Murder Fir Christmas
Page 6
He started the truck. “What are you going to name the wolf?”
“I’m not naming him anything. It’s not like he’s a pet I’m going to keep.”
“Yeah but he’s going to be part of your life for a few weeks. He needs a name. How are you going to call him if he doesn’t have a name?”
They had reached Christmas Tree Valley Road. A dozen signs showed pictures of cars and trucks at steep angles, some of them bent where they’d been hit by an errant fender. Bonnie could see the snow covered valley before her, and the snow covered road in front of her that dropped with a thirty percent grade.
“All right,” Matthew said. “Hang on to your hat.”
Because there were so many trees on the ridge above the road, very little morning sunlight reached the road. Afternoon sunlight would melt the snow and ice, leaving puddles that would freeze during the long night. People who made it into the valley today would have a hard time getting out again tomorrow.
Bonnie kept one hand on the door, but even though she was scared, she had to admire the serene, winter beauty of her home. Christmas Tree Valley didn’t have a big population—three hundred and sixty two the last time she checked. There were a few churches, their steeples still sparkling with white crystals, and the general store that doubled as a post office. The rest were houses and buildings. Interspersed with the houses and storage buildings were Douglas fir and blue spruce trees that reached for the sky.
She could pick out the tree farms because the trees grew in a more orderly fashion. Hundreds of acres were devoted to growing the best trees in the world. A large, wood-and-brass plaque at the general store had the names engraved of every family that had grown a Christmas tree for the White House. There were many names celebrated there. It was the brass ring that every farmer reached for.
“Did anyone have a tree for the White House this year?” she asked Matthew.
“Nope. Not for the last few years. It doesn’t seem to hurt business any—not like this snow and ice will. But people still like thinking about it. My brother and I have been getting a tree ready for next year. Our family has never grown one that went to Washington.”
“My grandfather grew one,” she said, her nose almost pressed against the frosty window to look out at the colorful scene stretched before her all the way to the mountains behind. “I think that was in 1950.”
He laughed. “Don’t toy with me. Like you said, you haven’t been gone that long. Everyone who lives here can tell you exactly what date, who was in office, and how tall the tree was. Go on. Spill it.”
“You’re right. It’s like learning multiplication here, isn’t it? Our tree was twenty-five feet, three inches, blue spruce, and the president was Truman.”
“I knew it. You were trying to spare my feelings, weren’t you?”
“You’re either one way or another about the trees,” she remembered. “Either you gloat or you’re modest about it. My mother taught me not to gloat.”
“Lucky it was you with the tree and not me. My dad taught me to gloat. If we have a winning tree next year, I’ll be gloating.”
Bonnie laughed at him. “You just don’t seem like the type.”
One of the tires hit a slick patch on the road that looked as though it had snowed only a few minutes before. The wheel slid to the side of the road, too close to the edge that only had a flimsy looking guard rail.
She caught her breath, but he got the truck back on track. Her hand ached from holding the door handle so tightly.
“Sorry about that.” He glanced at her. “You’re white as a sheet. I guess you really don’t like driving in the snow. You’re gonna have to get over it, you know? You’ll have a heart attack or something.”
“Don’t look at me,” she instructed in a panicked voice. “Keep your eyes on the road.” She reached over and put her hand on his on the steering wheel. “And remember the ten and two positions? You should have your hands at those places for optimum control of the vehicle.”
“Yes, ma’am. Don’t worry. You’re safe with me.”
She looked at her hand where he’d covered it with one of his. “Onehanded now? I don’t feel very safe.”
He laughed at her and put both his hands on the wheel again. “You know how many times I’ve come down this road drunk as a skunk? Not for a long time now, but when I was in high school, I didn’t think anything of it.”
The road turned sharply in almost a U-turn that required the truck to rumble to a stop to get around the edge of a large rock that protruded on one side. Bonnie closed her eyes and didn’t open them until she heard the chains jingling as they started down the last part of the road.
“See? Nothing to it,” he boasted. “I drove one of the semis that takes the trees out of the valley for a while. Talk about a wild ride. I’m glad to leave that to someone else now.”
The last part of the road wasn’t as steep and smoothed out as it came down in the valley. A large sign that said, “Welcome to Christmas Tree Valley, Home of the Best Christmas Trees in the World,” had been newly painted since she’d been there over the summer. Two big trees were on either side of it, both decorated with lights and large ornaments.
As they were coming into the small main area, Bonnie got excited as she always did when she came home to see her family. No matter how long she’d been in Alabama, this would always be the place she came back to. She’d never really thought about living here again, but it looked like that was her future. Except for driving during the winter, it didn’t seem so bad.
Chapter Eight
Bonnie’s family tree farm was nearly one hundred acres of carefully pruned and cared-for blue spruce. A smattering of Douglas firs edged the property—wild trees but never cut down. The two large blue spruce guarded both sides of the driveway, only garnished with snow and icicles, but they were breathtaking.
“Where do you live, Matthew?” she asked as they started up the drive. Someone had been out with a plow or snow blower already. Very little snow was on the road or the drive. Bonnie remembered that everyone took turns clearing the road since the county never sent plows this far out from Sevierville.
“I’m about a mile that way.” He pointed back the other way. “You could see my place from the road coming down. We put on a bright red roof last year, and it says ‘Merry Christmas from Brown Elk Farms.’ We get customers before they even get off the road.”
Bonnie had noticed the red roof that was especially bright in the snow. The Merry Christmas part had been obscured by the white stuff, but it still made a powerful statement.
“We might have to steal that idea from you,” she joked.
“Go ahead. I borrowed it from someone else anyway.”
Eric had seen them coming from the house and stepped outside. He smiled when he saw Bonnie get out of the truck and walked out to greet her with a big hug. Their mother was right behind him with tears and kisses when she saw her daughter.
“Thanks for bringing her down the mountain.” Eric shook hands with Matthew. “She might not have made it down until spring with the way she feels about driving in the snow.”
Bonnie watched the two men together. Eric was tall and strongly built, muscular from years of working on the tree farm. He was blond and blue eyed and had just turned fifty. Her mother had been blond too, with blue eyes. Her hair was white now.
She didn’t remember Eric’s father. He’d died before she was born. Her father had married her mother when Rose was in her late thirties. Bonnie had been born a short time later. That made Bonnie and her brother almost twenty years apart and like a whole other family.
Matthew was taller than Eric and much darker. The two made an interesting picture, standing together as they spoke. It was not surprising that he and Eric knew one another. Everyone knew everyone else in Christmas Tree Valley. No doubt she’d bumped into Matthew earlier in life without remembering him when they met again.
“Come inside, and let’s warm up with some hot cider,” Rose invited him.
“Always.” Rose smiled at him.
“I’ll see you later, Bonnie,” Matthew said. “It’s been a pleasure. Don’t forget the pup.”
As he was heading back to his truck, Eric and Rose asked, “Pup?” in unison.
Bonnie didn’t answer. There was time enough for that later. She ran to get her things, handing them off to Eric so she could bring the wolf inside.
He glanced at the wolf pup, a frown between his eyes. “A wolf pup? Where did it come from?”
“I’ll explain over cider after I’ve had a chance to change clothes and get my feet warm. I hope I don’t have frostbite on my toes. I’m exhausted, starving, and freezing. Everything else can wait a while.”
Rose had already made lunch. Bonnie went to her old room and changed out of her cold, wet clothes. She put on some sweatpants and a sweater. Her toes were fine when she put on double pairs of wool socks and let out a sigh of relief. At least that part of getting home was over.
With a hearty pot pie on the table, they sat down for lunch, and Bonnie told them about everything that had happened since she’d gotten to Sweet Pepper.
“That’s terrible,” her mother said. “Harvey’s family is only two farms down. He was such a young man and had those two children, Abigail and Gerald. Who would want to kill him?”
“Maybe it was an accident,” Eric suggested. “Maybe someone was hunting on the island. Is that what happened to the wolf pup?”
“I don’t know yet,” Bonnie said, opening a hot corn muffin and slathering butter on it. “Nothing is getting done because of the weather.”
“Except for criminal activity,” Rose reminded her. “Sweet Pepper isn’t big enough for those kinds of things to go on.”
“I met someone interesting while I was working,” Bonnie told her. “Remember when you used to tell me about Eric Gamlyn, the old Sweet Pepper fire chief?”
Rose appeared confused for a moment, but her frown passed, and her blue eyes lit up. “Of course. We probably would have been married if he hadn’t left town so suddenly. He wasn’t the fire chief then, and his family didn’t have much money. He came to see me the night before he left and asked me to wait for him. I might have too, if it wouldn’t have been your father, Eric. He swept me off my feet. You were born the next year.”
“Probably just as well,” her brother said. “At least we had a good insurance business while my father was alive to subsidize the tree farm.”
“Well, anyway.” Bonnie tried to bring the conversation back. “They say the old fire chief haunts the fire brigade, and the new chief, Stella Griffin, says she can see and talk to the ghost of the old chief.”
Eric, always pragmatic, made a spitting sound like ice hitting the window. “There’s no such thing as ghosts. She was just pulling your leg—you know, making fun of the new person.”
“No,” Rose said. “I believe it. If anyone could come back from the dead, it would be Eric Gamlyn. He was so strong and always did what he said he was going to do. I heard he made his fortune digging for gold in the Yukon or some such. He was quite the character.”
“It seems odd that you named our Eric after him.” Bonnie smiled as she finished eating.
“Oh, that.” Rose waved her hand. “It was a family name from Wendel’s side. It had nothing to do with the other Eric.”
After all of his complaining, Eric’s plane had been grounded until the next day. Bonnie was glad it happened. She needed a truck to fulfill her promise to Chief Rogers and notify Harvey’s family. She wasn’t happy about going out again, but she had no choice. His name was being withheld from the media until his next of kin were told.
She got dressed, and Eric offered to go with her. It gave them a chance to talk about their mother and everything Bonnie needed to know about the farm.
“Mom’s holding her own right now,” he said as he drove to the Shelton place. “She has some bad days, but she takes her meds. She’s hanging in there, fighting as hard as she can.”
“You left all her information somewhere for me, right?”
“That and everything else—what I’ve done with the trees this year and planting instructions for next year. I hire two people that help out. If you can’t do that on your salary, let me know, and I’ll help you. It’s too big a job for one person with a day job.”
“How have sales been this year?”
“Brisk. Starting the sleigh ride into the fields was a good idea, but it added a horse on the payroll. I think people really like it. It would be nice if we had some other things going on here besides the general store and the Christmas House. A few people are talking about adding some lights to Main Street and getting visitors to come at night for them. I don’t see that happening without a hotel down here so people don’t have to leave. No one wants to come down the mountain in the dark.”
“I understand that.” She glanced up at the mountain she’d come down with Matthew.
“Anyway, we’re members of the co-op. I already told them that you’re taking my place on the board. You’ll have to help make those decisions. Any questions or problems, you can call me. I know you won’t because you’re so stubborn. But I’m there if you need me.”
They touched on Eric’s recent divorce after ten years of marriage.
“Julie moved back to Knoxville. I got to see her and Annie right before the storm hit.” Annie was his three-year-old daughter.
Bonnie squeezed his arm. “I’m sorry. I know it’s hard. That’s really why you’re leaving, isn’t it? You’ve been offered promotions before and never took them because it meant not being here.”
“I just decided it was time for you to come home.” He smiled at her. “What about that man you liked in Alabama—the cook with the white gator? Why didn’t he come with you?”
“The relationship just never got that far.” She thought about Saul Chase, but there wasn’t enough between them for her to mourn. She’d enjoyed his company, but he was a free spirit. He didn’t seem interested in a commitment. “I would’ve enjoyed him being here on the long, cold nights. Mom would like him. He’s a great cook.”
He patted her shoulder. “You’ll find someone if you can let go of the past.”
“I don’t want to talk about that. There’s the Shelton place.” She pointed, glancing at the address on her cell phone. “Don’t pass it.”
“Forget I said that about the past, little sister. You just need to stop being so bossy. No man wants a woman to tell him what to do.”
“Never mind.” She took a deep breath as he parked the truck. “I have to do this.”
In a clean, dry, brown Wildlife Agent uniform, Bonnie went up to the door, leaving Eric in the truck. She squared her shoulders as she knocked. Children’s Christmas decorations were on the windows, and Mr. and Mrs. Santa Claus were in matching rockers on the porch.
Mrs. Shelton opened the door. A younger man and woman stood behind her. They both had the same pale blue eyes as Harvey—his kids. Children screeched in the background, with the sound of little feet running through the house.
“Oh my God,” Mrs. Shelton said, tears beginning to stream down her face. “I knew something was wrong. When Harvey didn’t call, I knew something bad had happened.”
Bonnie cleared her throat. “I’m sorry, ma’am. Agent Shelton has been shot and killed.”
Mrs. Shelton’s legs gave out. Her son and daughter supported her and helped her into the living room. Bonnie followed them, closing the door behind her. The Shelton women held each other and cried, while Gerald stood stoically behind them, staring at a blank spot on the wall.
Bonnie stood quietly but didn’t know what to do with her hands, finally settling on clasping them in front of her. She had only made one other death notification in her career, and that had only been as a second party with a sheriff. It wasn’t an easy or pleasant thing to do. Somehow it seemed worse at this time
of year.
“Would you like some coffee?” Abigail asked after several minutes, tears still in her eyes.
“Yes, please,” Bonnie said, corners of her mouth turned down. She sat in the cozy room with them. A fire was crackling in the hearth that was hung with red stockings.
“Tell me what happened,” Mrs. Shelton said in a voice devoid of emotion.
Bonnie explained the situation and what had happened as far as she knew. She left out the part about not being able to find Harvey’s body. It didn’t seem important or appropriate for the grieving family.
Mrs. Shelton sobbed as her son put his arm around her. He looked just like his father.
“I’m sorry, but I need to ask you a few questions,” Bonnie said as Abigail brought in cups of coffee for all of them on a large Christmas tray.
“That’s all right,” Gerald replied. “We want to help.”
“Do you know if Agent Shelton had any enemies?” Bonnie took out a scrap of paper and had to borrow a pen. She wasn’t prepared for this.
“Harvey didn’t have an enemy in the world,” his wife said. “As far as I know, everyone thought the world of him.”
Her children agreed with her. Bonnie hadn’t expected anything different from them.
“Why was Harvey retiring so early?” Maybe it didn’t have anything to do with his death, but she’d wondered from the beginning.
“No specific reason,” Mrs. Shelton said as she wiped her tears away. “He just came home one day and said he thought it was time.”
“He wasn’t sick? Decided the job was too much for him?”
“No. We talked about doing some traveling. His brother lives out west.”
So nothing there either. “Has he mentioned any problems that have to do with the job? What was the last thing he did?”
Mrs. Shelton shook her head. “I can’t remember right now. I wish I’d paid more attention. I’m sorry, Agent Tuttle. But I’m so glad you’re here to take his place. He loved the area, and I know he’d want someone like you to take care of it.”