Penny Newland was rearranging figures on a wide shelf.
“Hi, Ms. Montgomery. Can I help you?”
“Hi, what are those?”
“Aren’t they the cutest?” She picked up one of the figures. “They’re little reindeer planters, made from slivers of driftwood. You put a little plant in the opening. Or lichen like the one here or . . . look at this.” She put the planter back and reached for a larger one, which was planted with multicolored grass.
“They’re really feathers,” Penny told her. “Isn’t this clever? They separate the barbs—that’s the individual strands of the feather,” she explained to Liv, the urbanite, “and surround it with down. I might have to try making one of these myself. Mom would love it. This one’s too expensive for me.” She immediately colored. “I mean . . .”
Liv took the feather planter and looked at the price tag.
“I know just what you mean.”
The storeroom door opened and Nancy wielded a large box through the opening. She put the box down, stopped when she saw Liv, then hurried over.
“Morning, Liv. Penny said you bought the Santa suit from Grace.”
“I did. It’s not nearly as nice as the one he has now, but I’ll feel better if there’s a backup.”
“Yes, that was just too much excitement. Is it in that bag?” She indicated Liv’s Stitch in Time bag. “Shall I hang it up in back?”
“Actually, no, this is from Miriam’s. I’m doing my Christmas shopping this morning. I left the suit at the Buttercup with some other packages. I’ll pick it up tonight and drop it off at the cleaner’s tomorrow. It reeks of cigarette smoke.”
“I don’t doubt it. If you change your mind, just bring it here. A little sage, baking soda, and fresh air, it will be good as new.” She smiled. “I’m sure Hank will be relieved to have an extra one.”
Liv smiled. Did Hank have any idea how eager Nancy was to please him? “You’ve already gone beyond the call of duty.”
“I was glad to help out.”
Penny’s lip quivered. “They still haven’t found the killer. I hope he’s long gone from here. So far that they never find him.”
“So do I,” said Nancy.
“Well, I hope they catch him. I will sleep better at night,” Liv said.
“Surely he won’t strike again,” Nancy said. “It must have something to do with that dreadful Grace Thornsby. Bad karma, that one.”
“I’ve never met anyone so mean,” Penny said.
“It’s the bitterness. Sad really . . .” Nancy trailed off.
“Well, I hate her.” Penny hung her head. “I shouldn’t say that.”
Nancy placed a hand on her shoulder. “Better to let it out than to let it fester inside you.”
Penny shook her head.
This shopping expedition was getting a little too philosophical for Liv. She eased away to look at what turned out to be a votive candleholder made of shells. Clever and beautiful. But she couldn’t think of a relative who would use it. BeBe didn’t have any candles that she’d seen. She had no idea what Ted’s house was like, since she’d never been invited. And it wouldn’t fit in with the Victorian décor of her landladies.
“At first I thought maybe Grace killed him,” Penny said. “What do you think, Liv?”
Reluctantly Liv turned back to the conversation. “I don’t know what to think, Penny.”
“It doesn’t do any good for us to speculate,” Nancy said. “Though it’s beginning to look like they’re going to question the whole town before they’re satisfied.”
“Doesn’t it?” said Penny. “Miriam said they found the box cutter that killed him in her store. It had traces of blood on it. But she didn’t do it. Miriam has been here forever. Everyone knows her.”
Liv smiled slightly. As if longevity had anything to do with innocence or guilt.
“I wonder how it got there.”
“I suppose anyone who had access to her store could have put it there,” said Nancy.
“But that could be just about anybody.”
“Just about.” Nancy opened the box and began lifting out packages of ornaments.
“The quilters? Or someone in the sewing class? I can’t believe it. Maybe someone sneaked in? But how? And why?” Penny’s eyes grew larger with each thought. “Do you think somebody wanted to frame Miriam?”
“Oh good heavens,” Nancy exclaimed. “You’ve been watching too much television.”
“I’m sure no one wanted to frame Miriam,” Liv told her. “They don’t know yet if the box cutter they found was the murder weapon. It has to be sent out for tests before they can be sure. It might be as simple as someone in class cut their finger and didn’t clean the knife very well.
“But I’m sure the police are working on finding out. They’ll probably question everyone.”
“Everyone?” asked Penny.
“Well, whoever might have been back there or . . .” Liv stopped.
“Or what?” asked Penny.
“Or whatever.” All those seamstresses the night of the murder. Any one of them under the guise of helping Hank could have slipped the box cutter in the drawer at A Stitch in Time or even into one of the many bags and boxes that traveled back and forth between the two stores that night.
Nancy carefully lifted something from the box, laid it on the counter, and began to gently unfold the surrounding tissue paper.
“Well, it wasn’t me,” said Penny. “Or Jason.”
“Not Hank,” the two women said together.
Liv shrugged. “I don’t think they can even be sure that it was somebody involved with the Thornsbys.” Liv watched Nancy untangle a jumble of delicate seashells and hold them up to the light.
“Oh, Nancy, that’s beautiful.”
“It’s a wind chime, handmade with brass and abalone.”
“I’ll take one. Miss Ida and Miss Edna will love it.”
“You mean Phil might have been working on another case?” Penny asked.
“I guess. Do you have something like this but a little more masculine?” Maybe Ted would like a wind chime.
“Over here.” Nancy walked over to a wooden rack of chimes.
“Hmm.” Liv didn’t see anything that screamed Ted at her. Maybe she’d get him something from the Yarn Barn. He seemed to like sweaters. Hanging at the very end of the row was a wind chime made of dangling primitive heads. Scary and comic at the same time. Perfect for a certain annoying newspaper editor. She lifted it off the hook and handed it to Nancy.
Nancy raised her eyebrows.
“It isn’t anything weird, is it?”
“Not in this store. It’s the artist’s rendering of Kapua, the mischievous god of ancient Hawaii.”
“Perfect,” Liv said. “I think that just about does it.” And she needed to hit a lot more stores so she didn’t appear to be showing favoritism.
“Penny, can you ring Liv up while I wrap these?”
“Sure.” She took the tags from Nancy, and Liv followed her to the cash register. “I heard he was working on more than one case.”
“Hmm,” Liv said noncommittally.
“So what kind of case do you think he was working on?” Penny chewed on her bottom lip.
“Nothing you need to worry about, I’m sure.”
“How can you be sure?”
“Because I have it on good authority that he was just researching something that happened years ago somewhere in the Midwest. See, nothing to be worried about.”
A tinkling noise made them both turn. Nancy was picking up Chaz’s wind chime from the counter.
“Sorry, they get tangled so easily.” She lifted it up and straightened the strings. The evil little heads grinned back at Liv.
Nancy returned it to the paper and folded it into a gift box; then she handed Liv her purchases and walked her to the door.
“Looks like snow,” said Nancy, studying the sky. “How are you adjusting to all this cold weather?”
“As long as I don
’t have to shovel, I love it. Thanks again, Nancy, these are perfect gifts.” Especially the one for Chaz. Liv grinned at the thought of those diabolical heads clattering in the wind, the snow, the rain, the least little breeze. Try napping through that, Mr. Bristow.
“Merry Christmas, you two.” Very pleased with herself, Liv left the Pyne Bough singing. “You won’t need a weatherman to do dee do dee do dee. ’Cause now you’ve got this wind chime, do dee do dee do doo.” She did a little jig outside the door.
Her day was beginning to look up.
Chapter Twenty-four
It was almost four o’clock by the time Liv finished her shopping and hauled it all into the Events Office. Ted was back to wearing a suit, but his tie was red, dotted with little sprigs of holly. In the background, the little drummer boy rum-pum-pum-pummed.
Ted raised an eyebrow. “Well, I see you shop with the same efficiency as you do everything.”
“I was on a time crunch. Any disasters while I was gone?”
“No. One of the trolleys broke down, but since it was a weekday, we just fudged the scheduled stops and it’s working out. The garage said they can have it back to us before Friday.”
He followed her into her office. Reached for a bag as she attempted to drop them on the table where they kept “works in progress,” that is, unfinished tasks, tasks they wanted to ignore, a spare box of dog biscuits, and a stack of trade catalogues and data reports that no one had time to read.
Liv shouldered him out of the way. “Thanks, but I know you’re just trying to get a peek at what I bought. Don’t. Do. It.”
Ted looked hurt.
“Uh-uh. I know your sneaky ways. There is something in there for you.” Actually there were several somethings. Once Liv got started, she couldn’t stop. She smiled. She couldn’t help herself.
“Holy cats, you look like you suddenly got the Christmas spirit.”
“How about that, and it isn’t even February. That’s usually the first time I stop long enough to realize I missed it.” Liv looked over her mountain of gift bags. “I’ll still probably miss it this year. By the time I get all this to the post office, it will be too late to be delivered by the twenty-fifth. But my family is used to it.”
“Do you ever get to go home for the holidays?” Ted’s finger was creeping toward an open paper bag.
Liv slapped his hand away. “Any event planner who goes home for Christmas is either crazy or wants to fail. It’s the biggest time of the year, not to mention the most lucrative.”
“You’re on salary.”
“But I’m not crazy.”
He chuckled.
“Do you ever go home for Christmas?”
“Celebration Bay is my home. Well, if you won’t let me help wrap, I guess I’ll go out to my desk and start working on the Memorial Day Picnic.”
Liv laughed. “I do appreciate that we have to plan ahead, but you’re welcome to leave early so you won’t be late for choir practice.”
“Heaven forfend. You are coming to the sing-along tomorrow, aren’t you?”
“As long as I don’t have to sing.”
“Why not? Make a joyful noise. I assure you, not even all the choir sings on key. It’s just really fun and beautiful in its own small-town way.”
“Well, maybe. I did go to one once at Avery Fisher Hall, but I got all tangled up in the ‘ah-ah-ah amens’ and started giggling, which earned me dirty looks from the people around me. Who, I might add, came with their own scores. Serious stuff.”
Ted laughed. “We do have a few of those, but mainly we hand out the same dog-eared copies year after year. And there’s no audition. Giggles welcome.”
“In my defense I was sixteen.”
“And you haven’t been to one since?”
“No, but I listen to the Carnegie Hall live stream if I have the time.” Though really, when did she ever have time at Christmas? She was always planning someone else’s celebration and stayed backstage until the cleanup. But not this year. This year she was going to experience Christmas in December.
“Okay, I’ll be there, and I promise not to giggle.”
“I’m holding you to that.” Ted left her office humming the “Hallelujah Chorus.”
Liv sat at her desk and scanned down the To Be Dones, found that Ted had already done them. Even the plans for First Night were complete.
She leaned back in her chair. Looked up at the ceiling. Christmas, New Year’s Eve. She sent a message skyward, Please let Bill catch the killer before then.
*
Ted left a few minutes later; Liv left shortly after and walked home. She stopped at the Zimmermans’ to pick up Whiskey.
“We had a lovely time today,” Miss Ida said as she hustled Liv inside. “And Edna made her signature beef burgundy. It’s good stick-to-your bones food, though don’t tell Edna I said so. It’s French cuisine, but it still sticks to your bones. It’s not quite ready. Would you like to sit down for a little glass of something?”
“Sounds delicious, thank you. And I would, but I did all my Christmas shopping today and I told BeBe I’d come by to pick up the stuff I stored at the Buttercup.” Liv looked around. No welcoming excited dog to greet her? “Is Whiskey back at the carriage house?”
“No, Edna had to run out for a few supplies to see us through the snow. Whiskey loves to ride in the car, so she took him with her. I hope you don’t mind.”
“Of course not. I thought the snow was supposed to be days away.”
“Just some showers, but better safe than sorry. So if you need to pick up packages, I think you should go now while the roads are clear. Dinner will be ready when you get back.”
“Thank you. I feel like I’ve hardly seen you two or anyone else for ages. But I’m going to start making some time to visit with my friends.”
“That sounds like an excellent plan.”
Liv went directly to the old garage where the sisters had cleared a space for her car, bless them.
The air was clear and dark and Liv thought how like a fairy-tale village Celebration Bay looked when it was all lit up. She drove around to the alley entrance and down the alley to the Buttercup’s back door.
She left the car running while she banged on the back door of the coffee bar. BeBe pulled the door open. “Do you need help?”
“No thanks. I’m just going to drop these off at the office where all the wrapping paper and mailing supplies are and then go home to have French cuisine with my landladies.”
“Mon dieu. Have a good time.”
Liv lugged her box of books outside. “It seems a lot heavier than it did this morning.”
“Maybe they’ve spontaneously generated. Little Life of Thomas Paines all over.” BeBe held the door open, and Liv shuffled out to her car. She had to balance the box on her knee to beep the trunk open. She slid the box into the trunk.
“Hey, did you mean to leave this here?” BeBe held up the bag with the Santa suit.
“No, I’ll take it and drop it off at the cleaner’s tomorrow. Nancy suggested sage and baking soda. But I think I’ll go for the hard stuff.”
“Nancy thinks sage cures everything.” BeBe tossed the bag to her. “See you tomorrow.”
Liv dropped the bag into the trunk and drove the block and a half to town hall. There were a few cars in the employee parking lot, but none of them looked familiar. After six, the lot was opened to visitors. There was a free space right by the back door. Liv pulled in and popped the trunk.
She found the key to the employees’ entrance—at least she hoped it was this one. She rarely used this entrance since she usually walked to work and entered through the front door. She was glad of it tonight, though, because it went straight into the building, unlike the front where you had to climb a hefty set of steps.
She slid the Santa suit off the box and left it behind. Better it stink up her trunk than her office. She hoisted up the box of books, then stretched to reach the hatch. The box nearly spilled out.
She grabbed
again and pushed the trunk down. With the box sliding down her legs, she staggered to the door.
“Next Christmas, Dad, you’re getting an e-reader and some downloads.” Except the kinds of books her dad read were often primary sources; and besides, how festive was a download?
She pulled the door open and angled the box through. Five minutes later her books were sitting on the worktable waiting to be wrapped and sent. Her stomach growled. And she wouldn’t even be late for dinner.
She turned out the lights, locked the door, and headed back to the parking lot. The first thing she saw was her open trunk. What the heck? She had shut it. It should have locked automatically. She ran to the back of the car. Looked in. The Santa suit was gone.
She turned around in a full three-sixty. No one in sight. She ran to the side street. No one. The post office parking lot across the street was almost as light as day. And nothing moved.
She walked slowly back to the car, looking for any sign of a breakin. Fortunately, her car was fine, no broken windows. She unlocked the driver’s door and the interior light came on. She looked in the front seat. Clear. Looked in the backseat. No one there.
She got in and locked the door. Someone had stolen the Santa suit. Kids? Delinquents who had taken the opportunity to burglarize the cars that were hidden from view by the building?
As she backed up, a man stepped out of the shadows. He walked toward her.
He waved. And she recognized A.K. Pierce.
With a sigh of relief, she lowered her window.
He looked inside. “Everything all right?”
“Yes. I was just dropping some stuff off at the office. You’re out late.”
“I like to stay in the field with my men. I’m taking the second shift this week.”
She wondered if she should tell him to be on the lookout for a Santa-suit thief. But she was pretty sure this thief had been after one thing and had gotten it. Which meant the killer hadn’t left town.
“You’ve got plenty of staff out there?” she asked.
“Yes. Three uniformed and three plainclothes. Between us and the county, we have the area covered.”
Except for where it wasn’t. “I’m concerned—”
Silent Knife (A Celebration Bay Mystery) Page 26
