“Then you know about Janelle?”
“That she was Everett’s daughter? I’ve known for a while now. Not that she acts like a daughter.” Diane grimaced. “Then again, he wasn’t Father of the Year either.”
“When we spoke yesterday, you said there wouldn’t be a funeral or memorial.”
“There wouldn’t have been.” Her voice grew hard. “Had I not taken it upon myself to see that the decent thing was done. I spoke to Anthony, too.”
“How did he take it?”
“He claims I’ve overstepped my bounds.” She shrugged. “But he’ll come. I thought it best to have the memorial service at the museum. Everett has been responsible for keeping our doors open for nearly a decade. And all of my employees and board members will be in attendance. I’m closing the museum early tonight for the service. I’d like it if you could come.”
“Thank you for inviting me, but I have no business attending Everett Hostetter’s memorial service. I never even spoke to him. To be honest, he seemed a cold, disagreeable man.”
“Yet you’re the only one trying to uncover the truth behind his death.” She lowered her voice. “Janelle may think the whole thing about the cookies is a joke. But I find it alarming. And suspicious.”
“I agree. Why would the squirrel die right after eating them unless they were poisoned? That’s why I asked the police to test the cookie.”
Diane sighed. “By the time the police actually test the cookie, it will be Easter. Except for Chief Hitchcock, the Oriole Point police officers are an unimpressive lot.”
“A shame the sheriff’s department and state police are dealing with a triple homicide. And it is possible Everett died of natural causes. After the events of this past year, I’ve become suspicious of every death. I may be overreacting.”
She took a deep breath. “I’m not overreacting to his death. Everett may not have been a lovable person, but his passing should not be ignored. That’s why I’d like you to attend the service tonight. Besides, I’d find your presence more comforting than that of Janelle and Anthony.” Diane smirked. “And Katrina May. She was pleased to learn there would be a service. She insists on speaking. Of course.”
I didn’t understand Diane’s disapproval. At least Katrina wanted to come to the memorial, unlike Everett’s nephew and daughter. “Seems kind of her.”
“Kindness is not a word I’d apply to Katrina May. But she’s keeping a high profile until Everett’s will is read.”
More customers entered the shop. Andrew sent me a look asking for help. Before I bailed him out, I had to finish this conversation. “Why would Katrina care about Everett Hostetter’s will? Unless she expects to be in it.”
“Of course she expects to be named in the will. She and Everett were once married. I’m sure that marriage, short as it was, came with strings attached. And a detailed marriage contract.”
“Do you know why he proposed to her? I mean, the difference in their ages.”
“Maybe she got him to propose by telling him a few ancestral ghosts said he should. Everett was more superstitious than people realized. I wouldn’t be surprised if she scared him into buying her a ring. But his fear of letting another human being get too close was no doubt even greater. Probably why they divorced so quickly. At least that’s what I assume.”
“Seems a big step to take for a man who had been a bachelor that long.”
“I agree. As far as I know, Katrina and I are the only women Everett ever asked to marry him. Although I’m sure there were a number of ambitious ladies who tried their best to become Mrs. Hostetter. Not that they would have had a chance with Everett. He cared about money more than any gold digger ever could.”
“Until Katrina. Maybe she genuinely cared about him.”
Diane gave me a withering look. “I’m the only woman who ever had feelings for Everett. Me and his sister, Sarah. And I cared enough about Everett and myself to turn him down.”
I took a moment to process this. “Have you ever wondered why Katrina moved to this side of the state at the same time he did?”
“I assume she was following the money. Which is why I wouldn’t be surprised if Everett left her a chunk of his fortune.” Diane sighed. “Maybe all of it.”
I also thought it possible Katrina might have done more than simply follow the money. She might have killed Everett for it.
Chapter Thirteen
“That ancient man and Katrina May were married?” Tess asked in horror.
“I know. He was a half century older than her.”
“And he had the personality of a block of cement.” Tess shuddered, and it wasn’t because of the cold temperature. “An old block of cement.”
We exchanged looks of disapproval, expressions difficult to pull off in our reindeer-antler headpieces. I bought them to wear during the parade. Tess wasn’t an antler kind of person, but I knew she’d be a good sport and play along. If not, I might have brought up those dissection frogs I took the rap for.
Like most shopkeepers, Tess and I closed our store for the duration of the parade. Up and down the length of Lyall Street—now cleared of vehicles—stood several hundred people. Locals attended the parade because at least one family member took part. And visitors loved our floats featuring the Grinch, Santa’s workshop, and Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer. My old high school boyfriend Max Riordan had volunteered to play Santa on the Rudolph float, which is why I wore antlers.
The sound of horns signaled the start of the parade. The Oriole Point High School band, playing “Santa Claus Is Comin’ to Town,” began to march down the street. It would be the first of six high school bands from the county. Piper made certain there would be lots of music.
“Where’s David?” I asked.
Tess sighed. “He’s in the parade.”
“Really? That’s a first.”
“Blame it on our trip to Disney World and his obsession with Chip ’n’ Dale. When he bought the Chip costume, I never imagined he’d find so many opportunities to wear it.”
I smiled. “He did make an impression at Halloween. No one could miss that enormous chipmunk head.”
“Halloween is one thing. And I can accept Santa Chipmunk. But he puts on that costume a bit too often.” She lowered her voice. “In circumstances I never would have dreamed of.”
I giggled.
“It’s not funny. An amorous giant chipmunk is an alarming sight.”
That image made me bend over with laughter.
Tess elbowed me in the ribs. “Shhh. Everyone’s staring. They probably can’t figure out why you’re hysterical about our marching band.”
Someone grabbed my elbow.
“Ouch!” I pulled away from Piper’s iron grip.
“Why are you laughing? Do you think the band sounds off? It’s the trumpets, isn’t it? Yes, I can hear the wrong notes. They’re flat. I told the band director the brass section needed extra rehearsal.” Piper raised her voice as the band drew near, horns and woodwinds blaring. “How mortifying if New Bethel’s high school band plays better than ours.”
I opened my mouth to explain why I was laughing, but she dashed off.
“I’ve heard New Bethel’s band,” I told Tess. “Our kids have nothing to worry about.”
“Piper takes these festivals too much to heart.” Tess said.
“Like our Christmas Carol director. Suzanne has gone full-blown Quentin Tarantino.”
“Did you learn your lines yet?”
“Some of them.”
“Marlee!”
“I know. But when am I going to find the time? And the last thing I need is to attend Everett Hostetter’s memorial tonight. Only Diane really wants me there.” I waved at Andrew and Dean, who watched the parade from the other side of the street. Suzanne stood beside them, gesticulating as she talked on her phone. I was sure her heated conversation involved the play.
“You can always say no.”
“I did. But now that I know about Katrina and Everett, I’m curious a
s to how she interacts with Anthony and Janelle.” I gave Tess a bright smile. “Why don’t you come with me? It will be fun.”
“No, it won’t.”
“Maybe fun isn’t the right word to use for a memorial service. How about interesting?”
“How about I’d rather do almost anything else, even fend off the advances of a chipmunk.” Tess laughed. “Speaking of chipmunks. . .”
Elves in green costumes and pointy shoes walked behind the band. A dozen volunteers outfitted as reindeer followed close behind. In their midst strode a chipmunk in a Santa suit. All of them handed out candy canes to the children along the parade route.
Next came the float devoted to the Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer annual TV special. A sleigh pulled by life-size fake reindeer stood atop the platform, with Max Riordan’s Santa waving from among a pile of toys. I found it a delightful inside joke that Danny Whitfield, our local dentist’s son, played Hermey, the elf who wanted to pursue dentistry. And that Chuck, the rambunctious, bearded owner of the Sandy Shoals Saloon, strutted about the platform as Yukon Cornelius.
“Who’s the Abominable Snow Monster?” I wondered as the shaggy, costumed figure walked past.
I didn’t wonder long. Natasha pushed her way through the crowd to me.
“Is Uncle Wendall.” She pointed at the white furry figure.
“Old Man Bowman is in the Abominable Snow Monster costume?” I took a second look.
Tess sent me an amused glance. “I always suspected he was Bigfoot.”
Indeed. Old Man Bowman, one of our more colorful residents, spent most of his time searching for Bigfoot. Despite his eccentricity—or perhaps because of it—Wendall Bowman made a small fortune for himself decades ago with one of his inventions. This allowed him a lot of free time to hunt the mythic creature. He was also the uncle of Natasha’s deceased husband, Cole Bowman. After that scoundrel died, Wendall took Natasha under his wing, and they viewed each other as family.
Right now I viewed his Abominable Snow Monster as perfect typecasting.
“He has best costume in parade,” Natasha said proudly, then pushed through the crowd to follow him.
“I think she likes the costume because of all the fur,” I said.
“The woman does love an animal pelt,” Tess observed wryly.
“If I had a Christmas wish, it would be to convince her to buy fake fur.”
The strains of “Jingle Bell Rock” drew my attention to the next marching band. Piper had put together a nice roster of parade participants. Some ideas were new, such as the Winter Queen and the dancing Santa Bears. My heart belonged to the colorful Grinch float, not least because Gillian had volunteered to play Cindy Lou Who.
But the biggest surprise on the Grinch float—even bigger than Old Man Bowman’s surprise appearance—was Piper’s decision to let her Great Dane Charlemagne appear as the Grinch’s dog, Max. A pair of stick antlers tied to his head, the overgrown puppy I had dubbed Charlie calmly sat next to the Grinch.
Tess giggled. “How did Piper get her dog to keep those giant antlers on his head?”
“I’m betting a combination of his favorite biscuits and daily sessions with a trainer.”
As the float went by, the children around me called out, “Max! Max!”
Charlemagne was officially the biggest hit of the parade. Deservedly so.
When I turned to look at the delighted children, I caught a glimpse of Anthony Thorne as he walked past. He paid no attention to the parade. In fact, he looked as if he was on the way to an appointment. But he was in enough of a festival mood to be munching on a snack.
To get a better look, I stepped out of the crowd. Whatever snack he munched on came from a white paper bag.
“Where are you going?” Tess joined me.
“I need to check something out.”
Now that the parade had ended, a flood of people turned from the curb and thronged the sidewalk. I saw Anthony make a left at the next cross street.
“What are we checking out?” Tess asked.
“The bag Anthony Thorne is carrying looks like the same bag Everett’s cookies were in.”
We hurried along, not an easy thing to do with dozens of people going the opposite way. Most of them probably headed for the food trucks by the park. For a moment, Lyall Street had the bustling feel of Chicago’s Mag Mile.
After we turned left at Iroquois Street, I spotted Anthony up ahead. “Where is he off to?”
“Maybe he parked his car on the next block,” Tess said. “And is that the town postmistress who’s trying to get your attention?”
I looked toward the street where Jennifer Hamelin and her husband sat in the horse-drawn carriage. She appeared agitated. In contrast, the carriage driver looked bored to death as he waited for the parade viewers to finally clear Lyall Street.
I glanced back to see where Anthony went, but he had disappeared in the crowd.
“We may as well see what she wants,” I said. “I’m guessing she wants to remind me about the play. Jennifer is playing Bob Cratchit’s wife.”
“She seems a bit astringent for the role. I don’t think Jennifer has a maternal bone in her body. I can’t see her mothering the Cratchit brood.”
“I know. She’d give poor Tiny Tim self-esteem issues. Let’s hope she’s a good actress.”
Tess and I walked over to the carriage.
“Merry Christmas.” I gave the Hamelin couple a big smile, which wasn’t returned. “Is there something you want to talk to me about?”
“I need to know if you’ve learned your lines for the play, Marlee,” Jennifer demanded. “Dress rehearsal is in two days. With the first performance the following day.”
I felt my stomach tighten up. Why had I let Andrew talk me into this? Because I once played Chava in high school? My arrogance had gotten the better of me this time. “I promise I’ll have them memorized by then.”
“Do you mean you still haven’t learned all your lines?”
“I know most of them.”
“Most of them?” Jennifer shook her head. “You’re in only one scene.”
“But it’s a scene where my character does ninety percent of the talking.”
Tess chuckled. “She’s right. Jacob Marley is a chatty ghost.”
“This isn’t funny,” Jennifer said. “There is no excuse for anyone in the play not to know their lines. If you haven’t, you had no business wasting your time watching the parade.”
I didn’t know whether to be amused or irritated.
“What Marlee does is none of your business.” Tess took the decision out of my hands.
“It’s my business because the Green Willow Players have worked hard on this production.” Jennifer ignored her husband, who attempted to get her to lower her voice. “And Marlee should not have agreed to take on a role as important as Jacob Marley. If we fail, the blame rests on her.”
“Get over yourself,” Tess muttered. “Silly twit.”
I hoped Jennifer didn’t hear that.
“Look, I promise I will be ready by dress rehearsal on Monday.” If I had to, I’d write the lines on my arms.
Jennifer didn’t look convinced. “Bad enough Everett died. Then Andrea got sick. People have started to talk. They’re saying this year’s production is jinxed. Cursed!”
Her husband sighed. “This is the first time Jen’s performing in A Christmas Carol. She wants everything to go well.”
“A Christmas Carol is the biggest event all year in Oriole Point,” she declared.
Piper would take issue with that, especially since she had nothing to do with any of the plays at the Calico Barn.
“We have a tradition to uphold,” Jennifer continued. “Please take this seriously. Be on time for rehearsal. And, for Charles Dickens’s sake, learn your lines!”
“Will do. I have forty-eight hours. I’ll have it all memorized by Monday.” At least I hoped so. “I also plan to have my costume cleaned tomorrow. So I should look and sound perfect for dress rehe
arsal.”
A startled Jennifer stood up in the carriage.
“See you on Monday.” I took Tess by the arm, eager to get away.
“Wait, Marlee!” Jennifer shouted. “You can’t clean the costume. It’s not allowed.”
“Walk faster,” Tess said.
I looked over my shoulder in time to see Jennifer step over her husband in an attempt to get out of the carriage. Was she going to chase me down?
“Jennifer, it’s all right,” I called over my shoulder. “Everything will be fine.”
Or it would have been if she hadn’t rushed to step down from the carriage. And fell.
Jennifer’s scream stopped us in our tracks.
Tess and I raced over to where she now lay on the snowy sidewalk. The driver and her husband scrambled to join us.
“It hurts!” She pointed at her ankle. “It hurts so much!”
“Do you think you can stand up?” I asked.
“Are you crazy? I fell and I slipped on the ice.”
Her husband knelt beside her. “We should sue the town for not keeping the sidewalks free of ice!”
The patch of ice they referred to lay over a yard away. And I’d seen the fall. Jennifer missed the last step of the carriage and fell to the ground. An unfortunate accident due to her being distracted by me. But I refused to take the blame for this.
The driver shook his head. “We need an ambulance. Her ankle might be broken.”
Jennifer began to sob.
Tess and I exchanged nervous looks. “Do you think she’s seriously injured?” Tess asked me.
“I have no idea. Only I don’t want to be around when Suzanne finds out she may have lost another cast member.” Even worse, I feared that Gillian had been right.
The play was cursed.
Chapter Fourteen
After the ambulance took a distraught Jennifer away, I tried to get back into a holly, jolly mood. I hoped she suffered from no more than a bruised ankle. Nothing that would prevent her from performing as Mrs. Cratchit on Tuesday. Although if an injured ankle served as an excuse to skip the performance, I’d keep that in mind if I didn’t learn my lines.
Hollyberry Homicide Page 12
