Hollyberry Homicide

by Sharon Farrow

  A chorus of cries rose up. Someone screamed. Half the actors hurried to get off the stage, the others stood stunned.

  “A fire?” Suzanne shrieked. “Impossible. I’ll go see.” She started off to the basement.

  I poked her with the crutch, pushing her back. “Don’t be a fool! Get out! And someone call the fire department!”

  Andrew grabbed his mother’s arm. I sent him a grateful smile as he dragged his mother away.

  “Don’t run!” I shouted at the people racing up the aisles. My memory of a similar stampede at the October health fair still haunted me.

  Smoke now found its way backstage. The smell of burning wood was everywhere.

  “Evacuate the building!” I ordered the remaining actors, who seemed frozen in shock.

  The air around us grew hazy with smoke, finally prompting their exit. I hurried after them. Tess waited for me in the theater aisle.

  “How bad is it?” she asked.

  “Bad.” I grabbed my bag from the auditorium seat, then followed her out of the theater.

  By the time we ran out to the front parking lot, flames were visible from the back of the barn. Suzanne and several Green Willow Players wept. Others spoke on their cell phones. All of us stood in the snow and watched in horror.

  The fire department came quickly. In a small town, the alarm goes out not only to the local fire department, but to every volunteer brigade in the county. Within ten minutes, fire trucks had arrived from four different towns.

  Tess and I hugged each other as the drama unfolded. Many others did the same. We all needed to stay close not simply from the trauma, but because we’d left our winter coats in the basement. All the actors shivered in their costumes.

  “What happened down there?” Tess asked.

  I described what I’d found in the boxes. And how I hadn’t noticed the fire at first because I’d been in the bathroom trying to read as much as I could.

  “The first clue was the heat. I started to sweat, which is next to impossible down there.”

  Tess frowned. “I blame those space heaters. And all of them were turned on.”

  I looked at the fiery blaze, recalling how only two nights ago I’d tried to find a way inside the locked theater. As had some other unknown person. “It might have been arson. The space heaters were simply a convenient method.”

  “No way. Who would want to burn the Calico Barn down?” Tess gasped. “It’s the will, isn’t it? Someone doesn’t want anyone to find Everett’s will.”

  “Maybe the person who heard me say I thought I knew where the will was.” Tongues of flame shot through the barn roof. “The same person who followed me to the barn that night. I guess destroying the building seemed an effective way to get rid of it.”

  “Why wait for rehearsal night? Why not do it when the barn is empty?”

  I thought of those space heaters carelessly left on. “Precisely so it doesn’t look like arson. All the doors were open tonight, including the side and back ones. Anyone could have slipped inside during rehearsal.”

  “Will you tell the firefighters this?”

  “They’re trained to look for signs of arson. If it seems suspicious, they’ll know.” I sighed. “And I’ve given the authorities enough unsolicited opinions this week.”

  A firefighter handed Tess and me each a blanket. “You need to keep warm,” he said, then left to give blankets to the others.

  I wrapped the blanket around me. “I hope they pass out boots next. All I’ve got on my feet are flannel bed slippers. And they’re soaked.”

  Theo appeared next to us. “I have extra boots in my car.”

  “What are you doing here?” I asked him.

  “You know I live close by. When I heard the fire trucks, I wanted to see where the fire was. In case it started to come my way.” Theo shook his head at the flames, smoke, and fire hoses shooting water into the snow-filled air. “Is the barn going to burn down?”

  Tess frowned. “Probably.”

  I shivered again.

  “I’ll bring you those boots.” Theo went off to where he’d parked his car.

  “The kid brother I never had,” I said with affection. “Even if he is older than me.”

  Tess swore under her breath. “I left my purse in the basement. I’ve got no wallet or phone. Or car keys.”

  I patted my cross-body bag, which I had the foresight to take as we hurried out of the auditorium. “I’ll drive you home.”

  “Better if I call David on your phone and have him pick me up. If he hears the Calico Barn is on fire, he’ll be terrified.”

  After I handed the phone to her, I walked over to an inconsolable Suzanne. Andrew held her. He looked as upset as his mother.

  “Do you believe this?” he said in a shaky voice.

  “At least you can’t say you missed all the excitement this time.”

  He frowned. “It’s not all it’s cracked up to be.”

  “Suzanne, why didn’t the smoke alarms go off downstairs?” I asked.

  “We may have forgotten to replace the batteries.” Her breast heaved with sobs. “And we never got around to repairing the sprinkler system upstairs. I can’t keep track of everything!”

  This sounded bad for the theater group, which owned the barn. No insurance company would pay for damages in a case of such negligence.

  “Those terrible space heaters are to blame,” she cried. “But Everett insisted we keep them down there to heat the basement. Now look what he’s done.”

  Andrew shook his head. “When all else fails, blame a dead man.”

  “This is the end of our production.” Suzanne sobbed. “Even if we don’t lose the entire barn, it’s in no shape for a performance tomorrow night. And we worked so hard to make it the best Christmas Carol ever! Instead, we’ve had one terrible thing happen after the other.”

  “I guess this literally lends fuel to the fire about the play being cursed this year,” I said as smoke billowed into the night sky.

  Suzanne blew her nose. “Do you really believe the play was cursed?”

  I gestured at the burning barn with the crutch I still held. “Ya think?”

  “Look on the bright side, Mom,” Andrew said. “This is one Christmas Carol production no one will forget. And we never even made it to opening night.”

  Chapter Twenty-three

  My drive to work the next morning felt like a journey through the forest in Frozen, but without Elsa singing “Let It Go” beside me. The storm had stopped, leaving a world covered with another foot of snow. Quite beautiful, actually. Although close attention had to be paid to the hazardous conditions following such a heavy snowfall.

  The storm system was now hitting the other side of the state, delaying Kit’s return. A regretful Kit called to say he planned to get on the road early tomorrow. I reassured him that his safety and that of his parents came first. I also worried about my parents’ drive up from Chicago tomorrow. The forecast warned of gale-force winds, which meant blowing snow on the freeways. I’d be anxious until my parents and Kit finally arrived.

  Until then, I had lots to do. Gillian and I were working at The Berry Basket today, though I doubted we’d have many customers. Or any customers. That was fine. It gave me the opportunity to bake my parents’ favorite Christmas cookies. And I’d be able to dart out during the workday to drop off gifts to those shopkeepers I considered friends.

  I did make a detour to what was left of the Calico Barn. The parking lot was filled with emergency vehicles, including two fire trucks, a state police cruiser, and three sheriff’s department cars.

  Lots of civilians milled about, too. Gillian’s newspaper editor dad, a dozen members of the Green Willow Players, and curious residents. I also couldn’t miss the big hair and dramatic gestures of Suzanne Cabot. I made straight for her, happy to see she was conversing with State Trooper Greg Trejo, who happened to be Kit’s brother-in-law.

  I wasn’t happy to see that little was left of the historic barn, now a heap of b
lackened wood and rubble.

  Suzanne threw her arms around me. “It’s worse than we thought, Marlee. The fire destroyed everything! We’ve lost our beautiful theater!”

  I patted her on the back. “Have you spoken to the insurance company?”

  “Any insurance money will depend on the cause of the fire,” Greg said. “You’d better hope the fire department doesn’t find evidence of negligence or arson.”

  This caused Suzanne to clutch me harder.

  “Is there evidence of either?” I asked him.

  “Those space heaters are a red flag. I don’t know who approved that many heaters in such a small space, but someone will be called to account. And it won’t be pleasant.”

  Suzanne sobbed. I shook my head at Greg, who lacked Kit’s people skills. It had taken me a while to discover the nice guy who existed beneath Greg’s Mr. Spock exterior. And I thought it best to get Suzanne away from him before he made her feel even worse.

  “Three of the actors look upset, Suzanne. Maybe you should reassure them.”

  She tried to get herself under control. “Yes. As director of the current production, it’s my responsibility to keep it together. But there isn’t a production any longer, is there? I can’t believe it. Do you know we lost every set and prop for A Christmas Carol?”

  “I’m so sorry.” I had no intention of telling her that I took Tiny Tim’s crutch home. After it helped to save my life, I viewed the prop as a good-luck charm.

  “At least we still have the costumes. Thank goodness the fire happened during dress rehearsal. And I need you to bring your Jacob Marley costume to my house.” She grabbed my hand. “Marlee, please tell me you still have the costume! You didn’t throw it away! Or wash it!”

  “No. I have it.” When I got home last night, I stuffed the costume and chains in a garbage bag, then tossed the bag onto my front porch. The costume reeked of smoke and I refused to bring it into the house.

  “Bring the costume to me as soon as you can,” she repeated. “Or give it to one of my sons.” She took a deep breath. “As God is my witness, the Green Willow Players will perform A Christmas Carol again.”

  Greg and I exchanged amused glances as she walked away. “That was her best Scarlett O’Hara,” I told him. “All she needs is a fan and hoopskirt.”

  “Speaking of costumes, what are you wearing?” Greg shook his head. “You look like a character in an old movie.”

  “It’s one of Natasha’s fur coats. I think this one is raccoon. I’m mortified because I don’t believe in fur. But my only winter parka went up in flames last night.”

  He smiled. “Kit was still buying gifts for you when I spoke to him last week. I may text him and suggest he add ‘coat’ to the list.”

  “I won’t stop you.” I spotted Officer Davenport and Chief Hitchcock in the crowd. “Greg, I need a favor. A law enforcement kind of favor.”

  His customary wary expression returned. “What sort of favor?”

  “Among the remains of that barn are three metal boxes. They each contain evidence of wrongdoing by several people close to the recently deceased Everett Hostetter. Three people now trying to find his will.” I lowered my voice. “Everett may have been murdered last week so someone could get their hands on his money. And two nights ago, Everett’s attorney, the only other person who knew what the will said, conveniently died.”

  “Why were boxes of evidence kept in a theater?”

  I explained about Everett, the play, his dressing room, and Gareth’s drunken ramblings. I even mentioned the dead squirrel, but unlike the Oriole police, Greg grew even more serious.

  “Have you told Kit about this?”

  I nodded. “He knew a lot before he left for Detroit. And this morning, I let him know about the fire and what the boxes contained. But I have no idea if those metal boxes were fireproof. If I could hunt around in the rubble—”

  “Absolutely not. Only the fire department and arson division are allowed past the yellow barrier tape.”

  “Does that include the Oriole Point police? Because I don’t trust Janelle.”

  “The town police department is too small. They don’t have an arson specialist. But the sheriff’s department does.” He nodded toward a man and a woman wearing sheriff department jackets, who spoke with a firefighter. “That’s why Officers Pollard and Sykes are here. They’ll be investigating this fire.”

  “Could you talk to them about this? Ask them to search for the boxes?”

  He nodded. “Will do. None of us like the look of this fire.”

  “Last night, the firefighters spoke to everyone who was in the theater. Since I was the only one in the basement when the fire started, they questioned me for quite a while. I don’t know how much help I was. When I came out of the bathroom, I saw nothing but smoke and flames.”

  “Most of the firefighters have already pegged this as arson. Only don’t say anything until the department makes it public.”

  “I appreciate that you’re willing to help me. I’m baking cookies today, and I’ll put together a big box for your family. Not you, of course. I know you think cookies are unhealthy.”

  “No need to bribe me to do the right thing,” he said gruffly, then flashed a grin. “But my wife and kids do love cookies. Now let me take Pollard and Sykes aside to explain all this.”

  I watched as Greg and the two arson specialists walked past the yellow tape to inspect the destroyed barn. Fingers crossed, they’d find the boxes. I prayed they didn’t do it when Janelle was around.

  With a last look at the charred site, I turned to go. As much as I hated to admit it, the fur coat was incredibly warm. I ran a hand over my furry sleeve. If only faux fur felt this wonderful.

  Trying to avoid slippery patches, I kept my eyes on the ground as I made my way back to the van. With my head down, I didn’t see Anthony Thorne until I was almost upon him.

  “Returning to the scene of the crime?” he asked with a humorless smile.

  I took a step back. “What does that mean?”

  “I heard you replaced my uncle in the play. That means you were here last night when the barn burned down. The day before opening night is always dress rehearsal.”

  “You know an awful lot about the schedule of A Christmas Carol.”

  He rolled his eyes. “I lived through nine years of the old man’s obsession with that play. You’re damn right I know the actors’ schedule.”

  “Then you’re probably happy the barn burned down.”

  “That I am. With Uncle Everett dead, my future attendance is no longer required here.”

  “Why are you here now?”

  “Why are you?”

  I gave him an exasperated look. “I asked you first.”

  “For starters, I wanted to make certain the theater was really gone. My uncle spent too much time and money on this ridiculous amateur troupe. Particularly that tiresome play.”

  “It might have been his way of showing the Christmas spirit.”

  Anthony snorted. “What did my uncle know of Christmas? He never gave a single person a gift for Christmas. Not even his own sister. He thought gifts were a waste of money. And his company Christmas bonuses were meager at best. I don’t know why he didn’t play Scrooge.”

  “And you’re the soul of Christmas cheer?” I tried not to laugh.

  “Yeah. Or at least I was. When I had money, I spread it around. Easy come, easy go. I once chartered a yacht in the Mediterranean and took two dozen employees for a Christmas party. I knew how to have a good time. Made sure my friends had a good time, too.”

  “Not all your friends were so lucky.”

  “Guess you’ve googled me. And talked to that gossipy excuse for a lawyer.”

  “Also now deceased.”

  He smiled. “Yes. Two things I can check off my Christmas list.”

  “You hated them that much?”

  “Hate is a strong word. How about disgust? Or weariness?”

  I gave him a searching look. “Weary
of being on your best behavior?”

  “Something I’d suggest you try to do. Because my behavior is none of your business.”

  “When I asked why you were here, you began by saying ‘for starters.’ Why else did you come here this morning?”

  He stared at what was left of the Calico Barn. “To make certain this is really over. I don’t like loose ends. They’re messy.”

  I waved in the direction of last night’s fire. “So this was a loose end?”

  “Yes, it was.” A note of relief was evident in his voice. “But not anymore.”

  Anthony walked on, making his way to where Janelle and Hitchcock stood talking. I wondered how much Anthony wanted to tie up loose ends. And if he’d been willing to burn the barn to the ground to do it.

  * * *

  “Exactly how many cookies do you expect your parents to eat?” Gillian asked as I pulled my ninth cookie sheet from the shop kitchen oven.

  “Some of these I’ll put in tins and bring to neighbors and friends.” I inhaled the aroma of this latest batch, the delicious smell of chocolate chips wafting over me. “Another dozen and I’ll be done.”

  Gillian leaned against the sink. “Good thing it’s been slow. Only two customers.”

  “And no sales. I’ll close early. Why stay open if no one is shopping? In fact, you can go now. But I’ll pay you for the whole day.” I shot her a grin. “After all, it’s Christmas.”

  “Thanks, boss.” She untied her Berry Basket apron.

  “My accountant does payroll tonight. So all electronic paychecks will be deposited tomorrow.” I didn’t add that I had included a hefty bonus for my employees. The Berry Basket had enjoyed a profitable year, and Gillian, Dean, Andrew, and Theo were a big part of that success. “Don’t forget that I’m taking all my Berry Basket people out for a big holiday brunch next week. Theo should be back by then.”

  ” I hope he made it to the train station okay. The only Amtrak train to Chicago leaves before dawn, and the roads were probably a mess.”

  “I’ll text him later to see how he’s doing.” Using a nonstick spatula, I placed the warm cookies on cooling racks.

  By the time, Gillian put on her coat, scarf, gloves, and boots, I had the final tray of cookies in the oven. Despite the lack of customers, I had enjoyed a productive day. I deserved the six cookies I’d already eaten.