by Krista Davis
Tim rose to pour himself another drink. He took it neat, not diluted. “You can live with us, Mom.”
Linda looked at her husband in horror. “Tim!”
I understood Linda completely. It would be worse than having Aunt Birdie move in with me, and that would be a nightmare.
Linda grabbed Tim’s arm and hustled him to a corner, where she whispered.
Vivienne said loudly, “That idiot cop put a stop on all Dale’s credit cards. I can’t even pay for my flight home.”
Tim, still in private conference with Linda, looked over at her. “Don’t worry, Mom. I’ve got you covered. I’ll pay for whatever you need.”
“Just look at you,” said Doris. “One day without Dale and you’re all acting like heathens.”
Blake stretched. “It’s not his absence that’s the problem. It’s the lack of money. I banked on being wealthy the rest of my life. I’m going up to bed. If the constable would like to speak with me, though I don’t know what the good of that would be, tell the good man that he may come to my room.”
Blake sauntered toward the stairs still wearing his sunglasses.
Linda’s mouth dropped open, and she held her hands out like she couldn’t understand her son.
When Dave returned with EmmyLou, he announced that he would be speaking to everyone else in the morning. Given the hour, I was glad they would be going to bed.
“Wait! I want to talk with you.” Tiffany jumped up from her seat and hurried to Dave’s side.
He nodded. “Okay. I’ll see the rest of you tomorrow morning.”
The family rose and filtered up the stairs. I rushed to collect glasses and dishes, keeping my head down so I wouldn’t see what would probably be a good night kiss between Holmes and Norma Jeanne.
Oma started to help me, but I shooed her up to bed. I pushed the cart to the kitchen, where Casey helped me clean up. We put leftovers in the magic refrigerator and ran the commercial dishwasher so everything would be ready for use when the cook arrived to start breakfast.
Holmes walked in. He leaned against the counter and closed his eyes.
“You okay?”
He rubbed his face with both hands. “Sometimes things just don’t work out like you planned. I wish I had called off Christmas with the Thackleberrys.”
“I’m sorry. This will be a very sad holiday for all of Dale’s relatives.”
He gazed at me for a few seconds. “Why would anyone murder Dale?”
I hugged him—a big mistake! His arms curled around me and held me tight. I could feel his breath on my hair and longed to stay in his arms. I backed off right away. “I can’t imagine. Dale seemed very generous and jolly.” But as I said that I remembered what Dale had said to me about Blake. He was cutting him off financially. I thought I had better tell Dave before I shared that detail with anyone else, even Holmes.
I saw him to the front door and said good night. But instead of locking the door behind him, I peeked in the private kitchen where Casey had retreated to let him know that everyone had gone to bed and that I was going over to Aunt Birdie’s house.
Even though I was exhausted, I felt the need to warn Aunt Birdie. Phoning to inform her that her lover had died was just too cold and cruel. I pulled on my puffy winter coat and helped Trixie into her down coat. The two of us set off to Aunt Birdie’s. We passed the Grinch on the way. Lights glowed in Rupert’s yard as cops from Snowball combed it in search of clues.
Aunt Birdie hadn’t turned off her Christmas lights. Strolling up to her home was a true treat. I wished I had better news. I knocked on the door.
After a few seconds, I knocked again.
A light went on in the house. I heard her walking down the stairs.
“It’s Holly, Aunt Birdie!”
She opened the door. “It’s four in the morning! Have you lost your mind?” She frowned at me. “This better not be about that Grinch.”
I stepped inside. I had to give her credit. She even dressed well to sleep. Her robe wasn’t as glamorous as Norma Jeanne’s, but it was a silky white fabric, quilted everywhere except the lapels. “Aunt Birdie, did you know Dale Thackleberry?”
Sixteen
Aunt Birdie’s head jerked back a bit in surprise. She looked at me curiously. “What a strange question. And why is it in past tense?”
“I’m so sorry to tell you this, but Dale was murdered.”
“What?!” She staggered backward and inelegantly flopped onto a bench. “When? What happened?”
So she did know him. “Trixie found his body tonight. No one knows exactly what transpired yet.”
Her hand trembled as she covered her mouth. I sat next to her and placed an arm around her thin shoulders.
She leaned her head on me, pulled a tissue from her pocket, and dabbed her eyes. “He was such a gentle soul.”
She sobbed for a few minutes. I didn’t know what to do, so I just sat there with her. Trixie appeared to understand this wasn’t a time to be rambunctious. She lay quietly on the floor with her head down.
Aunt Birdie wiped her nose and sat up straight. “It was Vivienne. I told him years ago that he should leave her. That woman is the most inconsiderate, vile being on this planet. The hawks that chase my beautiful songbirds are more decent than she is.”
How interesting that the two women immediately pointed their fingers at each other. I wondered how long Aunt Birdie had been seeing Dale. She never should have had an affair with a married man, of course, but none of that mattered now, except that it certainly made her a suspect.
“She’s a cold person, for sure. I wonder why Dale married her and stayed with her. She must have had some redeeming qualities. Right?”
“Wrong! She’s a hateful witch. She tricked him into marrying her—”
“Tricked, Aunt Birdie? You mean she claimed she was pregnant?”
“I mean she lured him. Like a siren. And only after everything was signed did she show her true personality. She was miserly! Did you know that he had to hide money from her? She wouldn’t let him spend his own money. She bought lavishly for herself but denied him everything. More than once he told me stories about having to trick her. He was loaded, Holly. I mean the kind of person who flew around on his private jet. His home is a mansion.”
Not anymore. But I didn’t think it was the right time to talk about private jets.
“How did you meet Dale?” I asked.
“He was an avid collector of hand-carved Americana and folk art. Someone in Wagtail sent him my way. He was very knowledgeable and so charming.”
Aunt Birdie was Wagtail’s resident expert on antiques and local lore. She even wrote articles for magazines and was considered something of an authority.
“Aunt Birdie, Dave will probably be by tomorrow to question you. I want you to be sure to tell him all this.”
“You bet I will! He’ll be very interested to know that Dale was leaving her.”
“Are you sure? They acted like a couple.”
“He filed for divorce five years ago.”
“Shouldn’t they be divorced by now?” I asked.
“Vivienne has a heart condition, and he was always afraid of triggering a massive heart attack. According to Dale, the smallest thing could set it off and she would be gone. It was just like him to be kind and not want to harm her in spite of her viciousness. I’m telling you, Vivienne knocked him off.”
“She says she gets very little,” I mused.
“Then she’s up to tricks. Vivienne cannot be trusted.”
“Birdie, do you need to have a lawyer with you when you speak to Dave?”
Her expression was priceless. “Law, child! I didn’t kill him. No, I don’t need a lawyer, but Vivienne’s going to need a good one.”
I hugged her before I left, and when the door closed, I could hear her crying. That was more than
his wife had done.
Although it was dark when Trixie and I walked home, Wagtail was waking up. Lights were on in the bakeries, and a few coffeehouses were already open for early-bird business.
At the inn, I spied Mr. Huckle on the front porch with Maggie. I stopped Trixie from running to them.
We paused close enough to hear Mr. Huckle speaking.
“It’s okay, Maggie.” Mr. Huckle stroked her gently. “You see, heaven is a lot like Wagtail. All your pains and illnesses will be gone, and you’ll be able to run and leap like you did when you were just a pup. Years from now, EmmyLou will come to join you. And when she does, you’ll be first in line to greet her and show her around.”
I wiped tears from my cheeks. Trixie wasn’t willing to wait anymore and shot ahead to see her new friend, Maggie.
“You’re up early, Miss Holly,” said Mr. Huckle.
“I haven’t been to bed yet.” I gave him a swift rundown of Dale’s murder.
“He was a fine gentleman. What a tragedy. It shouldn’t be too difficult for Officer Dave to pinpoint the culprit.”
“What do you mean? Do you know something?”
“I don’t think he’ll have to look beyond Dale’s immediate family. They’re quite a selfish bunch.”
Mr. Huckle and Maggie accompanied us into the inn. Christmas lights glimmered on the grand staircase, and the scent of coffee wafted to me as I walked up the stairs, Trixie and Twinkletoes springing a few steps ahead of me. Just before the second-story landing, Twinkletoes stopped and retreated, crouching just below the step. I grinned about the fact that her ears and the top of her head would give her away.
Seconds later, I stopped in my tracks too when I heard murmuring voices and saw Norma Jeanne running along the hallway, her beautiful robe flowing behind her. I was fairly certain she didn’t see me.
I walked up the next flight, wondering what she had been up to. It was amazing any of Dale’s relatives could sleep at all.
I unlocked the door to my apartment. The only thing I wanted at that moment was to fall into bed. I changed into an oversized T-shirt. Thinking that my sleep attire was considerably less impressive than Norma Jeanne’s, I placed my elf clothes in the hamper for the cleaning woman to pick up. One of the luxuries of inn life.
Ten minutes later, Trixie, Twinkletoes, and I were snuggled in bed.
• • •
I didn’t feel guilty for sleeping in. When I stretched, I found Mr. Huckle had brought me tea and a chocolate croissant that he wisely hid under a dome. Teeny crumbs lay nearby, which caused me to suspect dog and cat cookies might have been on the tray as well.
I eyed Trixie. “Did you eat Twinkletoes’s cookie?”
Trixie flipped over on her back with all four feet sticking straight up in the air. That was an avoidance maneuver, if ever there was one.
I sat up in bed and enjoyed the hot tea. Trixie looked at me, suddenly alert when I bit into the croissant. She rolled over and inched ever closer to me, her tail moving like a pendulum that was out of control. I tore off a tiny bite for her from a corner that hadn’t touched chocolate.
But the peaceful moment was marred when I remembered what had happened to Dale. He had come to Wagtail so full of life and kindness. He had even brought toys to make Christmas merrier for others. Mr. Huckle was right. It was hard to imagine that anyone would want to harm him, let alone murder him. And with a knife! Wasn’t that a sign of anger? Of rage? Even more so than other types of murder? It hadn’t been an accident, that was for sure.
It was Christmas Eve day. Holmes’s parents were throwing a party for Holmes and Norma Jeanne. I wondered if it would be canceled.
After a shower, I stood in my closet thinking of Norma Jeanne and remembering the lovely feeling of Holmes’s arms around me. Norma Jeanne would be dressed in city chic again. I finally decided on a soft and fluffy hand-knitted sweater color-blocked in blue and green with matching blue trousers. It was simple enough but just a bit dressy.
Twinkletoes was nowhere to be seen. She must have scampered downstairs, probably irritated after Trixie ate her breakfast treat. It was lunchtime when Trixie and I made an appearance.
Crowds thronged through the lobby. There was a waiting line to be seated in the dining area. It was a zoo!
Mr. Huckle walked toward me with a tray while people called to him from the dining area.
“What happened?” I asked. “Where did all these people come from?”
“It’s the last shopping day before Christmas. Santa Paws is on the green today. People bring their little ones, furry and human alike, to see Santa. They pour through the stores. The whole town is like this. It’s chaos, I tell you!”
“Can I help you?”
“Thank you, Miss Holly. Would you take this tray into the Dogwood Room for the Thackleberrys?”
“Of course. No problem.”
How could I have slept so late when all this was going on? I wound my way through the throngs to the Dogwood Room, which someone, probably Mr. Huckle, had the good sense to rope off with a sign that said Private Party.
Hoping I wouldn’t drop the tray, I unlatched the rope with one hand and let myself in. A brunch buffet had been set up for them with crispy potatoes, pork sausages, bacon, scrambled eggs, a fresh fruit platter, and a variety of breads.
“Finally,” muttered Vivi. “I hope that’s my eggs Benedict.”
I set the tray down and lifted one of the lids. “Looks like it.” I handed the dish to Vivi.
Lifting the next dome, I found a second order of eggs Benedict. “Who else is having it?”
Blake sprawled across a large chair with his legs hanging over the arm. He lazily raised his hand with his forefinger pointing up but didn’t look at me, as though I were invisible. I brought him his plate, along with utensils wrapped in a napkin. He didn’t even sit up straight to eat.
EmmyLou held a balled-up tissue in her hand. She squeezed it so tight that her knuckles had turned white. “I’ve been receiving condolence messages. Someone even started a hashtag for DaleThackleberryRIP.” Her face contorted and she sniffled. “But that worm Steve Oathaut had the nerve to e-mail me an offer to buy Thackleberry. What kind of person does that? Dad isn’t even in his grave yet.”
“Bah!” Doris scowled and shook her fist. “Stevie Oathaut is a toad just like his father. The Oathauts have tried to buy us out for years, but they will never own Thackleberry. Never!”
“They’ve made offers before?” asked Blake. “Maybe we should consider it. How much did they offer?”
“Slow down there, son.” Tim settled into an armchair. “Just because you’re going to be practicing medicine doesn’t mean the rest of us are ready to give up the family business. EmmyLou, would you like me to respond to Steve Oathaut?”
“That would be very kind of you. I hardly know what to say to anyone at the moment. I feel sort of shell-shocked.”
Vivienne glowered at her. “Shouldn’t that be up to me as Dale’s widow?”
EmmyLou barely glanced at her. “I’m sure you will be receiving plenty of condolences when we get home.”
“So how would that work?” asked Blake. “If EmmyLou inherited everything from Dale, do any of the rest of us get a cut when Thackleberry is sold?”
Tiffany’s face flamed with outrage. “Is that all you can think about? Grampy just died and all you can talk about is money. Well, let me tell you how it works. We’re all broke. No more private jets or Swiss ski trips or medical school tuition. Is that clear enough for you?”
Every member of the Thackleberry clan focused on her.
“What are you talking about?” asked Norma Jeanne.
Tiffany wiped her eyes roughly with her fingers. “The company is on the verge of bankruptcy. Grampy was pumping money into it to keep it afloat. The house is mortgaged to the hilt. He dumped everything he had into the busine
ss.”
She had everyone’s attention.
Norma Jeanne gasped. “How serious is this, Tiffany? Are we all going to be out of work?”
Tiffany looked grim. “I don’t know what will happen to the Thackleberry company yet. But there’s a good chance it will shut down and go out of business, especially now that we’re coping with this rumor of animals itching and losing hair from our garments.”
Doris rose from her chair. Her wrinkled face was tearstained. “No! I will not permit this to happen. My husband and I worked too hard to create the Thackleberry company. I will not allow you to destroy it.”
For the first time since I had met her, Vivienne smiled. It was more of a wry grin, actually, and then she began to laugh hysterically.
“What’s so funny?” asked Tiffany.
“I was distressed about my future. But all you spoiled brats who have had everything handed to you—the trips to Europe, the debutante balls, the expensive schools, and the cars that cost more than most people make in a year—now you’ll find out what it’s like to count your pennies!” She laughed again, in the most wicked way I had ever heard.
Norma Jeanne turned to her father. “Thank goodness you don’t work for the company business. At least we’ll be all right.”
Worry lines creased his face between his eyebrows. “EmmyLou? You haven’t said a word about this. Seems like you would know if the company was in such dire straits.”
EmmyLou appeared to be stunned. “We’re dealing with the itching rumor but so far we haven’t found any reported cases. Let’s not jump to conclusions about the demise of Thackleberry yet. First we should mourn Dad. Look how we’re falling apart without him.”
“How do you know this, Tiffie?” asked her father.
“I found an irregularity and took the information to Grampy. He was looking into it. In the meantime, he lent pretty much everything he had to the company. If it goes under, it’s all lost.”
For a long moment, they were silent.
“I say we blow this place,” said Blake. “Christmas is ruined anyway. I’m getting out of town as soon as I can get a flight.”
