Hollyberry Homicide

by Sharon Farrow

  “Don’t forget your present,” I said. “It’s the big one wrapped in blue with a silver bow. Only don’t open it until Christmas.”

  “Thanks! And this is your Christmas present.” She handed me a thin box in glittery silver paper. From the shape, I’d guess it was jewelry. Gillian knew I had a weakness for bracelets. “As for your birthday present, I’ll stop by your house tomorrow and deliver it myself. How else can I sing ‘Happy Birthday’ to you?”

  “Exactly.” I gave her a big hug. She held on to me longer than I expected.

  When we finally separated, she said, “To be honest, I already got my Christmas gift from you. You’re out of that play. I’m so relieved.”

  I chuckled. “I hope you didn’t have a hand in burning the theater down.”

  “No. But it might have been an option if it hadn’t. I told you the barn was unlucky.”

  After she left, I admitted to feeling relieved, too. Sometimes, bad luck hovered about certain people or places. This year’s production of A Christmas Carol had seen far too much bad luck to dismiss it as coincidence.

  I heard the back door to the kitchen open. “Did you forget something, Gillian?”

  “It’s not Gillian.”

  “Theo! What are you doing here?”

  “I missed my train.” He looked quite woebegone. “The trucks didn’t plow my street this morning and I got stuck in the snow. It took me an hour to dig out and drive to Holland. Only it was too late. The train had left.”

  “What bad luck, Theo. Did you let your dad know?”

  Theo nodded. “He bought me another ticket online. One I can use tomorrow. But it was my mistake. I should have gotten up earlier. What if I miss the train again tomorrow?”

  “I’m sure lots of people missed their train in this weather. And your dad only has to drive to the Champaign /Urbana station to pick you up. No big deal.”

  “It was my mistake,” he repeated. “I can’t miss another train. I have my suitcase in the car, so I can spend the night in the station. I’ll sleep on one of the benches.”

  I knew he was serious. Only there was no way I’d let him spend the night twenty miles away in a train station. “I have a better idea. Sleep over at my house. There are plenty of bedrooms. And I promise to drive you in plenty of time to catch the Pere Marquette train. We’ll leave super early.”

  A huge grin creased his face. “Really? You’ll make sure I get there on time?”

  “Scouts honor.” While I didn’t relish the idea of getting up before dawn, I would not have been able to sleep knowing Theo sat shivering in the train station alone. “Natasha is at my house making dinner again. Something complicated and Russian. She’d love your help in the kitchen.”

  “I’d like that.” Theo found Natasha confusing, funny, and fascinating. I suspect she felt the same way about him. The two got on remarkably well.

  Theo looked at all the fresh-baked cookies. “You’re baking. Do you want me to help?”

  “Thanks, but I’m almost done. When the cookies cool, I’ll box them and head on home.” I gave him a gentle push toward the back door. “But you drive over there now. If you ask nicely, Natasha will put aside the electric kettle and make Russian tea in her samovar for you.”

  “The tea that has strawberry jam in it?”

  “The very one.”

  No need to add another incentive. Theo was out the door in a flash, his boots leaving a trail of slush. Smiling at the prospect of another houseguest, I mopped up the floor. I had no sooner finished when the bells above my shop door tinkled. What do you know? An actual customer.

  Except it wasn’t a customer who waited in my shop.

  “Katrina. I didn’t expect to see you here today.”

  “Because of the weather, or because of the suspicious feelings now existing between us?”

  “Both. You certainly weren’t happy with me on Sunday.”

  “Yes. Being accused of giving Gareth poison chestnuts was insulting.” She fixed her unblinking gaze on me. “And untrue.”

  “Since you sampled the chestnut, I do concede the cause of death lay somewhere else.”

  “I hope you allow the police to handle it from here.”

  I shrugged. “Depends on the police officer. I’d prefer Janelle Davenport stay out of it.”

  Today her dark hair was swept back into a tight ballerina bun, showcasing that elegant long neck. Somehow it made her seem more formidable. “You don’t trust Janelle?”

  “No. And I don’t like her.”

  “My guides say she is to be pitied. Janelle wraps herself in bitterness as if it were a protective cloak. She cannot break free of the past. It has left her sour and unhappy. Hostile.”

  “Gareth said Janelle was a dishonest cop back in Wisconsin. And that Everett managed to get Internal Affairs to drop their investigation. Maybe some of that pity your spirit guides recommend should be extended to people she falsely accused and stole from.”

  “Justice is not their concern. Nor is it mine. But Everett didn’t agree. He thought redemption was possible for everyone. Even Janelle.”

  “And Anthony? He seems to have led a pretty libertine life. One marked by self-indulgence and financial ruin. Capped off by the betrayal and death of his friend.”

  “Anthony is an immature soul interested only in self-preservation. He is incapable of feeling guilt. That is his tragedy.”

  “And what is yours? Perhaps you feel too much guilt. At least where Everett’s sister is concerned.”

  She forced me to endure another of her Medusa stares. “I see Gareth has told you everything, Or as much as he knew. Because no one knows the whole story, except me.”

  I sat down at a bistro table, trying to appear casual in what felt like a tense situation. “I believe your psychic gifts are real, Katrina. The things you passed on from my grandmother were only known by her and me. However, that doesn’t mean you’re always accurate. Or even honest about your readings. At least not if money is involved.”

  She looked away. It felt as if a laser beam had shifted to the side. I also felt a blinding headache coming on.

  “My gifts are a tool.” She shrugged. “I won’t pretend I haven’t used them for my own advantage. When I was younger, I often manipulated clients for gain. Why not? They could afford it. But it wasn’t until Sarah that I corrupted my gifts. Betrayed them.”

  “Everett wanted you to persuade Sarah to sign over her company shares to him, didn’t he? No doubt in exchange for a payout. That’s why he married you. Being his wife gave you an entrée into her home. A woman who had become a recluse.”

  “Sarah didn’t have much family left. Only a worthless son and Everett. As Everett’s wife, I was able to get her to trust me.”

  “Only I’m guessing your spirit guides did not think it wise for Sarah to hand over those shares to her brother. So you pretended they did. And she believed you.”

  Katrina rubbed her arms, as though she felt a sudden chill. “Greed is a terrible thing. It makes you dishonest and cruel. A shameful abuse of my gifts.”

  “But why did Sarah die? Gareth said you and Everett scared her to death.”

  “Insidious man. I’m glad he’s dead. He made every situation worse.”

  “That doesn’t answer my question.”

  She walked over, her high-heel boots making sharp clicks on the wooden floor. Although she wasn’t tall, I felt intimidated when she stood over me.

  “I simply passed on messages from the dead. Yes, the ones about those company shares were false. However, I did relay messages from her deceased husband that were true. Dr. Thorne wanted to let Sarah know she was about to join him soon. That her time was nearly up. She seemed by turns frightened and relieved. Whatever she actually felt, those messages had too great an effect on her. And she suddenly died.”

  “Mind over matter,” I murmured, thinking of the victims of voodoo, who sickened as soon as they heard a curse had been put on them.

  “Her death lay heavy on Everett
’s conscience. And mine.” Katrina gave a great sigh. “Until then, I never let clients know they were about to die. It seemed pointless. Sarah’s death is a result of my great error in doing so with her. If I hadn’t gotten involved with Everett and his scheme, Sarah might still be alive.”

  “Since you and Everett were both guilty—”

  “Everett far more than me,” Katrina snapped. “I didn’t know he had already convinced her to disinherit her only child. Everett was a master of manipulation. Ruthless and without feeling. And the Hostetter wealth blinded me for a time. But I haven’t lied to a client since.”

  “How kind of you.” I stood up and she took a step back. Enough with her spooky intimidations. “I hope you’ve been honest with Natasha. I’ll be quite angry if I discover you’ve deceived her in any way.”

  “I told you that I haven’t lied to a client since Sarah. It has taken a long time for my spirit guides to trust me again. I cannot breach that trust. Or my gifts might be taken from me.”

  Whether that was true or not, Katrina seemed to believe it. “Do you or your spirits know why Gareth died?”

  “That’s easy. Gareth’s downfall was his arrogance. And look where it got him.”

  “Killed by a Christmas tree?”

  She ignored my sardonic smile. “No longer able to wield the power left him by Everett. I warned him. I saw darkness gathering around him, as vividly as a thunderstorm on the horizon. But he wouldn’t listen to me. Wouldn’t do the rational thing and simply make the will public.”

  “Why do you even care? It’s likely the money has been left to his daughter or his nephew. Maybe both of them. Why do you think you’re one of the beneficiaries? Yes, you were his wife. For all of five minutes. It doesn’t make sense.”

  “Because Everett made a promise to all three of us. Come to Oriole Point where he could keep a watchful eye on Anthony, Janelle, and me. Make certain we didn’t do anything dishonest or criminal.” Her voice grew bitter. “Being lumped in with Janelle and Anthony has been hard to stomach. My misbehavior doesn’t begin to compare to theirs.”

  “You did help kill his sister.”

  “Stop saying that! You sound like Gareth. And how long do I have to atone for my sins? That’s all very well for Everett. He devoted his life to avarice. It was only right that he try to make amends. But not through us! We’ve been kept captive here for nine years, all on the hope that when he died the Hostetter fortune would pass on to one of us.”

  “Only one?”

  She nodded. “Whoever he judged to have made the most honest life for themselves would inherit. Now he’s dead. And we need the will. That is why I’m here.”

  “I don’t have it.”

  Katrina gave me another of those spooky looks that scared Theo so much. “But it’s close to you. My guides tell me that you know where it is.”

  “Your guides are lying to you.”

  “They never lie.” She put her hands on my shoulders. “Also I don’t need spirits to read a person. I sense energy. And Everett’s energy is somehow connected to you.”

  I banished the image of those metal boxes in case she could read minds. “I did replace him as Jacob Marley. You’re probably picking up on that.”

  Katrina closed her eyes. “No. More than that. You have the will.”

  Irritated, I pulled out of her grasp. “If I do find it, I’ll let everyone know.”

  “You may not be able to. Death is coming for you. Fast. As it did for Gareth.”

  I refused to show how this upset me. “I thought you didn’t lie to clients any longer. Or tell them death was imminent.”

  “I’ve made an exception in your case, in hopes of preventing another tragedy.” She frowned. “I can see you don’t believe me. That shows you’re as arrogant as Gareth was.”

  The image of Gareth’s dead body in the village square flashed in my head. “If you’re so all-seeing, how come you don’t know? Ask your spirits to tell you the location of the will.”

  She looked at me as if I were stupid. “Don’t confuse me with a carnival act. I only pass on messages given to me. I can demand nothing from the spirits. But I am sensitive to the constant flow of energy around us. And I see a connection between Everett’s energy and yours.”

  “I think the only connection was that odiferous costume we both wore.”

  Katrina didn’t find this amusing. “Two people are dead, Marlee. All because of the will. Do not tell me again that you don’t hold the answer. You may not know where the will is, but you will soon.” She paused. “When you do, death will have its hand on your shoulder.”

  Without waiting for an answer, Katrina swept out of the shop like an elegant soothsayer.

  “Merry Christmas to you, too,” I muttered.

  Only Christmas now seemed less merry with my death around the corner. I also couldn’t figure out where the will was. Possibly in that third metal box I never had the chance to unlock. If so, the will was either a pile of ash, or in the possession of the sheriff’s arson department.

  And if Katrina saw death in my near future, I couldn’t dismiss it. Especially since she may have predicted her own murderous response if and when I found it.

  Whatever psychic sense I possessed told me that I was in serious trouble.

  Chapter Twenty-four

  After Katrina’s unwelcome visit, I had a hard time feeling festive. Since I planned to drop off gifts to shopkeeper friends, I made an extra effort to spread Christmas cheer. Apparently, it worked. Everyone remarked on how jolly I seemed. That gave me a sinking feeling. Gareth was remarkably jolly right before his death.

  I had just delivered a set of blueberry jams to Mia at Popping Fun—receiving a box of popcorn balls in return—when I saw Officer Davenport. If the sidewalk hadn’t been icy, I might have fled in the opposite direction.

  “Are you replacing Gareth as Santa?” Janelle eyed the cloth bag of gifts I held and the Santa cap on my head. “Although I don’t think Santa wore raccoon coats. Reindeer coats, maybe. Not raccoon.”

  “I’m dropping off Christmas gifts to friends.”

  “Any for me?”

  I couldn’t resist. “I said ‘friends.’ ”

  “Yeah, I feel the same way. Even so I have a gift for you.”

  Her expression made me suspicious. “What do you mean?”

  “Chief Hitchcock contacted Public Safety today to order a rush on the lab tests.”

  “The ones for those cookie fragments that killed the squirrel?”

  She rolled her eyes. “Yes, the squirrel homicide investigation is underway.”

  “Why now? I gave him the cookies three days ago.”

  Janelle adjusted her police cap. “It seems Gareth Holmes was not killed by Piper’s Christmas tree.”

  “Did something turn up in the autopsy? Was he poisoned? Maybe a deliberate blow to the back of his head? Were there markings on the body indicative of foul play?”

  “Do you also want to know if someone shot him with an arrow?”

  “That’s not funny.” Indeed, an innocent man had been murdered with a bow and arrow this past October. Janelle’s mocking reference set my teeth on edge. “But I’m relieved Chief Hitchcock took my concerns about Gareth’s death seriously.”

  “Oh, it had nothing to do with your theories. Two witnesses reported that before the tree fell, they saw Santa sitting alone on the park bench behind it. He was slumped forward, leading them to believe he was asleep.”

  “That’s what Everett looked like when I found him on the bench in the museum.”

  Janelle nodded. “The chief and I thought this seemed suspicious. Who falls asleep on a park bench during a cold, snowy night? Aside from the homeless.”

  “Then you suspect Gareth was already dead when the tree fell on him?”

  “It makes more sense than Gareth taking a nap in the middle of a snowstorm. His death warrants looking into. The ME sent us the results of his autopsy today.”

  “And?” I suspected Janelle loved
dragging this out.

  “Poison.”

  I gasped. “Then the chestnuts were poisoned. But Katrina ate from the bag. I saw her.”

  “I doubt chestnuts were involved. What we do want to know is how methamphetamine crystals were found in his system.”

  “Crystal meth? Gareth wasn’t a meth addict.”

  She gave me a patronizing look. “Of course not. If he had been a regular user, Gareth might still be alive. He probably ate something containing methamphetamine crystals. If you’ve never used the drug before, that amount can kill. In this case, Gareth suffered a sudden heart attack. He wasn’t in great physical shape to start with. His death probably came quickly.”

  That meant Gareth must have been dead when Dean and I were waiting on the other side of the Christmas tree. Both of us unaware a man had been murdered only a few yards away.

  “Does the autopsy show what he consumed that night besides the drug?”

  “Old Gareth seems to have consumed about ten thousand calories during the Hollyberry Festival. You name it, he ate it. Somewhere during his food binge, a little poison got slipped in.”

  I thought a moment. “We just had that triple homicide in the county. And it involved a meth ring. Is there any way Gareth might have been involved with that?”

  Janelle laughed so hard, she choked. “You never disappoint, Marlee. If there’s a crackpot theory to spread, you’ll be the first to do so.”

  “I’m serious. Because Gareth and crystal meth don’t add up.”

  “The county is filled with meth heads. Anyone can get their hands on the drug.” She wiped tears of laughter from her eyes. “Or maybe you’ve forgotten that your pretty ex-boyfriend was hooked on the drug back in high school.”

  I glared at her. “Should we blame Ryan for Gareth’s murder then?”

  “We don’t have anyone to blame for Gareth’s death. Not yet.”

  “A motive might be a good place to start.”

  “Thanks. We hadn’t thought of that.” She continued to chuckle.

  “I can think of an excellent motive: Everett’s will. The sooner it’s found, the sooner you, Anthony, and Katrina learn which of you has inherited a fortune.”