NOT a CREATURE WAS STIRRING

by Christina Freeburn

  The decals. Why hadn’t I thought of it before? The tree decals were perfect for people living in nursing homes, dorms, barracks, or any other small space. It allowed those who wanted Christmas around them to have it without it costing a lot or needing a space to store it. I quickly scribbled down “storage boxes” to remind myself later to create some labeled cardboard envelopes to store the holiday décor.

  “A tree and some ornament decals are the perfect solution for your aunt. Currently, there are two sizes of trees. I can also customize one for her wall.” I showed her the glitter vinyl tree I cut this morning.

  “Does it peel off easily?”

  “Yes.” I lifted the tip of tree and slowly peeled it down. “I have a backing sheet that the decal can be stored on when not in use. I can also create a special holder for it to be stored during the rest of the year. It would easily fit on top of a closet shelf or underneath a bed.”

  “That’s perfect.”

  Raleigh scooted some ornament decals closer to the potential customer. Pride filled my daughter’s voice. “My mom is like your aunt, Christmas is in her heart year-round and she loves to share that joy and create items that help people display their love of the Christmas season.”

  My heart hummed with happiness. I always wondered what my children thought about their mother being only a crafter compared to their father’s career. I had a lot of jobs: book store clerk, church secretary, tax preparer, shop pro at the golf course which consisted of pretty much anything that was needed as it was a one-employee-at-a-time job, and now crafter. Crafter was the one job I was working on becoming my career, and at times I felt like it wasn’t a grown-up job. It wasn’t everyone who could turn a love of Christmas into a career. I should embrace it rather than apologize for it.

  The woman pulled out her wallet. “I am so glad I decided to stop at this booth after all.”

  After all? My curiosity got the best of me. I was here to sell and if the customer could explain to me why she hadn’t been interested until she saw Ebenezer, I could make changes for tomorrow. I doubted the lack of my presence had kept people away from buying. “Is there something about the set up that wasn’t inviting?”

  “Oh no. Your display is lovely. Once I saw how much you love your pet, and Christmas, I knew you couldn’t be a bad person.”

  “A bad person?”

  “What’s being said about my mom?” Raleigh clenched her fists.

  The woman pointed down the aisle. “That young lady is telling people to stay away from your booth unless they want to buy stuff made by a murderer.”

  Raleigh’s face turned bright red. Mine was Christmas snow white as I felt the blood drain from my face.

  At the end of the aisle was Cassie. A look of pure hatred directed at me.

  Eight

  “How dare she.” A fire gleamed in Raleigh’s eyes and she marched forward, ready to battle her former stepsister.

  “No.” I snagged my daughter’s arm, halting her charge. “I’ll handle this.”

  “I don’t think you should talk to her.” Raleigh was glaring at Cassie. Cassie had the sense to look away. “She’s accusing you of murdering her father.”

  “You talking to her isn’t going to make matters better,” I said. “Matter-of-fact, I think I’ll keep a cooler head than you. It could hurt your job.”

  “No, it won’t.” Some of the anger ebbed out of my daughter as the truth sunk in past her denial.

  It did my heart good to know how much my children wanted to protect me, but I was the one who should protect them—even from themselves. Yelling in public at Cassie wouldn’t help my daughter in her quest to become a counselor for teenagers. Any fight she got into with Cassie had the potential to haunt her later in life.

  “Finish up with our customer and I’ll have a word with Cassie.” I gave my daughter a gentle shove in the direction I wanted her to go, away from Cassie.

  “Mom—”

  I silenced Raleigh with a stern look. “No more arguing. I know Cassie better than you. If she’s lying, I’ll be able to tell.”

  “Dad wouldn’t like it.” Raleigh crossed her arms and tilted her chin up.

  My eyes narrowed. Her I-got-you-now look hadn’t worked when she was a child, and even less so now. “I really don’t care about your father’s opinion of this.” I went to confront, or talk sense into, my former stepdaughter.

  Cassie saw me coming. Spinning around, she hightailed it toward the door. I picked up my pace, not quite running but more pep than a fast walk. I wanted to settle this between us once and for all. I couldn’t have her going around telling people that I murdered her father. It wasn’t true. It hurt to know a girl I loved like my own thought so horribly about me.

  She stepped outside. I followed, regretting it the moment the cold air hit my body. I hadn’t brought a coat with me. I wrapped my arms around myself. “Cassie. Stop.”

  The girl stumbled as she flicked a gaze over her shoulder.

  “I can—” I stopped my sentence. Yelling out “I can find you” to a teenager whose father was just murdered wasn’t a good idea. Especially when you were the main suspect.

  Cassie came to an abrupt halt. She spun around and glared at me. “You don’t scare me. I won’t let you get away with it. I won’t.” Tears ran down her face.

  “I don’t want you to be afraid of me.” I kept my voice soft and level. “I didn’t do anything, Cassie. You know that.”

  I refused to say anything that placed the blame on her, but I know she knew I had nothing to do with her father’s death. She had sold me the RV—with her father in it. Had she known it? At this point I wasn’t sure.

  “Yes, you did.” She swiped away her tears with the sleeve of her thin coat.

  “No, I didn’t.” I stood a few feet in front of her. Her misery and confusion were almost touchable. My heart went out to her. She had lost her dad. The only parent that had loved and cared for her. “We both know when I bought the RV that you drove to my house, that your father and I weren’t communicating with each other.”

  “You’re trying to confuse me. I know what happened.”

  “I don’t. How about you tell me?”

  Cassie bit her lip and looked down at the ground. “I’m not supposed to talk to you.”

  “And why is that?”

  “The detective said not to.”

  Grayson had spoken to Cassie. The detective convinced her that I had something to do with Samuel’s death. I didn’t know anyone else who would believe I was capable of committing murder even taking into account that I no longer had any tender feelings for Samuel. I avoided the man at all costs. Including no longer spending any time with Cassie. Not even a text message. An ache developed in my chest. I had abandoned her. At a time when she needed someone, she had no one. At all.

  “How are you holding up?” I asked.

  Cassie shrugged. Tears pooled in her eyes. “Why should you care?”

  “Because I care about you. I can’t even imagine how hard this is for you. You loved your dad very much.” Life was cruel. I tucked a strand of her blonde hair behind her ear. Cassie closed her eyes, resting her chin in the palm of my hand. Tears blurred the image before me. I blinked them away. “I’m sorry I haven’t been around for you. I thought it was best.”

  “Not for me.” Her lips drooped into a trembling frown, blue eyes downcast. It was the expression she always had when she believed she was about to get into trouble.

  At first, I had seen the action as a manipulation, but then I realized Cassie was afraid of getting in trouble—she didn’t trust that a person would stick around for her. She believed all her mothers left because of her.

  “It was for me. And Bonnie,” I said.

  “I hate her.” She clenched her fists. “You wouldn’t have divorced my dad if it wasn’t for her.”

  It wasn’t becaus
e of the affair that I divorced Samuel, but now wasn’t the time to explain it to Cassie. If ever. There was no reason for her to see her father in a different light than she did. He had shown her some flaws, but not the true nature of his character toward others, and I refused to be the one to reveal it to her. She didn’t need to know.

  “Honey, it wouldn’t have worked between your father and me. Even without Bonnie in the picture.” Because there would’ve been another woman. I just wished I had paid attention to Samuel’s wandering eye before we got married. It would’ve saved me a lot of grief and being suspected of murder.

  “It would’ve. I would’ve made sure.” There was determination in Cassie’s voice.

  I fought back a smile. Only a teenager believed they could control the lives of the adults around them. “Honey, there was nothing you could’ve done. It wasn’t your fault.”

  “Bonnie hates me. And you.” Cassie peered at me through her lashes. “She said you were going to ruin her and dad’s life.”

  “I wanted nothing to do with either of them.”

  Now there was someone who had the potential to kill someone: Bonnie. Not Cassie. The woman’s scowl was a permanent fixture on her face like her tattooed eyeliner. I was always surprised she was a nurse. I always expected them to have more pleasant personalities.

  “She said Dad was meeting you. You shouldn’t have been anywhere near him.”

  I gaped at her. Meeting him? “When? Where? Why?” The one-word questions tumbled from me.

  Cassie shrugged. “She didn’t say.” Her downcast gaze lifted to meet mine for a moment before returning to the ground. Her body swayed slightly, left and right, as she rubbed her left ring finger and thumb together. Cassie’s signal. The girl was lying, but even more than that, she was scared. Who was threatening her? And why did it involve blaming me for her father’s murder?

  Nine

  Dots of white drifted from the night sky. I waved goodbye to the security guard who escorted me and stepped into my RV. I slipped off my coat and immediately put it back on. An RV wasn’t a good wintertime vehicle. I was I glad I hadn’t left Ebenezer in it all day. It was only a few degrees warmer in the RV compared to outside.

  Okay, maybe a slight exaggeration. I rubbed my hands together and searched for the source of the cold. I hoped it was an opened window rather than lousy insulation. Purchasing the RV was turning into one of the worst decisions I had ever made. Cold air seeped through the closed door of the RV. The windows nor the door were sealed properly, small drafts of cold worked their way in from the sill. It also didn’t help that the door leading to outside refused to close all the way. I might have to shove a towel between the door and jamb to keep winter outside where it belonged.

  I paused and studied the door. Had this morning’s burglar damaged the door? I didn’t remember it being quite so cold last night. Then again, the temperature had dropped about fifteen degrees from yesterday. I knelt and carefully ran my hand under the door frame, feeling for any chips or mars in the door. None.

  What if the person trying to get into my RV was the murderer? What if they were coming back to retrieve something they left behind? The cold seemed to increase in the RV and I shivered. I should’ve called the police this morning as the security guard suggested. That decision was a huge mistake. I had been so scared this afternoon, it had slipped my mind to tell the detective. If I called now, would the detective think I was trying to explain away any evidence that had been or might be found in the RV? I wrapped my arms around myself.

  Had the police found the item, and that was why the detective believed I killed Samuel? If so, why were they allowing me to stay in the RV? But, what could the killer have owned that tied to me? Something Christmas related? Something related to the weekend event? Craft related? It was hard for me to wrap my mind around the idea that Samuel’s killer had something in common with me. Especially since the killer had placed Samuel in the RV in Season’s Greetings. His murder had nothing to do with the holiday bazaar. It had everything to do with our hometown.

  My gaze flicked to the dinette area. The only connection between Samuel, the RV, and me was Cassie—and Bonnie. Were they trying to set me up? Or was that an unintended consequence because I bought the RV from Cassie? Had Bonnie threatened the teen and that’s why Cassie was pointing the finger at me? She wanted to save herself by taking the suspicion off Bonnie. No. Cassie hated Bonnie. She was more likely to scream to the world it was Bonnie if there was a hint of evidence her current stepmom killed her dad. It would get her stepmom out of her life and house.

  Bonnie had the most to lose if Samuel came to his senses and picked his daughter over his new wife. Bonnie worked at Season’s Living, the assistant living facility my mother lived at, and ironically had been my mother’s nurse. Samuel met her when we went there to tell my mother of our upcoming nuptials. I guess it was love at first sight for Bonnie and Samuel. Wished he’d mentioned it before we said our I dos.

  There was one place to check—where Samuel died. Steeling my nerves, I approached the dinette bench cautiously, like one does an unfamiliar dog. My hand shook as my fingertips grazed the seat. My heart thudded, breaths came in spurts. Settle down. Deep breaths. Nothing in there can hurt you. I eased open the seat. Samuel’s face flashed in my head. Unstaring eyes. Hands raised as he tried to escape. Bile rose in my throat. I jumped away from the seat, trying to settle my breathing and stop the churning in my stomach. I couldn’t do it.

  I collapsed onto the floor, drawing my knees toward my chin and resting my forehead on them. Maybe tomorrow I could bring myself to do it. What else could I do? I had to do something to figure out why the detective had me on the suspect list. I lived a very rule-abiding life. Drove the speed limit. Paid my taxes on time. Didn’t cut in line. My customer service was superior. It was why Bright and I had a popular Etsy shop. We were the queens of customer service. Now, I found myself on the list for most likely to have murdered my ex-husband. The only one who knew why I was on the list was the detective and that man wasn’t planning on being forthcoming with me.

  My phone pinged. It was a Facebook message from Bright. I swiped my finger across the screen. My heart plummeted at the words: A detective contacted me.

  Detective Grayson? I typed. What did you say?

  Nothing yet. Bright responded back immediately. I was working on orders and my phone was on silent. I just listened to his message. He has some questions for me and it’s of utmost importance. What do you want me to do?

  No doubt, putting his chief suspect in jail was the highest priority. Had the detective gotten ahold of our messages? I know what I wanted her to do—ignore him. But, I knew what Bright had to do—call the detective back. I didn’t want to drag her into this anymore than she was by being the business partner of a murder suspect.

  You must call him back. My hands shook as I pressed send, doing the right thing was scary. On the bright side, maybe Bright would learn why the detective believed I killed Samuel.

  I don’t want to. Bright added a crying face emoji. What if something I say hurts you?

  It won’t. Maybe you’ll be able to find out why I’m number one suspect on Grayson’s list. I can narrow down which of Samuel’s friends and acquaintances is the most likely culprit and pass the information onto Brett.

  Why not ask Brett?

  He’s looking into it. I don’t trust him to keep me in the loop. He wants me to stay out of everything because he fears my involvement makes me look guilty.

  Men are always trying to save us from ourselves. Okay, I’ll do it. For you.

  I sat in one of the recliners and propped my phone up on the arm rest and stared at it, willing a message from Bright to pop up about what the detective said. Time inched by. Enough. I had to do something besides sit here and look at my cell phone. The detective sure wasn’t waiting by his phone for someone to tell him that they saw Merry in the RV with a candlestic
k.

  A wonderful snarky crafting idea popped into my head. It was a different style than my other products as I steered clear from innuendos and crude, and it was totally not in keeping with my mindset of keeping Christmas well or pure, but sometimes a woman had to shake things up. I bet there were plenty of customers who’d like one of their own. I just hoped others didn’t get the wrong idea. Of course, I’d sell more if some ladies had wickeder ideas about my new holiday shirt. One must do what they could, legally, to increase their profit margin.

  I set up a die cutting machine on the floor, wanting to avoid crafting at the dinette table. It felt a little heartless to work away in the space where my ex-husband died. I pulled out my iPad and designed my shirt. I typed I’m On the Naughty List, using a font that swirled at the ends. I created a pair of handcuffs and dangled them from the “y” then switched the cuffs over to the “g” to balance the decal. Perfect. Sometimes all you could do was have a sense of humor or a situation would break you.

  The containers of vinyl were in the living room area, placed in order of neutrals then the Roy G. Biv system. I found keeping my vinyl and paper organized using this system helped lessen the time it took to find the correct color. The first container was violet. Where was the white? I must’ve inverted the order and put the neutrals on the right-hand side instead of the left. I went to the last one, yellow. The containers were all in a haphazard order. Good thing I labeled them, though it was more helpful to have the label facing out, not toward the wall.

  “Next time no rushing,” I scolded myself. In my defense, I didn’t have long to load the RV before I had to head out. I picked out a glitter black sheet and placed it on the mat and took out a white t-shirt from a plastic container.

  While the Cricut chugged away, the blade appeared to flow over the vinyl rather than cutting it, I pulled up Cassie’s Facebook. I had to know how she was even if it meant reading the horrible things she was saying about me, and I hoped I might find a clue on what she told the detective.