Silent Night, Deadly Night

by Vicki Delany

  “Okay.” She went into the back for her purse and coat. “Happy Thanksgiving,” she said on her way out. “See you on Friday.”

  I wished her a happy Thanksgiving, and then I got Mattie and we walked home. “Everything’ll be okay,” I said to my dog. “Wayne Fitzroy might have ideas for changing how we do Christmas, but this is Rudolph. We have our standards.”

  To myself, if not to the dog, I had to confess I wasn’t so sure. Most of the members of our town council were a spineless lot. They lived by the principle that it was always easier to go with the flow and not make a fuss. On the other hand, some of the shop owners and other businesspeople wouldn’t be too pleased, particularly not at the idea of “corporate sponsorship.” Rudolph promoted itself as a family-friendly holiday destination. If cute preschool kids in cute costumes were kicked off Santa’s float in favor of pretty young women in skimpy elf costumes, that reputation could disappear, and fast.

  Time, I realized, was running out. If I wanted to stop Wayne, I’d have to start making calls tonight.

  I let out a long sigh. Why bother? Why was it up to me? If no one else cared, even Dad, why should I?

  No, tonight I’d enjoy a pleasant quiet night at home. I had to go out and get salad ingredients and wine for tomorrow’s dinner, so I planned on a trip to the supermarket. I’d buy a chicken breast and the ingredients to make curry for tonight. I’d have a hot spicy curry and a glass of wine and watch something funny and silly on TV, then go to bed early with my book. Early to bed. What an indulgence that would be. Tomorrow, I’d enjoy a leisurely morning, maybe take Mattie to the path by the lake for a long walk, come back home for coffee and breakfast, and then tidy up for my guests.

  I got the car out of the garage and ran my errands. I told myself I was looking forward to a do-nothing evening and then a do-almost-nothing day tomorrow.

  Pure bliss.

  I finished my shopping and arrived at home shortly after five. At this time of year, it gets dark early and the sun was dipping below the horizon as I pulled into the driveway. A curtain twitched in Mrs. D’Angelo’s front room, but she did not come out.

  I carried my shopping bags upstairs. I gave Mattie his dinner and he dove in, headfirst, while I put away the groceries. He didn’t come up for air until the bowl was wiped clean.

  I let out a long sigh as my resolution crumbled. “Okay, one more walk. Are you up to it?”

  He wagged his tail and ran for the door. Mattie was always up to one more walk. The temperature had been dropping all day, and the forecast for tonight called for the first significant snowfall of the season. I decided to wear a warmer coat. I put it on, found gloves in the pockets, and we left the apartment.

  Why was it up to me to do something?

  It was up to me because Wayne Fitzroy had seriously overplayed his hand in front of me.

  I doubted he’d let anyone know he had plans to change the entire nature of Christmas in Rudolph. All he wanted, he told anyone who’d listen, was a chance to involve himself in the community and take on the role of Santa.

  He’d slipped up and told me he didn’t have the interests of Rudolph at heart. He was bitter at being kicked out of his company, losing his home and place in the city, and bored with our small town. It would be amusing to watch us dance to his tune and then bring us all down with him.

  He’d tried to charm me and get me on his side (and he’d hoped to have a picture to prove it) as a way of undermining any support Dad might have. When I didn’t take the bait, he turned to Jackie, showing how easy it would be to get even the people close to me on his side.

  Only one person could save Christmas in Rudolph.

  And that person was Santa Claus.

  Chapter 22

  Once again, I headed to my parents’ house. I’d been there so much lately, I might consider moving back in.

  Thick clouds, heavy with snow, were moving in, blocking the light from the moon, but the strands of Christmas lights decorating some of the houses and trees went a long way toward breaking the gloom. I tried to walk briskly—a woman on a mission—but Mattie insisted on sauntering, pausing at every bush and lamppost to check out the news from the doggy neighborhood. We passed people taking dogs for their evening walk, and friendly Mattie insisted on greeting everyone.

  By the time we finally turned into my parents’ street, I was thoroughly impatient. “Will you hurry up!” I tugged at the leash as he found a fire hydrant of interest. “I should have left you at home.”

  He looked up and gave me a you wouldn’t dare grin.

  “See if I don’t next time.” Knowing that was an empty threat, he made no move to do as I’d said.

  The lamp over the front porch at my parents’ house was on, and yellow lights glowed softly from behind the curtains. As it was coming up to dinnertime, I might catch Mom or Dad in the kitchen or relaxing in the TV room, and so Mattie and I walked down the driveway, intending to come in the back. Tonight all the lights in the neighboring house were off, and the driveway, lined by a substantial hedge, was a long, dark tunnel closing around us. A trace of faint light leaked out from the kitchen windows, and the scent of tobacco drifted on the night air.

  Mattie’s ears pricked up, and he let out a soft woof. From around the corner, in the depths of the yard, I heard a muffled cry followed by a solid thump, and then a groan. Mattie barked, the sound loud and full of warning. My heart began to race.

  “Who’s there?” I yelled. “What’s going on?” I fumbled in my coat pocket for my phone, so I could use the flashlight app, but my hands came up empty. I’d changed into a warmer coat and forgot the phone in the pocket of the one I’d been wearing earlier. I was almost jerked off my feet as Mattie took off, racing around the corner into the backyard, pulling the leash out of my hands.

  I ran around the house. At first I couldn’t see anything except Mattie, still barking his head off, streaking across the lawn toward the back fence. I stumbled after him. My eyes slowly became accustomed to the darkness and shapes took form. Something lay on the ground near the fence. Mattie stood over it, barking in an urgent tone I’d heard him use only once before. A foot away, a small but bright red glow burned in the grass from a fallen cigarette.

  The shape on the ground came into focus, and I realized it was not something but someone.

  Mattie whimpered and nuzzled the unmoving form. In the sudden silence, I heard a whoosh of expelled air, then footsteps, and the creak of protesting hinges.

  When my siblings and I were children, we’d been friends with the kids who lived in the house behind ours, and our fathers put a gate in the fence so we could run back and forth between houses without using the street. Those kids had grown up, as had we, and the family moved away. The gate wasn’t used anymore: the hinges were rusting, the wood rotting, the paint peeling. Dad talked occasionally about repairing the fence, but nothing ever came of it.

  As far as I knew, the gate hadn’t been opened in years.

  Tonight, the old hinges squeaked and the wood creaked as the open gate swung back and forth.

  I hesitated, unsure of what to do.

  The kitchen door opened, and a blaze of light flooded the yard. “What’s going on out there?” my father called.

  “Call 911.” I stomped on the burning cigarette. “I’m going after them.”

  “Merry, is that you? What’s happened? Who are you going after?”

  “Call 911,” I shouted again as I ran through the gate. I emerged in the neighbor’s yard and took off across the lawn. I skirted their swimming pool, closed for the winter, and rounded the house to come out on the sidewalk. I looked left and right but could see no running figure in the darkness. I tried to peer into the yards of the houses across the street. Again, nothing. All was quiet and all was dark. None of the houses on this stretch of the street had turned on their Christmas lights yet. A car drove slowly past.

 
As I stood on the sidewalk, trying to decide what to do, a dark shape streaked past me. Mattie, dragging his leash, heading off to the right.

  With no better idea of where to go, I chased after him.

  Ahead of us, a shape passed through the warm puddle of yellow light cast by a streetlamp, and I saw a running form, a dark figure.

  “Stop! Stop!” I yelled.

  Mattie hesitated and half turned. “Not you, Mattie! Get him!”

  Mattie loped off.

  The person we were after took a sharp left, dashed across the street, and disappeared. The house on the corner was surrounded by a wall that ran next to the sidewalk on two sides.

  I kept yelling, “Stop! Stop!”

  I could hear sirens approaching. Dad would have called 911, but the hospital and police station are on the other side of town from the house. They wouldn’t have any reason to come this way until Dad sent them after me.

  Five minutes ago, the streets had been busy with people walking dogs, enjoying an evening stroll, coming home from work, or heading out to begin their Thanksgiving. Now it seemed as though the end of the world had arrived and no one had let me know. Not a soul was in sight.

  I rounded the high wall and almost tripped over Mattie. He’d given up the chase and sniffed happily at the empty garbage can at the bottom of the neighbor’s driveway. In this part of town, garbage pickup is on Tuesdays. You’d think people could bring their unsightly trash cans in after the collection truck had passed.

  “Where’d they go, Mattie? Where’d they go?”

  He lifted his head, wagged his tail, and gave me a grin and a soft woof of welcome.

  “Shush.” I strained to listen. Nothing but Mattie panting, the whoosh of cars in the distance, and sirens getting closer.

  This was a short block with only three houses on it. I ran to the four-way stop at the next intersection. From here, the person I was after could have gone in three different directions. More, if they’d taken shelter in a yard. Most of the houses had lights switched on inside and out, but no one was around.

  I studied the ground, but I didn’t know what I was looking for. A dropped driver’s license maybe or an arrow painted on the sidewalk saying “this way.” The ground was dry. If the snow had come earlier, I might have been able to follow footprints, but I was no tracker—trained to read signals in a bent leaf or the movement of the wind. A gray squirrel emerged from the undergrowth and dashed up a maple tree. I read nothing into that: squirrels are always running up trees and across roads.

  “Anything?” I said to Mattie.

  His big body quivered. He took a step to the right and then another. He broke into a run. I ran after him. My heart was pounding, and from far more than the sudden burst of exercise. He ran across the lawn of a house on the corner. At the far side of the building, a motion light came on. I tensed and prepared myself for a confrontation.

  I’d run blindly, instinctively, not stopping to think about what I was doing. Someone had been attacked in Mom and Dad’s yard, and I’d chased the assailant. Could the attacker be armed? Even if he was unarmed, I might be no match for him.

  Bring it on. I clenched my fists and planted my feet firmly on the ground, legs apart, knees slightly bent. I took a deep breath. I sent a quick thought out to Alan Anderson, and I remembered that he’d used the L-word.

  The first thing I’d do when next I saw him—I’d say it again.

  Now I was ready for whatever I had to face.

  Chapter 23

  Tap. Tap. Tap.

  An elderly gentleman came slowly around the side of the house. His back was bent, his right hand gripped his cane. A Pomeranian trotted at the end of the leash held in the man’s left hand. Mattie barked in welcome, and the small dog began wagging his tail so enthusiastically I feared the force of the wind would knock his frail owner over.

  “Good evening,” the man said. “Can I help you?”

  The dogs greeted each other excitedly. In other circumstances I might have laughed. Mattie weighed 170 pounds, and the little dog probably topped the scales at 6. Maybe 6½ after a big meal. But they were both dogs, and they recognized each other as such.

  “Did you see anyone in your yard a moment ago?” I asked.

  “Excuse me?”

  “My friend is . . . uh . . . playing a trick on me. She’s got my keys, and I have to get home.”

  “No, I didn’t see anyone,” the man said.

  “Thanks. Come on, Mattie. Matterhorn! Come!”

  Reluctantly he said good-bye to his new friend and followed me to the street.

  “Happy Thanksgiving,” the man called after us.

  “Same to you,” I said.

  Mattie and I walked quickly back to Mom and Dad’s house. Flashing blue and red lights filled the street, and once again, neighbors were gathering on their porches. As we approached, an ambulance pulled away, lights flashing, sirens screaming.

  “Nice of you to show up,” Candy Campbell said to me. She stood on the sidewalk at the edge of the property, turning the curious away.

  “Coulda used some help,” I replied.

  She glanced at Mattie, standing calmly at my side. “Walking your dog is not in my job description.”

  “There she is!” My mother’s screech could have been heard in the back row of the upper balcony at the Met. She hurled herself down the path and wrapped me in a deep embrace. “When Noel said you’d gone after that . . . that . . .” My mother wasn’t often at a loss for words.

  “I’m okay, Mom, as you can see.”

  She stared deeply into my eyes. “So you are.”

  We walked up the path together. “Your father’s in the backyard with Detective Simmonds.”

  “What happened? Is someone hurt?”

  “Don’t you know?”

  “I don’t have a clue, Mom. I saw what I thought was someone being attacked and I ran after them. After the attacker, I mean.”

  “It’s Ruth. She’s been taken to the hospital.”

  I thought about the sirens and the ambulance pulling away fast. That meant she wasn’t dead. Didn’t it? “Is she going to be okay?”

  “I don’t know, dear. I’d like to take you upstairs and put you in a hot bath and tuck you into bed, but Diane will want to talk to you.”

  We went into the house and through the living room, heading for the kitchen. The only people around were police officers. “Where’s the rest of the quarrelsome quartet?” I asked.

  “Who?”

  “Your friends.”

  “They went out this evening. Only Ruth stayed in. She was upstairs in her room, reading. Your father and I were in the conservatory watching TV. Ruth must have gone out for a cigarette or to get some fresh air.”

  We emerged into the backyard into a blaze of light. Every light both inside and outside the house had been turned on, and police officers were using powerful flashlights to search the ground. Diane Simmonds squatted on her haunches at the back fence, examining the ground. My dad stood over her, watching, while another cop held his flashlight up so she could see. Mattie saw his idol and leapt forward with a joyous cry.

  “Stay!” Simmonds said without even turning her head. Mattie dropped immediately to a sit.

  “Go inside.” Simmonds pointed to the house.

  Mattie stood and trotted away, the end of his leash dragging behind him.

  I stared after him, openmouthed. “How do you do that?” I asked when I’d recovered some of my senses.

  She didn’t bother to answer. “Aline, would you mind putting the dog in Noel’s study so he doesn’t disturb the scene? As well-meaning as I’m sure he is.”

  Mom went into the house after Mattie.

  “Are you okay, honeybunch?” my dad said.

  “I’m fine, Dad.”

  “Noel says you went in pursuit of whomever you s
aw here,” Simmonds said. “That wasn’t wise, but never mind that now. I assume you didn’t catch him or her.”

  “Obviously not.”

  “Do you know who it was?”

  “No.”

  “Did you see anything familiar about this person?”

  “No.”

  “Go in the kitchen and wait for me there. I need another minute here and then I’ll join you. Why don’t you put the coffee on? I could use a cup.”

  “Sure. But first, Mom said Ruth . . .”

  “A blow to the head,” Simmonds said. “She was knocked unconscious, but she was beginning to come around when the paramedics got to her.”

  “She’s going to be okay,” Dad said to my enormous relief. I went into the house and made coffee. While the water dripped into the pot, I stood at the kitchen sink staring out into the backyard. Simmonds spoke to police officers and pointed at various patches of grass. A man called to her, and she went over to him. She crouched down and studied whatever he was pointing at. Then she nodded and pushed herself to her feet as he wrapped it—a rock, I thought—in an evidence bag.

  She came into the kitchen.

  “Coffee’ll be a minute,” I said.

  “Thanks. Take a seat.” She dropped into a chair. Detective Simmonds looked, I thought, exhausted.

  I also sat down. “Someone attacked Ruth.”

  She nodded. “So it would appear. Person or persons unknown. Tell me what you saw.”

  I did. I also told her that I’d seen no identifying characteristics on the person I chased. “They wore a dark coat that came to about midthigh, but everyone would have been warmly dressed tonight. I can’t even say if it was a man or a woman. Not too short, not too tall. Not noticeably obese.”

  “Gloves?”

  I tried to remember. “I think so.”

  Mom came into the kitchen and sat down. “Poor Ruth. I can’t believe it.”

  “Where are your friends this evening, Aline?” Simmonds asked. “Noel said they were making plans to leave tomorrow but have gone out.”