by Kathi Daley
“What are you saying?” Danny asked.
“I think the coins are fake. They look real to me, and I’m not sure why anyone would go to all the trouble to counterfeit them, but that is the only explanation I can come up with. I’ve already sent a few of the coins off to someone who knows a lot more about this sort of thing than I do.”
The room fell into silence, everyone probably trying to make sense of the information Finn had just shared.
“What could any of this have to do with Tom’s death?” Tara asked.
Finn shrugged. “Maybe nothing. I can’t explain why Tom bought a boat or had possession of what I think are counterfeit Washington quarters, but both appear to be true. In addition to the bag of quarters I found in one locked cabinet, there were also some old letters and journals, several old maps, a sextant, a compass, and a few other items that would suggest he planned to go somewhere, perhaps to look for something. I haven’t had a chance to read the letters or journals yet. Hopefully, they will provide some insight into what Tom was up to.”
“Any guess as to what it might have been?” Cassie asked.
“If you remove the quarters from the equation, I would say he was planning to head off on a quest, or perhaps a treasure hunt. It’s hard to know at this point. What I will say is that Wiley drew both Santa in a boat and a wall of locked cabinets on the boat. That says to me that Tom actually is part of whatever is going on, not just someone who happened to be playing Santa when someone blew up the Santa House.”
“If Tom himself was the intended victim, as opposed to Santa or the Santa House itself being the intended victim, how does Alex and Coffee Cat Books fit into this?” I asked.
“I don’t know,” Finn answered. “It just seems to me that if we weren’t supposed to look at Tom as an individual in addition to his role as Santa, Cait’s cat wouldn’t have led her to his house so that we would find those items, and Wiley wouldn’t have drawn Santa on a boat and the wall of cabinets.”
No one disputed Finn’s logic. Still we were attempting to assign motive to the actions of a cat and an autistic child. The reality was there most likely wasn’t a way to know for certain why either had done what they had.
“Maybe whoever killed Tom realized that a second attack on an island Santa would get Finn to look for someone with a grudge against Santa rather than a grudge against Tom,” I said.
“I suppose that might be possible,” Finn said. “To be safe, perhaps we should do what we did during our first meeting and put together two lists: people who might want Tom dead and people who might want Santa dead.”
“We came up with Clifford Little and Wilson Tyson before as people with good reasons to hate Christmas,” I reminded the group. “If you remember, Clifford’s wife and son died in a house fire started by a Christmas tree, and Wilson’s wife died in a car accident two days before Christmas last year.”
“I spoke to both of them,” Finn said, “and while it is true that neither of them is looking forward to the holiday, I didn’t sense that either had taken out their pain on the island’s Santas. I do think that looking at others who might share this same sort of pain is a good idea. I can’t imagine having to deal with such a significant loss and also having it coincide with the time of the year that is supposed to bring joy and good tidings.”
“What about Alton Peyton?” Danny asked. “He didn’t suffer a death, but his wife left him on Christmas Eve last year. The poor guy was pretty destroyed when she left town not only with most of their joint savings but also his best friend. He was in the bar last week, and it seemed obvious he was still pretty mad about the whole thing.”
“I suppose that anger is as good a motivator as deeply felt grief,” Finn said. “I’ll talk to him.”
“If you think Tom’s killer could be female, you might want to add Nancy Morton to your list of people to talk to,” Tara said. “Nancy hates Christmas. I’m not sure why, but ever since I’ve known her, once Thanksgiving rolls around, she starts to complain about every carol on the radio, every decoration in town, and every event on the island.”
“Okay. I’ll add her as well. Anyone else?”
We continued to discuss all the local Grinches before we moved on to people with grudges against Tom, just in case the explosion at the bookstore was a decoy and Tom was the victim after all.
“Last time we discussed Tom’s brother-in-law, Darby Weston, and his ex-employee, Gil Errington,” Finn said. “I spoke to both. Darby still thinks that I should formally investigate Tom’s part in the death of his sister even though Tom is dead, but he seemed more interested in wanting to prove Tom’s guilt than anything and was actually angry that he’s dead, because it meant he would never be able to get the guy to confess that he’d contributed to his wife’s death. I don’t think he is our guy. Gil, on the other hand, seemed to feel that Tom got what he deserved. I picked up more of a revenge vibe from him, which might suggest he had a part in Tom’s death. He seems to have an alibi, but because we don’t know exactly when the timer and ignition spark were set up in the Santa House, an alibi for the day of the explosion only goes so far. I plan to keep an eye on him.”
“What about someone associated with whatever Tom was doing with the boat and the quarters?” I asked.
Finn nodded. “That is a possibility as well.”
We came up with a couple more names before Siobhan said, “I think that in addition to suspects, we should discuss other potential victims if it turns out that Santa, and not Tom, is the target. Now that we’ve had a second incident it does appear likely that it is actually Santa our arsonist is after.”
Finn nodded toward his wife. “I agree.”
Siobhan continued. “I’ve been thinking about the situation, and as far as I know, the only other Santa on the island is the one who is scheduled to listen to children’s wishes this weekend during the Christmas on the Island event.”
“The toy store had a Santa on the weekends,” Cassie informed us. “I’m assuming they will have things cleaned up and be open again by the weekend. I don’t know for certain they will bring Santa back, but they might.”
“And the library usually has a Santa during the little party they throw the Saturday before Christmas,” Tara added.
“Okay, so that is three potential victims.” Finn jotted down some notes.
“Unless we catch this guy before the weekend, I think we might want to require everyone on the island to forgo having a Santa this year,” Cody suggested. “I know that isn’t fair to the businesses or the children, but there are too many unknowns at this point for us to simply decide that the person who blew up the Santa House and the bookstore won’t strike again.”
“I’m not sure we can require anyone to do or not do anything without the island council meeting and coming up with some sort of official declaration,” Siobhan pointed out. “And trust me, that is not going to happen before the weekend. But that doesn’t mean we can’t spread the word to make folks aware of what is going on. It never hurts to ask for voluntary cooperation.”
“I agree,” Finn said. “We need to spread the word to make sure that everyone is aware of what has already occurred and the sort of danger they might be putting themselves in if they do insist on going ahead with a Santa this year.”
The group fell silent. Eventually, Tara spoke. “This is just so overwhelming. How is Finn supposed to know how to best proceed when we can’t even decide if it was Tom or Santa who was the target when the Santa House burned down? I’ve been sitting here listening as the conversation seems to be centered around Tom at one moment and Santa the next.”
Cassie picked up the drawing Wiley had given me that afternoon. “We might not know with any certainty if the two explosions are a campaign against Santa or an elaborate scheme to eliminate Tom, but we seem to have someone who knows what is going to happen before it occurs. Maybe we should spend some time really analyzing this.”
“I’m not sure this drawing is urgent like the one Wiley gave me this
morning, but it can’t hurt to discuss it,” I agreed. “The images could be literal, but they might also be symbolic.”
“Symbolic how?” Tara asked.
I lifted a shoulder. “I don’t know. Maybe Wiley is channeling the killer, who is angry at Santa for the death of something or someone close to his heart. It could be the death of a person, but it could also be the death of a childhood belief or even childhood innocence. We said before that people deal with loss in different ways. It is so hard to know what might send a person over the edge. The death of a loved one seems the most likely, but I don’t suppose that is the only explanation.”
“Maybe we should focus on the box in the bookstore,” Finn said. “How did it get there? If neither Cait nor Tara put it there, someone had access to the cat lounge. Maybe if we can figure out who was in there and when the package first showed up, we can figure out how it might have gotten there.”
“It wasn’t there when we decorated yesterday,” I said.
Finn looked at Tara. “When did you notice it?”
“Not until after Alex arrived. When I first got to the store this morning, I was busy stocking the coffee bar and straightening the shelves. We didn’t have any cats today, so there was no reason to go into the cat lounge. Alex showed up about an hour before he was due to start his shift. He used the storage room to get dressed. Once he was ready, we both walked into the cat lounge to make sure everything was ready for Santa. I noticed the gift but really didn’t think anything of it. I guess after what happened at the Santa House I should have been concerned about the addition of a gift, but I just assumed that Cait had stopped by at some point and set it next to the Santa chair. When I arrived at the bookstore this morning, the place was locked up tight. There was no evidence of forced entry, and nothing was disturbed.”
“So how did the person who left the box get in?” Cassie asked.
“After you arrived to stock the shelves and whatnot, did you lock the door behind you?” Finn asked.
“No,” Tara admitted. “I just came in and started getting the store ready. I was expecting a delivery and wanted the delivery guy to be able to get in okay, and at that point, I figured Cait would be arriving right behind me. I also knew Alex planned to come in early; I just wasn’t sure how early. As it turned out, I was at the store by myself for quite a while before anyone else showed up, but once I started working, I got busy, and it never occurred to me to lock the door.”
“Did anyone come in prior to the store opening?” Finn asked.
“I arrived at around eight-thirty. Maeve Portman dropped off baked goods to sell in the coffee bar like she does every morning at around nine.” Maeve owned a bakery in town. Originally, Tara had taken care of baking the muffins and scones we sold along with the coffee drinks, but we soon realized that all that baking would be too time-consuming, so we began purchasing them from bakeries and then reselling them. “The cargo ferry arrived at nine-thirty and Phil dropped off the delivery I was expecting.” Phil Colton was in charge of delivering the packages that were sent to the island via ferry. “I opened at ten, and a lot of folks were in and out after that. I was there alone, so it is possible that someone could have slipped into the lounge and left the package while I was working the coffee bar without my noticing it.”
“What time did you notice the package?” Finn asked.
“I guess around eleven. Alex showed up at around ten-thirty. He happened to show up during a lull, so I walked him into the backroom to show him where he could change. I was only in the back for a few minutes, and when I came back into the main room, it was still empty. So, it would have been around eleven when Alex and I walked into the cat lounge to check things out, and that was when I noticed the package. Cait arrived shortly after that. There was a short line, so she helped me with the coffee bar. I’m not sure what Alex was doing at that point.”
“Is that how you remember it?” Finn asked me.
I nodded. “When I arrived Alex, was already there and dressed. As Tara said, I went to help her because there was a line at the coffee bar. By the time customers were taken care of, it was close to time for Santa to begin seeing kids. I guess it was around eleven-thirty then, and we’d been advertising that Santa would be there beginning at noon. I headed to the cat lounge to check on Alex, and that was when I saw the scene Wiley had drawn and got everyone out.”
“So the bomb was set to go off before the kids would have begun to line up?” Finn asked.
“Yes. Maybe thirty minutes before,” I answered. “Maybe less. At least twenty. Theoretically, one could suggest that the person who set the bomb didn’t intend to hurt anyone. If Alex hadn’t shown up early, no one would have been in the cat lounge at the time of the explosion. Similarly, the bomb in the Santa House went off an hour before it was set to open. Still, the bomber must not have been too concerned about human casualties to cut it so close. If all they really wanted to do was blow up a building, they could have done that in the middle of the night when no one at all would be around.”
Finn blew out a long, slow breath. I could sense that he was disturbed by the sequence of events. It was odd that someone had been able to plant the package without having broken in during the overnight hours, but if someone did break in, they were able to do so in such a manner as to leave no evidence behind.
“Who has keys to the store?” Finn asked.
Tara answered. “Cait and I, of course. Cassie and Willow.” She paused. “And Phil.”
“Phil?” Finn asked.
“He takes care of sorting and delivering the packages that arrive on the ferry to the merchants on the island. Today, he came by when I was there, but sometimes he needs to drop items off for us before we open or on days we are closed. I trust him,” Tara defended herself. “He’s been doing that job for years. A lot of folks prefer to pick up their inventory at the ferry themselves rather than trust Phil with a key, but he knows where to stack the things he drops off for us, and it just seems easier to allow him to come in than it would be for Cait or me to haul everything across the wharf ourselves.”
“Phil wouldn’t blow up Santa,” I said. “You’ve met him. He’s a nice guy who has been doing this job for a long time.”
“I don’t think Phil blew up Coffee Cat Books, but the odds are that he doesn’t keep the key on his body. It is probably stored, along with the keys of other shops with whom he has the same arrangement, somewhere in the ferry office.”
Tara frowned. “I guess I didn’t think of that.”
“I’ll have a chat with Phil tomorrow. Maybe he knows who else might have access to those keys.”
Chapter 17
Thursday, December 19
By the following morning, the reality of what had happened had slammed into me. I’m not sure why I hadn’t been more upset the day before. The business Tara and I had poured ourselves into was gone. Okay, maybe it wasn’t gone. It could and would be repaired, but we had suffered a huge setback. I supposed that I was still in shock after the explosion. I remember going to visit Wiley and Jane and then coming back for the meeting. I didn’t remember feeling like I wanted to melt into a puddle of tears, but that was exactly the way it was this morning.
My thoughts turned to Tara. This must be even worse for her. While the bookstore had been both our dreams, it was Tara who had really pulled it all together. I picked up my phone. There were four missed calls, all from Tara.
“I’m sorry,” I said as soon as she answered. “I just looked at my phone.”
“I don’t know what to do.” The fact that she’d been crying was evident in her voice. “I woke up early, and my first thought was that I needed to go in early to restock the shelves. And then I remembered. I feel so lost.”
“I know. Come over. We’ll figure this out together.”
She paused and then answered. “Okay. Thanks. I would like that. I’ll be there in about an hour.”
I hung up and looked around the room. I could hear Cody and Sammy downstairs. I could al
so smell coffee and bacon. It was time to get up to face whatever it was that this day would bring.
“Coffee?” Cody asked as I walked into the room.
“Please.” I accepted the mug and then sat down at the table. “Sammy looks like he has more of his breakfast down the front of him than he managed to get inside.”
“It was a challenge this morning,” Cody admitted. “Do you want some breakfast?”
“Not yet. Tara is coming over so we can figure out what we need to do about the bookstore. I’m going to have my coffee and then run up to take a shower.”
“How’s she holding up?” Cody asked.
“Not well.”
Cody put a hand on mine. “How are you holding up?”
“About the same.” I smiled at my wonderful husband. “But I have you and Sammy, so at least I’m not alone to deal with my emotions. It’ll be better if Tara hangs out with us today.”
Cody got up, grabbed the pot, and refilled my coffee.
“Are you going into the paper?” I asked.
“I should. For a while. But if you need me, I’ll work something out.”
I shook my head. “No. I’m fine. You go ahead and do what you need to. I might work on finishing up my packing. I did indicate to Cassie that she could move in here by the end of the week and I’d like to keep that promise. And I need to go get my car.”
“Finn brought it over. It’s in the drive. Do you want me to take Sammy to day care?” Cody asked.
“That might be best. I will probably head into town to check in with Finn later. I want to check in with Jane, Wiley, and Jingles as well. I think I’ll ask Tara to come with me. It will help her keep her mind off things.” I took a sip of my coffee. “I wonder if we need to call someone. Like the insurance company. Knowing Tara, though, she is on top of that. I’ll just ask her when she gets here.”
“If you need help with any of this, you only need to ask,” Cody said.
