by Kathi Daley
“No. They talked it out, and she understands that what she did was wrong. Chappy didn’t want to press charges, and Finn didn’t want to get into the middle of a lovers’ spat, so he’s going to leave things alone.”
“Is he sure that the fire on Chappy’s boat was the only incident Valda was responsible for?”
Siobhan transferred the apple slices into a bowl. “He seemed fairly sure. The guy who sold Valda the mistletoe pointed out that he secures his sprigs with red ribbon. The mistletoe found at the toy store, the nativity scene, and the Christmas tree had been tied with dark green ribbon. Apparently, most vendors use slightly different ribbon. The dark green looks to have come from one on San Juan Island. Finn headed over there on the first ferry so he could chat with him and still get back here in time to follow up on any information that might be provided to him.”
“It’d be crazy if Finn was able to solve these acts of vandalism based on ribbon color.”
“More often than not, it really is some seemingly minor detail that blows cases wide open,” Siobhan pointed out.
“Is he still thinking the fire in the Santa House is unrelated to the other incidents?” I asked.
“So far that is his theory, although the fact that two of the acts of vandalism have turned out to be unrelated to the others does seem to put a twist in the idea that the other, lesser ones are all related. I guess he’ll just need to continue to approach each crime in isolation and then see where he ends up. If all goes well and one of the mistletoe vendors can identify the person who purchased the mistletoe with the green ribbon, he might at least get part of these incidents wrapped up.”
I picked up a piece of pear as Siobhan turned her attention to the next fruit she’d lined up on the counter for slicing. “I wish I could stay to see how it all works out, but I need to get to work. Call me if Finn is able to ID the mistletoe vandal.”
“I will.”
“And thanks for watching Sammy. Two seems like a lot to take on at once, but I suppose this will be good practice for when you decide to give Connor a little brother or sister.”
“Exactly. Finn and I have started talking about another baby. I’m not sure we’re ready quite yet, but time goes by so fast. You need to stay on top of those things.”
I thought about what Siobhan had said as I walked back to my cabin to grab my purse. I supposed she had a point about staying on top of things, but how did one know if or when they were ready to be a parent? The whole idea seemed to me to be completely overwhelming.
I opened the door to my cabin and was greeted by Jingles. Cody had taken Max to work with him, as he often did, so the cat would be alone unless I brought him with me. “Do you want to come to the bookstore with me?”
“Meow.” He ran across the room, jumped up onto the kitchen counter, grabbed something in his mouth, then jumped down, ran back to me, and set a piece of paper at my feet. I looked down to see what he’d brought me. “It’s the phone number for the woman who wants to adopt you. I know you really hit it off with her son and are anxious to get settled into your forever home, but I can’t let you go until we solve Tom’s murder. I assume you are here to solve Tom’s murder and not to find the mistletoe vandal because I’m pretty much convinced we are looking for two different people at this point.”
“Meow.” He trotted over to the door and began to scratch at it.
“Were you even listening to me?”
The cat trotted back over, took a paw, and shoved the piece of paper closer to me.
I bent over and picked it up. I supposed the cat might have a different reason for wanting me to call the woman, but I had no idea what it might be. Still, the worst thing that could happen if I called her and explained that Jingles had insisted I do it would be that she’d think I was a total loon.
“Okay. I’ll call her. But if she decides she doesn’t want to adopt you after this, it won’t be my fault.”
“Meow.”
I dialed the number. “Hi. This is Cait Hart. With the cat.”
“Is he eligible for adoption?”
“No,” I answered. “Not quite yet. But he did seem insistent that I call you. I’m not sure why.”
“He must somehow know that Wiley has been upset all morning. I’ve tried everything to calm him down, but he is more agitated than I’ve seen him in a long time. Maybe you could bring the cat over? If not to leave him for good, at least for a visit.”
I looked at the cat, who was sitting by the door. “Okay. Yeah, I could do that. Just give me your address.”
I called Tara to let her know I’d be late yet again, put the cat in a carrier, and headed toward Harthaven. I was aware the cat and the child had connected somehow the minute they met. Maybe Jingles really had sensed that the boy needed him.
When I arrived at the address the woman had given me, I took the cat out of the carrier and headed toward the front door. I noticed immediately that the house backed on the park. The same park where the Santa House had been before it burned to the ground.
“Thank you so much,” the woman said as soon as she opened the door. “My name is Jane, by the way. I’m not sure I introduced myself when we met. Wiley has been beside himself ever since we took a walk this morning and I’m not sure what I can do to calm him down.”
The boy came down the stairs, and the cat wiggled out of my arms. He ran straight over to the boy, who fell to his knees. The cat and Wiley stared into each other’s eyes for a moment, and then the boy ran upstairs. Jingles followed.
“Come on in,” Jane said. “Let me get you some coffee, and then I’ll go check on them.”
“Thanks. I’d appreciate that. I see noticed your property backs on the park.”
“Yes. It works out well because I can take Wiley out walks before it gets crowded. He doesn’t always do well with crowds. I took him out this morning, and he seemed to have extra energy to burn, so I looped around and brought him back home past where the Santa House burned. It was a mistake. When we arrived there, he went a little crazy. And now he’s been a little crazy all morning.”
I glanced up as I heard footprints on the stairs. Wiley came into the room with Jingles on his heels. He handed his mother a piece of paper that looked as if it was torn from a sketchbook. His mother took it from him.
“Wiley likes to draw. It is one of the ways he can communicate with me because he doesn’t speak.”
“What did he draw?”
She turned the paper around. The drawing was of Santa Claus standing in the doorway of a burning building.
“Do you think he saw what happened?” I asked.
“No. We were at home the day of the fire, not in the park.”
“Is this the Santa House?” I asked him.
The boy’s eyes never met mine, but he sat down on the floor and quickly began drawing with a pencil. After a moment, he held up the paper. This time he’d drawn the inside of the Santa House. Santa was sitting in his chair and next to him was a package all wrapped up like a Christmas present.
“Santa on his throne,” I said.
The boy still hadn’t looked directly at me, but he took his pencil and scribbled out the present. Then he drew flames coming from it.
“Are you saying a present caused the fire?” I asked.
Again, he didn’t look at me, but the cat let out a long meow.
I turned to Jane. “It has been determined that the fire was caused by a small explosion that set off a spark that ignited an accelerant. The house went up quickly, with Santa inside. Are you sure he couldn’t have somehow been a witness to what happened?”
“Trust me, I’m sure. We never left the house that afternoon.”
Okay, so maybe Jingles and the boy were somehow communicating, and the cat knew what had happened. He was, after all, a Tansy cat, so anything was possible. I supposed I could ask Finn if the idea of a present could be possible.
“Do you know where the present came from? Who gave it to Santa or put it in the house?”
T
he boy started to draw again. This time he added a very tall, thin man with a scribbled-out face.
“The man has no face,” I said.
Wiley began to rock back and forth and still didn’t look directly at me.
“Maybe it was dark. Maybe Wiley saw something thorough his window but couldn’t see the man’s face because it was dark,” Jane suggested.
“Do you think he might have been in the park when the present was placed in the Santa House?” I asked.
“No,” Jane answered. “If it was after dark, Wiley would have been in bed. But he does look out his bedroom window, so I suppose he might have seen someone earlier if they walked by. But he has an active imagination, so he might have made the man up.”
“Wiley draws often?”
She nodded. “Every day. He draws all sorts of things. Things he sees, but also things that aren’t of this world. I figure the monsters and superheroes are images he has picked up from comics or on television. Occasionally, I get the impression he could be drawing something from his dreams. On a few occasions, he’s woken up screaming and then motioned for his sketch pad. He’s drawn some pretty dark stuff. When he wakes up from a nightmare, drawing seems to help him to process and go back to sleep.”
I took a moment to roll this around in my mind. “Are you saying that Wiley’s dreams are real?”
The woman pulled back just a bit.
“It’s okay if you are.” I glanced at the cat. “I talk to cats. Trust me, dreams that are real are not outside my wheelhouse.”
After a moment, Jane spoke again. “Sometimes the dreams turn out to be based in reality. Wiley woke up a few months ago and drew a photo of a car filled with people. The car was underwater, and the people were struggling to get out. The next day I heard about the accident on Orcas Island, where a car went into the sea, and all four people in it died.”
“I remember that. And Wiley drew the image before you’d heard about the accident?”
She nodded. “He woke up crying and agitated. I gave him his sketch pad, as I always do. The next morning I heard about the accident. Wiley doesn’t seem to know about everything that happens. A lot of things he draws never happen, but sometimes it does seem as if his drawings have some connection with reality.”
I leaned back in my chair. “Okay. Maybe Wiley is trying to tell us something. Maybe he knows something about what happened at the Santa House that no one else does. Deputy Finnegan is off the island this morning, but I’ll talk to him about this when he gets back. I’ll call you again this afternoon.”
“And the cat?”
I glanced at Jingles. “I think it would be okay if he stayed with Wiley today. If he starts to act all spastic, call me. Like Wiley, Jingles sometimes has a lot to say, but also like Wiley, he has to find creative ways to communicate. For some reason, I’ve been chosen to interpret for the magical cats that live on the island.”
“There are others?”
I nodded. “A lot of others. The cats and I have solved a lot of mysteries, and Jingles and l will solve this one as well.”
Chapter 11
The ferry docked minutes before I arrived at the bookstore, so while I would have preferred a few minutes to fill Tara and Cassie in on my interesting morning, I needed to jump right in, making coffee drinks and selling books and novelty items to the throngs of tourists who descended on us. I loved the culture of the bookstore Tara and I had created, but during the busy summer and Christmas seasons, the crowds that we had to deal with often seemed unmanageable.
“Is Willow coming in today?” I asked Tara.
“She is. Noon to five.” She glanced toward the clock. “She usually comes in a little early, so she should be here shortly. Can you check the back to see if we have any more peppermint syrup?”
“Yeah, no problem.”
“Check for gingerbread syrup too, as long as you’re at it.”
I was glad we’d come in yesterday to clean and organize everything. The inventory was now neatly unpacked, which made finding both syrups an easy feat, whereas last week, I would have had to begin opening boxes and sorting through things. Once the coffee bar had been restocked, I crossed into the bookstore to help a woman who was looking for a cozy mystery set at Christmastime. We had several good options, so I chatted with her briefly about each one.
By the time Willow arrived, the crowd from the first ferry had dissipated. We’d have a short reprieve until the second ferry of the day docked, and there was a new crowd to deal with.
“I had an interesting morning,” I said to Tara, Cassie, and Willow. I shared with them my visit with Jane and Wiley and the telling drawings the boy created, which his mother was sure had first been seen by him in a dream… or in a nightmare.
“So the kid is psychic?” Cassie asked.
I shrugged. “I don’t know. All I can say is that he drew the Santa House on fire in one picture, and he made another drawing of the interior of the house, with Santa sitting on a chair, with a present on the floor next to him. He then added fire coming out of the present. I asked him if he knew who had brought the present and he drew a tall, thin man with his face scratched out. I suppose all of it might just exist in his imagination, but the subject matter seemed like a huge coincidence.”
“It seems likely the boy does have some sort of psychic ability,” Willow agreed. “And from what you’ve told us, it sounds as if he is connected to the cat in some way.”
“I left Jingles with the boy and his mother. I’ll pick him up later when I have the chance. I’m hoping that if the cat and the boy spend some time together, they will come up with additional clues that will help Finn track down whoever set the fire at the Santa House.”
“Have you spoken to Finn about the drawings yet?” Tara asked.
“No, not yet. He is on San Juan Island today, tracking down a mistletoe vendor. I figure he’ll probably be returning to the island on the next ferry. I texted him to let him know that I had news and that he should get in touch with me when he gets back.”
Cassie grabbed a rag and began to wipe down the coffee bar while the area was clear. “This mystery seems to have a lot of moving parts, and I still can’t decide if everything is connected or not. First Tom died in a fire at the Santa House, and then the island experienced a series of acts of vandalism that on the surface seem as if they could be related but, as it is turning out, aren’t necessarily. I mean, what are the odds that the person who shot down the reindeer and the one who set fire to Chappy’s Christmas decorations and whoever cut down the tree in the park aren’t all the same?”
“I’m not sure about all the acts of vandalism,” I said, “but I do know that the reindeer being shot down and the fire on Chappy’s boat were isolated incidents.”
“I might know something,” Tara said. “I’m not sure if it is relevant, but when I was at the bar last night this guy I’ve seen around town whose name I don’t know came in. Danny seemed to know him, so I suppose you can ask him his name. Anyway, the guy told Danny that the safe at the holiday store had been broken into overnight on Sunday, but none of the money was taken. The weird thing was, the entire safe had been filled with mistletoe.”
“So someone broke into the store and broke into the safe, but left all the money? Was anything else taken?” I asked.
“The guy who was talking to Danny didn’t mention whether anything else was. In fact, the whole conversation ran along the lines of what a fool the vandal was to go to all the trouble of opening the safe and not taking anything.”
“The whole thing is bizarre,” Cassie agreed. “Every time I hear about the antics of the individual we are referring to as the mistletoe vandal, it makes me think of that Halloween movie we watched as a kid that featured an imp who went around town causing all sorts of trouble. I can’t remember the name of the movie, but I do remember that the imp’s only intention seemed to be to create chaos wherever he went.”
“I remember that movie,” I said. “I don’t remember the name either, but y
ou’re right. Other than the burning of the Santa House, which resulted in a death, the acts committed seem to be focused on causing destruction, but beyond that, there doesn’t seem to be any purpose. Maybe Finn will know more when he gets back from San Juan Island. If the mistletoe vendor remembers who he sold the mistletoe tied with green ribbon to, maybe Finn can fill in the rest of the blanks.”
“Finn mentioned that in a normal crime spree, the acts committed can escalate in severity,” Tara pointed out. “If we take the Santa House out of the equation, that seems to be holding true. We know that on the first night, which would have been last Wednesday, the nativity scene at the church was vandalized and the tree in the park was cut down. Both acts were unfortunate and upset a lot of people, but neither was particularly difficult or risky to accomplish. But then, on the second night of the destruction spree, which took place several days later, the toy store was broken in to, and merchandise was destroyed, and the holiday store was likewise broken in to, and the safe was actually cracked, even if nothing was stolen or trashed. It seems like the mistletoe vandal is upping his game.”
“And it’s only the seventeenth,” Willow pointed out. “How much more damage can this individual inflict if he continues to go on as he’s begun?”
Willow was right. If the vandalism continued, and if the severity continued to increase, things could get pretty dicey by the time December 25 rolled around.
Chapter 12
When Finn returned from tracking down the mistletoe vendor with the dark green ribbons, he informed us that, while the man confirmed that most customers purchased only a sprig or two, he had sold a large bag of mistletoe containing thirty sprigs to three college-age men about a week earlier. Finn estimated that between the nativity scene, the tree in the park, the cash register at the toy store, and the safe at the holiday store, about half the sprigs had been recovered. The guys paid the vendor for the bag in cash, so he had no reason to get any of their names. The vendor didn’t remember any distinguishing features that would help to identify them, but he did say it seemed as if they all had dark hair. Not a lot to go on, but at least it was something. Finn planned to initiate a search of lodging rentals on the island in the hope of finding the three men that way.
