Dying in a Winter Wonderland

by Vicki Delany

  “Which,” I said, “is why I love you.”

  Alan’s blue eyes sparkled and the edges of his mouth turned up. “I love you, too, Merry. Now, let’s go and find out what our class has been up to over the years.”

  * * *

  * * *

  McGinley’s Irish Pub is the sort of place where they don’t check ID too carefully, and so the kids from Rudolph High School gather there when they’ve told their parents they’re going to a friend’s for a study session. It’s outside Rudolph itself, opposite a crumbling two-pump gas station on a lonely country road surrounded by heavy woods. I always thought the location itself was part of the reason for its popularity. Parents rarely have reason to drive past and potentially spot their children’s cars in the lot.

  As far as I know, no one by the name of McGinley owns it; the place has not the slightest tie to the Emerald Isle, and no one from England or Ireland would mistake the down-at-the-heels bar for a pub.

  The parking lot was full when we pulled up at eight thirty. Colored lights blinking around the window frames in celebration of the season competed with the garish lights advertising brands of beer. Outside the perimeter of the bar and its parking area, the winter woods stood dark and silent. Snow had started to fall as we drove out of town and a light coating covered the pavement.

  A wave of voices and the smell of spilled beer, greasy food, and too-heavily-applied perfume and aftershave hit us when we walked in. The bar wasn’t very big and it was packed. A couple of tables of what were probably regulars—men in ball caps watching the TVs mounted on the walls, or couples either ignoring each other or almost sitting in each other’s laps—glared at the raucous crowd of twenty- and thirtysomethings dressed in everything from work jeans and safety boots to glittering cocktail dresses. After cleaning up the shop, I’d changed into a blue and white striped dress worn under a denim jacket, so I was sort of middle-of-the-pack here in terms of clothing. I should have left my coat in the car, but I hadn’t, so I slipped it off and hung it on a hook on the wall with a pile of others.

  I recognized a lot of the faces. Not only from school, but many of these people had remained in Rudolph or had come back. Rudolph’s a great community in which to raise a family, and more than a few people who left for the bright lights of the big city eventually returned to their roots if they found a way to make a living in our small town.

  “Hey! You made it. I’m so glad.” A pretty, petite blonde with a heart-shaped face and sparking cornflower blue eyes, wearing a frilly pink dress and with glittering earrings studded with rhinestones brushing her shoulders, broke away from the crowd around the bar. She stretched onto her tippy toes and gave my brother a big smack on the cheek. She would have wrapped him in a hug had not her enormous belly stood between them. She turned to me. “Merry! Alan! Hi. Be sure and grab yourself a name tag and write your names down.”

  “Nice to see you, Tiffany,” Chris said. “You look fabulous as always. You must be due any day now.”

  She patted her stomach. “Four more weeks. I cannot wait to get this over with. Let me tell you, this is absolutely my last one.” She let out a peal of laughter. “Then again I said that the last time. And the time before that. This is baby number four. My mom’s sitting with the kids tonight so we could come out. Ronnie’s over there. Ronnie!”

  A big bearded man saluted us with his beer.

  Tiffany slipped her arm though Chris’s. “Broadway! You work on Broadway. I dreamed of Broadway, but”—another peal of laughter—“Ronnie knocked me up, so that was the end of that. I can’t wait to hear all about it. Come on, handsome, you can buy me a drink. Unfortunately for me, all I’m having tonight is Coke.” She dragged my laughing brother away.

  I was glad we’d come. Chris needed to laugh.

  “Can I get you something, Merry?” Alan asked.

  “As long as you’re doing the driving, I’ll have a glass of white wine, please.”

  He pushed his way to the bar, and Jackie came up to me. She was also dressed for a holiday party in a shiny black blouse with a gaping neckline, a tight red skirt, stiletto heels, and the necklace and earrings I’d given her for Christmas. She handed me a red and white square of paper that said “Hello, my name is . . . MERRY.” “I made you this,” she said. “Be sure and wear it, now.”

  I peeled off the back and stuck the sign to my chest.

  “Everything okay at the store?” Jackie asked.

  “Alan and I cleaned up and got it ready for tomorrow. We’ll be opening at the usual time.”

  “Don’t tell me. Alan swept.” Jackie moaned with pleasure. “There’s nothing I like more than a man with a broom. Kyle! Come here.”

  Kyle dragged himself over. A mug of beer was in one hand and a heavy black Nikon camera hung around his neck.

  “Alan helped Merry clean the shop after what happened earlier,” Jackie said. “Wasn’t that nice of him?”

  “Why’d he do that?” Kyle asked.

  “To be nice,” I said. “It’s what boyfriends do.”

  “Oh. Right.”

  “Take a picture of us together.” Jackie threw her arm around me and struck a pose. “It’s for the paper, Merry. Kyle’s working tonight. Isn’t that great?”

  I eyed the beer in Kyle’s hand. Clearly not the first of the evening, but I stood still anyway, put a smile on my face, and let Kyle snap away. Jackie tossed her hair, lifted her chin, tilted her head.

  Pictures over, Jackie and Kyle melted back into the crowd. Alan seemed to have forgotten to bring me my wine. He was chatting to a man I recognized from our class, although I couldn’t remember his name.

  “Heard you had some excitement this afternoon,” Russ Durham said to me in that lovely accent that always puts me in mind of warm humid nights, spicy gumbo, and soft jazz.

  “I didn’t realize you went to Rudolph High,” I said.

  He chuckled. “I stopped in for a drink after work. Imagine my surprise when I found out a high school reunion is going on.”

  “Kyle’s taking pictures with the paper’s camera.”

  “It’s a newsworthy story, Merry. Local interest and all that. Speaking of newsworthy . . .” He raised one eyebrow.

  “I’ve nothing to say. The incident ended without injury.”

  “The so-far-unidentified woman who was led out of Mrs. Claus’s Treasures by the police had a bleeding nose. That’s an injury. I interviewed some of the witnesses and they said they feared for their lives.”

  “Don’t believe everything you read in the papers, Russ. The innocent bystanders were free to leave. No one did. Other than one nose, the incident ended without injury. Mrs. Claus’s Treasures will be open for business as usual tomorrow to serve the New Year’s gift-buying needs of residents and visitors to Rudolph.”

  “If Mrs. Cargill ever retires, I might hire you to write advertising copy.”

  “If I ever get tired of the store, I might accept.” Russ and I stood in the middle of a press of people. The noise level was high as people exchanged news and bragged about accomplishments, showed family photos, and shouted orders for drinks or food. I didn’t worry about being overheard: I had to shout into Russ’s ear. “I don’t suppose you’ve heard anything more about developments in the Jeff Vanderhaven killing?”

  “The official Rudolph PD statement says they’re continuing to investigate the case as a suspicious death. My unofficial contacts tell me the police are widening their search beyond the residents of Rudolph.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “It means they think it might have been an outside job. Vanderhaven Development has been suspected of being involved in some less-than-aboveboard deals over the years. Did something go wrong and an example have to be made?” He shrugged. “Maybe.”

  “Do you know anything about a proposed amusement park in Muddle Harbor?”

  “Other than that I�
��ve never been to a less amusing place? Yes, I got wind of that. Some people still want to try and go ahead with it, Wayne Fitzroy’s name’s been mentioned, but saner voices say Louis Vanderhaven can’t manage a project of that scope without his son’s help. One of those saner voices, believe it or not, is Jim Morrow, Sue-Anne’s husband.”

  “Sorry, Merry, I got distracted.” Alan handed me a glass. “Hey, Russ.”

  “Alan.”

  Someone bumped into me and muttered an apology. Russ, Alan, and I huddled together. The bar was filling up fast; every time the door opened a wave of cold air washed in. Tiffany ran around the room, greeting arrivals with peals of laughter and sticking name tags on their chests.

  “There’s Bill Craighall,” Alan said. “He went to UCLA to study astrophysics. I wonder how that worked out.” Alan wandered off. Russ tipped his beer at me and also melted into the crowd.

  I looked for my brother and found him surrounded by a circle of women. He’d shaved and washed his hair, and now he laughed easily and comfortably. I was pleased we’d come. Russ broke away from the man who’d stopped him and headed in Chris’s direction. I prepared to intervene. I did not want the editor in chief of the Rudolph Gazette spoiling my brother’s evening with questions.

  But Russ walked right past Chris without even giving him a glance and joined Candy Campbell and the group of women she was chatting with. Candy’s face began changing color at a rapid pace. She was out of uniform tonight and looked good, with her hair falling loosely around her shoulders in a soft wave, wearing a light blue and green dress under a green shrug. Russ lifted his beer to her, and Candy tapped the bottle with her wineglass. She blushed some more.

  I recognized a few people from my year, but most of the people here were Chris’s crowd, younger than me. I’d seen Vicky earlier, towering above the women surrounding her, her green and red lock of hair moving as she talked. She’d given me a wave but hadn’t come over.

  Another blast of cold air announced a new arrival, and Tiffany bounded across the room squealing, “I’m so glad you came! Look, everyone, Luanne’s here!”

  I turned to see Luanne Ireland standing in the doorway in her blue coat. Her long hair was pinned back and her makeup was subdued. She put her hand to her throat. The diamond engagement ring reflected the blue lights of a beer ad.

  Scott Abramsky hovered next to her, his hand lightly touching her elbow. He stepped away as Tiffany descended on them, arms outstretched. The noise level faded as people saw who’d come in and stopped talking.

  “The poor, poor dear,” I heard one woman say. “Such a tragedy.”

  “Tragedy that he died before the wedding,” a man said. “The Vanderhavens are loaded, and now Luanne won’t see a penny.”

  “You are such a cynic,” another woman said. “I can’t imagine how she can bear it.”

  “I hear Chris Wilkinson’s helping her.” The man chuckled. “Good old Chris. He always did have a way with the women. Weren’t he and Luanne going together at one time?”

  “That was ages ago. When we were all in school.”

  “The dark ages,” another man said.

  I was surprised Luanne had come tonight. I wouldn’t have expected her to be in the mood for a party. Luanne had been ambivalent (to say the least) about her engagement to Jeff, but considering that only a few short hours ago she’d been in an actual physical fight with a supposed rival and was dragged down to the police station because of it . . . If I’d known Luanne would be here, I wouldn’t have encouraged Chris to come.

  After initial hesitation, people began gathering around Luanne. She accepted hugs and condolences and was soon smiling and laughing. Tiffany’s husband pasted a name tag on her sweater, and Scott fought his way through the crowd to the bar to get her a glass of wine.

  I was ready to go. Other than Vicky, there weren’t any people here I was particularly interested in talking to, and as for getting fresh information about the death of Jeff, I was unlikely to learn anything more than I had from Russ. I did not want to talk to Luanne. Not after what had happened this afternoon.

  Which didn’t appear to be a problem, as she pointedly avoided looking in my direction.

  Alan seemed to be having a good time. He was an introvert, but when he did find himself in company, he was able to enjoy it. He and Bill Craighall had been joined by a handful of other men and were deep in conversation. I couldn’t hear a word they said, but I could tell by their body language—as though they were throwing things or running or dodging punches—that they were reliving their sporting glory days.

  Chris had taken a seat at a table in the far corner of the room. Two couples were with him, and as I watched, a waitress dropped an enormous platter of nachos in the center of the table. One of the women was chatting happily and showing Chris photos on her phone. He was doing a good job of not looking too terribly bored as she continually swiped left and pointed at things of interest in the pictures. The other two men dove into the nachos.

  The circle around Candy and Russ had moved on, and they stood alone. Candy’s eyes glowed as she tossed her hair and laughed, and Russ was smiling steadily.

  “Dullsville,” Vicky said to me.

  “You’re getting too carried away with the retro theme. We didn’t say that in our day. More like our parents’ day, I think.”

  “You get the drift,” she said. “Not many people from our year came.”

  “Natural enough. Tiffany wouldn’t be in touch with any of them. Not unless they have younger siblings, like I do.”

  “I like her,” Vicky said. “Tiffany, I mean. She’s a force of nature, that one.”

  We watched the tiny blonde with the enormous bump swirl through the crowed, checking that everyone had their name tags in place, asking after husbands and wives and children, laughing, and occasionally throwing a huge smile across the room in the direction of her husband and taking a sip of her Coke. He, I noticed, kept his eyes on her all night, a soft smile on his face.

  “But,” Vicky said, “I don’t like that one.” She nodded to Luanne, who’d been surrounded by a group of women. “As usual, Mrs. Claus’s is the talk of the town. What happened this afternoon? Did Luanne really try to kill someone?”

  I filled Vicky in.

  “Wild,” Vicky said.

  “Weird,” I said. “Madison has a cast-iron alibi for the time of Jeff’s death, so that takes her out of consideration. Unless she can fly.”

  “Well, I’m going home. Morning comes early. You planning to stay much longer?”

  “I’d rather not, but we brought Chris, and he seems to be having an okay time.”

  “So does Alan. I sometimes wish I could do things like this with Mark. But his hours . . .” Her voice trailed off.

  “You guys okay?”

  “Yeah, we’re good.” She gave me a hug. “More than good. Don’t mind me. We’re having a big date New Year’s Eve. I’m going to the restaurant to help him cook.”

  “Be sure you do a good job of it. Alan and I are going with Mom and Dad as Grace and Jack’s guests.”

  “I’ll try not to drool in the soup.”

  “Speaking of New Year’s Eve, I’d like to get a new outfit. You can be sure Mom will dress as though it’s a state dinner at the White House. Want to come shopping with me?”

  “Sure. I always like watching someone else spend money.”

  “Tomorrow afternoon? Why don’t you come to the shop and get me when you’re ready.”

  “Sounds good.” Vicky wiggled her fingers at me and slipped away.

  She passed a handful of teenagers on their way in. They took one look at the crowd and turned and tripped over their feet in their haste to get out.

  I glanced around the room. One of the couples with Chris had left, and the woman with the photos finally put her phone down. A man grabbed the two empty chairs from their table and drag
ged them away. Chris stood up.

  Luanne broke out of the circle of people surrounding her and swept down on him. Before he could move, she gathered him into a big hug. He pushed himself away. She put both her hands on his chest and peered up at him, blinking rapidly. She said something and he answered as his eyes darted around the room, seeking escape.

  Time for me to intervene. I started to move, but an arm wrapped around my waist. “Merry Wilkinson. I couldn’t believe it when my mom told me you’d moved back to Rudolph. I thought you had the best career imaginable.” A tall, thin woman beamed at me. Thick glasses perched on her nose, and her mousy brown hair was cut very short and very badly. I struggled to remember her.

  “You have to tell me all about it. What’s Jennifer Johnstone really like?”

  “She’s genuinely lovely,” I said. “A hard-nosed businesswoman, but nice about it.”

  “Mom told me your fiancé died in your very own store.”

  “My ex-fiancé.”

  “Right. I keep meaning to pop in there one day. I’ve heard you have some nice things. But you know how it is. Life gets so busy. And now you’re with Alan Anderson. I knew it. I always knew it. I knew you and Alan were meant for each other.”

  There wasn’t the slightest thing recognizable about this woman.

  “I don’t suppose you’re still in touch with Jennifer? I’ve been trying to get a job in magazines, but I’m not having any luck. I worked for an advertising agency in Manhattan for a while, but they got bought out, and a whole bunch of us were laid off.” She showed me her large white teeth.

  “Jennifer isn’t running the company these days,” I said. “And I haven’t spoken to Erica lately.”

  “Oh yeah. Mom told me about Erica. Imagine, having Erica Johnstone in your own store! Did she give you any tips on things you should stock? Like what’s going to be hot next year? If I knew that sort of thing, I could use it when I go for interviews.” Her face fell. “If I get any.”

  “Sorry, no.” I started to edge away. “Nice talking to you, uh . . .”

  “Nancy Manovich!” Tiffany swept down on us. “I don’t have a picture with you yet. Come on, Kyle Lambert’s working for the Gazette now. Can you imagine that, Kyle’s a successful journalist. I always thought he’d end up in jail.” She pulled Nancy away by the force of her personality, if nothing else.