“That’s about the long and short of it,” he confirmed the fact to her.
She also noticed that she, as a suspect herself, wasn’t exempt from that category. She knew, deep down, there was still some small suspicion of her and her daughter as well. The sheriff was just being careful about how he went about things, not wanting to scare off suspects before he had this thing under wraps.
Luckily, Margo knew for a fact that she wasn’t the killer, and she was ninety-nine percent positive about her daughter as well.
“Well, what now?” she pressed.
“Now? Do you think I could buy one of these bottles of Christmas Peppers?” he asked with a winning smile.
Margo let out a quiet laugh and shook her head. “I’m afraid I can’t without opening a whole register. Everything is shut up and put away for Christmas.”
He waved his hand. “Never mind then. Let’s head back to Tanson Hills. I want you safe and sound at Mrs. Tate’s until I can pinpoint the murderer and bring them in.”
This time, she didn’t argue. If he was right, and the killer really was after her, she had to agree with him. Using the front door this time, they stepped out into the cold.
It had begun to snow again.
CHAPTER 12
* * *
Starting in on another thirty-minute drive, Margo was beginning to feel weary of driving back and forth in a seemingly constant stream. The fresh snowfall hardly helped, although it wasn’t nearly as bad of a storm as the night before. She was cold from being stuck outside so much and wished for the warm fire of her cabin—or at least the room in the boarding house. Luckily, the heat blasting from the sheriff’s car was welcoming.
The cab she’d taken into town had been frigid, and the driver reluctant to turn on the heat—something to do with the amount of gas used in relation to company mileage. Margo was happy to not be sneaking around anymore, and that she’d been able to help the sheriff with the investigation a little. She simply hoped all of this would be cleared up soon.
She’d closed her eyes for a moment, realizing just how tired she was from the last few day’s events—not to mention waking up super early for no good reason other than thoughts bouncing all around in her head.
Resting her eye felt good, and a wave of temporary peace washed over her.
She hadn’t fallen asleep, of course, not with the killer still out on the loose. She wondered if she’d be able to get some decent shut-eye once the person was behind bars. Still, the darkness behind her eyelids and the hum of the truck’s engine were enough to at least put her in a better headspace than she had been.
She was realizing now, more than before, just how affected by this whole traumatic ordeal she’d been.
The comfortable silence of the drive was suddenly interrupted about halfway through as Sheriff Carlsbad’s phone began to buzz. Opening her eyes just a sliver, she watched as the officer dug deep into his pocket and glanced at the caller ID.
His expression was one of anticipation.
Making a quick check of his passenger, he glanced over to see if she was truly asleep.
Margo made sure to keep her eyes shut tight and her breathing steady so as not to bother the sheriff. Much to her surprise, he assumed she was, indeed, asleep, and he hit the button to answer the cell phone. “Hello?” he spoke with a hush in his voice.
“Sheriff? I just finished up that autopsy,” a voice echoed faintly from the speaker. It was a low volume, but Margo could just make out the words. By just the first line of greeting alone, she deduced that it must be the county coroner.
She was glad to have pretended to be asleep. Maybe any new news would set off the sheriff on hunting down the murderer.
Additionally, maybe it’d clue her into whoever it was that had double-crossed her at work.
The sheriff glanced over one more time just to make sure she was asleep. “Go ahead.”
“The victim was shot at close range with a point twenty-two revolver. The bullet pierced her heart, and she died almost immediately.”
“I see, and the confirmed time of death?” he pressed. This seemed to be the information he was most interested in.
“I’d place it at just a little after eight on the morning of the twenty-second.”
The sheriff grunted thoughtfully. “Just as we thought, huh?”
“Seems so.”
Sheriff Carlsbad glanced down at his watch. “Is there anything else?”
“As a matter-of-fact, there is,” he noted.
“Go ahead,” the sheriff drawled.
“Well, it seems to me that the body was moved.”
“What?” the detective exclaimed quietly.
“That’s right. There are traces of dirt in the hair, under the fingernails, you get the picture. Also, based on the damage to the skin tissues, I’d say this body laid outside for a little while—maybe an hour or two—before being brought inside.”
The sheriff grunted. “Does that mean our murderer hung around for a couple hours after killing her, or did someone else move her?”
“I couldn’t rightly say. That’s your department, not mine,” the coroner joked, not taking responsibility for answers that weren’t his.
“I wasn’t asking you, I was just thinking out loud,” he argued.
“Well, I’ll leave you to think out loud on your own.”
“Thanks, for calling. If you think of anything else significant, make sure to ring me again.”
“I will. You want me to send that report over to you?”
“Yeah, I should be at the office sometime in the next fifteen to twenty minutes.”
“Alrighty, it’ll be waiting on your computer when you arrive.”
“Thanks,” he replied, finally hanging up.
Margo had her eyes slightly parted again, looking at the sheriff for any sort of facial expressions or reactions. What was he thinking?
He glanced over at her again and she shut her eyes, hoping she hadn’t been caught.
“How long have you been awake?” he asked, his tone hard and scolding.
Trying to play it off, she yawned, letting her eyes flutter open slowly. Stretching her arms wide, she looked around at the white landscape. Despite the falling snow, the sun was breaking through the clouds and reflecting off the sparkling horizon. “Are we almost there?” she asked, ignoring his question.
He shook his head and sighed, not willing to pursue the matter. After all, it was his fault for taking a private phone call with a witness in his car—sleeping or not. “It’ll be another fifteen minutes,” he informed her.
CHAPTER 13
* * *
Sunday, December 24th – Christmas Eve
The second night at the boarding house in Tanson Hills had been far more cozy and comfortable than the previous one. The local TV station had been playing a marathon of old black and white Christmas movies, which always put a little warmth into Margo’s spirits.
They’d both fallen asleep fairly early, feeling content that they were safe with the deputy outside. However, the last thing on Margo’s mind as she drifted off was the stranger who she’d caught outside the factory.
Waking from her slumber around six a.m. Margo sat up in bed and looked around the room. The Christmas lights in the window offered some dim, yet colorful light to the room. The gas fire, however, had timed out sometime during the evening, leaving the room slightly chilled.
Hopping out of bed and rushing on her tiptoes over the freezing hardwood flooring, she turned the fireplace back on. She then proceeded to slide into one of the nearby chairs, holding her feet out toward the flames.
Her mind wandered, thinking of all the events that had led up to her and her daughter being guests at the boarding house. She could hardly believe it was already Christmas Eve. It didn’t quite feel like a holiday, not yet anyway.
She knew that a little good food could cure that problem.
She took a deep breath and realized she could smell breakfast cooking in the kitchen below. Whi
le her meal at the café had been good, she was expecting much more from Mrs. Tate’s cooking.
Glancing around for her socks, she spotted a pair of fuzzy white slippers with the boarding house logo on them. They were tucked under the bed slightly, so she hadn’t noticed them before. She considered that there may be a matching robe in the bathroom as well.
Reaching over, she managed to get a hold of the slippers without touching the cold floor again. Putting them on her feet, she stood up.
Sandra was still sleeping soundly, and Margo didn’t want to wake her. She decided to let her daughter rest while she went downstairs to check out the morning offerings. Sliding across the room, she carefully opened the door.
The next second, she let out a startled scream.
Sandra, hearing her mother’s exclamation, sat bolt upright in bed, also screaming.
Standing directly outside the door so that he was face to face when Margo went to leave, was Sheriff Carlsbad. “What are you doing? Trying to scare us to death?”
“My apologies, but I didn’t know you were going to come bursting out like that.”
“I didn’t burst out at all. I slowly and quietly walked out.”
“And then screamed.”
Margo rolled her eyes. “Okay, so you startled me.”
“I was just getting ready to knock on your door,” he told her.
“And I was just getting ready to go downstairs for some breakfast. What is it, sheriff? Do you need my help with something again? Did those files not send properly?”
He shook his head. “Not at all. In fact, I have some good news.”
“Oh?”
“We picked up the murderer this morning. You’re free to return to your cabin for the rest of the holiday.”
Margo blinked a few times, not quite believing her ears. “You arrested the killer? Who was it?”
“Just as I suspected, it was your foreman, Diego Krimer.”
Margo’s jaw dropped. While she had suspected Diego herself, she could hardly believe her ears.
“Oh, my goodness,” Sandra squeaked from the room.
“Are you sure?”
“As your foreman, he had his own set of keys to the factory, correct?”
“That’s right.”
“He had complete and open access to come in and steal your product whenever he wanted. He also had the most access to your office. Therefore, it would be very easy for him to make a copy of the key to your cabin.”
Margo had to admit, all of this made sense.
“What about his alibi?”
“My deputy called the places he made deliveries to. They all agreed that he had made the deliveries, but not at the times he had punched into the system. There were at least a few hours at the beginning of the day, right while the murder occurred, that no one remembers him being around. That gives him ample time to come out here, kill the victim, and get back.”
“But why kill her? I don’t understand.”
“We believe his motive was protection. She found out his scheme, so he lured her up to your cabin and shot her.”
“And he’s confessed to all of this?” she pressed, needing a sure confirmation that it was, in fact, Diego who’d committed this horrible crime. She just couldn’t bring herself to believe it, still.
“Hardly. He’s denying the whole thing.”
She folded her arms. “Then how do you know for sure it was really him?”
The sheriff’s mouth tightened. “Mrs. Hanratty, I thought you’d be happy to know we caught a murderer.”
“How do you know?” she insisted, asking again. She was going to have her answer or else.
Sighing, he shook his head. “We took his fingerprints. His name isn’t Diego Krimer.”
“What?” she nearly screamed it.
“His real name is Daryl Black. He was a major drug runner for the Mexican Cartel, transporting items across the border and hiding them in an underground bunker on an old farm.”
Margo was completely overwhelmed. The man who had worked as her foreman, who had become her friend, was an ex-criminal. Maybe he just decided it was time to deal in small potatoes and started stealing her products and selling them.
“Anyway, I just came by to tell you.” He tipped his hat to them. “Enjoy your Christmas holiday, ladies.”
With that, he disappeared down the hall with his deputy.
* * *
“I don’t believe it, Mom. I don’t believe it one bit.” Sandra was arguing as the two women drove in Margo’s car toward the cabin, fifteen minutes up the road. The sheriff’s department had delivered the car to the boarding house for them so they could easily get on their way.
Before leaving, they’d stopped and tried to enjoy the breakfast that Mrs. Tate had prepared, but the harrowing news about Diego hung over their meal like a dark rain cloud. Neither one had said very much.
“If the police have good enough reason to arrest him on the charges, I don’t think we have any other choice, hon,” Margo admitted, reaching over and patting her daughter on the knee.
“It doesn’t make sense.”
“I know, but he tricked us all.”
“I just don’t believe it could be him,” she exclaimed, turning to face her mother.
“For now, let’s just try to forget about the whole thing, okay? Let’s enjoy our holiday together.” Coming to the turn off for the cabin, Margo pulled on the steering wheel and directed her vehicle into the dirt yard and parked. “It’s Christmas Eve, after all.”
Sandra folded her arms and sighed. “I suppose you’re right. It’s just hard, that’s all. I mean, he’s been the foreman as long as I’ve been helping out around the shop.”
“I know, why don’t we head inside and you can call Pat. Tell him it’s okay to come up now. While you do that, I’ll get the fire going and start working on some Christmas cookies. How does that sound?”
Her daughter’s frown melted into a sincere smile. “It honestly sounds nice.”
“Good, let’s get out of this cold weather.” She squeezed her daughter’s shoulder before opening her door and climbing out. Sandra quickly followed suit, tightening her scarf around her neck as she jogged toward the door.
Margo was about halfway across the yard when she spotted something fluttering in the dry, leafless bushes on the other side of the car among the trees. She made a scolding noise in the back of her throat. “They just had to leave litter behind.”
“What, Mom?”
“Oh, don’t mind me. Just go on ahead inside. I’ll be there in a minute.”
“Okay,” Sandra agreed, slipping her key into the lock and unlatching it.
Margo trudged through the slippery, wet snow to the bush. Bending down, she retrieved the piece of paper that was still half buried in the drift. At first, she didn’t intend to look at it at all. She’d just take it inside and drop it in the trash.
However, she froze in place when she noticed something scribbled at the top of the paper—a name.
The name written there was Henrietta.
CHAPTER 14
* * *
With shaking fingers, Margo carefully unfolded the note, revealing the rest of the words written inside. Her eyes darted back and forth, eagerly reading onward.
Henrietta,
I know about your little scheme. I know you’ve been stealing products from the factory and reselling them under the table for a profit. If you don’t want me to tell the police, you’ll meet me at the address listed below today at eight in the morning.
Merry Christmas,
Thomas Drake
Margo took in a sharp breath of realization.
Most likely, as the coroner had said, Henrietta had been killed outside. She was probably holding the note—in order to check the address—and dropped it when she fell. Then, because of the fresh falling snow that same evening, the police had missed this vital piece of evidence completely.
If the note was correct, it meant that the sheriff had the wrong person l
ocked up. Even if Diego was an ex-criminal and drug runner, he wasn’t the murderer or the thief.
It seemed that Henrietta herself, Margo’s old friend and employee, was the one doing the stealing. More than likely, she was taking the stock directly from the store shelves. According to the letter, it seemed that Thomas Drake had figured out what she was doing. Did this mean that he was the killer?
This caused Margo to pause.
Thomas Drake had been on the job all morning long during the time of the murder. He’d even gotten into an argument with one of his coworkers on the floor.
Finally, Margo remembered something vital to the case. Gasping, she glanced down at the letter again, and at Thomas’ name written there.
The day before, just outside the factory, she had encountered a young man in a business suit who had looked uncannily familiar. However, she’d been unable to place him. Now she realized he looked very similar to Thomas Drake, her newest line worker at the factory. She figured that they might be related, maybe even brothers.
Thomas had broken several bottles the last day at the factory, and he even kept his hat, goggles, and, mask on during the whole argument. He never spoke out loud or defended himself.
It was because it hadn’t been Thomas at all, but a look alike.
Maybe he’d told the man that there was a potential job for him in it if he just did what he asked. The job market was difficult, to say the least, and perhaps the stranger had agreed just to get an in.
Shaking her head, she folded the note and pocketed it, retrieving her phone in the same motion. She needed to call the sheriff right away.
Suddenly, the crunch of feet on snow drew her attention and Margo spun around before she could dial out.
She let out a quiet squeak of surprise upon spotting Thomas Drake standing there at the mouth of the drive, a gun pointed at her.
“Put that phone down right now,” he ordered.
Margo obeyed without hesitation, dropping the phone into the snow.
“Good, now hand over that note.” He held out an expectant hand.
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