by Kathi Daley
Finn held out his hand. I handed him the mistletoe. “If there are any more crime scenes to inspect—and I hope there won’t be, but I suspect there will—I’ll look for mistletoe. Did you tell Siobhan about the meeting tonight?”
“Not yet, but I will. I’m hoping Maggie and Michael can watch Connor. Cody can just put Sammy to bed; hopefully, he will sleep after his big trip.”
“How has it been having the baby there?” Finn asked.
“Exhausting. Frustrating. Really inconvenient.”
Finn laughed. “It sounds like you are not at all ready to have one of your own.”
“I’m not. Not even a little bit. Sammy is sweet, and I know why Cody volunteered to watch him while his parents were overseas but having a baby who demands all your attention all the time is tiring. If not for Cassie, who helps out a lot, and the day care Siobhan helped me arrange, I think I would have gone off the deep end long ago.”
“I guess now isn’t the best time for this little experiment, with the remodel and the holidays and all.”
I raised a brow. “Experiment? Do you think Cody agreed to babysit Sammy as some sort of an experiment to see if we were ready to have a baby? Because I had that exact thought when he first mentioned it.”
Finn actually blushed. “Uh, no. Of course not. Cody wouldn’t do that.”
“What do you know?” I demanded.
“I don’t know anything, and even if I did, what my brother-in-law tells me in confidence will stay in confidence, the same way you’d keep you sister’s secrets.”
I inhaled sharply. “Okay. I get that. But I really hope that Cody isn’t doing this in the hope of trying to convince me to have a baby. Because it isn’t working. After the past two sleepless weeks, I honestly feel that I may never be ready for a baby.”
“I didn’t think I’d ever be ready either, but now that we have Connor, I can’t imagine life without him.”
Chapter 4
As it turned out, everything fell in line, and every member of the Scooby Gang was able to meet that evening. I hoped Sammy would sleep right through it, despite the noise generated by having six people in my little cabin, and Cody’d assured me that the little guy had had a busy two days and would most likely sleep straight through until tomorrow morning.
As promised, I’d picked up pizzas and Danny had brought beer. Cassie had stopped to pick up sodas for those not wanting the beer, and Tara had brought dessert. Finn and Siobhan showed up with the whiteboard, as well as Finn’s laptop, which I was certain held his notes to date.
“So what do we know?” I asked, once we’d all eaten and gathered around the whiteboard, which, as she always had in the past, Siobhan managed.
“Not a lot,” Finn answered. “It appears as if we have a Grinch in town who is set on destroying the island’s Christmas decorations, but so far I haven’t come across a single witness who will admit to having seen anything. The small explosion that set off the fire in the Santa House occurred at four o’clock in the afternoon, but we don’t know when the explosive device was placed in the structure. With the exception of the fire on Chappy’s boat, the other incidents we know about all occurred during the overnight hours, when it was unlikely that there was anyone out and about to see anything.”
“What about the fire on Chappy’s boat?” I asked. “It would have had to have been set after Chappy left to go to O’Malley’s for lunch. We are looking at a fairly small window of opportunity and whoever set the fire would have had to have gotten on the boat by walking along the dock in broad daylight. I know it is the off-season and there isn’t a lot of activity down at the marina, but it seems like someone might have seen something.”
“I went down to the marina with the intention of speaking to whoever might have been around when the fire was set, but the place was deserted,” Finn shared. “I’ll stop by a couple of times during the day tomorrow to see if I can find any witnesses, but our best bet might be to find out if any of the owners of the businesses on the wharf saw anything.” Finn looked at Tara.
“I didn’t see a thing,” she answered. “Of course, Chappy’s boat isn’t visible from any of the windows at Coffee Cat Books.”
“Yeah, I didn’t notice anything either,” I added.
“If the motive for everything that has occurred is simply to destroy holiday decorations, it’s going to be really hard to even come up with a list of people to interview,” Finn said.
“It is true that it isn’t feasible to go around town asking folks how they feel about the upcoming holiday,” Siobhan agreed.
“And even if that were possible, how would you be able to judge which sort of personal tragedies might set someone off and which wouldn’t,” Tara said. “It seems like the person who is doing this must have suffered a great loss that he associates with Christmas, but what if it is just some guy who didn’t get the toy train he asked for when he was eight?”
“While in principle I agree with Tara, and I do realize that different people will classify the events in their lives as either good or bad to differing degrees, there is one person who comes to mind,” Cody said. “Two years ago I covered a house fire where a Christmas tree caught fire, burning down the house and killing two of the three residents. The only survivor was a man named Clifford Little. I remember feeling so bad for the guy, who’d lost both his wife and his adult son. I wondered at the time if the fire hadn’t been even more tragic than it otherwise would have been because it occurred just a few days before Christmas.”
Siobhan nodded. “If anyone has a really good reason to hate Christmas, it sounds like it is that guy.”
“I know Cliff,” Finn said. “I don’t think he’s our guy, but I will stop by to have a chat with him. It also occurred to me to speak to Wilson Tyson. His wife was killed in an auto accident two days before Christmas last year.”
“I get why we are discussing the residents of the island who have a reason to hate Christmas, but a man died. I think it would be fair to say that while horrific events suffered around the holidays might cause a person to come to hate the holiday associated with it, most grieving people don’t go around blowing stuff up,” Tara pointed out.
“That’s true,” Finn agreed. “Which is why I’m not putting a whole lot of stock in the idea that we will find Tom’s killer by searching for individuals who have experienced a loss. Still, it is a place to start, and at the moment it is the only idea I have, other than simply talking to folks and looking for witnesses.”
“Whoever did this has to have known Chappy. They had to have been on his boat at some point; otherwise, how would they know he even had decorations to burn? His decorations were pretty modest, so how would anyone know he’s set them out if they hadn’t been aboard the vessel?” I asked.
“Good point,” Finn said.
“What about the access to the Santa House?” Siobhan asked. “Whoever rigged the small explosion must have been inside it at some point, probably at night, when no one was around. I assume the place was locked up when no one was there.”
“I did think of that,” Finn said. “I found out that the door had a combination lock and that a lot of people had the combination, including the entire Christmas committee, all the Santa House volunteers, the company who cleaned it, and probably a few others. And with a combination lock, it is easy to share, so we can’t even limit the pool to those individuals who had a reason to have access.”
“I guess because everything burned up there aren’t any fingerprints to check,” Tara said. “But what about fingerprints on the nativity scene in front of the church or on Chappy’s decorations?”
“There were a lot of fingerprints on the nativity scene. A lot of people have handled the thing. As for Chappy’s decorations, I’ll check with the crime scene guys in the morning. I doubt they found anything that will help us, but I’ll ask them.”
I watched as Jingles walked across the room, jumped onto the sofa, and curled up in Tara’s lap. He rubbed his head against her stomach, and sh
e began to stroke his back. The two had spent more time together today than I had. I had a feeling that perhaps Tara and Jingles had bonded. I wasn’t sure how happy Tara’s cat, Bandit, would be when she returned home smelling of another cat, though with all the cats we had at the bookstore, I realized he must be used to it.
“Have you considered the fact that the person who killed Tom is not some sort of a Grinch but is simply using the Christmas decorations as a decoy?” I asked, remembering Tansy’s warning against distractions.
“Actually, that did occur to me,” Finn answered. “The first thing that happened was the burning of the Santa House. Now, while it might be true that someone who hated Christmas was motivated to burn it down, it is also possible that someone wanted Tom dead and placed the explosives in the house as a way to kill him. It might have occurred to this person that if they vandalized decorations, we’d focus on finding a suspect with a vendetta against Christmas rather than one with a motive to kill Tom.”
“It does seem as if the events that took place after the Santa House burned are very minor in comparison to burning a structure to the ground with a man inside it,” Danny said.
Siobhan held up her dry erase marker, poised to jot down anything relevant we might come up with. “It seems as if we might want to generate a suspect list of individuals who might have a grudge against Tom. Right off hand, his brother-in-law comes to mind.”
“Why would Tom’s brother-in-law want him dead?” Cassie asked.
“Because he has been very vocal in his opinion that the death of his sister, Tom’s wife, was somehow his fault,” Siobhan answered.
“Didn’t she die of an illness?” Cassie asked. “How could that be Tom’s fault?”
“Darby thinks that Tom didn’t seek out medical intervention for his wife in a timely manner and that even after he did, he didn’t try hard enough to find a reason for her illness, despite the fact that her doctor assured him there was nothing more he could do.”
“Let’s add him to the suspect list,” Finn instructed. “In fact, let’s start a separate list so we can keep the individuals we feel might want to hurt Tom separate from the ones we feel might hate Christmas.”
Siobhan wrote down Darby Weston’s name.
“What about Gil Errington?” Cassie asked.
Gil had worked for Tom for at least a decade before Tom had to lay him off when his business ran into financial difficulties following his wife’s death and his ability to manage it. Ultimately, Tom lost the business completely.
“It was a shame Tom lost his business after his wife died,” I answered. “And it was very unfortunate that Gil lost his source of income as a result. But I’m not sure that Gil blamed Tom for what happened.”
“Oh, he did,” Cassie informed me. “Gil’s daughter, Eve, is friends with Kimmy.” Kimmy was one of Cassie’s good friends. “The three of us hung out a few times last spring, and Eve told Kimmy that her father totally blamed Gil for what happened. According to Eve, her dad had worked hard to help Tom build his business, and devoted a decade of his own life to make sure that Miller Heating and Cooling was a success. When Tom’s wife got sick, he started spending a lot of time either at home or at the hospital, and from what Eve said, her dad put in even more hours. Her dad expected that Tom would be back to work after his wife passed, but that wasn’t what happened. Eve said he just let the business melt away. He stopped bidding jobs, and even the ones they did have were riddled with all sorts of problems. Eve said that by the time Tom decided to lay everyone off and close the business, her dad wasn’t surprised, but he was angry that he had wasted a huge chunk of his life helping to build a company that the owner basically threw away.”
“Add Gil to the list,” Finn instructed Siobhan. “I’ll stop by to have a chat with him tomorrow. I understand his anger, but I also understand Tom’s depression after his wife died. I would think Gil would understand as well.”
“Maybe, but after a decade of working together, Tom ended up with a nice nest egg that he can live off while Gil ended up with nothing. I guess that his salary was adequate, but the real reason he devoted so much energy to the company was because Tom promised him a share of it when its assets reached a certain level. Before Tom’s wife got sick, they were close. Now the retirement Gil counted on is nothing more than an unmet promise.”
We continued to discuss potential suspects a while longer but didn’t come up with any additional names to add, so Siobhan set the whiteboard aside, and the conversation segued to our plans for the upcoming holiday. Cody and I were in Florida last year at Christmas, as well as this year at Thanksgiving, so I was ready for a big family holiday. In addition to the huge Christmas Eve party we planned to throw at Mr. Parsons’s house, I knew Siobhan planned to have the entire Hart family and an assortment of friends such as Tara and Sister Mary over for dinner on Christmas Day. Cody and I would have Sammy with us this year. As convinced as I was that motherhood was not for me—at least not yet—I was looking forward to having a baby to shop for this Christmas. Cody and I had discussed taking Sammy to see Santa and getting a photo to send to his parents, but that was before the explosion that seemed to have been the first in a series of events meant to ruin everyone’s Christmas.
Chapter 5
Friday, December 13
I pulled on my running shoes, trying to be quiet so as not to wake Cody and Sammy. The baby had not slept through the night as we’d hoped, and Cody had been up walking him back and forth across the small living room for what seemed like hours. I’d offered to take over at one point, but Sammy really did prefer Cody, so we knew he had the best chance of getting him to nod off. Cody told me that he was grateful for the offer but suggested I go back to bed. I should feel a tad guiltier about the fact that going back to bed was exactly what I’d done, but it had been Cody who’d volunteered us for babysitting duty in the first place, so I supposed it was only right that he be the one to take on the majority of the sleepless nights.
Max and I exited the cabin through the kitchen door, and he ran down the beach while I settled into a relaxing jog. The sky was dark this morning, with angry-looking clouds. I’d love it if it snowed, but it wasn’t all that cold, so it was likely if we got any precipitation it would be rain. Not that I minded rain. In fact, most of the time, I welcomed it. There was something about curling up in front of the fire in my little cabin while I watched the storm batter the dark sea.
As I passed Mr. Parsons’s house, I found myself pausing. It was a pretty great house: three stories overlooking the sea. I was sure Cody and I would be very comfortable there, especially now that the remodel was done. The interior on the second and third floors where we’d be living had turned out amazing. Yet I still found myself resisting the move. Cody wanted us to be settled in prior to the Christmas Eve party we were throwing, and that made a lot of sense, but now that the time had come to actually make the move, I didn’t know how I was going to say goodbye to my little cabin.
I glanced at the wall of windows on the top story. Mr. Parsons was quite happy living in just a few rooms on the first floor, and he fully supported us taking over both the second and third floors. Cody and I had decided on an open living space on the third floor, with the bedrooms and a small family room on the second. Right now, we didn’t need a separate family room, but we realized that once we had children, we’d want a separate area for them to play when we had company.
Max looked impatient, so I continued on my way. I didn’t need to look at the mansion to know that the top floor, with the huge open kitchen and dining area, large living room, and full bath, was spectacular. The area was about ten times as large as my cabin, so if we wanted to host the entire Hart family during some future Christmas, we had plenty of space in which to do it. There were five bedrooms on the second floor, including a master suite complete with a stone fireplace and a seating area, as well as the aforementioned family room and a home office for Cody.
But the house just didn’t have the cozy feel of my
little home. It wasn’t right on the water the way my cabin was, nor did it contain the memories I’d been creating ever since Maggie had let me move into the cabin after I graduated high school.
By the time Max and I reached the end of the beach, where the sand turned into a rocky shore, it had started to sprinkle. I called Max and turned around, heading back in the direction from which we’d come. I tried to focus my attention on the beauty of the wintery day, but all I could think about was the impending end to a significant segment of my life. I got the fact that people moved every day, and I was moving into a really great house, but if I was honest with myself, I’d been dreading it ever since Cody had started talking about it.
“It’s starting to rain,” I said to Cody when Max and I returned to the cabin, entering the kitchen thought the side door.
“I heard we might get snow over the weekend. Not a lot, but enough to dust the ground.”
I poured myself a cup of coffee “That would be nice. I love snow at Christmas.” I glanced at Jingles, who was curled up in front of the fire. “Did he get his breakfast?”
“He did. Sammy has been fed as well, and I was just about to scramble myself a couple of eggs. Would you like some too?”
“I would. Thanks.”
I’d left my sandy shoes outside the door, and now I padded across the floor in my stocking feet to give Max a scoop of dog food and refill his water dish before topping off my coffee. “So what are your plans for today?” I asked Cody.
“I’m going to take Sammy to the sitter’s after we eat. I plan to spend the morning at the newspaper, and then I have a couple of guys coming by to help me start carrying the furniture we stored in the ballroom up to the second and third floors. I have a general idea of where you want things, but I figured you could move things around once we get the furniture in each room.” Cody looked around the cabin. “Is there anything here you wanted to take with you?”
