to the newswoman. “We’re standing in front of the home of George Owens, longtime Lana Cove native, where the body of Drew Small was found.”
George’s picture appeared on the screen—the news station decided to use a picture from when the security guards had escorted him out of the mall.
“According to Officer Sergeant Reynolds, Drew Small was shot and then thrown from the second-story balcony.” The reporter turned and gestured toward it.
The cameraman followed her commentary with his camera.
“And he crashed onto the sleigh below.”
The cameraman mimicked the fall by zooming in on the balcony and quickly lowering the camera to the sled below. The camera then panned back to the news reporter.
“So far, the police are keeping tight-lipped about the details, however, an anonymous caller said that he saw Mr. Small arguing with Mr. Owens at the Schooners restaurant shortly before his death. We are still waiting for Mr. Owens’s arrival. Police are asking—for anyone with any information regarding this crime or Mr. Owens’s whereabouts—to please call the Lana Cove Police Department.”
“George,” Ellie pleaded, “what’s going on? We know you didn’t do this.”
“No, no, for God’s sake, Ellie. I had just finished up at the Bernstein party. I stopped to get gas and coffee at Waverly’s. As I’m getting my coffee, I hear the name of my street on the news. I look up and see my house, surrounded by police on the television, and there’s Drew, sprawled on top of my sled. I didn’t know where to go, so I came here. I know it wasn’t smart, but I panicked. I’m so sorry.”
“It’s okay, it’s okay,” Ellie assured him, “we’ll figure this out.”
“George, let me see your hand, it’s bleeding,” Michael said.
“It’s nothing,” George said a little too quickly, “I just slipped on some ice out back. Really, it’s nothing.”
“Olivia, there’s a first-aid kit in the closet beside the bathroom, do you mind?”
“Not at all,” Olivia said. She hurried off down the hallway.
“George, start from the beginning,” Ellie suggested, taking a seat beside him on the sofa. “Tell us everything that happened.”
“Okay.” He nodded. “I was just sitting down to eat dinner when my phone rang. The number showed up as unknown, so I didn’t answer it, but then they called again. I was going to fuss at whoever it was and tell them I was about to eat when the guy tells me that it’s Drew—and that he needed to talk to me in person. He said to bri
ng my suit and to meet him at Schooners right away if I wanted my job back. I got so excited, I figured maybe he had talked to Ed. To be honest, I didn’t really care if it meant getting my job back.”
“Of course,” Michael said, “so you went to Schooners to meet him.”
“Exactly. When I got there, he was in a panic, jumpy, looking all around. He tells me that I can have all of my Santa jobs back on one condition. He pulled out this black book and said that he needed me to give it to someone at the Bernstein party.”
“What did you say?” Ellie asked.
“That part was easy—I told him no way. I mean, I had no idea what was in that book, or where it came from. Something about the whole thing just didn’t seem right. He obviously wasn’t expecting me to say no, because he threw me against the wall and told me I had to take the book.
“The look he had in his eyes…I was scared to death, I thought he was going to kill me. I tried to leave, but he shoved me against the wall again. I tripped and fell, and he ran out the door.
“I got to my feet; everyone in Schooners was staring at me. Everything seemed to be happening in slow motion. I followed him outside. He was running to his car. The elf girl was sitting inside with the motor running, revving the engine. He must have stepped on some ice or something, because he slipped and landed hard, smacking his head. Two men burst through the door behind me, chasing after him.
“He scrambled to his feet, jumped into the car, and they sped away. The two men climbed into a black Ford Mustang and tore out of the parking lot, following him. I hurried to my car. If they were coming back, I didn’t want to be around. The ice was red with blood where he fell, and that’s when I found this—I think it’s some kind of memory card. He must have dropped it when he toppled.”
“Drew dropped it?” Michael asked.
George nodded. “I’m pretty sure. I found it right where he fell.”
“One sec,” Michael said excitedly, “I’ll get my laptop.”
Olivia and Ellie cleared the coffee table as Michael disappeared upstairs. Moments later, he returned and placed his laptop on the table.
“Okay, let’s see what we got,” Michael said, pushing the memory card into the side of the computer.
Ellie, Olivia, and George huddled in a semicircle around him.
A folder appeared on the screen, simply named DCIM.
“What’s DCIM?” George asked. “Some kind of code?”
“Nothing nefarious.” Michael clicked on the folder. “It stands for Digital Camera Images.” The folder opened, revealing rows of pictures and video files.
“That’s Ed, and…that’s not his wife,” George declared. “That’s the elf woman.”
“It’s the reason you were fired. Drew was blackmailing Ed Reed.” The folder contained additional photos of Ed in various stages of undress, on the motel bed.
“Oh my Lord!” George gasped. “This is going to destroy his wife…his daughter.”
“Michael, these aren’t just pictures of Edward,” Ellie said. “These are photos from the November Art Expo. I helped cater the event.”
“And there’s Mrs. Mallory,” Olivia said, pointing at the screen. “She just had a thirty-thousand-dollar necklace stolen,” she explained to George. “We think Drew is somehow connected, we’re just not sure how yet.”
Michael clicked forward to the next image.
“There’s a close-up.” Ellie jabbed her finger at the screen. “Not that I’ve seen a lot of thirty-thousand-dollar necklaces, but that certainly looks like one.”
“It’s stunning,” Olivia said.
“So, she still had the necklace when this photo was taken…. Wasn’t the expo at the beginning of November?” Michael asked.
“It was November seventeenth, my mom’s birthday,” Olivia said.
“So, Drew was in town then…according to his motel parking pass.”
“And you think Drew stole it?”
“We do,” Ellie replied. “These photos are pretty damning. See how he zoomed in on the necklace in this photo?”
“I have to admit, he did his research. People love to dress up and show off their wealth at the art expo. It’s a virtual who’s who of the social elite of Lana Cove,” George acknowledged.
“There’s another example.” Olivia gestured to a picture of a woman in a cocktail dress and a stunning diamond tennis bracelet. “That bracelet must be worth at least ten thousand dollars.”
“At least,” Ellie said, clearly stunned by the vast collection of images. “He’s got dozens of pictures of jewelry.”
“Not only jewelry.” Michael nodded. “But people’s houses.”
“That’s Mrs. Mallory’s home,” Ellie interrupted, “and that’s Robert Neilson’s house, there’s the Bernstein estate, the Bono house….”
“Who in the world is that?” Olivia asked.
The last two rows of photos showed a man dressed in khakis and a gray button-down shirt. He didn’t look the part of a mover or a shaker, Drew’s usual target. The man in the picture was gawking at the elf woman. In the next image he was handing her a beer and then helping her with her coat.
“I’m not sure.” Ellie turned to her friends.
They all shook their heads.
“Check out the background,” Olivia said.
Ellie and Michael leaned in closer. Two women sat at the bar, facing toward the man, staring angrily. One of the women was holding a phone in her hand, obviously taking pictures.
“Our mystery man has a wedding ring, too…,” Ellie added.
“If those women are doing what I think they’re doing, that man’s belongings are going to be in his front yard when he gets home,” Michael said. “Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned.”
“How does he even fit into the picture?” Olivia asked. “He certainly doesn’t appear to be rich.”
“Not sure,” Michael replied. “Have you ever seen him before, George?”
“Sorry.” George shook his head. “He doesn’t look familiar.”
“Can you zoom in on that chair, Michael? If that’s his jacket,” Ellie gestured to a gray jacket draped over a chair behind the man, “it has a logo on it; it may give us some idea as to who he is.”
Michael clicked on the magnifying glass icon, and, using the mouse, moved the image so the jacket was in the center of the screen. A burgundy patch with gray letters that spelled P.E.W. was attached to the sleeve.
Michael opened Google and typed the words Lana Cove P.E.W. into the search box. Seconds later, the return results revealed Precision Electrical Works. He clicked on the link. An aged website that appeared as though it had been designed as an after-school project loaded.
“Wow,” Olivia said, “that’s a lot of gray and red….”
Michael quickly skimmed the contents of the page. “They’re a local company.” He read a bit more. “They specialize in home and small business electrical installation and repair…and bingo, it seems our mystery man is none other than Tony Meyer, owner and electrical operations specialist.”
“Why would Drew and his friend get involved with an electrical contractor?” Olivia asked.
“No idea…the man’s obviously married, so there’s the blackmail element.”
“Unless,” Ellie said, continuing her thought, “what if Drew needed an electrician’s assistance to break into people’s houses, like Mrs. Mallory’s?”
“That actually makes sense. They get pictures of this guy,” Michael said, “and they threaten to show his wife. All he has to do is help disable a couple of alarms….”
“And they’ll promise to destroy the pictures,” Ellie said.
“Drew was casting a dangerous net,” Michael said. “This town isn’t very big. I mean, there’s no way he could have sustained this type of behavior in such a small community. It’s like playing Russian roulette. Eventually—”
“Eventually, you’re going to wind up dead,” Olivia said matter-of-factly.
“That’s right,” Ellie said
, “he probably thought that if he had enough dirt on influential people, that no one could touch him.”
“So, who do you think killed him?” Olivia asked.
“If I had to guess,” Michael said, “it would be the person who had the most to lose.”
“You think it was Ed, don’t you?”
Michael gave George a look that said he wasn’t going to deny it.
“Here’s the deal, I know Ed’s a scoundrel and a jerk,” George bellowed, “but I’ve known him and his family for nearly twenty years. This isn’t something he’s capable of doing.”
“I hope not,” Ellie reassured him, “but having Drew out of the way would certainly make his life a lot easier. He—”
“He didn’t do it,” George cut her off, crossing his arms over his chest defiantly. “I mean, for all you know, it could have been me.”
“George!” Ellie glared at him sternly. “Why would you say that?”
“Ed’s a lot of things, but he’s not a murderer.”
“Well,” Ellie sighed, “at least you have an airtight alibi. You were at the Bernstein’s house when all of this happened, and you’ve got dozens of witnesses.”
“Was Ed at the party, George?” Olivia asked.
“I don’t know, I can’t remember. There were so many people there…and I was still pretty rattled from the incident at the Schooners. I’m sure he was.”
“I hate to say it,” Michael said, “but right now George is most likely the prime suspect.”
“Michael!” Ellie snapped, “What are you doing?”
“Ellie,” Michael held up his hands, “please let me explain. Right now, the police have no idea about Ed being blackmailed, they have no idea about Tony being blackmailed—the last person who witnesses saw with Drew alive was George. This memory card shows that multiple people had motive to kill Drew. George, we’re going to have to turn this over to the police.”
“I know…,” George replied quietly.
“Do you have a good lawyer?” Michael asked. “The police are going to want to question you.”
George’s face turned pale.
