Murder in Christmas River: A Christmas Cozy Mystery

by Muldoon, Meg

  I was young and impressionable then. I realize that now. It was young love, if even that yet. It had just barely started to bloom.

  But it’s strange how things are. In that moment, I felt more than I’d ever felt since. Even when I met Evan, it wasn’t the same feeling. The same feeling of delirious happiness and wild abandon.

  Probably only 16 year olds had feelings like that. First loves only had feelings like that.

  But I’d never get a chance to find out what could have been.

  After he didn’t call the next day, I asked around. I heard a few days later that his brother, who was four years older than him and living in California, had died after being shot in a convenience store by a robber.

  They didn’t have the funeral in Christmas River. His dad didn’t want it that way for some reason.

  Last I heard of Daniel Brightman, he had gone to California to bury his brother.

  And then, I never heard anything about him again.

  He disappeared. Almost as though he had never existed. Into thin air. Dropping out of high school, dropping out of all of our lives.

  I tried calling him, but he never answered.

  After a few months, I gave up on him. My first impression of love and first impression of heartbreak happened one after the other.

  Evan and I got together after a Christmas River High basketball game that winter, and I rarely thought about Daniel after that.

  I figured he walked out of my life forever then.

  But I was wrong.

  I stared at the ceiling and yawned, thinking about what a strange world it was.

  Of all the stores and shops downtown that he could have ended up at tonight, he ended up at mine.

  Maybe in the morning, when the booze wore off, he’d finally remember me.

  Chapter 9

  Even after several years of owning a pie shop, leaving a warm bed at five in the morning was a bitch.

  Especially after working long hours the day before.

  I dragged myself out of bed, wrapping my plaid robe tightly around my body, trying to stamp out the chill.

  I pulled back the curtains in my room, and looked outside at the dark street. It was something that was leftover from childhood, when you’d check to see if it snowed enough for the schools to cancel class.

  But these days, I checked to see if the conditions were drivable, not to see if I was lucky enough to get a snow day.

  It had really come down the night before. In the light of the streetlamps, I could make out a thick layer of snow, covering the streets and sidewalks and trees like a thick layer of buttercream frosting.

  I’d have to do some heavy duty shoveling before I could even get out to the street.

  Luckily, the driveway was short, and shoveling was a good way to get in some early morning exercise. Exercise was something I never had time for anymore. I needed it to be worked into my day in a practical way.

  Suddenly, the words Daniel Brightman had said the night before echoed in my ears, coming from out of nowhere.

  You look good to me he had said, after I told him that I’d gained some weight since opening the shop.

  It made me smile in the early morning darkness. But I quickly quashed the absurd, giddy feeling that arose from the memory.

  For all I knew about Daniel Brightman these days, he could have been married.

  Plus, I should have still been mad at him. Mad that he never returned any of my phone calls. That he’d left me behind in the dust all those years ago. Plus he didn’t even remember me. Like what had happened between us didn’t matter to him. Like he didn’t remember that kiss at all.

  As I walked out of my room and downstairs, I thought about how things could have turned out had Daniel stayed in Christmas River. Maybe Evan and I wouldn’t have ever started dating. Maybe instead of marrying Evan, it would have been Daniel that I married.

  Maybe my life would have turned out a lot different.

  But I couldn’t think in those terms. In the what-ifs, and could’ve beens, and if-only’s. Life was tumultuous and unpredictable and volatile. There was no use in dwelling on the way things could have turned out. It only made for regrets.

  I got downstairs, and Warren was at the kitchen stove, dressed in his trademark green flannel shirt.

  From the incredible aromas rising up from the frying pan, I knew what he was doing.

  “You know what Doctor Koehler would say about that,” I said as I pulled down two mugs from the cupboard.

  “Don’t I know it,” Warren said, adding some pepper to the crackling bacon in the pan. “That German she-devil wench is trying to kill me with all that melba toast crap.”

  I couldn’t help grinning. That was a good way of describing her, but that didn’t make her wrong.

  “You’ve heard what she said about my drinking, right? Two or three drinks a week at the most. Can you believe that? Who does she think I am, a Shih Tzu lap dog?”

  “She’s only looking out for you,” I said, pouring him a steaming cup of coffee and placing it on the counter next to him. “So am I, old man. I don’t want you keeling over. Not anytime soon.”

  “I will if I’m forced to eat that health food crap and cut down on my drinking,” he said. “Quality over quantity of life. Am I right, Cinny?”

  I sighed, taking a sip of my coffee. It was bitter and strong, and was just what was needed at 5:15 on a dark winter morning.

  “Just try to substitute a few meals with some of that stuff, would ya?” I said. “I’ll come back at lunch time and make you a salad. What about that? It’ll be good, I promise.”

  “You’ve got enough to do today without being my personal chef,” he said. “Besides, I’m going to lunch with Bob Gerity this afternoon. He’s back in town for a few days.”

  “Well can you order a salad or something?” I said. “For me, at least?”

  “I don’t want Bob thinking I’ve gone soft in my old age,” he said, collecting the bacon from the pan and placing it on some paper-towels for it to drain. “I’ll try again at dinner.”

  “You promise?” I said.

  He nodded.

  “Okay, then,” I said, finishing the last of the coffee, catching a few bitter grinds from the bottom. “I’ve got to go shovel. It snowed like crazy last night.”

  I placed the mug in the sink and left Warren to eat his highly prized bacon in peace. I glanced at the stove, to make sure he’d turned it off. He had. I went upstairs, changed, and came back downstairs ready to combat the field of snow that my driveway had turned into overnight. It took me about half an hour of heavy lifting, but I finally cleared out the drifts to create a path out to the street. By the time I was finished, I was a sweaty mess.

  I went back upstairs and took a shower. Then I got ready, staring at myself a little bit longer than usual in the mirror. Wondering if I really did look that different from the girl that Daniel knew all those years ago.

  And to see whether or not he was right. If I did indeed look sad, or if I had just been tired from overwork last night when he had said that.

  But in the end, I couldn’t really tell.

  I finally pulled on my pea coat and hat and gloves, and went downstairs. Warren was watching an early morning show on the weather channel that showed people in New York dressed in shorts and t-shirts after a spell of unusually warm December weather there.

  New York could have been on another planet, the way it was here.

  “Be careful out there, Cinny,” Warren said as I kissed the top of his balding head goodbye. “Oh, and I was wondering if you could pick me up from the tavern again tonight? The boys are throwing a welcome-home party for Bob.”

  I sighed. So much for the healthy dinner. It would be wiped out entirely by a few rounds of carb-heavy beer.

  Warren looked up, noticing my hesitation.

  “Oh, c’mon, Cinny. Don’t worry so much. I’m gonna outlive you. Just you wait and see.”

  I shook my head.

  “What time, old
man?” I asked.

  “The usual,” he said.

  I nodded silently and left.

  One of these days, I was going to have to lay down the law. I knew that. Before something bad happened.

  But the old man loved his food and he loved his beer. Quality over quantity, he’d said.

  I drove over to work, slowly through the empty streets thick with snow, thinking about Warren, and how we were all getting old.

  Chapter 10

  Kara came into the shop later that morning in a huff, after I’d put a few more pies in the oven and served dozens of tourists coffee and pie.

  “I’m glad you’re here. You’ll never believe who I saw last night,” I said. “How’d it go, by the way?”

  Today was the entrance day for the gingerbread competition. Usually, Kara and I would go over to the Culinary School building together and enter, but these days, I didn’t have any bakery assistants to take over for the morning hours at the shop. Hadn’t had any for nearly two years.

  So Kara kindly volunteered to enter for us.

  But she came into the pie shop, stomping her heels loudly against my tile floor, feeling like a gust of crazy south wind. There was a wild energy about her, and her blue eyes were large and enraged-looking.

  “Can I talk to you in the back?” she said in a low, serious voice.

  “What’s wrong?” I said.

  The thought crossed my mind that something went wrong at the registration. That maybe there were too many people registering and we were bumped out.

  I nodded, and took off my apron. I turned the front sign around, saying that I’d just stepped away and would be right back. I looked around the dining room, making sure everybody was content and didn’t need any more coffee.

  Then I followed Kara back to the kitchen.

  “I’m so angry, Cin, I could just rip that bitch’s head off!” Kara yelled, a little bit too loudly.

  I was pretty sure all the customers heard her profane outburst.

  “What are you talking about?” I said. “What’s going on?”

  She took a deep breath, trying to collect herself. Her face was starting to turn a bright red.

  “I debated about whether I should tell you,” she said, pacing back and forth, her heels clicking against the floor. “But I knew you’d find out sooner or later. I figured it’s better to tell you now than for you to find out the day of competition, right? Better know what to expect than—”

  “Tell me what, Kara?” I said, giving her a sharp look that made her stop in mid-pace.

  She looked down and sighed, taking a moment to collect herself. My heart was about to beat out of my chest while I waited.

  “She’s entering this year,” she said in a low, shaky voice. “The bitch is competing.”

  The oven timer went off, blending with the ear-splitting sound of alarms going off in my head.

  Kara hadn’t mentioned her by name, but I knew who she was talking about.

  The room started to spin suddenly. I grabbed a hold of the kitchen island and steadied myself. Kara rushed up to me, ready to catch me if I fainted like a southern belle.

  But I wasn’t going to faint. I was stronger than that. But I couldn’t deny that the news shook me up.

  Shook me up real bad.

  “Sit down, honey,” Kara said, grabbing a kitchen stool and pulling it up for me. She had gone from infuriated to gentle in the span of a few seconds.

  “Are you sure?” I finally croaked out as I stared out the window, watching the peaceful trees sway in the wind. The exact opposite of how I felt inside.

  She nodded.

  “I’d recognize that bleached, stringy air-head blond hair anywhere,” she said. “And that smug smile. Goddamn it, Cin, she was so smug.”

  I gripped the cold table as hard as I could.

  “And when she saw that it was just me there, it was almost like she was disappointed or something,” Kara said. “Like she wanted you to be there and see that she was entering in the competition.”

  “But why?” I said. “Why is she doing this?”

  Kara shook her head.

  “Because she’s a greedy bitch,” Kara said. “You’d think it’d be enough that she stole…”

  Kara trailed off, peering at my face. I was trying so hard to keep it together. So very, very hard to be the strong person that I’d always prided myself in being. In being the strong person that I wanted to be. Logical and clearheaded and collected.

  But when it came to her, I just couldn’t do it. I couldn’t keep it together.

  I started trembling feverishly with those chills. Those bad chills that came whenever I remembered it all.

  “Why…” I started again. “Why would…”

  My voice broke, and the tears started streaming down my cheeks.

  “You poor girl,” Kara said, walking around the table and hugging me. “I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have told you. I just thought—”

  “No,” I said, in between sobs. “You were right to tell me. I would have wanted to know.”

  We were quiet while I let out a few more embarrassing sobs.

  “Don’t worry, hon,” Kara said. “We’re going to murder that competition. We’re going to paint the walls of our gingerbread house with her blood.”

  That made me laugh in a kind of devastated, out-of-control way. Kara was always good with her dramatics and never failed to make me feel better when I was down.

  In this case, way down.

  “That bitch is going to be sorry,” Kara said, handing me a Kleenex. “We’ll make her sorry for everything’s she’s done to you.”

  I wiped my nose, and tried to collect myself.

  For everything she’s done to you…

  The words echoed in my head.

  There was a lot. A lot we had to make her sorry for.

  “Don’t you worry,” Kara said again.

  I stared out the window like a mental patient while Kara tried to tell me all the ways she would be sorry. After a few minutes, a burning smell hit my nostrils.

  I shot up in a panic, running over to the oven. I opened it, pulling on a pair of oven mitts.

  A wave of burnt smoke escaped the oven, hitting me in the face.

  “Damn it!” I shouted, wanting to say something else. Something a little more descriptive.

  I pulled out the burnt pies, their lattice tops a roasted shade of black.

  They were beyond saving.

  I looked back at Kara.

  Even she couldn’t pep-talk me out of this one.

  She sighed.

  “I’m so sorry, Cin,” she said.

  I placed the pies on the counter and rested my head in my hands.

  “Who did you see last night?” she said, after a moment of devastated silence.

  “What?” I said.

  “When I first came in, you said that I’d never believe who you saw last night. Who’d you see?”

  I sighed deeply.

  “It doesn’t matter,” I said.

  I stared at the burnt pies for a while, and then put three of them outside on the back patio.

  At least Huckleberry would be happy tonight.

  That would make one of us.

  Chapter 11

  When noon rolled around, I did something I rarely ever did. I put a sign out in front saying I’d be right back, and I closed up the shop for half an hour.

  I readjusted my purple knit hat as I walked down Main Street and took a left on Holly Street. It had stopped snowing for the time being, and dark, dramatic clouds sailed briskly across the sky, revealing pockets of blue as they spread and pulled apart. Sometimes the sun would come out for a few moments before hiding behind the clouds again.

  Half way to the bridge, I realized that I’d forgotten to wear my jacket and was only in my gray turtleneck. But I didn’t feel cold. The air felt good and fresh and somehow cleansing in my lungs. It took away that burnt pie smell that the shop was now filled with.

  I made it to the bridge
and walked halfway across, stopping right in the middle.

  I watched the river slowly meander beneath my feet. Sometimes in the summer, the Christmas River rushed by with a frenzied speed, like the water had places to go and wanted to get there as soon as it could. But as we got deeper into winter, it began to slow down, almost like a bear in hibernation. Soon, it would just be a trickle, the river falling asleep in winter’s death grasp.

  I watched the water, hypnotized by it for a while, trying to regain control of my thoughts. Trying to calm down and clear my head.

  But it was hard.

  It had come completely out of left field. I hadn’t seen it coming.

  I figured that she’d taken everything from me already. What more could she possibly do?

  But I guess I had been wrong and Kara had been right.

  She wasn’t going to stop with stealing my husband.

  Bailey, the woman who up until two years ago had been my bakery assistant and good friend, wanted to take the Gingerbread Junction Competition title away from me too.

  I shuddered as a sharp and clean breeze cut through my sweater, touching my skin before moving on.

  Bailey.

  Sometimes I’d wake up in the middle of the night, questioning whether or not it all really happened.

  Then I’d look at the other side of the bed, the side that had been cold and empty for two years, and I didn’t have to question anymore.

  The nightmare was real.

  Evan, my high school sweetheart, my boyfriend all through college and my husband since the year after I graduated, the man I thought I was going to spend the rest of my life with, the man I thought I was going to grow old with, the man I thought I was going to retire in Hawaii with one day, had left me for another woman.

  More than that, he’d left me for my bakery assistant and our friend, Bailey.

  I hadn’t seen that coming either. Not in a million years would I have guessed that.

  I always liked to think I was a tough, no-nonsense, practical girl who had good instinct when it came to people. I used to think that women who didn’t know that their husbands were cheating on them were either not paying attention, or were willingly blind to their betrayal.