Silent Knife (A Celebration Bay Mystery)

by Freydont, Shelley

  “Of course I will. It’s only a block from town hall.”

  “Thank you. I’ll get it when you come home tonight.”

  “See you then.”

  Liv and Whiskey walked down the middle of the street toward town. The sun was just peeking through the bare branches of the trees, turning them into confection. In the distance, snowplows began to rumble their way through the town. But here, everything was quiet except for the occasional plop of heavy snow from a tree limb as it hit the ground.

  Within a few minutes they had reached the square, which sat like a big white iridescent blanket in the middle of town. Only a few solitary footsteps marred the untouched beauty of it. Around its perimeter, businesses were getting ready for the day, shoveling and de-icing the nearby sidewalks. A few people waved to Liv as she passed.

  The Apple of My Eye was open for business. Dolly always said her first duty was to get everybody going with something sweet every morning.

  And Dolly was certainly succeeding with Liv. She hadn’t been totally kidding last night about joining a gym.

  She wasn’t the first customer this morning. Quincy Hinks from the Bookworm was drinking a cup of coffee from the Buttercup and talking to Dolly while she filled a bakery box with Christmas cookies.

  “Morning, Liv,” Dolly said. “Quincy here was just telling me that he saw Grace Thornsby going into her store this morning. She’s planning on opening today. You’d think they would at least close for a decent period of mourning, even if that poor man was just an employee.”

  “Ha.” The bookstore owner lifted his hand in a theatrical gesture, a copy of The Pickwick Papers sticking out of his tweed jacket. “Neither rain nor sleet nor a murder in our midst will stop the intrepid tasteless, and generally greedy, Thornsbys.”

  “Shh,” Liv warned and looked around to make sure no one had come into the bakery to overhear murder mentioned.

  “Liv, my dear, the whole town is talking about the murder. Isn’t there anything we can do to rid ourselves of that unholy terror? It’s a blemish on the block. I’ll have to line my windows with the classics to counteract the effects of her kitsch.”

  “We’re working on it. Unfortunately, it might not be until after Christmas before we can act.”

  “We’ll see about that,” Dolly said. “Janine stopped by this morning to get breakfast rolls for her real estate meeting. I don’t have any use for people who call themselves locals then ignore our rules just to make money. And I told her so.” Dolly smiled what Liv assumed was supposed to be a malicious grin, but Dolly just looked like Mrs. Claus. “I also charged her the tourist rate. Let her think about that for a while.” She nodded and a wisp of hair fell out of her bun.

  Quincy chuckled. “Maybe if we make Janine’s life miserable, she’ll figure out a way to get rid of them. They must be in violation of some code. Lord knows we have enough of them.”

  “Even so, they would probably be given a grace period in which to rectify the infraction,” Liv said. “But that’s a good idea. I’ll have someone look at the zoning codes.”

  Liv chose two gingerbread muffins. Dolly added a gingerbread man biscuit for Whiskey. “No sugar, no wheat. Let me know how he likes them.”

  Whiskey barked a thank-you, and they went next door to the Buttercup.

  There were several people standing at the coffee bar, glued to their smart phones and laptops.

  Sprawled at the only table, and looking like the kiss of death, was Chaz Bristow.

  “You’re up early,” Liv said, surprised.

  “Haven’t been to bed yet.”

  “Ice fishing?”

  “As a matter of fact . . . no. Here’s your article.” He held up a crumpled piece of newsprint.

  Liv took it. Read. He had tweaked it a bit. Actually it was a lot better than her original one. The guy could write. There he was, slumped in his chair, rumpled and unshaven and looking like a Bowery bum, and the man could write.

  “What?”

  “Nothing. Thank you. This is really good.”

  “Spare my blushes.” His tone was dry, ironic, maybe a little flattered? Nah. He was half-asleep.

  “Can’t you just say thanks?”

  “Thanks.” He went back to drinking his coffee.

  Liv went up to the bar to get her order.

  BeBe rolled her eyes.

  “How long has he been here?” Liv whispered.

  “Twenty minutes.” BeBe leaned even closer. “I think maybe he was waiting for you.” She pulled a face and batted her eyelashes.

  “Uh-huh.”

  BeBe started the steamer and for a minute, screeching blocked out all other sounds. She filled the cup and leaned closer. “I thought you’d never get here. The paper is off the windows of TAT. I think they plan to open today.”

  “I heard.”

  “I can’t believe all the stuff we found out yesterday. Are you going to tell Bill?”

  Liv nodded and surreptitiously slipped a finger to her lips.

  BeBe nodded, lowered her voice. “But I want to hear everything that happens today.”

  Liv nodded but didn’t promise anything. She had no idea what new craziness might be waiting for her in the next twenty-four hours. The last twenty-four had been wild enough.

  “Call me.”

  “I will, but don’t say anything.”

  BeBe shook her head. “My lips are sealed.”

  Liv took her drinks and turned to go—right into Chaz Bristow.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Liv stepped to the side and headed to the door.

  Chaz was there to open the door for her.

  She narrowed her eyes. “Thank you.” And stepped out into the frigid air, practically having to drag Whiskey away from his newest favorite person.

  “You look like a lovable yeti in that parka, or Admiral Barbie Byrd in the Arctic,” he said, falling into step beside her.

  She smiled. “You look terribly underdressed.” He was wearing some kind of canvas car coat.

  This earned her a full-blown Chaz grin. “So what were you and BeBe whispering about?”

  “Girl talk.”

  “Right. Girly stuff that the sheriff would be interested in.”

  “I thought you gave up being nosey when you gave up investigative reporting.”

  “I’m not nosey. Just curious.”

  “No you’re not. Remember? You’re not interested in helping.”

  “True. But I don’t want to have to run to the rescue if you do anything stupid.”

  “Excuse me?” She turned on him, and her foot slipped.

  Chaz grabbed her and put her back on her feet, wrestled with a smile. “See? Maybe you need some spikes on those alpine boots you’re wearing.”

  He was wearing running shoes; the right one had a hole in the toe.

  “Sticks and stones.” She slid to a stop. They were in front of the Trim a Tree store. The windows had been denuded of all paper and even the wreaths that had tried to make the obvious less so. Too bad, because they might have gone a long way in camouflaging what was now on display. Hanging behind the surfing Santas was a row of tasteless Tshirts alternating red, green, and white.

  “Are you kidding me?”

  “And we thought Janine was baiting you. Grace is going to give you a coronary.”

  “Not if I get to her first.”

  “Easy.”

  “I’ll easy her. Does she think this is Coney Island? Those are totally inappropriate. We’re a G-rated town. And those Tshirts are pushing the boundaries. Hold this.” Liv shoved her bakery bag, coffee tray, and Whiskey’s leash at him and knocked on the door.

  No one answered. She knocked again. Whiskey growled impatiently.

  “Not there,” Chaz said. “You’ll have to come back later—with reinforcements.” He laughed, tried to stop, couldn’t do it.

  Liv knew it was an act to annoy her, and she was annoyed.

  She lifted her chin, wrestled her food and leash from him, and hurried toward town
hall.

  “Okay, okay, I’m sorry. But you’re so—”

  “So help me, if you say ‘cute,’ I’ll—”

  “I won’t say it.”

  “Fine.” Liv started walking again.

  Chaz caught up and again matched his stride to hers. “But you are.”

  She marched up the steps of town hall despite Whiskey’s insistence on exploring a torn paper bag that had frozen in the snow.

  Chaz opened the door for her.

  “Don’t you have a nap to take or something?”

  “Yep. Once I listen to you tell Ted what you and BeBe did yesterday.”

  “What makes you think I’m going to tell Ted?” She stopped on the mat to stomp the snow off her shoes.

  “Because he’ll find out anyway.”

  “I know you’re not going to help solve the murder, even though you have skills that Bill could use. So why take the time and energy to listen to me gossip?”

  She reached for the door to the outer office.

  “I told you why. I meant it.”

  It took a moment for his words to sink in, then she dismissed them and opened the office door, dropping Whiskey’s leash at the same time. Whiskey dashed between their feet and into the office, where Ted was waiting for their morning solfege.

  Today he was wearing a green V-neck sweater with a reindeer head in the center, its two big antlers spread against his chest. Above the sweater, a white shirt collar was finished off by a red bow tie.

  Liv groaned. Matching outfits.

  “For we like sheep,” Ted sang.

  Whiskey skidded to a stop and sat at Ted’s feet. “Ar-roo-oo-oo.”

  “What the—?” Chaz said.

  “Welcome to my world,” Liv said as she put down food and drinks and began shedding her coat.

  “Like sheep,” Ted crooned.

  “Aroo-oo-oo,” Whiskey sang.

  “We need to do something about the TAT window,” Liv yelled above them.

  Ted saw Chaz. “Oh, good. This choir needs a baritone.”

  Chaz looked at Liv, then opened his mouth. “For we like . . .”

  Ted joined in. “For we like.”

  “Ar-roo-roo-roo,” sang Whiskey.

  “Oh my Lord.” Liv clapped her hands over her ears and yelled, “In case anyone is wondering, I know who Grace Thornsby’s lover is.”

  She marched into her office and slammed the door.

  The caterwauling in the outer office stopped abruptly.

  Her door opened, and two human heads appeared in the opening, followed by one shaggy white one at knee level. The three of them came inside.

  Ted brought in the coffee and muffins and put them on the desk. Chaz pulled up a chair, and Whiskey retreated to his doggie bed.

  “I’m flattered,” Chaz said and nodded toward the clean, folded Clarion that Ted had put on the tray.

  “Have to keep you honest,” Liv said, but her heart wasn’t in it. She needed to do some damage control, not be sitting here fencing with the reprehensible newspaper editor.

  “It’s a good article,” Ted said.

  “I already thanked him.” Liv reached for her coffee.

  “Now, what’s this about the TAT windows?” Ted asked.

  “Forget the damn Tshirts,” Chaz said. “Who is the lover?”

  Liv glared at him. “You are such a girl.”

  Ted chuckled.

  Chaz lifted one eyebrow, and Liv could read his thoughts as sure as if he’d said them aloud. She wouldn’t be taking his challenge. She had enough problems to deal with.

  “Liv, doll, you’ve gotta learn to go with the flow a little bit. I bet Ted saw those shirts on his way to work.”

  “Actually I did. I left a message for the mayor for when he comes in. I figured you’d want it taken care of.”

  Liv stared at her assistant. “Thanks.” She tried not to smile but couldn’t stop it. “You might want to consider trading in that reindeer sweater for a red cape.”

  “And tights,” Chaz added.

  “I’ll keep the sweater, thank you. And the tie. I’m thinking about working up an act.” Ted sat back, complacently eying his muffin.

  Chaz yawned.

  “Don’t you want to go home to bed?” Liv prompted. She really needed to discuss things with Ted, and she didn’t need a running commentary from Chaz.

  “A tempting proposition.” Chaz leered at her.

  Ted suppressed a smile.

  Liv silently fumed but didn’t rise to the bait.

  “I’m going, but not until you tell me what you and BeBe found out. Or more to the point, how?”

  “Why?”

  “You both sound like journalism students,” Ted said. “Who, where, when, and why. So, Chaz, stop goading Liv and let her tell it her way.”

  “Who, where, when, and why,” Liv repeated almost to herself. “We know who or at least half the who, and the where, and pretty much when. We just need the why, and that will lead us to the other who.”

  “To Cindy Lou Who down in Whoville,” Chaz said in a deadpan delivery.

  “Grr,” Liv said.

  “Grr,” echoed Whiskey from his doggie bed and scrambled up to come stand guard at Liv’s feet.

  “Good dog.”

  Ted and Chaz burst out laughing, and Whiskey raced around the desk several times before returning to his bed and going back to sleep.

  “Good to know you have protection,” Chaz said.

  “Stop it, both of you,” said Ted. “It’s Christmas, and neither you two spatting nor Grace Thornsby and her tasteless decorations are going to dampen my Christmas spirit.” He bit into a muffin. “Hmmm, good.”

  “And murder?”

  “Well, there is that. But I refuse to be kept down.”

  “Good for you.” Chaz settled in his chair like he was planning to stay.

  What did he want? She didn’t have time to bother with him; there were problems trying to derail her Christmas events.

  “That store has been nothing but trouble.” Liv took a sip of her latte, savoring its warmth as it went down. “You know, at first it didn’t seem so bad. Are we making too much out of it? You see that stuff all over the streets of Manhattan—well, on some of the streets. But that’s just the point. It doesn’t fit the reputation we want.”

  “There is the little thing of free enterprise,” Chaz pointed out.

  “It cheapens everything we try to provide. You can go to the mall and buy that kind of stuff.”

  “Hmmm.”

  “Am I being closed minded?”

  Ted wiped his mouth with a napkin. “In the scheme of anything goes, maybe. But when it comes to how we want our town portrayed? Not so much.”

  “Maybe we could help them relocate. Somewhere like Atlantic City or Las Vegas.”

  “Yeah. Well, don’t let it ruin your day,” said Chaz behind sleepy eyes. “It will all work out.”

  “Can I quote you on that?”

  His eyes opened and a flash of appreciation lit them before he punctuated it with a jaw-cracking yawn.

  Liv heaved a sigh. “If I tell you what I found out this weekend, will you leave so Ted and I can get some work done?”

  “Sure.”

  Ted polished off his muffin, brushed his fingers over the tray. “Hit us with it.”

  Liv narrowed her eyes at him. Ted was always the first with any gossip. Did he already know about Clarence’s financial woes and Grace’s man candy?

  “First of all, Frank Salvatini saw a person dressed as Santa going down the alley Friday night before the . . . murder.”

  Ted nodded. “Roscoe called me.”

  Of course.

  “And Clarence Thornsby is going belly-up.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “And Grace Thornsby is having an affair.”

  Ted nodded.

  Chaz snorted a laugh.

  “With a guy named Jerry Esposito from the Rock Road Fitness Center.”

  At last she had their full attention.
>
  “You have been busy,” Ted said.

  “Are you sure you didn’t know about Grace already?”

  Ted shook his head. “Figured she was up to something. She rented a holiday cabin down by the lake. She isn’t sharing it with Clarence, so it stands to reason. But no, are you sure about this Esposito fellow?”

  “Yes. Well, at least from his greeting I’d say more was to follow.” She carefully avoided Chaz’s eyes, which were suddenly wide awake, not with interest so much as amusement.

  “And you found this all out how?” Ted asked.

  “BeBe and I overheard some women talking when we went on the house tour yesterday. They knew someone who had seen Grace at the Blue Boar, with a man who wasn’t Clarence. A much younger man.”

  “And?”

  “We left the tour at my house, and later I drove BeBe over to get her car and we saw lights in TAT. Then a little later”—like an hour or so of peeking out the back door—“Grace got in her car and we decided to follow her.”

  Chaz groaned.

  “To the Blue Boar?” Ted asked.

  “We thought it was worth a try, I mean since we were there. It could be helpful.” She gave Chaz a look that dared him to interrupt. “She didn’t go to the Blue Boar, but picked him up at the gym.”

  “And then you followed them to the Blue Boar?” Ted asked.

  “They never went to the Blue Boar.”

  “Then how did you find out the guy’s name?” Chaz asked.

  Liv swallowed. “I went into the gym and asked.”

  Ted clapped his hand to his forehead. “Oh my God.”

  “You idiot,” echoed Chaz.

  “Liv, you’ve got to stop putting yourself in harm’s way,” Ted said.

  “Leave it to the damn experts,” Chaz said.

  “One of the experts is sitting on his butt in my office. And as far as it being dangerous, I had backup.”

  “Who?” asked Ted.

  “BeBe.”

  “Oh God, this is more hilarity than I can take this early on a Monday. I’m going home to bed.” Chaz heaved himself out of the chair, hooked his jacket with one finger, and walked out of the room laughing and mumbling to himself.

  “He did that on purpose,” Liv complained as Ted began cleaning up.