by P. Creeden
His face lit up brighter. “Actually, yes! Every year, I attend a mystery writers’ conference which happens to take place on a Christmas cruise to the Caribbean.”
Emma blinked. “A cruise—I’m so jealous! Mystery writer? You’re an author?”
“Well, yes, I suppose I’m well known in some circles.”
“Clancy Warwick?” Colby asked, his eyes widening and taking the older man in.
Mr. Warwick scratched at his beard, “Yes, that’s me.”
“Wow, Mr. Warwick. I had no idea. My mother has read all of your books.”
The older man bowed slightly. “Please, thank your mother for me.”
“Of course!” Colby nodded hard, switching hands with his hot cocoa and extending his free hand to shake Mr. Warwick’s. “If it’s not too much of a hassle, could I trouble you for an autograph later?”
He nodded, taking the offered hand. “No problem at all, young man. After all, I’m the one who approached you asking for a favor.”
Normally, Colby remained almost as stoic as his K9 companion. But it warmed Emma’s heart to see this new outpouring of emotion from him. She smiled, “It’s great that you have blessed our small town by visiting.”
Mr. Warwick refocused on Emma. “Actually, I had a bout of writer’s block, so I’m visiting partly for business. This small town is a great setting for a story.”
While they made small talk, Molly was busy smelling around the group and often tried to get away from the leash, causing Emma to constantly be on her guard. She jumped up at Mr. Warwick and got a bit of mud on his pants leg. Emma sucked in her breath, pulling the leash. “I’m so sorry!”
Mr. Warwick shook his head with a smile as he dusted off his slacks. “No problem. She’s a puppy, so her excitement is understandable. Eventually she could be trained like the K9 obediently waiting for the deputy’s next instruction, over there.”
She crinkled her brow, relief washing over her. “Really, you think so?”
The older gentleman patted Molly on the head for the first time. “Yes. My sister used to raise Saint Bernard dogs. They are very teachable.”
“We should really move closer to the sign,” Colby interrupted. “They will be lighting up the next word soon, if you still want that picture?”
Mr. Warwick lit up. “Yes! Of course.”
Dogs, children, and local spectators crowded the area on picnic blankets. Some of the especially young were napping on the blankets while their parents sat nearby. The ceremony brought the town together as a whole and it was a family event. Emma remembered coming to the ceremony as far back as she had memories—back when her mother and father were still married.
The threesome weaved through the crowd in the central area toward the sign. Mr. Warwick nodded toward Emma. “Do you notice that Molly is not as excited or curious when you are relaxed?”
“Oh!” Emma blinked in surprise. The gentleman was right. While they walked through the crowd, Molly had been attuned to every subtle tug of the leash, following them without resistance or hyperactivity even though they were among both dogs and children.
The lighting of the word “New” burned on the sign. After the cheers began, and the bright letters were illuminated, Mr. Warwick pulled out a disposable camera and turned again to Colby. “Would you mind shooting that photo?”
The officer nodded and received the disposable camera. He commanded Gabby to sit, and Emma stood with both dogs to help keep them still while Colby was busy. Before framing the shot, Colby laughed. “I haven’t used one of these in forever. Do I need wind the film in order to take the next photo?”
Warwick frowned, unamused at Colby’s jest. “I’ve already done that. Just please make sure to stay close enough that I’m in the frame along with the lit sign, if you please.”
The writer posed with a hand under his chin as though he were thinking while Colby shot the picture. After taking just one photo, the strange Mr. Warwick rushed to collect his disposable camera back. “I only have limited film left and want to be sure to get all of the words lit in the background for my blog. I bought the camera in the Bahamas during the cruise, and decided to finish up the film here. I can’t wait to see the photos from my trip. The islands are beautiful this time of year.”
In the excitement, Mr. Warwick began to sweat, wiping his brow quickly when it seemed Emma and Colby weren’t focused on him. Emma wondered if it was because he’d just come back from a warm climate and was too sensitive to the cold. “If you’re too hot, you might take off the coat, Mr. Warwick. It’s not very chilly if you’ve got on a sweater. I know you just got back from a cruise, but it’s not too bad tonight if you want to remove your coat.”
“Not at all, young lady. I’m fine. I only have on a lightweight shirt underneath, since I’d taken the same luggage from the cruise for this trip, and the coat was all I added. Going from one trip to another makes me feel like a jetsetter. It helps to get away from the desk sometimes, and the cruise was a fantastic trip, but really didn’t do much for my writing. This small town makes for a much better setting when it comes to murder mysteries.”
Once he began talking, he continued for quite a while, almost as nervously as Emma had been earlier. He spoke at length about the details of the ship, including the centerpieces and fountains. Time sped by as they talked, but the word “Year” was lit before they realized twenty minutes had passed. Emma was excited that only twenty minutes remained before 2018 would begin. A new year and the tradition of affection that came with it would soon be upon them. She was deeply considering telling Colby how she felt.
Mr. Warwick offered his disposable camera again. “Would you mind taking another picture? The same way if you could, with just the lit word in the background.”
Colby laughed, accepting the disposable camera and nodding toward Emma. Even though Mr. Warwick was a third wheel, he was pleasant, and his presence had calmed Emma’s nerves since she was no longer alone with her crush.
As the tall man placed himself for the photo, Emma admired the nice tan Mr. Warwick had achieved, wondering what it would be like to go on a cruise like that. She imagined going on one with Colby for just a moment, and caught herself blushing once more as she imagined him in a bathing suit. She really needed to rein-in her overactive imagination.
After Mr. Warwick posed, Colby took the picture—one shot like he’d done before. Then Colby returned the mystery writer’s camera. The taller man dashed his arm across his brow to wipe the beads of sweat, smoothly making the gesture seem like a wave followed by a friendly smile as if he were thanking Colby for his assistance.
Once more in a rush, Mr. Warwick retrieved his camera and bowed his head slightly toward the couple. “Thank you both so much for the conversation and the photographs. I have taken up more than enough of your time. I wish you both the most joyous new year.”
With that, he started to pull away. Before fully disengaging, Colby called out to him. “Are you sure you don’t need help with the last photo to complete the series?”
In a saddened tone, the writer answered, “I hate to be a third wheel on your date. I will find someone else to assist me for the last photograph. Do not worry.”
With a smile, Mr. Warwick waved and wandered off, disappearing into the crowd. When Colby met eyes with Emma, she blushed harder and had to look away. Although she had hoped the event would be a date, she hadn’t said such a thing, and was embarrassed by the gentleman’s assumption.
Left alone and back on their date, which was not considered a date, Emma briefly thought about how the conversation could go between her and Colby once the cheering died down at midnight. She wanted to time her conversation for when the crowd began chanting Auld Lang Syne. She was going to confront Colby about her feelings for him. Maybe he would make a move before she did. The brief daydream scenario ended when Molly nudged her, seeking attention.
Emma blinked. She didn’t have time for the constant daydreams. She and Colby continued around the park while he patrolled,
keeping an eye on the sign and when it would light up with “2018.” The moment couldn’t come soon enough, but at the same time, she felt she needed more time to sort out what she planned to say and do. Could she really let things fall into place on their own?
“Emma! Colby!” across the park, a deep voice called their names. Molly pulled in the direction of the caller, but Emma didn’t need to turn around to know the source. Her hair raised on the back of her neck at the sound of distress in her father’s voice.
Chapter Three
“Emma,” her father called again as he drew closer. Sheriff Wright was built like a brick house. Short, compact, and square. His sheriff’s hat sat on his head, a part of him, not to be removed, or his thinning hairline would show. He approached them now, his shoulders moving back and forth with each step, two deputies behind him. He studied Colby a brief moment before posing his question. “How has the event gone so far? Any suspicious characters?”
Emma swallowed as Colby shook his head. She hoped she hadn’t distracted him from doing his job. But this was Ridgeway. Nothing exciting ever really happened here. “No, sir. There has been nothing worth noting.”
The sheriff frowned. “I know there are a lot of people here in the park tonight. But we’re looking for a specific person. He’s wanted for questioning in an incident that occurred tonight. Have you seen a stranger? Probably alone. Tall, thin, and tanned, with a beard?
Emma blinked and met eyes with Colby. They both realized at the same time that he was describing Mr. Warwick. Emma nodded to her father. Colby cleared his throat. “Yes, sir. Actually we met a man matching that description on point. He is also a famous author, sir, by the name of Clancy Warwick.”
Her father snapped his fingers and pointed at Colby. “Yes. That’s him.”
Colby nodded again, his eyes already searching the direction Mr. Warwick had gone. Emma trained her gaze the same way. It had only been minutes between their last interaction, but Mr. Warwick stood far off on the other side of the field near the 2018 sign. He was talking to another couple, his disposable camera in hand once more. She pointed his way. “He’s over there, Dad.”
Then the 2018 lit up the entire park with enough lumens to dispel all shadows. Midnight.
They started in his direction, weaving through the crowd of people. Mr. Warwick stood with a smile, having his photo taken in that same burst of raw light. Others celebrating the new year were also taking pictures. Many filmed the event, but flashes went unseen. Modest and colorful fireworks exploded in the skies above, scaring Molly. The thoughts of Emma’s confession, of the kiss she’d been daydreaming all night flew away, and she set a hand on the pup’s head for comfort, stopping, while the sheriff and his three deputies continued on. The rowdy crowd screamed and hollered, spinning their noisemakers and blowing kazoos as loud as they could. The poor pup wedged herself between Emma’s legs, unsure what to make of all the noises and cheering.
Emma’s father and the deputies approached Mr. Warwick, Colby leading the way. She was not far behind, though Molly did require some help to keep moving. To draw attention away from the noise, Emma tried to make a game of it with the Saint Bernard. She roughed the puppy up a little, telling her what a good girl she was. It worked but just barely well enough.
Finally, the cheering and singing ended, and Emma worked her way through the last bit of crowd to where her father and Colby stood. Mr. Warwick appeared to be satisfied with the photo opportunity as he retrieved the camera from the couple kind enough to take the picture. Then he immediately unzipped his jacket, exposing the white buttoned shirt beneath, and swiped sweat from his brow again.
Colby stood back once they reached the suspect and allowed the Sheriff to take the lead. Sheriff Wright confronted Mr. Warwick just as Emma caught up with them. The noise level died down enough, making outdoor speaking voices audible once more. Her father cleared his throat. “Excuse me, sir. But are you Mr. Clancy Warwick?”
The smile on Mr. Warwick’s face slipped and he blinked at the police officers. He began rubbing the ring finger on his left hand, as if twirling a ring that wasn’t there. Then he spotted Colby and Emma. His smile widened once more and he lifted his camera toward them. “Hello again, you two. I couldn’t find you for the final picture, so I asked someone else to take it.”
The sheriff stepped closer and frowned at the taller, older gentleman. “I’m sorry, Mr. Warwick, but we have a matter of urgency we need to discuss.”
Mr. Warwick blinked once again, focusing his gaze upon Emma’s father. He lifted his chin and narrowed his gaze at him. “What can I help you with, Sheriff?”
“There’s been a homicide,” Emma’s father explained scratching his cheek, “and you’ve been named as a person of interest.”
Mr. Warwick blinked, his eyes widening and his mouth going agape. Emma felt it seemed a bit extreme for what her father had said. “A person of interest?”
“We need to know where you were at 11p.m. tonight. The keeper at the motor lodge heard a gunshot at that time exactly and said he thought he saw you running away from your own rooms, but he couldn’t be sure.”
“That’s impossible, Sheriff, as I’ve been here at the park for the illumination the whole time. Your deputy can attest to that, as well as this lovely young lady.”
It struck Emma as strange that the man didn’t even ask who had died. She frowned as Colby cleared his throat. “It’s true that we met up with Mr. Warwick just before the lighting of the second sign, ‘New.’”
Mr. Warwick nodded vigorously and pointed to his disposable camera. “I have photo evidence on my camera as proof, as I have pictures of me with all of the signs illuminated.”
Molly, being close enough to Mr. Warwick, sniffed his leg as she did when they first met. With a meaningful woof, Molly barked in the direction of Mr. Warwick, distracting everyone for a brief moment. Emma shushed the Saint Bernard. The dog wagged her tail aggressively, though the outward display was not threatening otherwise.
“The deceased was seen with you on several occasions this evening. Are you aware of Ms. West’s death?”
“Ms. West? Certainly, you must be wrong!” For a moment, the older gentlemen acted a little woozy, flailing his arms out as though he might faint. Then he straightened up, his tone one of outrage. “You must be wrong, of course. I only left her an hour and a half ago. She’d complained of a migraine and decided to stay in instead of going to the illumination ceremony with me. You’re mistaken. She’s probably lying in bed asleep right now.”
People reacted differently to bad news, so Emma did not think much of his emotional sentiment. Mr. Warwick was thoughtful and thorough in his responses. But his denial seemed a little extreme.
The sheriff opened his hands up in an honest gesture. “We’re certain it is Ms. West, but we’d be happier if you came down yourself and identified the body.”
Mr. Warwick paled. “So, it’s true then? And you want me to come down to the crime scene and see the body for myself?”
“Yes, but also to see if anything was stolen. The room has been wrecked pretty badly. It has all the making of a robbery attempt gone wrong.” The sheriff shook his head and bowed it slightly in deference to the woman who’d lost her life.
Mr. Warwick still seemed a bit out of it as he nodded. “Yes. Of course.”
The sheriff eyed Emma. “You can come, too. After all you’re a witness in this, as his alibi, and you’ll need to make a statement.”
She nodded. “Okay.”
The Motor Lodge was a fifteen-minute walk from the park. Because of the dogs and the fact Mr. Warwick didn’t want to sit in the back of a police vehicle, the sheriff allowed them all to walk together in order to make their way to the Lodge.
“You see, Mr. Warwick,” the sheriff began between breaths while they walked at a brisk pace. “If your alibi is solid, we’ll be able to rule you out as a suspect. So I’ll have to ask if you, or Colby or Emma, have seen a tall man, wearing black, who had on a ski mask? Witness
es estimated his height to be about six feet, three inches.”
“That’s awfully tall,” Colby said, the wrinkles in his forehead deepening.
The sheriff nodded, and then met eyes with Mr. Warwick again. “And how tall are you, sir?”
Mr. Warwick cleared his throat. “Six feet, three inches.”
Chapter Four
Just outside the door of the crime scene, the sheriff stepped toward one of the crime scene investigators. “Do you have the ability to develop film from a camera quickly? Or know of someone who does?”
The CSI aide scratched his chin, Emma remembered him from school but hadn’t talked to Mike in years. “We can’t do it in the lab, because we’re all digital there. But Mr. Norris, the art director at the high school, can develop the film.”
“Do you have his number?”
“I can get it.” Mike straightened and stood up tall.
“Do it. Now. He’s probably still awake after the illumination ceremony.” The sheriff nodded and offered an open hand toward Mr. Warwick. “We’ll get that filmed developed and corroborate your story just to make sure you’re in the clear.”
Mr. Warwick frowned, holding the camera to his chest a moment. “There are still two pictures I have yet to take before completing the film. But I suppose if I need to get it developed now, there’s no better reason than this.”
The threshold leading into the hotel room was quarantined with the standard yellow crime scene tape. A CSI team remained on site, documenting evidence. The sheriff lifted the tape to allow the group to enter. Every item of clothing in the closet had been tossed to the floor. Several drawers on the dresser were left open, its contents also tossed to the floor. The suitcases had been left open and their contents strewn about as well. The body of a blonde, forty-something woman lay upon the floor in a hotel bathrobe.
