Hollyberry Homicide

by Sharon Farrow

  “Go ahead.”

  She pulled out a small white paper bag from her purse as Theo joined her.

  “Where did you get that bag?” I asked Gillian.

  “The police station. They’re giving out bags of caramel corn this weekend.” She grinned. “Along with a list of instructions about how to avoid home break-ins.”

  Theo put one of the hollyberry cookies on a napkin. “When we sang at the fire station, the firefighters handed out bags of popcorn. And a piece of paper telling people how to prevent Christmas tree fires. I have to read it tonight.”

  “It’s all part of the festival. Our mayor’s passing out candy canes at city hall, accompanied by a reminder to register to vote.” Gillian removed several hollyberry cookies.

  I watched her bag the cookies. “By the way, that white bag matches the one which held Everett’s gingerbread cookies.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes. The historical museum keeps bags like that. And during the parade yesterday I saw Anthony Thorne eating something from a white paper bag, too.”

  Gillian shrugged. “Probably hot chestnuts. Street vendors sell the nuts in these bags. I had some chestnuts yesterday. These bags are as common as the plastic ones at the grocery store.”

  “This tastes good, Marlee.” Theo held up his half-eaten cookie. “And it has pretend holly on it, so no one can be poisoned.”

  “The last thing I want is to poison my customers. I only wish I knew where Everett got those gingerbread cookies.”

  Gillian’s expression darkened. “Let’s not talk about Everett Hostetter. I want to stay in a Christmas mood.”

  “We all need to stay in a Christmas mood,” Theo agreed. “This is a happy time.”

  “Well, I have happy news. I’ve memorized most of my lines.”

  This didn’t bring a smile to Gillian’s face. “Marlee, please quit the play. One person has died, with two people sick or injured. And Alice Bazil dropped out today.”

  “I heard.”

  “Is this the cursed play Marlee is in?” Theo asked.

  “Yes, it is,” Gillian said.

  “The play is not cursed. Stop saying that, or no one will buy tickets.”

  “Did you hear Suzanne might lose Brandon Foy as well? He’s the kid cast as Tiny Tim. His parents are nervous about all the bad luck connected with the play. And if Tiny Tim walks out this close to opening . . .”

  “I like Tiny Tim,” Theo murmured before finishing off his cookie.

  “Suzanne will find a way for the show to go on, even if she has to turn it into a one-woman show.”

  “Let her,” Gillian said. “As long as you’re not that woman.”

  I stepped out of the way as two customers came in. They made a beeline for my wall of berry wreaths.

  While they admired the wreaths, I turned back to Gillian and Theo. “I better get over to the park and relieve Dean. And don’t be surprised if Santa shows up. It looks like Gareth is walking around town in the suit I bought.”

  “I saw Santa right before I met the carolers,” Theo said. “He was eating breakfast at the Drop Anchor Diner. The spooky lady was with him. That woman helping Natasha with the spa.”

  “Gareth Holmes had breakfast with Katrina May?” I asked. “Are you sure?”

  “It was them. But I don’t like Katrina because she talks to ghosts.” Theo looked a little fearful. “Maybe she doesn’t like the ghosts either. She was crying.”

  “Crying? I wonder why.”

  Katrina May didn’t strike me as someone who cried easily. If that woman had been brought to tears, she was deeply upset over something. Or she’d turned on the waterworks in hopes of getting information from Gareth Holmes about the will. Either way, Katrina’s public breakdown seemed unexpected and disturbing.

  I didn’t possess Katrina’s psychic gifts. But like Dean, I sensed trouble ahead.

  Chapter Nineteen

  After an hour at the open-air market, I had drunk three cups of hot cocoa, necessitating a trip to the public restroom. Because Dean took a two-hour shift, I offered to do the same. But our presence at the market seemed pointless. Snow fell steadily, making it difficult for visitors to plow through the drifts in the park. At least volunteers kept the sidewalks shoveled.

  Also everyone was far more interested in the snowman contest, food-vendor trucks, and the ice-skating rink. Most of my business consisted of people eager for a cup of strawberry-flavored cocoa. Although I sold out of my berry glass ornaments in the first thirty minutes, few customers bought the berry jams, jellies, soaps, and candles we’d stocked the booth with. I didn’t blame them. Shoppers could buy these products—and far more—while staying warm in my store four blocks away.

  With visits to my booth few and far between, I spent the time listening to A Christmas Carol on my iPhone. By two thirty, I’d committed all my lines to memory. I had to restrain myself from giving a hoot of joy. Not that anyone would have heard me.

  A brass band played “Deck the Halls” under the park gazebo, the park rang with the happy cries of children, and a noisy crowd skated at the nearby rink.

  Listening to A Christmas Carol did keep me in a holiday mood. The only thing to dampen that was the sight of Officers Davenport and Wycoff on patrol. Every half hour, Janelle and Bruno made their unsmiling way through the park, no doubt hoping to find someone to charge with a minor infraction, such as using excessive force in a snowball fight.

  Fortunately, Janelle ignored me. I loved Christmas and didn’t want to waste any of the holiday interacting with her. I already regretted spending as much time as I had on Everett Hostetter. If only Gillian hadn’t stumbled on the body. Otherwise, that squirrel might be alive.

  I wondered if I was lucky to be breathing, too. Who was at the Calico Barn last night? Was the person looking for the will? If true, my big mouth was to blame. When talking to Odette, I mentioned that I thought I knew where Everett hid his will. Right after, I heard a noise.

  Yes, it could have been the old building creaking. My house did all the time. But maybe it was a person creeping in the dark.

  Did someone eavesdrop on our conversation? Katrina, Anthony, and Janelle had all been upstairs at the memorial service. What if one of them followed me to the kitchen and overheard my declaration? I couldn’t forget about Diane. She might have left the memorial briefly to check on why I had left, or to see what had happened to Odette. Any of the possible beneficiaries to Everett’s fortune could have been listening in the shadows—and followed me to the Calico Barn.

  To stop obsessing about all this, I decided to wander about the market. A few holes on my Christmas gift list needed filling. And I could keep an eye on my own booth at the same time.

  As I checked out a display of Christmas-themed jewelry, I spied Santa in the crowd. I guessed it was Gareth. When Anthony Thorne took him by the arm and spun him around, my guess was confirmed. I tried to watch them. But with too many booths close together and a bustling crowd, I only caught glimpses of the two men. They seemed to be in a heated conversation. If I could get closer without them seeing me . . .

  “Marlee, I’m so glad to bump into you.”

  I took my attention from the two men and now focused on Diane Cleverly. “Hi, Diane. Enjoying the festival?”

  “No. But the museum set up a booth by the gazebo. We brought Christmas items from our gift shop to sell. Before he died, Everett instructed us to have more of a visible presence at the town events.”

  “I guess what Everett wanted, he got.”

  Although I said this in a joking manner, she sighed. “Exactly.”

  “The night we found his body, you said Everett pushed himself. And pushed other people. What did you mean by that?”

  She bit her lip. “Did I say that? I don’t remember. But Everett was a stubborn man who believed he always knew best. Most of the time, he did. Although his methods for achieving his aims could be questionable.”

  “How so?”

  “It doesn’t matter. He’
s gone. And I wanted to thank you for attending the memorial service last night. You left before I could say goodbye.”

  I hoped she didn’t realize how early I had left.

  Diane waved toward Gareth and Anthony, still in the throes of an argument. “At least Anthony showed up for the memorial. But Gareth should be ashamed. He worked closely with Everett for decades. I intend to speak with him, but I need to let my anger cool.”

  “Looks like Anthony is angry as well.”

  “I’m not surprised. They never got along. And emotions are heightened because no one knows what’s in Everett’s will.” She shook her head. “Except for Gareth. If he was as smart as he thinks he is, he’d make the details public.”

  “I agree.”

  We watched as Gareth and Anthony now took off in different directions.

  She gave herself a shake. “I need to get back to the booth. But I wanted to let you know how much I appreciate your kindness and concern. After all, you barely knew Everett Hostetter.”

  I didn’t add that I had learned an awful lot about him since his death.

  After Diane left, I finished my tour of the Hollyberry Market, where I bought two pairs of fingerless gloves, a Father Frost nutcracker, a blue crystal star pendant, and a llama-wool scarf. I also kept warm by enjoying a mulled wine known as glühwein. A classic German-market drink, glühwein was sold along with the handmade mug it came in. So I had a red ceramic mug in the shape of a boot as well.

  When I returned to my own booth, I found Santa waiting for me. Or rather, Gareth dressed in my Santa suit.

  “I hope you don’t mind.” Gareth lifted his cup. “I’ve drunk some of your hot cocoa.”

  “Be my guest.” Better for him to down cocoa rather than mulled wine or boilermakers. “I see you’re Santa again.”

  “Some people posted photos of me as Santa in your shop on Facebook. After the mayor’s wife saw them, she asked if I’d play Santa at the Hollyberry Festival today.”

  “Piper will make certain you’re Santa for every Hollyberry Festival in the future.”

  “Then I’ll have to borrow the Santa suit again. I hope you don’t mind.”

  “It fits you so perfectly, I’m giving it to you.”

  “Why, thank you. What a sweet girl you are.”

  “Knowing Piper, she probably asked you to remain visible at all the festival events.”

  Gareth took a big sip of cocoa. “And she asked me to go into the shops to greet customers. I stopped by The Berry Basket about a half hour ago. Now I’m supposed to walk around the market stalls. And be on hand when Piper gives out the award for Best Snowman.”

  “What else? I hope she doesn’t expect you to actually fly a sleigh overhead.”

  “I’m having fun. She did suggest I show up at the big tree for the closing carols.”

  “Suggest?” I laughed. “You ignore Piper’s suggestions at your peril.”

  A band of carolers entered the park singing “Joy to the World.”

  “I hope you’ve taken the time to eat while on your Santa rounds.”

  “Don’t worry. I never miss a meal. And I’ve had a snack in every store I visited.”

  He looked as he had during his Santa stint yesterday at the shop. Passing out from all those boilermakers hadn’t left any lasting effect.

  “How are you feeling? You drank so much last night, I was worried about you.”

  “To be honest, I don’t remember much from our dinner. I might have had one too many. Christmas has been hard for me since my wife died.” He sighed. “The guys at Sandy Shoals have become like family. They look out for me.”

  I didn’t approve of Chuck giving Gareth so much alcohol, but they were all big boys. And not my responsibility.

  “How was the memorial?” Gareth’s smile turned boyish. “Did the vultures miss me?”

  “Anthony said the three of them won’t wait forever to learn the contents of the will.”

  This amused him. “He just got done badgering me about that very thing.”

  “Gareth, file the will and make it public.”

  “Let them squirm. They deserve it.”

  “That’s a dangerous game to play.” I lowered my voice. “Don’t you realize that one of them probably murdered Everett?”

  “A ridiculous idea. They wouldn’t have dared.”

  “I think you’re wrong. My advice is to keep your distance from all of them, even Diane. Anyone who thinks they might benefit from Everett’s death.”

  “Don’t worry. I know these people. A lot of bark. No bite.” Gareth pulled out a white bag from his capacious red pocket. “Look, Katrina even bought me a bag of hot chestnuts. I ran into her and the Russian beauty outside San Sebastian.”

  My eyes widened at the sight of the bag. “Did you eat any of the chestnuts? How do you feel? Stomach pains? Are you dizzy?”

  He gave a hearty laugh worthy of the jolliest Santa. “I feel fine, Marlee.”

  For a former corporate attorney, Gareth now seemed as trusting as Santa. “Are you and Katrina bosom buddies now? Theo says he saw you having breakfast with her this morning at the Drop Anchor.”

  “Don’t forget Katrina was Everett’s wife. That made her a part of the Hostetter family. And I was the family lawyer, even after I retired.” He grew serious. “We understand each other.”

  “Theo said Katrina was crying. Is she experiencing actual grief over Everett’s death?”

  Gareth looked off into the distance, but I didn’t think his attention was on the skaters twirling on the rink. “Katrina is a sensitive woman. And not because she claims to be sensitive to energy and ghosts and all that. She’s haunted by the past. Then again, who isn’t?”

  “Is she haunted by what she did to Sarah Thorne? Last night you said Katrina and Everett scared her to death. Did you mean that literally?”

  He looked startled. “I don’t remember saying such a thing.”

  I gave him a knowing look. “You’re talkative when drunk. And indiscreet. Let’s not pretend you didn’t reveal more than you intended. So what did Katrina do to Sarah?”

  Several children yelled out a greeting to Santa. He gave a jolly wave and a “Ho, ho, ho.”

  “Did she scare Sarah into signing over her shares to Everett?” I asked after the children had moved on. “If so, how?”

  Gareth looked uncomfortable. “Katrina told Sarah something that did frighten her. I don’t know the details. And Katrina and Everett blamed themselves for her death.”

  “Is that why Katrina was upset this morning?”

  He shrugged. “Even nasty people have occasional regrets.”

  “Did you tell her what was in the will?”

  Gareth made a disbelieving face. “Why would I do that? Because she cried? No. Katrina deserves to suffer with the rest of them.”

  “People don’t like to suffer. And if they know who’s to blame for their suffering, there might be repercussions.” I pointed at the bag of chestnuts. “At least promise me that you won’t eat any more of them.”

  “If it makes you feel better, keep it.” He handed the bag to me. “Chestnuts don’t have the same appeal as Christmas cookies. And I’m sure to have a lot more cookies offered to me today.”

  With another “Ho, ho, ho,” he went on his merry way. Leaving me with a half-eaten bag of chestnuts and a sense of foreboding.

  * * *

  Dean and I stamped our feet in an attempt to keep warm. Our instructions were to meet the carolers by the big Christmas tree in the village square. Either we got the time wrong, or the other seven people who volunteered for this gig bailed.

  “How long should we wait?” Dean asked.

  “I have no idea. And I’m freezing.”

  Dean shivered. “I know it’s only six thirty. But it gets dark so early, it feels much later.”

  “Is that your mom?” I waved at a group of people leaving an art gallery a few stores down from where we stood. “Suzanne!”

  She said something to her friends.
They waited as she came over to us.

  “Mom, for the love of Monet, please don’t buy me a painting from the Ashley Art Gallery again. I hate everything in there. Even the font on their sign.”

  “You’re so difficult to shop for. What choice have you left me? Unless you want me to buy you food again.”

  “No food!” He turned to me. “Last year, Mom ordered a gift box from Gilroy, California, garlic capital of the world. A crate packed with garlic-saturated food products. Parts of my apartment still smell like the kitchen at Olive Garden.”

  “Then be grateful for the art I buy. And aren’t the two of you supposed to be caroling?”

  “We may have been stood up. But I did want to let you know that I’ve learned my lines.” I smiled. “All of them.”

  She clasped her hands in a dramatic gesture and looked up at the heavens. “It’s a true Christmas miracle!”

  “Very funny. I also wanted to ask if anyone will be at the theater tonight. There’s something I forgot in my dressing room.”

  “Nice try, Marlee. But no.” She smirked. “You are not getting your hands on that costume. You intend to ruin it in your washing machine. Not going to happen on my watch.”

  “C’mon. It will be fine. I’ll run it on the gentle cycle.”

  “Forget it.” Wheeling around—not easy to do on our slippery sidewalks—Suzanne returned to her friends.

  “Smooth, Marlee. So smooth.” Dean shook his head.

  “It was worth a try.” I pulled off my gloves. “Let me text Piper to see where everyone is.”

  After a moment, he asked, “What does Her Majesty say?”

  “She changed the meeting place. Everyone is waiting for us beneath the clock at city hall.”

  “A little advance word would have been nice. What’s the reason for the change?”

  “She decided the tree was too unstable.” We looked over our shoulders at Oriole Point’s giant Christmas tree. It towered over us, swaying in the winter wind. Half the ornaments had blown off or been broken during one of the times it fell. The remaining ornaments were now tied to the branches. I grimaced at the sight of the hopelessly tangled red-and-silver garland. At least most of the LED lights still worked.