2 Mayhem in Christmas River

by Meg Muldoon

  I lifted my eyebrows.

  “I know you’re upset with me because I haven’t apologized,” Trumbow said. “But that’s what I thought I was doing by coming in here all the time. I thought I was making it right in my own pathetic way. But I see now that I’ve just been trying to take the cowardly way out of it.”

  I took a seat at the booth across from him. My feet hurt from standing in those Mrs. Claus pilgrim shoes all morning.

  “I know,” I said. “I mean, on some level I guess I knew there was a reason you kept coming in here.”

  “I’m not a man who finds it easy to admit when I’m wrong,” he said, avoiding my eyes and playing with the pie in front of him. “But dammit, I really screwed up the Mason Barstow murder investigation.”

  “I’m sure you were just trying to do your job,” I said.

  Though I didn’t completely believe that. He had almost arrested me in front of the local TV station. That didn’t seem to have been necessary, even if I had been the murderess.

  He’d wanted the glory of catching a murderer. No matter what it cost others around him.

  “I got carried away,” he said. “And I wasn’t out to get you or nothing. I just thought given our evidence, you were the only one who could’ve killed Mason.”

  I wasn’t sure whether or not that was supposed to make me feel better. Not that the former sheriff and I were simpatico before the murder, but I thought he’d give me the benefit of the doubt. I was, after all, a relatively upstanding citizen. I paid my taxes, donated food on occasion to the local soup kitchen, and led a decent life.

  But I guess so did a lot of murderers.

  “I’m…” he inhaled slowly. “I’m sorry Cinnamon. I made a big mistake.”

  I could tell he was honest-to-God sincere. His beady eyes, which were normally aggressive, were now downcast and sullen.

  I hesitated for a moment, and then nodded.

  “I appreciate that,” I said.

  “Sometimes you’re just wrong about people,” he said. “And when you’re wrong, you’re dead wrong.”

  I looked out the window at the mid-morning summer glow that was covering everything.

  He was right.

  Sometimes you couldn’t always tell about people. Sometimes, no matter how smart or worldly you were, you could still make the wrong judgments about a person. Sometimes, you just had to play the fool.

  I patted the former sheriff’s chubby hand.

  “It’s good of you to say that, sheriff,” I said. “I do appreciate it.”

  He suddenly looked at me with a relieved expression, like a big weight had been lifted off his shoulders.

  “And you’re welcome to keep coming in here,” I said, standing up. “In fact, I’d be sad if you stopped.”

  He smiled between a bite of pie.

  “That’s good, because I’ve got an addiction to this pecan pie of yours. I wasn’t prepared to go cold turkey.”

  “I’m glad to hear you like it so much.”

  I left the sheriff to his pie and started sweeping the dining room, making sure that it was sparkling for the tourist onslaught that was bound to occur in the next few days. But I didn’t get very far before he interrupted me.

  “So I hear you’re going to be Mrs. Claus this year,” he said, wiping his mustache with a napkin.

  “Yeah. Unfortunately,” I said. “I’ll just be glad when tomorrow’s over. Sarah Reinhart is a real slave driver.”

  That started him laughing.

  “Don’t I know it,” he said. “She was my high school sweetheart.”

  I turned around to look at him, raising my eyebrows.

  “Really?” I said.

  “Sure was,” he said. “She wasn’t any nicer back then, but we got along. I guess some part of me likes myself a mean woman. I probably would’ve married her. I planned to, anyway.”

  “What happened?” I said.

  He ate the last piece of his pie and I waited while he finished chewing. I started sweeping again.

  “What always happens to me,” he grumbled. “I lost out. She moved out of state for a while to get her teaching degree. I should have gone with her, but I was training to be a policeman then. When she came back, she had a brand new husband ten years her senior and seemed like she hardly remembered yours truly.”

  I stopped sweeping.

  I was surprised he was being so honest with me. In fact, outside of Mason’s murder investigation, I didn’t think we’d had a single real conversation. Now he was divulging his life story.

  I guess when it rains, it pours.

  “That must have been hard for you.”

  “Hurt like hell,” he said. “But you know what they say. Time heals all wounds. I don’t know if it’s really true, but they say it.”

  I smiled.

  “I may have lost out, but Sarah didn’t exactly ride off into the sunset with a knight.”

  I put down the broom.

  “What do you mean?” I said, the hairs on my arms suddenly pricking up.

  I sat down at the booth across from him again.

  “I was a jealous type, back in the day. I did some digging around on him then and found out some not so nice things about Mr. Reinhart. He’s not the kind of man he pretends to be. Hell, Reinhart isn’t even his real name.”

  “Really?” I said in a raspy voice.

  I was on the edge of my seat. My heart pounding in my chest.

  I had a gut feeling that I was close. Close to something that was going to help figure out why the arsonist had been outside their home the night before.

  “He hasn’t committed no legal crime,” Trumbow said. “Just a moral crime. He had a family before he met Sarah. Abandoned them all in Northern California for her. As far as I know, he’s pretended all these years like they never existed.”

  I felt my mouth drop open.

  “Most people don’t know the truth about our resident Santa Claus,” Trumbow went on. “Seems a little blasphemous to have someone like him play old St. Nick.”

  The sheriff took a sip of coffee.

  “I wouldn’t have guessed that in a million years,” I said.

  “Yep,” he said. “The town’s got some sort of sterling image of him. But like I said. Sometimes, you’re just dead wrong about a person.”

  He put his hat back on and wiped his mouth down with a napkin.

  “Does Deputy Brightman know all this?” I asked.

  He nodded.

  “He was asking me some questions about Ronald just the other day. Seems as though he thinks Reinhart has a connection to these arsons.”

  Trumbow stood up.

  “I for one wouldn’t be sad to see him locked away,” he said.

  I didn’t respond. The pieces were falling into place now.

  “Well, I just feel a lot better about everything,” he said, pulling out a couple dollar bills from his pocket and placing them under the coffee cup.

  If I was surprised about the revelation about Ronald Reinhart, I was blown away by the fact that old stingy Trumbow was leaving me a tip.

  “Thank you, Miss Peters,” he said, touching his hat.

  He walked out the door, leaving me behind at the booth, still deep in thought.

  Wondering about that family Ronald had left behind in California.

  I’d heard that same story the night before.

  Chapter 40

  “Thanks for coming,” I said, wiping my sweaty hands off on my apron.

  My voice trembled with nerves.

  We were standing on the back deck, the sun beating down hard on our backs. It was hot out here, but it was better than inside the shop, where it was already sweltering.

  “Of course,” he said, digging his hands into his pockets.

  I couldn’t read him. He was a brick wall, and I felt like I didn’t know how to approach him.

  I figured I’d just stick to business for the time being. After the night I’d had, I didn’t know if I could handle anything more.


  I couldn’t handle us breaking up just now.

  “I just talked to Trumbow,” I said, gazing at the heat waves coming off the forest floor in the distance. “He told me about Ronald. About the family he abandoned back in California.”

  Daniel gripped the railing.

  “It sounded a lot like Stephanie’s story,” I said.

  I had trouble saying her name. Each syllable got stuck in my throat like it was made out of molasses.

  He took off his cowboy hat and pulled at one of the leather strings that had come loose.

  “I was hoping to keep you out of this,” he said. “But it looks like it’s too late now. I’ve had a hunch this whole time that Stephanie’s lost brother wasn’t exactly so lost. Seems like he’s here for a specific reason.”

  “To look for his father,” I said, finishing the thought. “Ronald Reinhart is his father.”

  Daniel nodded.

  “Ronald Reinhart changed his name when he moved out here. His last name used to be Calder.”

  “Jesus. So that means… Stephanie’s brother is the arsonist?” I asked. “Has this all been about punishing his dad in some twisted way?”

  “The Santa suit makes sense now, doesn’t it?” he said.

  It did. It was a message to his father, who’d played Santa in the play for almost 15 years running.

  “But why go after Kara and Valley’s stores? They don’t have anything to do with Ronald abandoning him.” I said.

  “It’s hard to understand the mind of someone like that. But I think he wants his father to know that he’s coming for him, or for Sarah maybe,” Daniel said. “That’s what I think, anyway. He’s been going after the women in the play. I think he’s building up to a grand finale.”

  “Jesus,” I said again.

  It seemed surreal. That quaint little Christmas River, a harmless little town that celebrated Christmas year-round, would have a madman like this on the loose.

  “This is all so crazy,” I said. “Isn’t there some way to track him? Credit cards or something?”

  “He’s not using the name Nick Calder,” Daniel said. “All transactions under Nick’s credit cards stopped when Stephanie and her mom stopped getting those postcards.”

  Daniel turned toward me.

  “I think the play’s the only chance we have at catching this maniac,” he said. “That’s the only reason I’m not going to shut it down. But you have to be careful, Cin. If I had it my way, I’d make you stay at home. But I know you won’t listen to me so I’m not going to ask.”

  His words lingered in the air for a few moments as a silence settled in over the conversation.

  I rubbed my face.

  I suddenly realized that I couldn’t push it off until after the play.

  I had to know where we stood. And now. No matter the consequences.

  “Where were you last night, Daniel?” I said, the words tumbling out of my mouth like boulders in a landslide.

  There was no holding them back, even though they might bring everything down with them.

  He looked away from me, not meeting my eyes.

  A tell-tale sign if I ever saw one.

  I bit my lip and stared out at the forest, shaking my head.

  “I knew it,” I said.

  He turned back toward me and touched my arm.

  “Knew what, Cin?” he said, a sudden fierceness in his voice.

  “That there’s something between you two,” I said. “And that you still care for her. And that last night…”

  I trailed off.

  He pulled away, shaking his head.

  “I can see why you might think that on her end,” he said. “You’re right. She still feels that way about me. She made that clear as day when I drove her to her hotel last night.”

  I felt like my legs would give out. I suddenly didn’t want to hear the rest. I regretted starting this conversation. I wanted to climb back down that ladder.

  I didn’t want to know what lay at the end of this road.

  I stood there, barely holding on. Closing my eyes. Afraid of what would come next.

  “But what I don’t understand, Cin,” he said, pausing, like he was trying to find the right words. He lowered his voice. “What I don’t understand is how you could ever think that I would do that to you.”

  I opened my eyes.

  “That’s what I don’t get,” he said. “That you would think that I’d ask you to be my wife, and then I’d turn around and ruin everything we have over someone who’s not a tenth of the person you are.”

  That wasn’t what I had expected to hear.

  And you’d think that it was what I wanted to hear.

  He’d been faithful. He loved me. He didn’t love her.

  But as I stood there, staring deep into his sharp green eyes, I didn’t feel good about any of it.

  I felt guilty. Guilty for doubting him. Guilty that I hadn’t given him any credit. That I could possibly think he was that kind of man.

  That when it came down to it, I didn’t completely trust him.

  And hadn’t he given me every reason to? Hadn’t he been the most loyal, trustworthy, and loving person I’d ever known?

  “I was at the office, Cin,” he said. “I’d gone to get some work done and I fell asleep there. That’s where I was when you called. And the fact that you thought I was with someone else just kills me.”

  I didn’t say anything. I couldn’t think of anything to say.

  All this time I thought he’d been the one hurting me. Now I saw it all for what it really was.

  It was me hurting him.

  Again and again.

  “It just seems like I keep trying to love you and all you do is push me away,” he said. “I don’t know what to do, Cin.”

  He put his hat back on.

  “I really just don’t know what to do.”

  He looked at me one more time, his eyes piercing mine with their steeliness.

  And then he walked down the back steps and disappeared around the side of the shop.

  Leaving me feeling like someone had just ripped out my heart.

  Chapter 41

  I sat on the back deck of the house in the late evening sun, reading through the script and rehearsing my lines.

  I really should have just quit the play. It was more trouble than it was worth. Who did I think I was anyway? I’d gotten into it to try and find out who the arsonist was for Kara’s sake, and now that part was solved. We knew who he was, and there was no reason for me to continue on with the charade.

  But I was anyway. Maybe I was just being stubborn, but I felt like I had to see this through to the end. Aside from the Reinharts, the rest of the cast were decent, innocent people. It wasn’t right that this nut was threatening them, too. I felt like I had to be there. Because no matter how stupid I thought the Christmas River in July festivities were, they were a town tradition, and there was something sacred about that.

  I wasn’t just going to sit at home while this guy was still on the loose. Even if that meant I was in danger too.

  It wasn’t just about Kara and the arsonist anymore. It was about me keeping my word. About me doing my part.

  About me having Daniel’s back, even though he didn’t see it that way.

  We were in this together. And I was going to do my part to see that we all got out of it together.

  The sliding glass door opened, and I looked up. Warren stepped out.

  “Going dry tonight?” he asked.

  I shrugged.

  “I’m beyond the help of liquor,” I said.

  “Sounds pretty damn serious.”

  He glanced down at the big script I was flipping through.

  “So you’re gonna do it?” he said.

  I looked up and nodded.

  He took a seat in the patio chair across from me.

  “Well, sounds like you’re mind’s set on it then” he said.

  I didn’t answer. I just glared down at the table.

  “Well, if
you—”

  “I know what you’re going to say,” I said. “It’s what you’ve all been saying this whole time. That it’s too dangerous and that I shouldn’t get involved. But it’s too late to turn back now. I have to do it.”

  “That’s not what I was going to say,” Warren said.

  “Well what then?”

  He grinned. That same, mischievous grin that always cut through whatever negativity I was feeling and made things better. When I was younger, it was the look that always preceded him slipping me a twenty dollar bill to bet at our poker nights.

  “I was going to see if you needed help practicing,” he said, tapping the stack of papers. “Seems like a monster. Have you got it all memorized?”

  I bit my lip, suddenly overwhelmed by emotion.

  Maybe it was his smile, or the support he was giving me, or maybe I was just exhausted by the events of the last week. But I felt the floodgates burst, and the next thing I knew, I was crying into Warren’s shoulder just like I was a kid.

  “There, there,” he said, patting my back. “I know it’s a lot to remember, but I’m sure you’ll get it down. You’ll make a great Mrs. Claus.”

  I let out a defeated half laugh.

  He knew as well as I did that I wasn’t crying over the script.

  “I don’t know what I’m doing, Warren,” I said. “All I know is that I’ve ruined everything. Everything.”

  “Now that just can’t be, Cinny Bee,” he said.

  “It is,” I said. “Daniel… he… I’ve just ruined it. I hurt him. I’ve been hurting him all week. And I can’t live with myself. It’s ripping me up inside.”

  Warren didn’t say anything for a little while. He just let me cry myself out until I was too tired to anymore.

  He had to be the most patient person I’d ever known.

  When I was finally a little calmer, he pulled away.

  “I don’t know the specifics, but I think I have a pretty good idea about the kind of person Daniel is,” Warren said. “And I don’t think he’s a man who takes things for granted. I think he knows what a gem he has in you, Cin. I don’t know what you did or you think you did, but Daniel knows the score. I have faith in him. Maybe you should too.”

  My eyebrows lifted up in surprise.