by Ami Diane
Will steepled his fingers together, speaking for the first time in a while. “What I want to know is, how did she do it? How did she kill Stan?”
CHAPTER 31
SQUINTING, CHAPMAN STUDIED all of their faces as if trying to decide if he should divulge that information.
“She used Will’s scuba equipment, didn’t she?” Ella asked.
The sheriff eyed her as he slowly nodded.
Flo grunted. “Lucky guess.”
“Not a guess.” Ella preened as if they should all be impressed that she knew.
When no one batted so much as an eye, she said, “Tough crowd,” and turned to Will. “Remember? When you went on your first dive, right before we found Stanley, the mask was too tight and still wet despite being stored in that boathouse of horrors?”
The confusion in the inventor’s expression cleared.
“Miss Barton’s right.” Chapman tugged at his handlebar mustache. His eyes sagged as if he hadn’t slept in days, and Ella wondered if the town wasn’t pulling him apart at the seams a little bit.
Rubbing the bags under his eyes, he relayed the broad strokes of what Lilly had said during her interrogation. Her official married name was Lilly Fisher. When both she, David, and Stanley had arrived into town, she was happily married to David but hid a terrible secret from him that ate at her.
Stan, David’s best friend, had been pining for her for years and didn’t bother hiding it from Lilly. Wooing her with flowers, secret love letters, and poems, he wore her down, his jealousy over David only increasing.
They had been traveling across the country, bootlegging just enough for gas money to the next town. Getting stranded in Keystone Village became Stan’s breaking point, and the event triggered a jealous fit of rage.
One night, while the Fishers lay asleep, Stan burst into their bedroom and slit David’s throat with a hunting knife. Lilly freaked out and attempted to run for help, but Stan threatened her too, saying that she was his now.
They were still newcomers, and things were so crazy in Keystone during that period of time that David was counted among the missing, someone left behind in a jump.
Stan locked Lilly in the basement then disposed of Mr. Fisher’s body. She never knew what had become of her husband’s remains until recently.
When Stan saw Will’s diving gear and realized the inventor would be exploring the resting place of his victim, he visited Lilly in another one of his violent fits. He knew it was only a matter of time before the body was discovered. So, when he overheard Ella and Will talking about diving in the lake the next day, he had no choice but to go out in the middle of the storm and dredge up the body using Will’s gear.
Despite Lilly initially refusing, he managed to enlist her help, threatening to tell Chapman that she’d killed David.
In the middle of the torrential rain and lightning, they rowed out to the middle. When Stan emerged from the water, saying he’d located the bones, Lilly chose that moment for her revenge.
She fiddled with his air mixture before he dived back down to retrieve them, causing oxygen depravity—
At this point, Ella interrupted and wondered if he hadn’t meant oxygen deprivation.
“Yeah, sure,” Chapman drawled. “Whatever Pauline said. Anyhow, it didn’t take much for him to become disoriented. After that, all it took was holding his head underwater. Then, she stripped the gear off him. Dragging him into the boat had been a challenge but not impossible for her, given her…”
“Gladiator build?” Ella helped.
Chapman nodded before continuing. Using the diving gear, Dot had swum back to the dock and deposited everything in the boathouse where she and Stan had taken the gear. She didn’t care about hiding Stan’s body, because she didn’t think anyone would ever figure out how he died or who had killed him.
Chapman paused, sipping at his now-cold coffee. A heavy silence, the kind only heard during a tragedy, filled the space. Ella couldn’t imagine hating someone enough to kill them. What Stan had done wasn’t right, but to murder him?
Her plate made a scraping noise as she pushed it away, too nauseated to eat the remainder of her pancakes. “How long had Stanley been having an affair with Dot?”
“About a year, according to Dot,” Chapman said. “Lilly says she didn’t mind it because it took his attention away from her. Says he beat her less and was thrilled when he moved out.”
“What about the grow house?”
The finely combed hairs of his mustache bristled from a heavy sigh. “It was Stan and Dot’s idea. They’d heard from one of the locals how lucrative the marijuana industry was in the early twenty-first century, so they stockpiled the product. The next time we jumped to that time period, their plan was to get outta here with all of it.”
Ella’s eyebrows drew together. “Um, well they failed because they could’ve crossed the border when they hopped to my time.”
“When I asked Dot about that, she said they didn’t know what time period we were in until you were introduced at the town hall meeting. Then, they scrambled to gather what they could and ran. They made it a mile down the road before their car broke down.”
“Must’ve gotten it from Lou,” Ella muttered bitterly. All around the table, heads nodded in agreement.
Chapman’s mustache twitched. “They did. They ran towards the boundary line on foot, carrying what they could, but still missed getting out before the flash by a hair.”
Ella’s chair creaked as she leaned back. “Hm, I’m trying to feel sympathetic—should we be sympathetic? Anyway, I’m failing.”
The room fell still, all of the heads around the table shaking. Eventually, Rose and Jimmy began clearing the table. Chapman asked Ella if they could have a private conversation.
Her stomach twisted as he led her into the study and closed both doors. Embers glowed in the fireplace. Ella stoked the glowing remains then added another log. After blowing on it, flames crackled to life. Breathing, she faced Chapman, no longer able to stall.
His thumbs threaded through his belt, and if anything, the set of his mustache grew more firm. “You should’ve waited for me to arrive before going in that house. What were you thinking? You could’ve been killed.”
Ella gaped at him. “You’re kidding, right? Dot was going to kill Lilly.” She dug her fingernails into her palms, getting more worked up by the moment, and she fought to maintain composure. “If I hadn’t gone in when I did, she would be dead. Maybe if you had been in your office or hadn’t taken so long to get there—why did you take so long?”
His clear, blue eyes flashed dangerously. “That’s none of your business.”
“It isn’t? I almost died because you didn’t do your job.” She ground her teeth, trying to keep more of the words in her head from spilling out, but he’d pushed a button. “Even if you lived all the way across town, it shouldn’t have taken you, what, a half-hour to get there. And that includes horseback. I want to know what was so important, why I risked my neck doing your job.”
Ella heard the way she sounded: bitter, selfish, and annoying, and hated herself a little bit for it. Even if he had been in his office, she still would’ve inserted herself into the situation because that’s what a person with a semblance of humanity does when there’s a psycho woman running around with a shotgun.
Chapman’s cheeks rippled as he clenched and unclenched his jaw several times.
Pinching her nose, she took a long, steadying breath. “I’m sorry. I had no right to say that. I’m still worked up from last night.”
“It was my daughter’s birthday,” he said, softly.
Ella lowered her hand, her anger deflating. In the recent chaos, she’d almost forgotten he’d mentioned a daughter. “She got left behind?”
He nodded. “She would’ve been twenty-eight. Every year on her birthday, we rode over the plains to the foothills and spent the day fishing and trapping. We’d camp out that night, swapping stories over a campfire. I’d ask her if she had any male suitor
s, and she’d blush and tell me I was the most important man in her life.”
He blinked and averted his eyes to the fire. When he spoke again, his voice came out strained. “Every year since I was stranded here, I’ve continued the tradition. I go into the woods and camp. I make a fire and remember her.”
Ella swallowed a lump in her throat. “I’m so very sorry.”
“That’s what took me so long. Jonas couldn’t find me. Thankfully, I’d told Greta, my neighbor, where I’d be, otherwise, he never would’ve found me. But you’re right, I should’ve been there.”
Ella shook her head. “No. You were where you needed to be. What was her name?”
“Elizabeth.” He cleared his throat. “Elizabeth Caroline Chapman.”
Ella repeated the name, and it brought a small smile to his face.
“You remind me of her, actually. Strong. Stubborn. Loyal. Crazy. A horrible judge of character.” His eyes crinkled.
“I knew it! I knew I was growing on you. You’re nothing but a teddy bear.”
“Alright, don’t milk it.” The laughter lines melted away, and once again, the stoic law dog stared back at her. “No more poking around. I mean it. I know I asked you to keep your ear to the ground—a decision I regret—but that’s it. Ears only. Nothing more.”
“Sure.”
“I mean it, Miss Barton. And quit winking at me. I’m serious.”
“Yep.” She winked again.
He let out a long-suffering sigh and opened the door.
As they filed out of the study and into the entrance hall, she asked, “So, if Jonas didn’t kill Stan, then what was with all the animosity? Why start the committee to save the hills when he didn’t even live there? Did he genuinely dislike the guy that much?”
“Partly that.” Chapman tugged his derby hat back over his wave of gray hair. “But mostly the town leases his property for the wind farm. He gets a monthly portion of allocated funds. His contract’s fixed.”
“Meaning, that with the expansion, the new owners leasing their property would get a cut, as well, leaving less for him.”
“Exactly.”
Ella frowned. “Wait, so Dot was going to benefit from the new farm?”
He nodded. “Negligibly, yeah. But she still planned on leaving Keystone with Stan.”
“What’s going to happen to her now? Not that I care. The woman did try to shoot me a few times… okay, I care a little.” At the very least, Ella felt she should be charged with attempted murder. Then again, Six had tried to kill her, and Chapman had released him, reminding her, once again, that Keystone played by a different set of rules.
“She’ll be in jail for a while. Then….” One shoulder lifted in a lazy shrug. “Haven’t decided yet.”
“What about Lilly?”
“She’ll stay here until we jump someplace more habitable.”
He lingered by the front door, his badge catching the chandelier light. “Tell Rose thanks for the coffee.”
“Will do.”
Footsteps sounded behind Ella, and Will emerged from one of the hallways.
He shook Chapman’s hand and asked, “So what’s going to happen to the wind farm expansion project? We’re still in a bit of a crisis.”
“Hard to say. I’ve been told the turbines are working at a higher efficiency at the moment, so we’re looking better. But long term? I don’t know. Both Stan and Dot were the ones pushing the project forward. Without them….” He shrugged again.
“Well, something will have to be done,” Ella said. “Stan was right. The current farm won’t sustain us. Not unless we keep flashing to windy places.” She bit her lip, wondering again if there wasn’t a way to manufacture solar panels. Or maybe geothermal power was a feasible option. Regardless, that was another problem for a different day.
“I best be off. Lots of paperwork ahead of me.” Chapman touched the brim of his hat and said to Ella, “Try to stay outta trouble. Go read a book or something. And sometime later, you’re gonna tell me how you got all those scratch marks.” He indicated the older wounds covering her arms and neck from Six shoving her into the rose bush. “Something tells me Fluffy didn’t do that.”
Ella pulled her sleeves down and closed the door behind him. She could feel Will’s gaze on her. The grandfather clock in the entryway ticked loudly, emphasizing the weighted silence stretching between them.
“I need another cup of coffee,” Will said. He began to walk away, but Ella grabbed his arm.
“Will, wait. About Six… he only gave me a ride. That’s all. He saw I needed help and gave me a lift.” Her eyebrows pinched together. Could horseback riding be called a lift? She shook the question away.
“Look, you don’t owe me an explanation. I just don’t see how you can be around that guy after what he did to you.”
You don’t know the half of it. “Because everyone needs a friend. A true friend, one who’ll always be there no matter what. I’m fortunate enough to have many. He has none. Maybe if he did, he’d be different. Besides, he’s actually not that bad. I think we just got off on the wrong foot.” He gave her a rueful look. “But I just thought you should know there’s nothing going on between us.”
“And why would that matter to me?”
Ella blinked up at him, taken aback by the question. She couldn’t read the expression on his face. Had she been misreading him this entire time? “Well, b-because we… I mean, I thought….” She cleared her throat. “I’m sorry. I think I’ve misinterpreted—”
A grin broke out over his face, revealing the dimples in his cheeks. “I’m just joshing you. I wanted to see how you’d react because I wasn’t sure how you felt.” His blue-green eyes danced. “But now I know.”
Inside, her stomach both dropped to her feet and rolled into her chest simultaneously. She punched his arm. “You’re hilarious. You and Flo should open up a comedy routine together. But more importantly, people here still say ‘joshing’?”
He laughed. “Come on. I’ll treat you to a slice of banana bread.”
“You mean the loaf in the kitchen? The one sitting on the island and is up for grabs? Cheapskate.” Without waiting for a response, she ambled down the hallway. “Come on, old man.”
Later that afternoon, Ella curled up on a sofa in the drawing room adjacent to the kitchen. Two bay windows looked out over several feet snow, the lake, and the forest. Twin Hills rose above the frost-covered evergreens, set against a backdrop of sharp, craggy mountains. Stacks of smoke rose from dozens of chimneys and curled towards a blue sky. Clouds marched closer, promising more snow.
Ella smiled and petted the heavy ball of fur in her lap. Fluffy began to purr, the noise vibrating her stomach.
Across from her, Shelly Rossi sipped at her mug of hot tea, twirling a fountain pen in her hand. “Let’s began, shall we?”
Book 3: Christmas Corpse
CHAPTER 1
ELLA BARTON LOOKED from the antique sled with wooden rails to the steep slope of snow stretching into the distance below. She wasn’t even sure the sled qualified for the word so much as “sled adjacent,” mostly because of the added attachment on the back that looked suspiciously like a motor.
She suspected her fellow boarder and friend Florence Henderson—not of The Brady Bunch fame—was responsible for the souped-up vehicle that would’ve made Tim “The Tool Man” Taylor green with envy.
She zipped her down jacket up to her chin. “How you two talk me into stuff like this, I’ll never know. Why are we going down the back side of the hills instead of the front, anyway? Afraid people will see us?”
Ella’s boss, Grandma Wink, paused amidst positioning the sled for their downhill journey and peered up from a crouch position, something Ella was mildly impressed with given the woman’s age.
“Kind of, actually. The sheriff frowns on us going down that side of the hill.” Wink added the word “anymore” under her breath.
Her hot pink hair broke free from the confines of her ski cap as she bent close
to the monstrosity that would carry Ella to her death, muttering, “You go through one house and suddenly you’re ‘a hazard to the town’.”
Ella’s gloved hand worked under her beanie and bent her ear forward. “Come again? A house?” She rolled around to the other figure who stood nearby. “Will, what’s she talking about?”
The handsome 1920s inventor waved a hand dismissively, his eyes fixated on Ella’s cell phone in his hands. “Minor incident last year.” He managed to tear his gaze away from the screen long enough to glance over at Wink. “Or was last year when you two landed in the lake?”
Wink’s face pinched in thought. “No, last year was Bill’s house. We did him a favor if you ask me. I told him that hideous excuse for a door needed to be replaced ages ago.”
“Well, you sure showed him.” Ella gave a half-hearted swing of her arm. “Followup question. Was anyone injured? Asking for a friend.”
“Which time?” Will flipped up the collar of his trench coat and tugged his fedora down tighter over his slicked hair before using both hands to rotate her phone so the screen faced outward.
“Which time?” Ella sputtered. “How about both times?”
Wink’s voice floated up from the snow down near their boots. “I think Flo cracked a rib. Got a concussion maybe. Nothing serious.”
“Which time?” Ella asked.
“Both times. But I’m sure that has more to do with her poor nutrition than my steering.”
“Oh dear,” Will muttered beside her.
Currently, his head craned over the phone, trying to see the screen while still tilting it out over the snowy vista. She’d mistakenly opened the camera app and asked him to record—a request she now regretted.
After he’d spent the first couple of minutes taking pictures of his boots and subsequent bootprints, he’d accidentally toggled the app to use the front-facing camera and took several close-up shots of his forehead a la a poorly done selfie. He seemed resigned to leaving it on the front camera and was attempting to take photos that way.
