A Christmas Peril

by J. A. Hennrikus

  “Emma, is that you? What’s wrong?”

  “Can you come over here now? I’m at the Anchorage.”

  “Emma, I’m in the middle of—”

  “Please, Sully, please. Someone … Terry … just get here, okay?” The phone went dead in my hand. I hesitated a minute before going to the back office to get my coat. And for the fourth time in the past week, I headed to the Anchorage.

  • Seventeen •

  Emma met me at the door. She still had her suit bottom and blouse on, but she was wearing an oversized cardigan over the top of it. The front of the blouse looked damp, as if she’d dribbled something down her front and tried to clean it up. She wordlessly led me toward the library, pushing the door open and stepping back for me to enter. I was about to go in when the pungent stench of old pennies hit me. I recognized the smell from my prior career. Looking up, I saw Terry, or what had been Terry, slumped over his desk. Most of the back of his head appeared to be on the headrest of the chair. The rest of it was sprayed across the curtains. I took the rest of the room in quickly. The only other thing that was different from the last time I’d been there was the gun on the floor by Terry’s hand. I did some quick mental calculations and swept the scene again.

  Emma moved as if to pass me, but I stopped her on the threshold. “Have you called the police?”

  “No, I called you first. I thought you should—”

  “Call them, now.” She looked at me blankly. I turned and saw Mrs. Bridges coming down the hall from Peter’s study, wiping her hands on her pants. “Mrs. Bridges, call the police. Ask for Regina Roberts. Tell her what happened.” Mrs. Bridges nodded her head and walked down the hall toward the kitchen.

  “Have you gone in there?” I asked, sounding sharper than I intended. Years of training kicked in as if I’d only been off the job for a few weeks rather than a few years. Terry ceased being a man I’d known; he was now the victim. His office was no longer the library; it was now the crime scene. Emma wasn’t the widow, she was … another victim, or a suspect. It was hard to tell. She seemed awfully steady for someone who’d just found her husband with half of his brain spattered across the room.

  “Yes, to check and make sure … I thought he’d gone, but then I saw his number light up … we were on a conference call, so I had to go down the hall and check … ” Emma’s shoulders hunched over and she began shaking. I put my arm around her shoulders and steered her away from the room. I noticed a slight stench and looked down at her shirt again, at the damp patch down the front. I looked back at the hall and noticed that a large area of the floor had recently been washed, the part closest to Peter’s study.

  “Emma, let’s go sit in the living room and talk this through.”

  “Don’t you want to look around and see if there’s anything—”

  “No, I don’t. It’s called contaminating a crime scene. I can’t do it. But I can be here while you talk to the police. I’m here for you, Emma, but I don’t want to get in the way of a murder investigation.”

  “But he killed himself. Didn’t you see the gun?”

  “Maybe. But the police have to see the scene—”

  “He left a note. On his computer. He said he was sorry, that he killed Daddy … ” Emma started shaking again, and I led her over to the couch.

  “Is the note still there?” I asked as gently as I could, which, I’ll admit, was far from the dictionary definition of the word.

  “Of course it is.”

  “Did you touch the keyboard?”

  “No, at least I don’t think so. Why?”

  “Because if he wrote the note, his fingerprints might be on the keys he used.”

  “If?”

  “Emma, let’s wait for the police to get here, okay?” But sitting and waiting wasn’t doing much for my nerves, or Emma’s. “Who else was home tonight?” I asked.

  Emma looked startled, then found her composure again. “Shouldn’t we wait for the police?”

  Mocking. That’s what I needed at this moment. Mocking from someone I wanted to help. “Fine, that’s fine. I was curious, making small talk.”

  “Sorry, Sully, its … so … unbelievable. I never thought, never wanted Terry to be pushed to kill himself … I just wanted me back. You know? I wanted to try and be happy for the first time in a while. I didn’t want him to … I only wanted him gone.”

  “What do you mean, Emma?”

  “I asked him to leave the house.”

  I had to lean in to hear her, she spoke so softly. “When?”

  “This afternoon. After I got home from the reading of the will. He was waiting … Gus was with me, I’d asked him to stay. I was afraid I’d back down, but I didn’t. It was really easy. Terry made noise about the will, and then he started to use his charm. I could see it coming. Thing is, it usually works. Really well. Too well. But this time the charm offensive didn’t work. Daddy had believed me. He took my side. What a vote of confidence. I told Terry I wanted him out.”

  “And?”

  “And he agreed to go. And I agreed we could talk about it some more tomorrow. At ten. We were going to meet at our office. Gus was going to be there as well.”

  She still hadn’t told me who was home, but we ran out of time. I heard a short, shrill beep come through the intercom on the wall, and then a pair of headlights wiped themselves across the room. The beep must have come from the guard’s booth, a heads-up that the police had arrived. I was tempted to get up and meet them at the front door, but I didn’t want to leave Emma. I also had the feeling that if I left, I wouldn’t be offered the chance to rejoin her. I know I would have kept me away.

  Regina Roberts strode into the room and glared at me. “How the hell did you get here so fast? And for that matter, what the hell are you doing here?”

  I couldn’t blame her, not at all. The pressure on her department must have been formidable. Still, I didn’t like the look she was giving me and I felt my hackles rise.

  “Emma called me on my cell, at the theater. She didn’t tell me why, but she asked me to come over … ”

  “I didn’t realize you were at the Whitehalls’ beck and call,” Regina said.

  I stared at her until she looked away. “When I got here and realized that Terry Holmes was dead, I asked Mrs. Bridges to call the department and ask for you.” I held up my hand to stop what I presumed were her follow-up questions. At least they would have been mine. “I did not go into the room. I did not touch anything, including the door. I was in the room yesterday, so there may be my prints in there, but I didn’t touch the keyboard. Emma did go into the room to check … ”

  “Maybe she can tell me herself. Mrs. Holmes?”

  “I was in the kitchen on a conference call. I saw the light from Terry’s extension on, and didn’t think he was home. I went down to check. I saw a light under the library door, and so I went over to see … ” She stopped talking and looked down at her hands, which were clasped in her lap. I knew that she’d be telling the story a few dozen more times before the sun rose in the morning, so I wasn’t surprised that Regina moved on.

  “Did you see anyone else?”

  “No.”

  “Who else was home this evening?”

  “I think we all were home.”

  “Who is we all?”

  “Clive Willis was working with me. My sister Amelia and Mrs. Bridges were working on the Christmas decorations. Brooke was here, but she went to Boston around five, I think. You could check with the guard.”

  “And your brother?”

  “Eric? He was helping Amelia for a while, then he went over to the theater to have dinner with his boyfriend. Did you see him, Sully? He came back around 7:30—right before I found … Terry. Amelia was pretty upset. He took her upstairs. He’s with her now.”

  I hoped that Regina didn’t ask me to confirm Eric’s theater alibi. I cou
ldn’t. I never saw him, but then I hadn’t gone backstage at all.

  Regina looked at us both for a minute, and then nodded her head as if she’d made up her mind about something.

  “Okay, I might as well take a look for myself. Ms. Holmes, stay put, okay? And Sully, why don’t you come with me?” I squeezed Emma’s hand and followed Regina out of the living room.

  “I assume this separation is so we don’t coordinate stories?” I said. “I doubt that you want my professional opinion, since you apparently don’t hold me in very high regard. I can wait here, stay out of your way. Believe it or not, I want you to find the killer. I’m on your side.”

  Regina stopped outside the library door and looked in. She looked back at me and took a deep breath. “You keep catching me on the rebound. When I saw you here the other day, I’d just been chewed out about how we handled the Peter Whitehall scene. Apparently we’d trampled, we’d contaminated, we’d proven ourselves to be bumpkins that a good defense attorney could use to squash the case in court. It wasn’t fair, and it wasn’t accurate, and I was pissed. You happened to be in the line of fire. And now it’s going to hit the fan again, and here you are. I’ve got to make sure we handle this really carefully, because it’s going to crash a few houses of cards that people have been constructing.”

  “And you’re going to get the brunt of the blame. I’ve been there more than once.”

  Regina paused. She almost looked embarrassed when she asked, “Is that why you left the force?”

  “One of the reasons. It’s complicated. I’ll tell you over that beer sometime. Meanwhile, tell me if I can do anything to help.” I smiled and was glad that she smiled back, signaling a truce.

  “I’ve called a team in to go over the scene. From the state. No need to confirm that he’s dead?”

  “I’d say not, no.” We both looked at the scene with critical eyes.

  “Damn, I’d love to look this room over, but I need forensics to go over it first,” she said. “You sure you didn’t go in?”

  I took this less as an accusation and more as a jab at securing information. “I’m sure. Emma did, though.”

  “She the one who happened to wash the floor?”

  “No, I think that was Mrs. Bridges. I’m not sure, but it’s possible Emma was trying to make it to the bathroom off Peter’s study but failed in her attempt.”

  “Did she tell you she was sick?”

  “No, but her blouse was damp in the front, and when I got here Mrs. Bridges was coming from the study. The floor was still wet. I think she’d been cleaning up, but I haven’t seen her since.”

  “God knows what else got cleaned up,” Regina said. I nodded. I’d been thinking the same thing. Who knew what footprints there’d been, or what other trace evidence in the hall had been lost.

  “She tell you anything?” Regina asked.

  “Emma? Only that she thinks it’s a suicide. Apparently there’s a note on the computer. She doesn’t think she touched the keys. I asked.”

  Regina peered into the room as far as she could without stepping on the carpet. She and I both took it in again: the body, the computer, the gun on the floor beside the desk not too far from Terry’s dangling hand.

  “Does she really think it’s suicide, or … ”

  “I don’t think she’s that good of an actress,” I said. “She really thinks it’s suicide.”

  “She seems to be holding up, considering.”

  I shook my head and smiled. “She’s not holding up that well. Not if I’m right about her getting sick. Plus, I think the shock is starting to wear off and set in at the same time.”

  “Well, if she thinks it’s suicide, she’s in for another shock.”

  • Eighteen •

  It was almost eleven o’clock, and I was sipping a cup of very cold, very strong, and very old tea. The crime scene investigators were still at work, and a plethora of police had descended on the house. In any other circumstance, I’d imagine people would be dragged to the station. But not the Whitehalls. The Whitehalls were questioned at home.

  This thought wasn’t particularly fair of me. After all, two people had been murdered within a hundred yards of each other, both shot. The family had been through a lot. But still. I hated that justice wasn’t blind. I’d hated it the first time I realized it, and I’d hated it ever since. But I’d given up trying the change the system. So did Gus, I guess. So who was left to fight the good fight?

  Another thing that didn’t seem fair was the way Regina had been relegated to the background as soon as the state suits arrived. I’d recognized a couple of them. They’d looked right past me once they realized I wasn’t on the suspect list. I’m sure there were those among them who would have loved to be able to nail me for the murder, but I’d been in a theater across town when it occurred. Of course, the exact timing of Terry’s death was difficult to determine. The last time anyone had seen him was around six o’clock, when the guard spotted him entering his office on the live feed. Or at least they assumed it was him, like I did—I realized I’d been looking at the same video, at almost the same time, in the theater office with Frank. I hadn’t shared this with Regina or anyone else. Why get Frank, or myself for that matter, into unnecessary trouble?

  So Emma had been home, as were Eric, Mrs. Bridges, and Amelia. Hell, even Clive was in the house. He and Emma alibied each other—they’d been on a conference call in the kitchen. Since they still weren’t using Peter’s study, and apparently Terry’s office seemed inappropriate for company business now, comfortable space was at a minimum. Personally, I think working in the kitchen makes a lot of sense, but that’s me. Always best to have food within easy reach.

  Regina had been sent to babysit me. I told her about A Christmas Carol trials and tribulations. She’d heard a lot of it from Gabe, but some of it was news, including the fact that Stewart Tracy was back in town.

  “Well, that must be making life interesting for you,” she said.

  “What do you mean?”

  “You’ve been seeing your ex-husband, haven’t you? And now Stewart is in town … an embarrassment of riches of exes.”

  “Seeing my ex-husband? Who … ”

  “Sully, Sully, Sully. It’s a small town. He was seen coming out of your house yesterday morning, early, and then again this morning.”

  “Is this Officer Regina talking, or the town gossip Regina?”

  “Sometimes I wonder if there’s much difference,” she said. “But it’s the town gossip talking. You’re big news, ever since people connected you to Eric’s handsome lawyer. I’m sure it’s perfectly reasonable, but it has caused some tongues to wag.” She paused, waiting for me to explain what was going on.

  I had no intention of doing so, of course. For one, it was no one’s business. For two, I had no idea what was going on; how was I going to explain it? Instead I figured I’d throw out a morsel of information and see if I could get her off the track.

  “Gus drove me down to Boston for the will reading this morning. Peter left me a small inheritance.”

  “Really?” It worked. I could tell she was dying to know more.

  “Yes, a coin collection and tea set that had been owned by my grandfather and namesake, Edwin Temple.”

  “Did you expect to be remembered?”

  “No, not at all. I’m surprised he remembered my name, frankly.”

  “I heard that it was quite the morning.”

  “It was that. Jeez, I can’t believe it was only this morning.” I looked at my watch. “Almost yesterday morning.” Again with the stare. This time I didn’t ignore it. “Regina, if you have a question, ask it. I’ll answer it if I can. I’m too freaking tired to play games.”

  “Okay. What—”

  “Only,” I interrupted. I know it’s rude to interrupt, but I thought it would be ruder to ask for quid pro quo afterward. “Only, I
also get to ask a question or two. If you can’t answer, cool. But if you can … ”

  “Deal,” Regina said. “My first question: Frank.” Whoops, I was hoping she’d skip that question. “Why didn’t you let me know about the cameras?”

  “Frank told me that they weren’t recording, as far as he knew. If he’d found something, I would have turned it over, I promise. Did the website help at all?”

  “What website?”

  “The live feed from the cameras?” The look on her face made it clear she had no idea what I was talking about. Boy, I was out of practice. I’d said to Frank that he should send the links to Regina. I assumed he did it. He’d never told me I was right.

  Regina looked like she was about to explode, but her voice was surprisingly calm. “Tell me,” she said quietly.

  So I did, at least what little I knew. The most important thing I contributed was the confirmation of a Terry sighting at six o’clock. Frank would need to supply the rest.

  “You’re sure about the time?”

  “Give or take five minutes at the most. We had a half hour for dinner, from five-fifty to six-twenty.”

  “Was the feed recorded?”

  “I’m not sure. Frank would know. I’m sorry, Regina. I thought he’d told you about it.”

  She shot me a look and went out to the hallway to talk to one of the other officers. She was back in a couple of minutes.

  “You promise me you didn’t check out the crime scene tonight?”

  “Did they find my footprints in there?” The lab had taken my shoes for print identification.

  “Not yet.”

  “They won’t. Regina, I’m not an idiot. I wouldn’t fool around with a crime scene.”

  “Okay. I guess I know that. This morning—”

  “Wait a sec. My turn for a question. Was there anything on the hard drive from the old surveillance system?”

  “Yes.”

  Damn, she was playing rough. But I was tough, I’d hang in. Besides, I had no shoes.

  “Tell me about this morning.” Regina said.