Purring Around the Christmas Tree

by Liz Mugavero

  “Kevin?” Stan said, surprised. “He did? Did he see his friends?”

  “No, they were out. He said he wanted to meet me. Said not to worry. That Seamus has a lot of friends and everyone’s looking for him. Charming fellow. I gave him some gumbo.”

  “Did he say where they were looking? Or what he thinks happened?”

  “No. Just that Seamus is very resourceful.”

  At least he didn’t mention the freight yard incident. “I’m sure he’s right,” Stan said. “Sounds like Seamus’s friends know him best of all.”

  She ended the call and nearly jumped a foot when she realized Kevin stood in the kitchen doorway, a small smile playing across his lips. “You’re right about that, lassie,” he said. “We do know our friend Seamus well. I’m sorry to eavesdrop,” he added. “The door was open. I imagine you were speaking to the lovely Southern lady?”

  “Yeah,” Stan said, trying to slow her pounding heart. “Do you always sneak up on people like that? And if you all know Seamus so well, why don’t you know where he is?”

  Kevin moved into the kitchen. He reached into a cabinet for a mug like he’d been living there forever. He chose a tea bag and turned the hot water on, then turned back to Stan. “It’s just a matter of time before he turns up,” he said. “Trust me on that.”

  *

  Stan tried to go to sleep early. Mostly because she didn’t want to get into some sort of discussion—or argument—with Jake. He came in, climbed in bed next to her and gave her a kiss on the forehead, then fell asleep. She spent the rest of the night tossing and turning. When she finally did sleep, she had dreams about Harold and Seamus hiding on the tree farm, and Lester was angry at both of them and trying to find them. She woke up feeling unsettled, but a shower helped.

  When she went downstairs, she could once again smell the fresh coffee. But the room was empty. She poured herself a cup and let Scruffy and Duncan, who’d followed her downstairs, out into the backyard and watched them from the window while she mentally planned her day. Treats, meal planning, grand opening chores. She wanted to try a new recipe she’d been playing around with. And she needed to update her website with the new grand opening details.

  But that annoying piece of her brain kept drifting back to the larger matter at hand. She wanted to know why Lester had lied about not knowing Harold was Santa. And what it meant. She thought about what Eddie had said as she let the dogs back inside. Lester was upset that Harold was Santa. She had to imagine, based on everything else she’d heard, that the Santa slight was just a piece of it, the icing on a cake full of frustration and animosity.

  No one would get that angry over not being asked to wear a Santa costume, would they? And especially since the choice hadn’t been officially sanctioned by the town or anyone close to the planning committee. It had just been Seamus, looking to get out of his duties for whatever reason. Maybe Lester didn’t know that, but still.

  She let out a cry of frustration, startling Scruffy, who sat at her feet waiting to see what the plan for the day was. “I’m not supposed to be worrying about this anymore,” she told the dog.

  Scruffy lay down and hid her face between her paws. Her dog knew her well.

  She wasn’t kidding anyone but herself. She couldn’t let this go. The only way she was going to get on with her life was to figure out who killed Harold and why, and where Seamus and Ray were. Especially where Seamus and Ray were, because until Ray was home, Frog Ledge—and Char—would never get back to normal.

  She heard the front door thunk shut and poked her head into the hall to see who it was. Kevin leaned against the wall, completely engrossed in the newspaper in his hand.

  “Morning,” she said.

  He glanced up and in the second before what she’d come to recognize as his normal, charming smile crossed his face, something else was there. Concern? Anger? She couldn’t tell.

  “Morning, lass. I see you found your coffee.”

  “I did. Thank you.”

  “It’s the least I can do. I hope you don’t feel I’m overstaying my welcome,” he said, scuffing his toe against the floor apologetically. “I’m enjoyin’ your wee town, and I’m also not ready to leave until Seamus turns up. I hope that doesn’t sound silly. And I’m happy to find lodging somewhere else if you please.”

  “That’s not necessary,” she said. “So you haven’t told me what you’ve been doing around here. Aside from visiting Char and Miss Viv. There can’t be that much that interests a big-city guy like you.” She was curious. He never mentioned where he went during the day. She made a mental note to ask Miss Viv if they’d had dinner.

  “Ah, you know. Wandering. Visiting all your historic sites. It’s all fascinating.”

  That didn’t really answer her question, but she didn’t push. Instead, Stan nodded at the paper. “What are you reading?”

  “A fascinating piece about the Book of Kells. Seems one of your locals did a lot of writing about it?” He waved the Holler at her. “And there’s going to be a talk at the library tonight.”

  “A talk?” Stan took the paper and glanced at it. It was true. Cyril and his father were going to be at the Frog Ledge Library doing a joint conversation on the Book and all Arthur’s research. “That’s very cool. Are you going to stick around for it?”

  Kevin nodded. “Wouldn’t miss it for the world. I’m one of those Irish who likes our history. Shall I save you a seat?”

  “You know what?” Stan said. “Yes. Please do.”

  *

  She was in a much better mood when she and Scruffy got to the patisserie. Henry had chosen to stay in bed today. She even beat Brenna there today, and enjoyed having some time to herself in her new kitchen. Scruffy was getting into the routine now too. First she went out front and sniffed around to see what dogs had been visiting recently that she may not have known about. Then she poked around to see if there were any abandoned treats, or at the very least, crumbs, on the floor. Finally she went out back and settled on the special bed Stan had gotten for her.

  While Scruffy did her thing, Stan jotted down a list of ingredients she needed to order and inventoried her cases. After making her list of what she wanted to bake for the day, she got her first batch of treats going. This way when Brenna arrived she’d know exactly what she needed to do.

  Her hands were fully immersed in her batter, kneading away, when her cell rang on the counter. She glanced at it, half expecting to see Jake’s or the pub’s number come up, and didn’t plan on answering. But instead, it was Izzy’s number. She hurriedly wiped off one of her hands and pressed the button to answer.

  “Stan?” Her friend was almost whispering. Stan’s stomach flipped.

  “Izzy? What’s wrong?”

  “I need help. Jessie wants to bring me in to the barracks to talk about the other night. I … I think she’s going to arrest me.”

  “Arrest you?” Stan repeated.

  “I think so,” Izzy said. “Otherwise, why would she want me to go there?”

  She was right. As the resident state trooper, Jessie’s office was in the town hall, and she used that for common inquiries or casual conversations. Bringing someone to the official state police barracks twenty minutes outside of town was serious business.

  “Can you help me? Does your mother know a good lawyer or something?” Izzy asked desperately.

  “Of course I’ll help you. If that’s what’s even happening, Izzy. You know Jessie. This could just be her way of shaking things up. Making the real criminal think he or she is okay so they’ll get complacent. You know?” She was reaching here, but she needed to make her friend feel better. “When is she asking you to come in?”

  “Later today. I stalled her as long as I could, said I was needed here at the café. So what should I do?”

  “I don’t think you have any choice but to go,” Stan said grimly. “I’ll call my mother. See if she can get someone to meet you there. What time are you going in?”

  “Three.” Izzy sounded on
the verge of tears. That never happened. She was the most cool, calm, and collected person Stan had ever met.

  Stan closed her eyes, seeing her blissful state of noninvolvement in this murder rapidly fading away. “Listen, Izzy. I think whatever happened the other night, it had to do with Seamus and not Harold. Something was going on with him. He was coming into some money, I heard—and from what I know about him, he was not a savvy businessman of any sort. Nobody wants to listen to that theory, but I can’t help but feel like that’s where the story is. It’ll all shake out. Just hang tight and answer her questions. You don’t have anything to hide.”

  “Right,” Izzy said, but her voice sounded funny. “Nothing at all.” She disconnected.

  Stan swallowed back the panic rising in her chest. Jessie couldn’t believe Izzy had anything to do with this. It was nuts. But Izzy was right—she needed a lawyer.

  Which meant Stan had to talk to her mother.

  Chapter Thirty-seven

  Once Brenna arrived and took over the baking, Stan put Scruffy’s leash on and they hurried out to her car. She’d decided to go to Patricia and Tony’s house rather than calling. She had to make it quick so she could get back and man the counter, but this conversation would best be had in person.

  It still felt weird to have her mother within a five-minute drive, she reflected as she put the car in gear. When she pulled up in front of Tony’s semi-mansion a few minutes later, she had to swallow back the memories of the engagement party. Every time she came here she was reminded of the events of that night, when one of her former coworkers had been killed. She hoped over time the memories would fade a bit. Or maybe Tony and her mother would move.

  She rang the bell. Patricia answered immediately.

  “Kristan. This is a surprise.” Patricia leaned forward to kiss her cheek, surprising Stan with the affection. “Hello, Scruffy.” She bent and patted the dog’s head. Scruffy wagged her stubby tail.

  “Hi, Mom. Is this an okay time?”

  “Of course. Come on in. We’ll have tea.” Patricia motioned her in and started toward the living room. “Is everything alright?”

  “Not really. Izzy might need a lawyer.”

  Patricia stopped in her tracks and turned back to Stan. “For what?”

  “Jessie’s questioning her about Harold’s death. She wants to bring her in today.”

  “She’s what? That’s nonsense! Why on earth would Jessie do something like that? I’ve a mind to call her myself and tell her what I think of her investigating skills.”

  “Wow, Mom. I didn’t think you felt that strongly about Izzy.”

  “I like Izzy. She makes delicious pastries. And I think it’s wrong when police officers abuse their power. Look what happened when that other … unfortunate situation occurred.”

  When Stan’s former coworker had been found murdered in Tony’s upstairs bathroom during the engagement party, a lot of finger-pointing had gone on, not to mention the mistaken arrest of Stan’s ex-boyfriend.

  “I don’t think Jessie’s abusing her power. But I do think she’s got it all wrong.” She sighed. “And I promised myself just yesterday I was staying out of this. I’m in a fight with Jake, Jessie and I had a brawl about it, and most of the McGees are sniping at each other or just generally cranky. I don’t want to be involved anymore. But if Izzy is in trouble, I need someone to listen to me. I really think they’re looking in all the wrong places.”

  “Come into the kitchen while I heat the water,” Patricia said. “I want to hear what you’re thinking. Would Scruffy like anything? Water?”

  “You do?” Stan followed her. “And sure, she can have some water.”

  “Of course I do. You’re smart, Kristan. And Lord knows you’ve had experience in this area lately. Which is a whole other problem, but we don’t need to discuss that today.” She turned the kettle on and put tea bags—Queen Anne breakfast tea—in two mugs, then filled a china bowl with water and set it on the floor. “Go ahead.”

  Stan held back a smile at her mother’s choice of water bowls. She confided her fears about Seamus and his potential involvement, while part of her wondered when hell had frozen over. If someone had told her a year ago that she’d be sitting in her mother’s kitchen in Frog Ledge, telling her secrets, she’d have personally driven them to a hospital for psychiatric counseling.

  Patricia listened attentively. “So you think someone was trying to kill Seamus? And Jake doesn’t believe that?” She pursed her painted lips and thought about that. “He has to have a good reason, Kristan.” Patricia adored Jake.

  “He does. Seamus is his favorite uncle. Brenna told me. I guess it makes him blind to some of the things he does. Liam made a comment about that too. Has Tony mentioned any of this to you? He was asking me a lot of questions about Seamus the other day.”

  “Not really. I mean, he’s worried about Ray, of course. But nothing that stands out. I don’t think he knew Seamus well.” The kettle whistled and Patricia turned to the stove.

  Stan still thought there was more to Tony’s interest. She’d have to ask him herself when she saw him next.

  “Jessie doesn’t believe it either?” her mother asked, pouring the tea.

  “She does. She’s more than willing to believe Seamus is doing something wrong, but she’s still wary about saying that’s why there was a murder. Clearly she’s still investigating down the Harold track. But I went to her office yesterday and told her everything. Miss Viv’s story, Kevin’s story, how Abby said it was too bad Seamus wasn’t the one who died—all of it. She said I was right, but she had to keep investigating the evidence. Whatever that means.”

  “Let’s focus on the immediate problem—Izzy. We’ll go sit.” Patricia led Stan into the living room. Stan settled on the sofa. Patricia sat in the chair across from her and tapped her manicured nails against the coffee table. “I’ll make a call. When does she need this lawyer?”

  “Three o’clock today. Mom, I don’t think she has a ton of money to spend on this either,” Stan said.

  “Don’t worry. He’s a family friend,” Patricia said.

  Stan raised an eyebrow. “So he doesn’t charge you?”

  “If he needs payment I’ll handle it, Kristan. Tell me why Jessie suspects her.”

  “Because she was in charge of the refreshments, she had access to the room where Santa was going to hang out, and it turns out she has a bit of a history with Harold. I heard about this secondhand, mind you, so I have no idea if it’s true.” She filled her mother in on what Abby had told her about Harold and Izzy’s alleged altercation last year. “I have no idea about anything else. I don’t know what kind of poison it was, and if that’s making Jessie lean a certain way.” She hesitated. “Truthfully, Izzy’s been acting strange lately too. She was supposed to be around all night the night of the tree lighting, but she sent someone over with her stuff and had them just drop it off. Which meant the room got left open, which clearly caused all sorts of problems. She’s not been herself lately.”

  Patricia thought about this. “Maybe she’s simply busy. Isn’t she trying to open her bookstore also?”

  “That’s what I thought too. I don’t know. I guess this whole thing is making me crazy. Of course I don’t think she hurt anyone, but I feel like there’s more to it than just being busy.”

  “Well, let’s see what happens with the lawyer. Now. There’s something else that’s been occurring,” Patricia said.

  “Something else?” Stan repeated with a sinking feeling. “Something bad?”

  “Something troubling. Char’s B and B is getting some odd calls. Hang ups. It happened a couple of times while I was there and answered the phone for her when she didn’t want to. I asked her if it had happened at other times, and she said maybe a couple.” Patricia shook her head. “I don’t think she’s paying much attention to things.”

  “Do you think it’s Ray?” Stan asked. “Maybe he’s trying to call her but he can’t talk! We should get the line traced.” She jum
ped up, ready to go do … something, when Patricia held up her hand.

  “I don’t know, Kristan. I guess it could be, but I didn’t like … what would you say? The vibe. Yes, that must be it. I didn’t like the vibe I got when I answered. I told Char that if it continues to happen she must call the police.”

  “So do you think it’s connected to Ray and Seamus somehow?” Stan asked.

  “Well, I’ve no idea,” Patricia said. “But it does seem awfully coincidental that all these things are happening while those two are missing in action.”

  Chapter Thirty-eight

  Stan left her mother’s and called the shop. Brenna answered.

  “Hey. You busy yet?” Stan asked.

  “Not too. I’ve got a bunch of things in the oven and I’m out front for a while now.”

  “Okay. I have to make one more stop, if you don’t mind.”

  “Not at all.”

  “Thanks, Brenna. I’m sorry our first week is so insane.”

  “Stan. I’m loving being here. Truly.”

  Stan hung up, thinking about how lucky she was to have Brenna. It might be time to make her more than a staff member, she thought. She’d actually been thinking a lot about that lately. Brenna had been with her from day one, when she’d started baking a few batches of treats and selling them at the farmers’ market at Jake’s urging. She was still with her today, and she devoted just as much time as Stan, if not more, to the business. Making her a partner would mean Bren wouldn’t have to supplement her income at the bar, unless she chose to.

  She turned to Scruffy. “We’ll deal with that later. We’re going to see Izzy,” she announced. Scruffy sat at attention in the back seat of the car. “I’d say it’s about time we figured out what the heck is going on with that girl.” She could use the excuse that she had to prep her for the lawyer, and then poke and prod until she unearthed something that would explain Izzy’s odd behavior of late. Although she hoped she didn’t hate whatever she unearthed.