Hollyberry Homicide

by Sharon Farrow

  “I guess that puts me on the list of suspects. Fair enough. But as you like to remind me, Everett Hostetter was my father. And I know he felt guilty about abandoning my mother. Because of that, I’m certain he finally did the right thing and left everything to me.”

  “And what if the will is never found?”

  She shrugged. “A court of law would view me as his closest living relative. It might take a while to contest any legal challenges Anthony will launch. Eventually I’d win. So why bother to knock off Gareth? Aside from the fact that he was an irritating blowhard.”

  “Because he did know who inherited. And Katrina thinks it might be her.”

  “Katrina lives in her own creepy world. God knows what rattles around in that strange brain of hers, other than ghosts and money.” Janelle’s smile turned sly. “Katrina and I had breakfast this morning. She believes you have the will. Her spirit guides have told her so.”

  “She told me the same thing. Sorry, I don’t have the will.”

  “Katrina’s spirits have a good track record. They’re never wrong.” Janelle turned up her jacket collar as the wind increased. “She’s told me stuff she couldn’t possibly know. To be honest, that weirdo scares me. And Anthony believes in her spirits as much as Everett did. If he thinks you have the will, he’ll act on it. So if I were you, I’d start looking.”

  “Now I have to worry about Anthony as well?”

  “We all worry about Anthony. He’s a cunning pig. And he doesn’t like you.” Janelle seemed amused by this. “He refers to you as a loose end. And he likes everything all tied up.”

  I shot her an irritated look. “So do I.”

  “Then find that will. Everyone is getting impatient.” She laughed again. “According to Katrina, your time is running out.”

  This time I did turn around and flee the other way. A pity I couldn’t speak with spirits. If I could, I’d ask Gareth who killed him. And what I should do next.

  * * *

  I refused to allow murder to spoil Christmas any more than it already had. When I returned home, the animals gave me a joyous welcome, which made me feel better. Dasha brought me her favorite rubber toy, while Panther raced about the living room. I put Minnie on my shoulder where she crooned her version of “Deck the Halls.” In between verses, she tried to unravel the wool on my sweater. And the house smelled delicious.

  This was due to Theo and Natasha’s dinner preparations. I happily pitched in.

  “I never knew you liked to cook,” I said. “Or that you were so good at it.”

  “All Rostova women cook.” Natasha pointed her knife at a pile of faded handwritten recipe cards. “These are recipes of my prababushka. She cook big dinner in Moscow for Stalin.”

  “I don’t know if I’d brag about that.”

  “Is good I brag. Stalin kill many people, but he let my babushka live. All because she make best borscht and golubtsy politburo members ever eat. You taste tonight.”

  Assuming the meal was ever completed. Every pot, pan, and cooking utensil lay scattered about my kitchen. However, the aroma was mouthwatering.

  Theo looked up from a boiling pot. “She has tiny fish eggs for us, too.”

  “You bought caviar?”

  Natasha smiled. “Is gift from Alexei. We eat every night I have dinner with him.”

  “Does that include tonight?” The Russian architect seemed to have swept Natasha off her feet. If this became serious, I needed to vet him.

  “Nyet. He has business dinner in Grand Rapids. Alexei is to build most fancy hotel. Tallest one in city.”

  “Pozdravlyayu to him.”

  “You speak Russian, too, Marlee?” Theo looked impressed.

  “I teach.” Natasha replied. “I am best teacher of Russian. And you can say pozdravlyayu to Alexei tomorrow. I invite here for Christmas Eve.”

  “How nice. I want to meet him.” I quickly counted everyone expected for Christmas Eve dinner. I might need to run to the market tomorrow and buy another turkey.

  Natasha swiftly chopped celery. “There is crutch in living room by fireplace. Does someone come for Christmas who has broken leg?”

  I laughed. “The crutch is a prop from A Christmas Carol. It belongs to Tiny Tim.”

  “I like Tiny Tim,” Theo piped up.

  “Everyone does. And I used his crutch to help me escape from the fire at the barn. It helped save my life, so I’m keeping it. Before I left for work this morning, I put together that display devoted to Tiny Tim and A Christmas Carol. I love it.”

  The new Tiny Tim corner in the living room filled the last empty space I had in there. In addition to the crutch leaning against the short wooden stool, I’d placed an old-fashioned winter cap, a fake holly wreath, and my personal copy of A Christmas Carol. A pity I wasn’t able to save the first edition that went up in flames last night.

  “Katrina not tell me you will be in danger from fire,” Natasha said. “She knows you are my friend. Why did she not pass on messages from spirits so I can warn you?”

  “I wouldn’t mind an answer to that as well.”

  “I am not happy with Katrina. First, she give me messages from cousin I hate. Now she not help me to keep you safe. For Christmas I give her something cheap.”

  “That will show her.” I smiled. “And the only Christmas gift I care about is having my parents and Kit here. With luck, Kit will be back tomorrow.”

  “Because I won’t be here for Christmas, I’ll give you my gift tonight, Marlee,” Theo said.

  “We eat dinner before,” Natasha ordered. “Then I have new obraztsy kraski to show. I change color of Peacock lobby. I need help to decide.”

  Theo looked bewildered.

  “Don’t worry,” I told him. “And we have blinis and borscht to look forward to.”

  Three hours later, we finished dinner and came to a consensus on sea-ice blue for the lobby. Theo and I also exchanged gifts. He was thrilled with the three birdhouses I special-ordered for him.

  But Theo’s gift to me brought tears to my eyes: a heavy coffee-table book devoted to Charles Dickens’s Christmas Carol. It included an annotated version, photos of numerous film and theater productions, and illustrations from dozens of incarnations of the classic story. Including the 1843 originals by John Leech.

  I leafed through the pages. “This is wonderful! I can’t think of a better gift. I am so touched, Theo. Thank you.”

  He looked pleased to have chosen so well. “As soon as you told me about being in the play, I ordered it on Amazon. Now you can put it in your Tiny Tim corner.”

  “Indeed, I will.” I smiled. “First, I am going to give you such a hug.”

  As lovely as the dinner and gifts were, the festivities drew to a close soon after. Theo, who had been up since before dawn, headed off to the third-floor guest room. That I expected. As a baker, Theo was an early riser. But night-owl Natasha surprised me with her plans to soak in a bubble bath, then go to bed. I guessed Alexei had seen to it that she had gotten little sleep lately.

  Since the past week had been draining, I welcomed some alone time before the holiday parties and family gatherings commenced. But once Theo and Natasha retreated upstairs, I discovered I was too agitated to read or watch TV.

  A shame, too. It was quiet; a rare occurrence. Minnie had been retired to her sleep cage upstairs. Dasha was with her mistress. Even Panther had zoned out, curled up beneath her favorite white Christmas tree.

  That left me to wander about the living room. Now that the police had proof Gareth did not die from natural causes, I had no doubt poison led to Everett’s death. But I’d assumed that from the beginning.

  The killer must be one of the unholy three. But which one? And where was that stupid will? It had to be in one of the metal boxes in Everett’s dressing room. Yet, Katrina and her spirit guides were positive I possessed the will. I knew it wasn’t true, yet I couldn’t shake the feeling she was right.

  I understood how she frightened clients and manipulated them. Was tha
t what she was doing now? Trying to get me to admit that I had the will? I felt as if her spirits were haunting me.

  “Like in A Christmas Carol,” I said aloud.

  I stopped in front of the gas fireplace and stared at the flames. Actually, the unholy trio were the ghosts. Their harmful deeds haunted Everett, reminding him that he helped to make them the people they were.

  “Janelle is the Ghost of Christmas Past,” I said to Panther, who peeked out at me from beneath the white tree. “A past in which he fathered a child, then walked away. And she never escaped from that past. It turned her into a suspicious, unethical woman.”

  Panther let out a plaintive meow.

  “Anthony lived with Everett in the present day, directly under his thumb and supervision. He’s the Ghost of Christmas Present. But on steroids. A man who cared only for his own pleasure. Even if a friend had to suffer and die. And Everett convinced Katrina to lie about her spirits in order to take advantage of his sister. Unfortunately, when she relayed a message that was actually true, it led to the woman’s death.”

  Maybe I had listened to A Christmas Carol too many times. But Katrina could be nothing other than the Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come. A forbidding figure who passed on predictions of death and doom. And she warned that my death was imminent.

  Despite my proximity to the fire, I shivered. If only I did have that will. I’d give it to them as fast as I could and let the three of them fight over it.

  The strong winds whistled against my house. The walls creaked like a galleon on the high seas. I thought of the black garbage bag on my porch containing the Jacob Marley costume and the chain. I didn’t want the bags to be swept off into the snow because I needed the chain. If the metal boxes had survived the fire, the keys would open them again.

  I put on Natasha’s raccoon coat and went out to the porch. As bitterly cold winds whistled about me, I fished the chain out of the garbage bag and hurried back into the house.

  Once inside, I turned my home security system on, reassured by the green light. My house had been broken into this past autumn. Piper felt partly to blame, which induced her to install an alarm system. I rarely used it, but tonight I welcomed this extra security blanket. Especially with Katrina’s prediction of my death.

  The chain was long and noisy, drawing Panther’s attention. He kept pouncing on the chain as I dragged it behind me. It must have seemed like a giant toy, one filled with keys, padlocks, and steel boxes. I sat in front of the fire and dangled parts of the chain for Panther to bat at with his paws.

  The kitten especially loved the cash boxes. I held up part of the chain, swinging it back and forth for his amusement. Because it was so quiet, I heard a swishing noise. I swung the small box harder. Then shook it. Something was inside.

  My heart pounded. It had to be the will. Only I dreaded the discovery. Because that meant Katrina had correctly seen the future. A future that held my death. However, if I was going to die over this will, I intended to satisfy my curiosity.

  The box was locked. But it had a tiny keyhole, making it easy to find the tiniest key on the chain. I inserted the key and slowly opened it. A small square of paper lay inside.

  When I lifted it out, I realized the square was comprised of three sheets of legal paper, as meticulously folded as origami. I carefully smoothed out the pages on the floor, firelight illuminating the text. I read all three pages, accompanied by the sounds of the crackling fire and Panther playing with the chain.

  When I was done, I looked up. But I wasn’t seeing the fire before me. Instead, I saw the disappointed and outraged faces of Janelle, Anthony, and Katrina.

  Because none of them were left a thing in the will.

  Chapter Twenty-five

  Something woke me up. I stared into the darkness and listened.

  It wasn’t my cat. Panther slept beside my pillow. I heard only the gale winds beat against the house. The noise probably came from my carriage clock downstairs, which chimed the hour. Sometimes it did wake me up. Since it was now silent, I guessed it had chimed once to announce it was 1:00 a.m. Natasha hated the chimes and had threatened to remove the clock battery. I wished now that she had.

  With a sigh, I turned on my side, hoping to fall back to sleep. After texting Kit to let him know about the will, I’d fallen exhausted into bed. Now that I was awake, my thoughts swirled around the three who expected to be named in Everett’s will. Indeed, I wondered if one of them guessed what Everett had done and killed him out of anger.

  If so, who? I was there when both Anthony and Janelle learned Everett was dead. Anthony seemed stunned, as though he didn’t quite understand why his uncle sat lifeless before him. Janelle had been so startled by the news, she spit out her coffee. I didn’t think she was a good enough actress to pretend that well. She hadn’t expected to hear her father had died. Even if the revelation did also amuse her.

  If only I’d been a witness to Katrina’s reaction when she learned of her ex-husband’s death. Maybe she already knew. Knowledge she would attribute to her spirit guides, or from having murdered him. Only why would Katrina murder Everett? She had far less reason to expect to be named in the will than his two blood relatives. Unless she knew Janelle and Anthony hadn’t reformed, that both were the same unethical people who’d left wreckage behind in their previous lives.

  According to David’s friend Craig, Anthony’s financial consulting not only cost Craig lots of money, but his credit card information had been stolen. My brief look at the files containing information about Anthony revealed he had been engaging in credit card fraud and identity theft ever since he moved to Oriole Point. As for Janelle, I had no doubt she’d found a way to engage in a little graft during her nine years on our small-town police force.

  And had Katrina turned over a new leaf? Piper recently learned Katrina ended her current boyfriend’s marriage after passing on ghostly revelations about his wife’s financial activities. So Katrina was back to her old tricks. With her sights set on another rich husband.

  Again, I heard something downstairs. Not a clock chime either. I clicked on the bedside lamp, but nothing happened. Trying not to disturb Panther, I rolled to the other side of the bed and tried the matching lamp. That didn’t work either. The howling winds had probably knocked down a nearby power line.

  I got up and peeked out the bedroom window. Tree branches shook in the wind, evergreens leaned to one side. And no light shone from my neighbor’s lamppost. Douglas never turned it off. I craned my neck, but saw only darkness farther down the street. Including from those porch lights I knew were on timers.

  Yep. The neighborhood had lost power. I reached for my cell phone on the bedside table, only to remember I’d left it downstairs in my home office to charge.

  Another noise. Not loud, but in the silent house it seemed to reverberate. Maybe Natasha or Theo had gotten up.

  After closing the bedroom door on Panther, who wanted to follow, I tiptoed into the second-floor hallway. I didn’t need my kitty underfoot until I understood where the noises came from.

  Natasha’s bedroom lay across the hall. I put my ear to the door, but heard nothing. Minnie was safely covered in her sleep cage in the bedroom next to mine. Although she never woke at night, I peeked into the dark room to make sure. Next, I went up to the third floor, where Theo slept in the turret bedroom. His door was shut as well; I heard snoring within.

  Whatever was making the noises, it wasn’t either of my houseguests or the animals. Unless my friendly ghost Mary Cullen had decided to do something aside from clanging pots. But I feared this had nothing to do with ghosts.

  My eyes had adjusted to the dark well enough to risk going downstairs. I knew which steps creaked and avoided them on the way down. Once in the foyer I looked over at the front door, which was closed. I also noticed the green light for my security system was off. No surprise given the power outage.

  I heard the sound of a drawer being pulled out. Definitely from my home office, which had originally been a parl
or. What to do? I didn’t have a weapon in the house. And my phone was in the office.

  Yet I couldn’t leave, not with Natasha and Theo asleep upstairs. Nor could I return to my own bedroom in hopes the intruder would go away. Because I bet the intruder came here looking for the will. And would not stop from searching every inch of my house. Even if it meant harming the people in it.

  My mind raced to come up with a way to defend myself. I had to confront this person—and soon. Eventually the intruder would realize no will was in there and come out. I heard another drawer open.

  I pressed against the stairwell, trying to think. My fingers brushed against the head of one of the nutcrackers I’d placed along the wall. This one was a two-foot-tall sugarplum fairy. A nice heavy one. I carefully picked it up. Holding it like a bat, I prepared to clobber whoever was in there. No questions asked.

  When I snuck closer to the open door of the office, a beam of light played against the wall. The person had either brought a flashlight or was using the one on their phone.

  Once I reached the door, I stood off to one side, trying to quiet my breathing. From the room came the shuffling of papers. Yes, definitely on the hunt for the will. But who?

  In a flash, I knew. I took a step back and raised the nutcracker, ready to swing.

  But that one step on a noisy wooden floor gave me away. The flashlight turned its beam on the open door. No point in hiding now.

  “Come out, Janelle,” I called. “I know you’re in there.”

  Silence.

  Then Janelle replied, “You should have stayed in bed, Marlee.”

  Her flashlight blinded me. I raised my arm to cover my eyes, but too late. Janelle reached me before I could turn and run.

  I swung the nutcracker at her, but she had the advantage. She knocked the nutcracker from my grasp, then twisted my arm behind my back. I winced in pain.

  “I’d keep quiet if I were you,” she said softly. “I know Natasha has been staying here. You wouldn’t want your houseguest to come down. Then I’d have to hurt both of you.”