2 Mayhem in Christmas River

by Meg Muldoon

  She stuck her hand out to me.

  “Dan’s been telling me all about you.”

  Dan? I didn’t like the sound of that.

  “Uh, really?” I said, finally finding my voice. It came out scratchy and shaky.

  “I heard you have a bakery,” she said. “He’s been going on about your pies all morning.”

  She smiled.

  I glanced over at him. I couldn’t figure the expression on his face.

  Was this really as innocent as they wanted me to believe?

  I didn’t want to be that kind of girlfriend. The jealous, possessive, can’t-stand-to-see-her-man-so-much-as-look-in-the-direction-of-another-woman type. Despite my history with a cheating husband, being jealous and suspicious wasn’t who I was, or ever wanted to be.

  I believed in trust. And that complete trust was the only way anybody could ever truly love someone else.

  But… still. Instinct, or something that wanted me to believe it was instinct, overcame me. I couldn’t dismiss a lingering suspicion. It felt like I’d walked in on something. And I didn’t like that feeling. Not one bit.

  And with so much unresolved still between Daniel and me, I didn’t like seeing a pretty woman from his past suddenly appear in his office. Today of all days.

  I suddenly realized that I was still holding onto her hand in a limp handshake. She was smiling, but I could tell she was waiting for me to let go.

  “Oh, goodness, I’m sorry,” I said, shaking my head and releasing her hand. “I’m a mess. I ran all the way here from across town.”

  “You look fine,” Daniel said.

  I cleared my throat.

  “So Stephanie, what brings you to our neck of the woods?”

  “Well… I,” she started stammering, looking over at Daniel. “There’s something I was hoping Dan could help me with. A case.”

  “Oh, are you a cop too?” I asked.

  If she was, she wasn’t going to be running suspects down anytime soon in those Prada high heels she was wearing.

  “No, but you see I—”

  “Hey, Cin, what about I finish up here and meet you back at the shop for lunch?” Daniel said.

  He rubbed my shoulder, but there was a strain in his voice that wasn’t normally there.

  I didn’t like being shooed away like that. But there was no reason I could think of to stay.

  After a moment of hesitation, I finally nodded.

  “Okay, sure,” I said.

  I backed away from them.

  Something was just off about all of this. I could feel it in my gut.

  “Nice meeting you Stephanie,” I said. “I hope I’ll get to meet you properly sometime soon.”

  I forced my best smile, stretching my cheeks as far as they would go. But it only came out lukewarm.

  “Me too,” she said.

  I closed the door behind me without looking at Daniel.

  And then I was running again, even before I was outside the building. I blew past Norma at reception, who gave me a nasty look. I burst through the front doors and out into the blistering hot sunshine.

  One thought played over and over in my mind.

  Was I too late?

  Chapter 18

  When I got to the pie shop, there was a long line that snaked to the front door.

  It made me happy to see. You couldn’t always count on a summer crowd in a pie shop. Some people came in for the cool, refreshing creaminess of a scoop of ice cream alongside a slice of marionberry, lemon cream, or Key Lime pie on a hot summer’s day. But most would just as easily go to the frozen yogurt shop down the street, which judging from the constant clamber of customers outside the hole-in-the-wall establishment, made a monetary killing from May to September.

  But, I had a nice group of regulars who made me a pretty good living. Plus, there’s a charm to pie shop that you just don’t get at a frozen yogurt place. Sometimes, even in the dead of summer, you want something cozy and nostalgic.

  I weaved my way through the line of people, suddenly feeling a tap on the shoulder.

  “Hey, being that I’m your favorite principal, is there any chance I could cut to the front of the line?”

  I turned around and found Principal Ronald Reinhart staring back at me.

  I grinned and then laughed nervously.

  Even though it had been many, many years since I’d attended Christmas River High, that same old anxious feeling kicked in when I saw that face.

  It wasn’t like I got into trouble or anything. I hardly ever spoke three words to the man when I was a student. He seemed nice enough, but even after all this time, it was a little awkward when he’d stop in for some pie.

  But I guess I should have gotten used to seeing him. He’d played Santa Claus in the Christmas River in July festivities for years now.

  Which meant come play rehearsal time this evening, I would be playing his Mrs. Claus.

  “You know I’d love to help you disregard the rules of civilized society, Principal Reinhart, but I think we might have a riot on our hands if I let you cut to the front.”

  He laughed heartily, his large gut bouncing up and down.

  “But we do have a lot of that Sour Lemon Cream Pie you love so much,” I said. “I’ll make sure there’s a slice with your name on it when you get to the counter.”

  “Well, I guess that’ll have to do,” he said.

  I smiled politely and then made my way to the front.

  “It’s been like this all morning,” Chrissy said after I’d come around to the back of the counter.

  She reached under the glass case and pulled out a slice of the Moundful Marionberry, and lopped it onto a plate before handing it to a sun-burnt tourist in a wide brimmed straw hat.

  The woman stared at Chrissy’s black nails and wrist tattoo of a crow for a moment before taking her pie to one of the few empty booths.

  “Do you want to go on a break?” I asked. “I’ll take over up here for a bit.”

  “Naw,” she said. “My shift’s over pretty soon anyway.”

  She had a determined look on her face. Like she wasn’t going to let that long line get the best of her.

  “You’re a Rockstar,” I said, going into the kitchen.

  I put my purse on the coat rack and pulled my trusty cowgirl apron down. It was stiff and faded after being in the wash hundreds of times, but I’d grown attached to it. Even with pieces of dough melted onto some parts, I wouldn’t use any of the new ones that Kara had made me.

  It still had at least 100 more washes in it.

  “Hey Cinnamon.”

  I must have jumped up three feet in the air, startled after hearing my name called in what I thought was an empty kitchen.

  “Jesus,” I said once I regained my breath.

  It was just Carson, Chrissy’s boyfriend, who washed dishes two days a week.

  I had forgotten that he was scheduled to work today.

  Carson was a tall, thin character that had a fun energy about him. He was about Chrissy’s age, in his mid-twenties, but he seemed younger than that. He had a youthful spirit that sometimes popped up around the kitchen in the form of practical jokes. He liked to wear one of the frilly cowgirl aprons I had lying around the shop when he was working. Kara had made me a few new ones last Christmas that said “Cinnamon’s Pie Shop” across the front. I loved them, but I found it hard to break out of my old routine of wearing my original, very-well-loved cowgirl apron. And Carson seemed to take a liking to the frill and tassels of the new one.

  Seeing him hunched over the sink wearing elbow-length dish gloves and a lacy apron never failed to bring a smile to my face. Or Chrissy’s.

  “Sorry if I scared you,” he said.

  “No, I just completely forgot you were wor—what on earth did you do to your hair?”

  He put down the plate he was scrubbing and turned toward me so I could get a better look.

  His once chestnut-colored hair was now fashioned into a stylized mini-Mohawk that was dyed a platinu
m blond. It matched the banana yellow dish gloves he was wearing, and it made his dark eyebrows and olive skin look striking in an unnatural, alien kind of way.

  “What do you think?” he asked, bowing his head.

  “Well… it’s certainly a change.”

  “I know it is,” he said, his eyes lighting up. “That’s why I did it. I thought it would give me more stage presence.”

  When Carson wasn’t washing dishes here, he sang and played guitar and tried to scrape together a living by booking gigs at local bars in the area.

  But from Chrissy’s descriptions of his music, it was pure country all the way. Willie Nelson and George Strait were his influences, not The Sex Pistols or The Damned.

  But the hair did make a statement. I didn’t see too many country singers sporting Mohawks beneath their cowboy hats.

  “It’s definitely hard to miss,” I said.

  “Chrissy hates it. She thinks it’s too mainstream punk. But I think it’s been a good luck charm so far. I’ve already got a few gigs booked in Portland these next few weeks.”

  “Really?” I said. “That’s so great.”

  He picked up a plate and started drying it with a piece of cloth.

  “We’ll see how it goes,” he said.

  “You know, maybe you can have a set here at the shop one of these days. That way I can tell people that Carson Black played my little ol’ pie shop before he got famous.”

  He smiled, and I thought I saw his cheeks grow a little red. Then he shrugged, and went back to drying the stack of dishes.

  Between Chrissy’s piercings and dress, and Carson’s hair, I was the largest employer of punk rockers in the county.

  And I liked that just fine. They were both great workers, and they allowed me to actually have a life, and to not be completely consumed by my business.

  I was lucky to have them.

  I wrapped an apron around my waist, put on some Justin Townes Earle, and spent the remainder of the morning making a batch of my latest tasty experiment, White Peach Mountain Blueberry Pie.

  It was a pie I had created with Daniel in mind. I hadn’t let him try it yet, though. It was still a work in progress. The balance of butter, sugar and spice was still off.

  Maybe today would be the day I got it right.

  I flashed on the image of his arms wrapped around Stephanie, and I shuddered.

  I hoped that he’d remember to come by like he said he would.

  Chapter 19

  A trickle of sweat rolled down the side of my face.

  I didn’t know how much more of this heat I could take. The kitchen was a damn inferno worthy of a medieval poet. I was expecting some fallen souls to start climbing out of the floor at any moment.

  “Something’s smelling good,” Daniel said, walking through the back door.

  Carson had just left after cleaning nearly every dish in the place, and Chrissy was taking a break.

  Daniel took his hat off, taking a seat at the kitchen island.

  “Is that peach?” he asked, taking a deep whiff of air.

  I nodded, wiping my hands on my apron.

  “White peaches and mountain blueberries,” I said.

  “Are you saving a slice for me?”

  “If it’s any good,” I said. “I don’t know if I’ve perfected the recipe yet. But I’m making it just for you.”

  “Really?” he said.

  I nodded.

  I got him a glass of blueberry lemonade from the fridge and placed it in front of him before taking a seat at the table.

  He took a long drink from it, a drop of sweat falling from his forehead.

  “Damn, it’s hot in here,” he said.

  “The air conditioner broke. I called the repair guys, but they’re backed up all week.”

  “Remind me and I’ll take a look at it tonight,” he said.

  He placed his half-empty glass on the table.

  “So,” he said, clearing his throat. “I’m sorry about all that earlier.”

  “What? Why?” I said, a little too quickly, trying to cover up any hint of insecurity.

  Of course, by doing that, I only betrayed all of it.

  “I just didn’t want you to get the wrong idea,” he said.

  My stomach tightened.

  “You don’t need to explain, Dan.”

  I tried to make it sound funny, but it backfired on me. He looked at me with concern.

  “I want to be completely honest with you, Cin,” he said. “Stephanie and I… well, I knew her back in California.”

  I felt my hands gripping the fabric of my apron.

  “Were you guys a—”

  He shook his head before I could even finish.

  “No,” Daniel said. “She was dating one of the cops in the department, that’s how I knew her. But they ended up going through a rough patch for a little while, and she started calling me a lot. We’d talk. But nothing ever happened between us. I wasn’t about to go make enemies with her boyfriend, and besides, she wasn’t right for me.”

  I took a deep breath.

  “But there was something there, wasn’t there?” I asked. “You liked her.”

  “Liked being the operative word.Past tense.”

  I searched his eyes, as if I had some sixth sense that would discern whether or not he really meant that.

  The timer beeped. I started getting up to check on the pies, but Daniel put his hand on mine to stop me.

  “You believe me, don’t you?”

  I looked into his eyes again.

  “Look, I don’t expect you not to have a past,” I said, shrugging.

  “I know, I know,” he said. “And I don’t expect you not to have one either. And since I know yours, I know that trust doesn’t always come easy for you. I just… I want you to know that you don’t ever need to worry about that kind of thing, Cin. Not from me.”

  He squeezed my hand.

  “I do believe you,” I said, looking up and meeting his gaze.

  I got up and went over to the ovens to check on the pies. The filling was golden and caramelized and bubbling nicely. I grabbed the pan with oven mitts and pulled them out, placing them on the counter in front of the window to cool.

  I turned around and was surprised to see him standing close to me.

  “Was there a reason you came over to the station this morning?” he asked. “It seemed like you needed something.”

  He closed in on me. I could smell the fresh scent of his aftershave, and it was making me weak in the knees, reminding me of how much I’d missed him, even if we’d only been apart for a couple of days.

  My heart suddenly started beating hard in my chest.

  He took my left hand.

  “Something about this?” he said, rubbing my finger.

  My mouth went dry as my courage shrank like a wilting flower.

  Where had it gone?

  In the moment I needed it, all my strength took the fast train out of Dodge.

  “I was coming over to… How long is she going to be in town, anyway?”

  It was cowardly, and I regretted it the moment the words came out of my mouth. Changing the subject like that just to get out of talking about the real issue at hand was a real weak move.

  He sighed deeply, shaking his head. Then he wrapped his arms around me, that familiar warmth feeling so good, even if it was already 87 degrees in the kitchen.

  “Does it matter?” he asked.

  “Yes,” I said.

  He leaned back.

  “She didn’t say how long she’d be here for,” he said.

  “Well, what does she need your help with?”

  “She’s looking for someone,” he said. “But stop changing the subject, Cin. Tell me why you came to see me this morning.”

  Suddenly, I couldn’t breathe. All the air in the room seemed to evaporate, and I was left sucking in what was left.

  After a few moments of strangled silence, he could tell that I wasn’t going to have an answer for him.

/>   “Okay, Cin,” he said, nodding sadly. “However long it takes.”

  He put his hat back on and started walking away.

  “Can we talk later?” I said in a squeaky voice, just as he was leaving.

  He stopped and turned back toward me.

  “It’s going to be a late night,” he said. “I’ve got a lot of work to do.”

  “The fire at Kara’s store?” I asked.

  He nodded.

  “We haven’t seen anything quite like it before,” he said.

  “Did they find out what caused it?” I asked.

  “It’s more of a question of who.”

  My mouth dropped open.

  Chapter 20

  Daniel was right.

  It wasn’t anything I’d ever seen or heard of before either.

  Whoever had started the fire in Kara’s shop had kicked in the back door to get to the inventory room. The fire department found accelerant, which made it clear that it hadn’t been any sort of accident.

  That, and the fact that they had footage from the downtown parking lot camera placed in the alleyway behind Kara’s shop.

  After seeing that, it was clear that the blaze had been without a doubt, intentional. And that whoever was behind it was one very depraved individual.

  Daniel said that the footage caught the arsonist on his way out the back door. He seemed to know exactly where the camera was, Daniel said, because he looked up at it for a moment, and then did something that made me shudder after Daniel told me about it.

  The arsonist took a bow.

  And that wasn’t even the worst of it.

  There was something else. Something bone-chilling.

  The arsonist, whoever he was, was dressed up as none other than the man who was responsible for pulling in thousands of dollars each year in tourism money for Christmas River.

  The man that could be said to have helped save a dying logging town from ruin back in the day.

  Santa Claus.

  Santa Claus, complete with a red velvet jacket, a black buckled belt, a red hat with a white pom pom, and a thick beard, according to Daniel.

  Old St. Nick had burned Kara’s shop down to the ground.

  The image sent my blood running cold.

  When Daniel told me, I could hardly believe it. Who would do such a thing? And why had he targeted Kara?