NOT a CREATURE WAS STIRRING

by Christina Freeburn

  My eyes widened. I hadn’t thought of that. Had Samuel put me in danger because of a choice he made—was Cassie in danger? Had something happened to her? “Okay. Call them.” Once the police arrived, I’d ask them to do a welfare check on Cassie.

  While Grace called the police, I tiptoed to the window, in case someone lurked outside. I hooked a finger around the curtain and tugged it back an inch. No cars on the street. Near the door to RV, there was a fluttering movement. I pressed my nose to the glass, straining my eyes to see what, or who, was causing it.

  “Everything okay?” Grace looked over my shoulder.

  “I think someone’s by the RV.” I pointed.

  She placed a hand on my shoulder and leaned forward, squinting into the night. “I see it too.”

  I ran to the front door and yanked it open. “The police are on their way.”

  Grace tugged me back and slammed the door shut, leaning against it and turning the lock. “Are you crazy? What if they try to bust in here? How fast are the police in your town?”

  “I don’t know. I never had to call them before.” I was regretting my not so smart moment. This situation was so foreign to me, I didn’t know how to respond correctly.

  We stood with our backs to the door, hoping the police came before a lurker beat down the front door. It might be better for one of us to act as look out but neither one of us wanted to move. Fear had us in a stronghold.

  After what seemed like hours, flashing red lights bounced off the walls. The police were out front. A relieved breath whooshed out of me. I waited for the knock on the door before I opened it.

  Orville nodded. “Someone called in a report of a lurker around your RV. The door was open. I looked inside, and no one is in there now. Can you come with me, Merry?”

  “I locked the door.” Orville’s no-nonsense tone and serious expression rattled me more than the figure I saw by the RV.

  “That’s what I thought.” He smiled reassuringly. “You’re safe. I’m here and Officer Myers is on her way as well.”

  He called for backup. I was more worried.

  Grace took hold of my hand. “We’ll go out together.”

  “This way ladies.” Orville clicked on a flashlight and swept the beam back and forth over my driveway. The bright lights showed every cracked piece of asphalt and bounced off small patches of ice scattering on the driveway.

  The door fluttered open then closed. Then back open again. Was that what I saw from the house? “Someone broke in,” I said.

  “I remember the door being closed when I left earlier this evening.” Orville used his night stick to push open the door. “And…well…you’ll see. Don’t touch anything. Myers will get prints.”

  I stepped inside. The place was trashed and slashed. Uneven cuts ran down each cushion on the couch and the dinette bench. The contents of the refrigerator and the cabinets were on the floor. The driver’s seat was turned toward the main living space and a jagged scar ran down the length of the seat.

  Tears dripped down my cheeks. My dream had been torn to shreds. Why? The note flittered into my mind. Murderer. “They hate me.”

  “Aw, Merry, no one hates you.” Orville handed me a handkerchief.

  I wiped my eyes and face and told him about the note I found on my door. “This was done because people think I’m a murderer.”

  “No one thinks that. Can you get the note for me? I’d like to take it and see if we can get any prints from it.”

  “Yes, they do. Look at the RV. There’s also a detective who’s really interested in my whereabouts when Samuel died. Want his name?” Bitterness was laced in every word. I took the note from my pocket and shoved it at him.

  “I already know it.” Orville scribbled down something in a notebook then retrieved a small paper bag from his squad car. He opened the bag. “Place the note in here. Did anyone else touch it?”

  At least the local police weren’t considering me a suspect, not that it mattered since they weren’t investigating the case. “Just me and the person who wrote it.” I couldn’t keep the bitterness and fear out of my voice.

  Grace had her arms crossed and was rubbing her hands up and down, warding off the cold. “I’m glad the police are taking this seriously. I know where I live they wouldn’t waste police resources to try and get fingerprints from a note or a trailer that had been vandalized.”

  “Normally we wouldn’t be so concerned about it,” Orville said. “But Samuel was killed in there. Someone might have come looking for something they left behind.”

  A sportscar pulled into my driveway. Paul McCormick, Scotland’s friend, hopped out. “Are you okay, Merry?”

  I frowned and stepped back. How did he know I was in trouble? My son teased me that Paul liked-liked me. I told him that wasn’t possible. The man was thirteen years younger than me.

  “I called him,” Orville said.

  I wasn’t happy with Orville’s decision. Why did he think I needed a man to help me? I narrowed my eyes. “Why?”

  “Because I couldn’t get hold of the fire chief. McCormick has keys to the station.”

  Paul dangled the keys from his lean fingers. “I brought them with me.”

  “My chief says it’s best we get this vehicle into a secured location while we search for evidence on who did this,” Orville said. “The only place we can think that’ll fit it is in the fire station. You have an open bay right now?”

  Paul nodded. “One of our trucks is out for modification. We’re having lights added to the ladder thanks to an anonymous donator.”

  “Is that okay with you, Merry?” Orville asked.

  “I’ll get the keys.” I trudged toward the door, feeling older than my forty-five years. My spirit felt broken, like I finally believed there was no Santa Claus. There was a hint of a thought weaving into and out of my mind. I was too tired to grasp it or even care to know it.

  I pushed the front door open. A scratching sound was at the stairs. Ebenezer was at the landing, gazing down at me and wriggling his nose. He hopped down the stairs, heading for me. Some of the despair in my heart left at Ebenezer’s anxiousness to get to me. I scooped him up and he rested his face on my cheek.

  “I’m glad you’re here.”

  “Anytime you need me, Merry.”

  I spun around. Paul was at the door, smiling at me.

  I held out Ebenezer. “I meant him.”

  Paul’s smile slipped. I grimaced. Probably shouldn’t have corrected his interpretation. It didn’t hurt for him to think I was talking about him and not a guinea pig.

  “I’m sorry,” I said. “That was rude. It’s been a long weekend. I can’t seem to say anything right. My brain is so scattered.”

  “Apologies aren’t necessary. Once the police are done getting evidence from the RV, would you like me to clean it up?”

  I should say no. Though the prospect of having to drag out the damage items was rerouting my Christmas spirit into Grinch territory. “I’d appreciate that.”

  I placed the keys on his palm. For a moment, his fingers curled, a gentle caress of my pinky and ring fingers. Our gazes meet. He relaxed his fingers.

  “Thank you.” The words come out as throaty whisper. I blushed.

  He excused himself past Grace and left. She shut the door and fixed a curious gaze on me.

  “Ebenezer and I are calling it a night.” I fled upstairs before any of the questions in her eyes came out her mouth.

  Sixteen

  I slept fitfully, dreams and nightmares merged, settling an other-shoe-will-drop feeling over me. Not the best way to start a day. The strongest impression from the images wrecking my sleep was Cassie beaming at me through a thick pane of glass, both of us holding a landline phone to our ear. I couldn’t see what we were wearing so no idea who was the prisoner or the visitor. Yawning, I stumbled out of my room.

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nbsp; Grace joined me in the hallway. “Good morning, Merry.”

  “Are you a breakfast girl?” I asked, “Or do you normally skip it.”

  “Abraham is a picky eater, so I make sure we have three meals a day this way I know he gets enough to eat.”

  “How does blueberries pancakes and bacon sound?” I wanted to keep busy, giving myself less time to obsess over troubling dreams.

  “Wonderful. Do you get the morning paper? I love reading small town papers. There are usually more unique news stories in them.”

  Or at least they were news worthy here while not so much so in a larger town. “Yes. It’ll be in the newspaper holder at the end of the driveway. Right next to the mailbox.”

  “Thanks, I’ll get it.”

  Humming a Christmas tune, I went downstairs and whipped up the batter while the griddle warmed up for the bacon and pancakes.

  Grace sat at the dining room table and flipped through the newspaper. “This is what I love about small towns, the most pressing news is if the pool will open for the whole summer or just a part of it.”

  “It’s the biggest controversy in Season’s Greetings.” Or was. Samuel’s murder ranked higher than it. “Is there anything about S…S…” His name locked in my throat.

  “Samuel’s death.” Grace scanned each page, a frown growing deeper with each page. “Nothing. Maybe there was a mention in Saturday or Sunday’s paper.”

  A man was murdered, and everyone was going on with their lives without any closure. Like it didn’t matter. What about his daughter? His wife’s feelings? Samuel always feared not mattering to people. It was why he opened businesses and became a friend to everyone and anyone. If there was a party, Samuel was there. Needed a public favor, Samuel volunteered. It was why none of his relationships worked, he wanted to be the hero to the masses even if it meant being the villain to the women who tried loving him. The love of one was never enough for him. All the people he helped, all the ones he gave money and time to now carried on as he was nothing. My heart ached for my Samuel. He wasn’t the best man, and was a lousy husband, but he was a decent enough man who thought too much about money and deserved better than having his death ignored.

  “Nothing? Are you sure?” I asked.

  “The big story is the lottery winner still hasn’t claimed the twelve million dollars yet.” Grace fixed wide eyes on me. “The winning ticket was won in your town.”

  The word ticket bounced around in my head. Could it be? Was that what Cassie was looking for? Or why Bonnie was so desperate to get her hands on the divorce decree? Had she lied, and it wasn’t the insurance agent that questioned the marriage license but someone at the lottery commission? It was twelve million reasons for Bonnie to kill Samuel—she didn’t have to share the money with Samuel or Cassie.

  “You haven’t heard any rumors about who it might be?” Grace asked.

  “You know how it is before a craft show. All your focus and attention are on preparing items to sell. I don’t get on social media during that time. Don’t want any distractions. Can I see the paper?”

  “Sure.” Grace handed it to me. “I wonder why they haven’t stepped forward yet?”

  I read the article. My heart beat faster. Four out of the six winning lottery numbers meant something to me—and Samuel. His birthday. His mom’s birthday. The other two numbers didn’t register. Was it Bonnie’s birth month and age? With shaking hands, I placed the paper down and shrugged, trying not to let the thoughts in my head show on my face. Samuel had won the lottery. “They might be getting their affairs in order before they tell anyone. Probably scared unknown relatives will start beating down their door.”

  My gut encouraged me not to share my theory. Most of the reason was fear. If it got out, the homicide detective would have one more reason to suspect me. The recent ex-wife wanting a share of the money, especially after all the grief Samuel put me through. The detective didn’t believe me now that I had nothing to do with it, he sure wouldn’t change his mind with this potential truth.

  “If I won that amount of money, I’d take Abraham on a Caribbean cruise. He loves the beach. Buy a house near the ocean with a pool and invest most of it for my son’s care. What would you do with that kind of money?” Grace doctored up her coffee with creamer and a lot of sugar.

  “Pay for Raleigh’s master’s degree. Go on a cruise with my children. Buy a new RV as I’m not so fond of mine anymore.”

  Grace smiled sympathetically. “Can’t say I blame you. What are you going to do with it?”

  “I have no choice but to keep it. It’ll look bad if I sold it now. I used most of my savings to buy it. I have to keep it if I want a mobile studio.” And not have to deal with the fact I threw away a lot of money. I couldn’t afford to do that either.

  “My boyfriend renovated our RV. Things are slow for him at work right now. I can see if he can come out and fix yours. It shouldn’t take too long to remove the dinette and add in a new one. The police shouldn’t take too long dusting it for fingerprints and whatever else they’d do.”

  “I was thinking about converting it into a desk area for my cutting machines. Some proper storage for my vinyl.”

  Grace grinned. “That’s a great idea. I’ll talk to him tonight about it.”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Come on. It’ll be good for you to get the bad mojo out of there. Maybe even Christmas it up a bit to match your business. Think of the awesome photos for your Instagram and Facebook page.”

  True. But the cost. One way or another, money always inserted itself into situations. “I can’t afford it right now.” Scotland had volunteered his friend Paul to fix up the RV, but I wasn’t comfortable with that plan. Last night, I had a strong feeling that Paul was interested in me as more than a friend and it was complication I wasn’t up to handling. My life right now was a huge obstacle course and I didn’t want one more item to navigate.

  “How about a trade of services? Let Abraham visit with Ebenezer and my boyfriend will fix up the RV. He’s been bugging me about taking a few hours for us as a couple.”

  “How will you guys spend time together if he’s working on the RV?”

  She grinned and waggled her eyebrows. “Day is for work, night is for fun. If you don’t mind Abraham bunking at your place for the night.”

  Smooth. Grace went from me keeping an eye on Abraham during the day and evening to having her son spending the night. Considering what I’d get out of it, it was a good trade. It was hard for Grace to have time alone or private time with her boyfriend. She didn’t want to hurt her son’s feeling by hiring someone to look out for him. This was the perfect solution. He’d be visiting with Ebenezer. Raleigh was coming down Wednesday night after work for Thanksgiving, and Scotland hoped to spend a few hours on Thanksgiving at home. I had thought of bringing Thanksgiving to the kids, but right now I wanted to spend as little time in Morgantown as possible.

  “Deal,” I said. “You guys can stay for Thanksgiving.”

  “I don’t know.”

  “It’s a good excuse to give Abraham. I know Abraham enjoys decorating. Tell him I need some help getting Christmas up and am feeling a little down.”

  Grace nodded. “That will work. I hate reminding Abraham that he has different needs than others his age. This way he’s helping you.”

  With that settled, we dug into our breakfast.

  My cell phone sang “We Wish You a Merry Christmas.” Season’s Living Retirement Community. I jumped up and snagged the phone from the kitchen counter.

  “This is Merry.” My heart pounded. The assistant living facility usually called in the morning if my mother had a bad night.

  “It’s Holly. Doctor Yielding wanted me to give you a call and let you know your mom is dealing with a heavy case of the Christmas blues. She’d been binge watching Hallmark Christmas movies and is sad she can’t have a tree.”<
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  Last year, it was decided not to have large decorations in my mom’s room. She loved a large Christmas tree but would forget it was Christmas time and demand it be taken down. Only to insist a few hours later it be put back up. It placed an undue burden on the staff. The doctor probably reminded my mother that she couldn’t have a large tree in her room. We were telling her it was because Christmas tree lights overloaded the facility’s power grid. I hated lying to my mom but the truth, her memory was slipping away, turned her combative.

  The Christmas tree decal. “I have the perfect solution.” I told Holly about my Christmas décor vinyl decals.

  “That’s perfect.” There was a smile in Holly’s voice. “If you have any extras, bring them with you. I know a few other residents who would benefit from some good old Christmas cheer.”

  “Absolutely.” I was called Merry Christmas for a reason. Nothing lifted my spirits more than bringing Christmas joy to the masses.

  “I hate to end girl time abruptly, but I have a Christmas decorating emergency.”

  I took a quick shower and dressed in one of my tamer Christmas outfits: a long sweater decorated with tiny Christmas wreaths along the collar and hem and paired it with jeans and winter boots as it looked like snow was coming our way. I had found my weather predicting ability during the holiday season was more accurate than any weather apps and reports. My body just knew when snow was coming.

  I snagged my keys from the kitchen counter. I liked storing my keys as far from the door as possible, believing it stopped people from breaking in. At times, I questioned that reasoning as if someone was in my house to steal the keys, they’d wouldn’t need them to get in. It was one of my false sense of security habits that my children teased me about. Since it gave me peace of mind, I just went with it.

  Grace had left, leaving me a note thanking me for my hospitality and a reminder that she’d be back on Wednesday along with her guys. I emailed myself a reminder to ask Paul about getting my RV out of lock down. It would be hard to renovate the RV if it was still residing in the fire station.