Silent Night, Deadly Night

by Vicki Delany

  “More like waiting on tables while waiting for the big break to come wasn’t going to work,” Genevieve said, “while you got older and older and time passed.”

  I doubt Constance heard her. She was talking as much to herself now as to us. “He rewrote his will after my mother’s and brother’s death, to say I’d get the full inheritance only if I was married and a mother. Otherwise, everything went to some distant nephew. What Dad didn’t know—and to this day he doesn’t know—is that I can’t have children. I’ve known that since I reached puberty. My mother knew, of course, but she never told Dad.”

  “Oh my dear,” Mom said under her breath.

  “I arranged to take Karla’s baby—she didn’t want it—and to marry Frank. What harm did it do? Dad was happy, and it wouldn’t have even mattered if the baby had been a girl. Dad’s will only said I had to be a mother. Frank had his son, and he was part of a wealthy family, which was about all he ever wanted in life. Frank got his business degree, but Dad wouldn’t hear of me going back to college, not with a baby at home. I studied beside Frank every step of the way. Without me, he wouldn’t have gotten a word of it into his thick head. Without me, constantly reminding him that Dad would cut off his allowance if he didn’t get the degree, he wouldn’t have dragged himself home from the bars at night in order to study.”

  We’d all fallen silent. Outside the windows, a car drove past. A door opened in the corridor and shut again. A woman laughed.

  “So that’s my story,” Constance said. “And now you know the secret of my life.” She lifted her head and looked at each of the women in turn. “What happened to Karla was most unfortunate, but it had nothing to do with me.” She turned to face my dad. “I want to go now. Please get out of the way.”

  Dad glanced at me. I nodded. Let her go. I’d uncovered a motive for Constance to kill Karla, and the police could take it from there.

  But before Dad could move, Genevieve flew across the room. Her face was wild, her arms outstretched, her long red nails reaching for Constance’s face. “You killed Karla. You can’t just walk away and expect us to forget all about it.”

  Constance whirled around. She lifted her bag and swung it through the air. It hit Genevieve full in the face. Genevieve cried in pain and surprise. She staggered backward and fell onto the bed, collapsing into my mother.

  Mom screamed and struggled to push the other woman off her.

  “Hey!” Dad said. Constance turned again, putting all her strength into keeping her bag moving, as though she were swinging a baseball bat. It was a big bag, decorated with metal hoops and rings, packed full with things she’d want on her flight. Dad ducked and tried to move to the left; he tripped over the suitcase by the door and fell hard against the wall.

  “Noel!” Mom flailed at Genevieve, trying to get her off.

  Barbara yelled, “You won’t get far, Constance. Not this time.”

  Constance threw the door open and burst into the corridor. I took off after her. No, she wouldn’t get far, but who knows what a desperate woman might do when she was cornered.

  “Mom,” I shouted, “call 911.”

  I emerged from the room in time to see Constance run directly into the waiting arms of Detective Diane Simmonds. Constance was so surprised she hesitated. Simmonds grabbed her, flipped her around, and twisted one arm up and behind her.

  Chapter 27

  “It was her,” I gasped. “Constance. She killed Karla. She tried to kill Ruth.”

  “You’re out of your tiny mind,” Constance shouted. “You and your mother made something out of nothing in an attempt to blackmail me. Well, I’m not paying up. So there. Let me go, Officer, or I’ll sue you for everything you’re worth.” Constance hissed and spat like a cornered cat.

  “Which isn’t much,” Simmonds said. “You can come with me back to Rudolph, and we’ll have a nice long chat. I’m due to join my family for dinner shortly, so you’ll have to wait at the police station until tomorrow. I’m sure we can find you a nice cell.”

  Constance struggled, but Simmonds held her fast.

  A uniformed officer rounded the corner from the lobby. He took Constance from Simmonds and snapped handcuffs on her wrists.

  One by one the rest of the women came out of room 125, shock written on their faces. Dad limped, ever so slightly, and rubbed at his hip.

  Constance’s eyes were narrow with anger and suppressed rage. She spoke directly to Genevieve. “Do you ever want to act again? I have contacts, lots of contacts, important contacts, in Hollywood.”

  Genevieve lifted her chin and stared the other woman down. “Is that so? Too bad you never used them to help me when I could have used the help. Don’t try to bribe me now.”

  Barbara put her arm around Genevieve’s shoulders. Mom joined them, and the three women hugged one another tightly.

  Simmonds nodded to the officer, and he led Constance—protesting, shouting, still making threats—away.

  “That was a lucky one,” I said. “You couldn’t have timed your arrival better if you’d tried, Detective.”

  “Luck?” she said. “I never rely on luck. Thanks, Noel.”

  “Anytime.” Dad took his phone out of his pocket and lifted it up. “Diane returned my call moments after we got here. I put the phone on speaker to hear better and must have forgotten to switch it off.”

  “I’ve been standing here,” Simmonds said, “listening to every word.”

  “Can we go home, Detective?” Barbara said. “Please. I promise I’ll be back whenever you need me.”

  “Sure,” Simmonds said. “I have everything I need for now.” She followed her colleague and his prisoner.

  “I’ll say good-bye for now,” Mom said to Barbara and Genevieve. “You’ll be back to make statements and then for the trial, so please let me know when you’re going to be in town. Perhaps we could go out for dinner or something.”

  My dad and I exchanged glances. He wiggled his eyebrows at me. Noticeably, Mom had not invited them to stay at the house.

  “Are you ready to leave?” Barbara asked Genevieve.

  “Yes, I am.”

  The women fell into a circle and hugged again. When they separated, tears filled three sets of eyes.

  Dad and I walked away. He was limping slightly, and I took his arm while Mom once more said her good-byes. “Are you okay, Dad?” I asked.

  “Yeah,” he said. “Nothing damaged.”

  “Have a nice day,” the bored clerk called.

  Mom caught up to us as we left the motel. “Thank heavens that’s over.”

  “It might not be,” Dad said. “Constance never confessed to killing Karla or to attacking Ruth. All Merry did was force her to reveal that she had a reason. It’s up to Diane to get a confession out of her.”

  I dropped Dad’s arm and fell into step beside Mom. “It’s over for us, and that’s all that counts.”

  My mother gave me a radiant smile.

  Still rubbing his hip, Dad led the way across the parking lot. He rounded the corner of the building, heading for our car, and came to a halt so abruptly I bumped into him. He leapt backward with an agility that belied his injuries, dragging us with him. “Quick! Hide.”

  “What?” I said.

  “What is it now?” Mom said. “I can’t take any more drama.”

  Dad hurried to the side of the building, and then he leaned out as far as he could without falling over. He peered around the corner. Mom and I did likewise.

  “Oh my gosh. Is that who I think it is?” I asked.

  “Shush,” Dad said.

  “They can’t hear us,” Mom said.

  “Shush,” Dad repeated.

  We watched as Wayne Fitzroy, the newly appointed Rudolph Santa Claus, flicked the key fob for his car and an Audi with the license plates KINGROY1 blinked in response. He opened the door and then turned to look
at the woman who’d followed him out of the motel room. She was tall and slim, in her early forties, long shiny blond hair tumbling around her head, dressed in a short tight dress and bare feet. She lifted one hand and ran her fingers down Wayne’s cheek.

  She was not Mrs. Fitzroy.

  My dad lifted his phone and snapped a picture.

  Wayne got into his car and the engine roared to life. He drove away, watched by Mom, Dad, me, and the unknown woman. She waved good-bye and then turned and went back into the room. The door shut behind her.

  Chapter 28

  By quarter to six I’d walked Mattie; tidied my apartment; made a huge bowl of salad; laid out glasses, cutlery, and dishes; and dressed for company. I was ready to receive my dinner guests and delighted that Thanksgiving was back on track. I’d have to do without the turkey and all the trimmings, but it was still a Thanksgiving celebration in the company of the people closest to me.

  Mom and Dad arrived first. Dad came up the stairs with a bit of a limp, a result of being knocked over by Constance. He greeted Mattie enthusiastically while Mom slipped out of her coat. She’d dressed for the holiday dinner in a knee-length ice-blue cocktail dress with dangling earrings of twisted silver and a diamond-studded silver bracelet. Dad was in another one of his Thanksgiving-themed sweaters: orange with brown trim on the sleeves and collar and a picture of a roast turkey on a platter across the front. The contrast with his Santa beard and belly was startling. The contrast between my parents might have been even more startling, but I was used to it.

  “What’s happened?” I asked.

  “Why do you think something’s happened?” Mom said.

  “You’re fifteen minutes early. You’re never early, so I assume you have something you want to talk to me about before the others arrive.”

  “I’m always early.” Dad headed for the fridge.

  “When you’re on your own,” I replied.

  He chuckled.

  “Is your float going to be ready next weekend?” Mom asked.

  “It should be. I’ve been thinking of the mountain rescue dog idea, and I think it’ll work. Mattie’s well enough behaved not to try to jump off the float, and he’ll enjoy being the center of attention. Hopefully he’ll get us the trophy this year.”

  “That’s nice, dear,” Mom said, “but Alan won’t be able to stand with you. Tell her why, Noel.”

  My dad came back from the fridge with a beer bottle for himself and glasses of wine for Mom and me. “Looks like I’ve been rehired.” He lifted the bottle in a toast, and we clinked glasses. “Sue-Anne had a change of heart and gave me the role back. I’d like Alan to be head toymaker again.”

  “Did you tell her what we saw in Muddle Harbor?” I said.

  “All this talk about secrets and how they fester in the dark got me thinking. I paid a call on Sue-Anne this afternoon and found her preparing for Thanksgiving dinner. Jim was not at home.”

  Mom snorted.

  “I laid it out straight,” Dad said. “I told Sue-Anne that everyone in town’s talking about her husband, but as far as I’m aware, no one actually knows anything; it’s all just gossip. The state of her marriage is none of my business, but Rudolph is. I said if she let Wayne influence her decisions as mayor because he had something on her, or she thinks he has, then she needs to deal with it, whatever it is, and deal with it now. Or Wayne’ll have it hanging over her for the remainder of her political career. And his demands will soon get a lot more damaging than wanting to play Santa Claus and having the biggest float in the parade.”

  “What did she say to that?”

  “She pretty much broke down and started to cry. She said she didn’t know what to do. She admitted that she and Jim were having some difficulties.”

  Mom snorted once again.

  “Sue-Anne said Wayne hadn’t actually blackmailed her, but he broadly hinted that he could make trouble for her with rumors about her husband if he wanted.”

  “Sounds like blackmail to me,” I said.

  “I then told her what we saw in Muddle Harbor earlier today, that Wayne himself isn’t entirely squeaky-clean. I also suggested that the story of Wayne choosing to take early retirement might not be the exact truth.”

  “How do you know that?” I said.

  “Russ Durham talked to me about it, and I made a few calls. I still have some contacts in the business world, Merry. My point is, if Sue-Anne needs my support, if Wayne Fitzroy tries to act against her, she has it.”

  “What are you going to do with that photo?” I asked. “The one you took at the motel.”

  “Unlike Wayne, I’m not a blackmailer, and I don’t intend to reduce myself to his level. I don’t care about Fitzroy, but his wife doesn’t deserve to be humiliated in public. I deleted the photo off my phone, but first I sent Sue-Anne a copy. If he attempts to smear her publicly, she’ll be in the position to fight back.” Dad grinned. “And so I have the job once again.”

  “Congratulations,” I said.

  “Which is somewhat ironic, as I’d decided I didn’t want to be Santa anymore. It’s time for someone else to take on the role, and now I’m stuck with it for another year. But Rudolph’s important, and as long as Sue-Anne’s the mayor of Rudolph, she has my help and support if she needs it.”

  “I’ll drink to that,” Mom said, and we clinked glasses once again.

  Mom and I took seats on the couch, and Dad wandered into the kitchen to check on dinner preparations—of which there was precious little.

  “One thing I’ve been thinking about,” I said in a low voice.

  “What’s that, dear?” Mom said.

  “Paul the Doll.”

  Her eyes opened wide. “I believe his name came up at one point last weekend. What about him?”

  “Just wondering. The women said you had a big thing for him. You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.”

  Mom laughed. “Noel! Merry’s asking me about Paul.”

  Dad came back, munching on a cracker. “Oh yes, Paul. I guess you and your friends talked about him over the weekend.”

  Paul the Doll was obviously no secret between my parents.

  “Paul was my boyfriend in college,” Mom said. “We called him Paul the Doll because he was not only incredibly handsome and a very nice man, but it was a play on his name.”

  “What’s he doing these days?” Dad said. “I sort of lost track of him after he got the second Oscar.”

  “Did he name his dogs Oscar?” I asked.

  Mom laughed again. Dad smiled at her, his warm blue eyes full of love. “He might have,” she said, “for all I know. No, he won two Academy Awards.”

  “Really?”

  “You might have heard of him,” Dad said. “Paul Dollheimer?”

  I gasped. “You mean the actor? The man who everyone called the next Robert Redford or Paul Newman? He was your boyfriend?”

  “For a while.” Mom patted her hair. “He was madly in love with me.” She returned my father’s smile. “But I always felt something was missing in our relationship. We broke up when I met your father. I knew that very day which of them was the man for me.”

  My parents were smiling at each other, so much so I felt like an outsider.

  No secrets there, and that was definitely a good thing.

  At that moment, the doorbell rang, and Mattie charged for the stairs.

  Chapter 29

  “We need more greenery.”

  “Any more greenery,” Alan said around a mouthful of nails, “you won’t be able to see anything but greenery.”

  “You can never have too many trees in a forest,” I replied.

  “Yes, you can.” He gave the wreath a tug, and it did not come free. He leapt off the flatbed. “We’re done here, Kyle.”

  Kyle Lambert put down his hammer.

  Jackie said, “Best-in-parade
trophy for sure.”

  I rubbed the top of Mattie’s head. While Kyle and Alan had been assembling the forest scene on what would be my float—stumps of birch to sit on, pine branches sticking out everywhere, wreaths on the pillars, and a couple of Christmas trees nailed to the floor—Jackie and I had put the finishing touches on the painted backdrop of a mountain scene. The kids in Mom’s classes who would sit on my float were going to dress in green and brown. I’d dispense with my normal Mrs. Claus getup and wear a dirndl dress with my fake spectacles and gray wig. Jackie refused to make herself a new costume, so I gave in and agreed to let her wear the turquoise and green elf costume. She was disappointed enough when told her presence on the Santa Claus float was no longer required.

  On my float, Mattie would be the star of the show. He’d sit on a platform in the center, surrounded by kids. Alan had rigged up a few pieces of cardboard to look like a wooden barrel, which we’d tie under the dog’s chin. He hadn’t looked entirely happy when we’d tried it out, but encouraged by praise and pats and a handful of dog treats, he gave in.

  The four of us, five including Mattie, stepped back and admired our handiwork.

  “A prizewinner for sure,” Alan said.

  “Best in show,” Jackie said.

  “Don’t jinx it,” I said. “I’m sure Vicky’s coming up with something even better.” Vicky had not been invited to help me with my float, nor I with hers. In this one thing only, we were rivals.