“I don’t know why she stays here,” a woman replied. “She must be insane. He could do so much better than her.”
“She’s rich. I might move into a mausoleum for all that money,” the man said. “But this whole place is creepy.”
“You know all that is nonsense, right?” Fagan said quietly beside me. I looked over at him, realizing for the first time I was wedged into the corner next to the entrance to the kitchen. “You know what’s worse than suffering fools? Eavesdropping on them.” He flashed me his too perfect smile as he went into the kitchen.
“I hear she’s a witch and sacrifices small animals to increase her book sales,” Fagan said cheerfully as I walked in behind him. “Maybe she used a spell on Gabriel. What do you think?”
“I don’t do it for the money, Carter, you know that. Only to make the best-selling lists. I have principles.” The man and the woman looked appropriately shamed. “And I found Danny, over there.” I pointed at the correct wall diagonal to the one they were in front of. “Would you like me to take your picture in front of it? For five dollars I will get in the picture with you.”
Fagan laughed, looking truly amused as he took a beer out of the refrigerator.
“Sorry,” the woman mumbled as they awkwardly left the room.
My eyes followed them out.
“Merry Christmas,” Fagan said. “Tis the season for people to be assholes.”
I shook my head. “Don’t worry about. I’m used to it.” When my husband was killed in our house, I was the prime suspect. Even though I was proven innocent and the killer had been caught, the town still hadn’t warmed up to me. It could be because I wrote a true crime book about them, honestly portraying them to the world as the closed minded, cliquish jerks that they are.
“You could always move to Jackson. People love you there,” he said. Jackson was the even smaller town over an hour away from here where Fagan lived and worked. I helped him catch a killer earlier in the year and they tried to give me the town key. Small towns were strange. “You want a drink?”
I sat on a stool on the other side of the counter. “Very much.”
Fagan made me a vodka tonic, sliding it in front of me. “Now, there are some attractive women in that room,” he pointed toward the living room, “introduce me to the single ones.”
“Like I know them.” I rolled my eyes. “I only live here.” I reached for my drink. It moved six inches across the counter.
“Holy crap. Did that just move on its own?” Fagan asked, moving closer. He picked up the glass and ran his hand over the counter. “How did you do that?”
I sighed. Grant was as bad as Gabriel about my drinking. So I tried to burn down the house once when I was drunk. I had plenty of other opportunities I hadn’t taken. “Keep it up and I will succeed in burning the house down this time,” I said under my breath. This time when I reached for the glass it stayed in place.
“What was that?” Fagan asked.
“Must have been the ghost,” I said, a tad ironically. I didn’t discuss ghosts with people who couldn’t see them, which was everyone. Gabriel was the only person alive who knew the extent of what I could do.
Fagan continued to rub his hand over the countertop. “Must not be level.”
“Must not.” I took another drink.
“Glad to see you could join us,” Gabriel said, kissing my temple. “What are you doing?” he asked Fagan.
“Checking if the countertop is level. My glass moved a bit when he sat it down.”
“Ah, yes. Old houses.” His hand rested on my lower back, a smile twinkling in his eyes. “Come join the party. I will introduce you to people.”
“I really don’t see the need to do that. In there I am just a sideshow for them to stare at and whisper about. In here, next to that wall, I’m the main event.”
“I’m not following you.”
I pursed my lips, annoyed he had put me in this situation. “You’re the detective. Figure it out.”
“Do you know what she’s talking about?” he asked Fagan who had another glass on the counter, trying to get it to move again.
“Ella overheard some people speculating about murder and her sanity.”
Gabriel’s head tilted back slightly. “Oh.”
“Just so you know, they questioned your sanity too,” I said. “You have great friends.”
He tried to remain serious, but his laughter broke through. “El, you seriously aren’t mad about this, are you? When have you ever cared what people think? They just don’t know you.”
“I guess I am just not used to hearing it in my own house,” I said through clenched teeth. My house had often been my nightmare, my prison, but more recently it was my sanctuary.
“You know if you talked to them and got to know people, they would have more than rumors and speculation to judge you by.”
“Oh, so it’s my fault?”
“That’s not what I meant. It’s just that you are mysterious to them. Not only are you connected to two of the worst crimes this town has ever seen, but you also don’t come out from or let many people into your house. They don’t know what to think of you.”
Someone walked into the kitchen. I glared at him and he promptly turned around and went in the other direction. “Maybe we should tack up crime scene photographs and some police tape. Give them what they are really looking for. I can give tours. Charge admission.”
The doorbell rang.
“Ella—”
I held up a hand. “Please let me get it.”
I picked up my drink and headed for the door with my head high. I swung open the heavy wooden door open to a man sitting in a chair dressed in a worn Santa Claus suit with his head down.
Weird.
“Um, hello?” I said.
Gabriel came up behind me. “What’s—” He stopped talking when he saw the man. He opened the screen door. “Sir?” He reached toward him, feeling for a pulse. He looked back at me. “He’s dead.”
“There’s a letter in his hand.” I pointed to the white envelope clutched in his black leather gloves.
Gabriel nodded, but went out of the door and round the body. He looked around our street crowded with cars from our guests. “I am going to look around the perimeter. Get Eric.”
I went inside and scanned the room for Gabriel’s friend and fellow detective, Eric Slade. I spotted his white blond hair in the crowd. I moved through the crowd as quickly as possible and put a hand on his arm.
“Can I talk to you?”
His eyes narrowed slightly—he never really liked me. “Sure.”
I turned and beckoned him to come with me. Fagan stood in the doorway chatting with a pretty redhead, but I could see him watching us head his way. I didn’t stop until I was standing in front of the door again. Eric and Fagan were behind me.
“There’s a dead body on the porch. Gabriel is checking around the house, but he asked that I get you.”
Eric’s mouth fell open. “Is this a weird joke?”
“No. Look for yourself.” I opened the door.
His mouth twisted in a frown. “Who are you?” he asked Fagan.
“Sheriff Carter Fagan.” He held out his hand.
Eric shook it. “Good. Secure the body. I’m going to help Gabriel.”
“Should I call it in?”
“Half the department is already here, but go ahead. Don’t make any announcements inside though. The last thing we need is them stomping down our crime scene.”
I nodded as he left, my heart thumping in my chest. Not again. Not at Christmas.
Chapter 2
The next morning I hopped out of bed with purpose. I dressed quickly and slipped out of the room while Gabriel was still sleeping. After the police arrive the night before, the guests were escorted out of the house through the back and around to their cars. The letter clutched in Santa’s hand simply said “Merry Christmas.” Eric took the lead on the investigation, but the police were still outside for hours. Fagan decided to
stay the night at our house, given the late hour when everyone finally left. I was mostly numb to the chaos of the investigation on my porch. I had seen too many dead bodies and been in the middle of too many investigations for them to bother me anymore.
I headed down to the kitchen and put on the coffee while I cleaned up a bit from the previous night’s festivities. First thing was first, I needed to figure out who the dead Santa was. I went out the back and around the house to pick up the newspaper, since my front door was still blocked off. Our late arriving guest to the party made the headline. “Santa DOA.” Scanning the article, it said that the police had yet to identify the man in the suit.
The frigid air hurried me back inside.
“Is that coffee I smell?” Fagan said from the kitchen doorway.
“Yes.” I poured myself a cup and went back to my paper to read the article more carefully.
“You are a terrible hostess,” he said as he got himself his own coffee.
“You have to earn your keep here.” I finished the story. “If you were trying to ID an unknown Santa, what would your step after talking to department stores be?”
“The Santa union.”
“You’re pulling my leg, right?”
“Nope. They have a union. Not only that, but there is an organization for Santa’s who have a real beards. And guess what.” He leaned on the counter next to me. “Your vic had a real beard.”
“You’re not getting involved, El,” Gabriel said from the doorway.
I laughed. “I know you must be joking. A dead body was delivered to my doorstep with a note that says Merry Christmas. What about that makes you think I wouldn’t get involved? It is practically begging me to get involved.”
“And that’s why you shouldn’t. You attract more trouble than anyone I have ever met. Let the police do what they do and find whoever did this.”
“You think someone is targeting Ella?” Fagan asked, looking up from the paper.
Gabriel took a deep breath. “How long had you known her before someone tried to kill her?”
“Hey, that’s not fair. It isn’t my fault I attract the crazies.” I handed Gabriel a cup of coffee. “And I am not going to let anyone else terrorize me in my own house. I won’t interfere with the police investigation. I’m just going to conduct my own on the side.”
“El, I can’t take off work. It is a busy time of year, helping you in Jackson ate a large chunk of my vacation time, and I don’t want you doing this alone.”
I kissed his cheek, somewhere deep inside of me appreciating how sweet he was. “You keep thinking I am asking permission when I tell you these things. I am simply stating what I intend to do. It isn’t up for discussion. I will not have our first Christmas destroyed by some psychopath.”
Gabriel ran his hand through his hair. “Why do I feel like I am either going to be bailing you out for Christmas or visiting you in the hospital?”
“Let’s look at the bright side, house arrest will suit me.”
Fagan cleared his throat. “I have some vacation time I never use.” He gestured awkwardly. “I figure I still owe you guys for your help.”
I smiled. “Care to take some vacation and join me in catching the Grinch who killed Christmas, Fagan?”
He winked at me. “Only if it’s okay with Gabriel.”
Gabriel actually looked relieved. “That would be a load off my mind to know someone had her back. Make sure she doesn’t do anything illegal or careless.” He looked back at me. “I have to go work. You okay?”
I nodded. “If you hear anything intriguing about the case, let me know.”
He shook his head as he headed for the door. “You know you enjoy this a little too much, Sherlock?” he called back over his shoulder.
“That’s why you love me,” I called after him. When the door clicked shut, I turned back to Fagan. “The police will talk to the local stores where people can visit Santa to see if any of them are missing, right?”
He nodded. “Probably.”
“Then we’ll start with the unions.”
“Why?”
“If the police ID him, it will be in the paper. If they don’t, then we are a step ahead.”
Fagan shook his head. “This isn’t a competition, Ella. All that matters is the person is caught before they can hurt anyone else.”
“I’m not competing with the police. I’m just not going to let anyone make me afraid to be in my home again.”
My cell phone rang.
“Hello?”
“Ella, can you come down to the station this morning? I have a few questions I would like to ask you.”
I held back a sigh. “Do you honestly think I had anything to do with that body, Eric? I have several witnesses of my whereabouts last night.”
“Just a few questions, Ms. Reynolds,” he said in a no-nonsense tone.
“Fine. I’ll be there in twenty.”
I would answer Eric’s questions and maybe he would answer some of mine in return. “Want to see the Montgomery police department, Fagan?”
“I’ve been dreaming about it my whole life.”
***
I went to the desk sergeant who was the pretty redhead from Gabriel’s party the night before. She gave me a wary nod and smiled at Fagan.
“Here to see Detective Troy, Ms. Reynolds?”
“Actually, no. Eric Slade, please.”
She picked up her phone. A few minutes later Eric came out to retrieve me. “You remember Carter Fagan, right, Eric?”
He shook Fagan’s hand again. “You’re still here.”
“I’m spending the holidays with Ella and Gabriel.”
“Is that so?” Eric raised a disapproving eyebrow at me.
I stared back at him. “I’m here. What questions do you have?”
“Come with me.” He held open the door and I walked through, but he stopped Fagan from following. “If you don’t mind, I only need to talk to Ms. Reynolds.” He shut the door on Fagan.
I followed him to an interrogation room. I sat down and crossed my legs and my arms. Eric sat across from me, but he didn’t say anything. “I don’t have all day, Eric. What do you need to know?”
“It’s Detective Slade, Ella. This isn’t going to be recorded.”
I rolled my eyes.
He placed two pictures facedown in front of me, flipping one over at a time. “Do you know who this man is?”
“The dead guy?”
“Have seen him before last night?”
I looked at him closer, trying to recall, but he didn’t look familiar at all. “Not that I know of. He doesn’t look familiar, but I told you that last night, Eric. So why don’t you tell me why I am here this morning.”
“The thing is, Ms. Reynolds, no matter how many police officers you manage to surround yourself with, dead bodies keep popping up around you. Detective Troy may believe it is just bad luck, but I’m slightly more cynical.”
I tried not to laugh at the absurdity of this. “You honestly think I killed this man and put him on my own doorstep while my house was filled with half of the police department?”
“No.” He gave me a condescending smile. “I think you are trouble. I think you have moved to Montgomery and brought nothing but trouble with you. Now you are dragging a good cop and my friend’s name through the mud with you.”
I looked into his ice blue eyes, but didn’t respond.
“He could have been captain by now if it weren’t for you. I just have this feeling when I look at you that you aren’t going to let him go until he is as dead as your husband.”
I took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I’m done here.” I stood up and went for the door. “Eric, do your job or I’ll do it for you.” I closed the door softly behind me, my hands shaking with a mixture of rage and something softer that I would never admit to. I headed back for the lobby, with my eyes trained to the ground.
“Ella?” Gabriel said, as his hand took my arm.
I forced a smile when
I looked up. “Fancy meeting you here.”
“Why did Slade bring you in?”
“Just had a couple questions. How did you know?”
“Fagan called me. He said something didn’t seem right.” He looked at me closer. “What sort of questions?”
I pulled away from him. “It’s not important. I have to go.” I wasn’t going to put Gabriel in the middle of this. Eric didn’t like me—that was nothing new. I already knew that and I didn’t fucking care. All that mattered was we caught whoever was doing this before the situation got any more out of control. I had no desire to become the constant thorn in the side of Gabriel’s career. I made it to the door before he could stop me. I breezed past Fagan talking to the desk sergeant. By the time I was outside, anger had overcome any hurt feelings I had. Who was he to treat me like that?
“Hey. What happened in there?” Fagan asked, coming up to me.
“Nothing.”
“Did you find out anything?”
Besides for the fact that Eric is giant douche? “They don’t know who Santa is.” I focused my attention on him. The pictures he showed me were obviously taken in the morgue. His skin was clean and his hair brushed. The night before he was scraggly and dirty. “What if he isn’t Santa Claus at all?”
“Um, Ella. I don’t know how to break this to you, but none of the people in the stores are actually Santa.”
“You’re hilarious,” I said without inflection. “No. Think about how dirty he was last night and how worn the Santa suit was.”
“Okay …”
I smacked Fagan on the chest. “Costume shops. That’s where we need to go.”
“You think the killer rented a costume, dressed the guy up, and put him on your porch as a real life Christmas card?”
My eyebrows pulled together. “I think most people don’t own Santa suits and that one wasn’t nice enough to be in use. Where else would you get a worn-out Santa suit?”
“The Internet?”
That was true. I hadn’t thought about that. It didn’t matter though. I wasn’t giving up. “Couldn’t hurt to try.”
We spent the afternoon checking costume shops, thrift stores, and Fagan even called the Santa union, but every new idea was a dead end. I laid my head back against the passenger seat. Hopefully the police were doing better than I was. “Take me home.”
Naughty or Nice Page 13
