How the Finch Stole Christmas

by J. R. Ripley

  “What?” Jerry yelled from across the room.

  I waved him back over. “Don’t those look like threads of hemp?” I bent low to the ground.

  Jerry hovered over me. “So?”

  “So what are they doing here?” I twisted my neck and looked up at the chief. “Aren’t those strands from the same hemp rope that Franklin Finch used to hang himself?”

  Jerry’s left eyelid twitched. He put his hand on my shoulder. “Out of the way, Simms.” He pulled me up. “And don’t touch anything.”

  Jerry pushed me aside and snapped his fingers. “Larry!”

  Office Reynolds looked over. “Yes, Chief?”

  “Get a photograph of this.” Jerry chewed his lips a moment.

  “What for, Chief? It’s cut-and-dried, isn’t it?”

  “To shut Simms up,” Jerry growled, and Officer Reynolds chuckled. The chief gave Kim a long, hard look. “Ms. Christy?”

  “Yes?” For the first time in her life, I didn’t hear Kim call him Jerry—which was usually done with a touch of disdain and loathing.

  “I’ll have to ask you to come down to the station and answer some questions.”

  She nodded.

  “I’ll take her.” Dan stepped over and placed his arm gently across her back.

  “No,” Jerry countered. “Let’s have Officer Pratt do it. You can relieve him downstairs.”

  With Dan and Kim dating, Jerry clearly wanted to maintain a certain professionalism. Not that there was any need to when it came to Kim in the current situation—even Jerry had to realize that she’d had nothing to do with Franklin Finch’s demise. Whether that demise had been of his own doing or someone else’s remained unclear to me, and I hoped it did to Jerry also.

  Dan and Kim locked eyes. Dan opened his mouth, no doubt to protest, but Kim spoke. “It’s okay, Dan.” She extricated herself from his arm. “You go. I’ll be fine.” She forced a tiny smile. “I’ll talk to you later.”

  Dan shrugged helplessly and headed out the door as Derek was coming in.

  “Derek!” I called to him and hurried over, dragging Kim with me. “What are you doing here? You must be freezing?” He wore a flannel shirt over a white T-shirt and blue jeans. “Where’s your coat?”

  “I was in such a hurry, I forgot it.” Derek rubbed his arms. “I heard all the commotion. First it was the sirens and squealing tires. Then I looked out the window and saw all the lights—and I’m not talking Christmas, I’m talking police cars, a fire truck, and an ambulance!”

  Derek ran a hand over the side of his head. “I figured it had to be you.”

  I pulled a face but held my tongue.

  “I’ve been waiting downstairs, trying to get past the officer down there.” Derek looked past me and Kim to the now-shrouded body. “What the—?”

  “It’s Franklin Finch,” I explained. Kim was squeezing my hand so hard I thought she’d break a bone or two, but I didn’t have the heart to ask her to stop.

  “The man hung himself,” Jerry said, clearing us out of the path of the EMTs as they carted the dead man from the room.

  “Maybe,” I replied.

  Derek’s brow went up. “Maybe?”

  “Maybe he did and maybe he didn’t.” I locked my eyes on Jerry. “There are some unusual circumstances.”

  “Such as?” Derek asked.

  “Such as this is a police investigation and I’m asking you all to leave.” Jerry shooed us toward the door and down the stairs.

  We exited onto the cold front porch.

  “Don’t you go anywhere, Ms. Christy,” the chief ordered. “Officer Pratt will give you a ride to the station. I’ll be there shortly to take your statement.”

  “Come on, Jerry,” I pleaded. “Can’t you see how upset she is? Can’t it wait until tomorrow?”

  “That sounds like a good idea to me, Chief.” Derek draped an arm over Kim’s shoulder. “I promise my client will be in first thing tomorrow.”

  The chief opened his mouth—no doubt to protest—but Derek wasn’t giving him the chance. “It will give you and your team more time to secure the scene and make a preliminary determination as to Mr. Finch’s cause of death, right, Chief?”

  I could practically see Jerry’s mind turning. “Right, Counselor,” Jerry agreed rather sourly.

  As we moved along the sidewalk toward the street, I noticed a faint red glow coming from the far end of the porch of the Christmas house across the way.

  If I wasn’t mistaken, the lurking figure was Max, the young security guard, with a lit cigarette dangling from the fingers of his left hand.

  8

  Kim was in no shape to be alone and had spent the night at my house, sleeping on the sofa. After breakfast with my mom, we went downstairs to wait for Derek. He had promised to come by and drive her to the police station so she could make her written statement.

  Because I had driven Kim to our house in my minivan, Derek would be driving Kim’s car over from Christmas House Village and she would give him a ride back to his office when they were finished at the police station. We were waiting for him to arrive.

  “Hello,” I called, my hand sweeping along the stair rail. “Esther, are you here?”

  “In the kitchen,” I heard her reply.

  The kitchen was a small kitchenette in the right-hand corner of the store where we kept coffee, tea, and snacks for the customers. It was a cozy nook where they could rest, eat, and read about birds and other wildlife from the small library of books and magazines provided.

  It was a few minutes until the store opened. I looked out the front window. There was no sign of Derek, or Kim’s car. A half dozen grackles, black with iridescent purple-blue heads, had settled on the lawn. A lone downy woodpecker nibbled at a suet cake hanging in a suet cage off the front eave.

  “We have a few minutes,” I said, taking Kim’s hand. “How about another cup of coffee for the road?”

  Kim nodded. Her face was drawn and she hadn’t bothered with makeup. She’d slept in a pair of my pajamas and was now wearing the clothes she’d had on the previous night. She’d barely managed a word at the breakfast table and had eaten a mere half slice of wheat toast. I was worried about her.

  Derek was going to drop her off at her place before they went down to the police station, so she could change into some fresh clothes.

  We found Esther seated at one of the two rocking chairs near the bookshelves, a coffee mug on her lap and a fresh pot of coffee on the counter. Her store apron rested over the arm of her chair.

  “Good morning, Esther,” I said, moving to the counter and grabbing a couple of mugs from the cup tree.

  Kim settled into the chair beside Esther.

  “You two look terrible,” Esther quipped, her eyes on Kim. “Who died?”

  Kim began bawling and covered her face with her hands.

  “Esther, look what you’ve done!” I said, handing Kim her coffee.

  “What did I do?”

  I put my arm around Kim. “I’m sorry, Esther. You didn’t do anything.”

  “It’s me,” Kim moaned miserably. “I did something.”

  Esther’s normally wrinkled brow wrinkled even further as she peered at Kim. “What did you do?”

  “I-I killed Franklin Finch.”

  Esther leaned back and rocked faster. “That miserable man who bought Christmas House Village and put half the town out of work?”

  Kim nodded.

  “Good for you!” Esther slapped her knees. “Maybe there will be a Christmas after all,” she added with a big, toothy smile on face. She leaned toward Kim. “How did you do it? Arsenic?”

  “Esther!” I admonished her.

  “What? I’m just asking.”

  “He hanged himself, if you must know,” I said. “Maybe.” The whole grisly scene still struck me as suspiciou
s, and I’d barely slept a wink for thinking of it. I was dying to know what the police and coroner had to say.

  Kim focused on her black coffee.

  Esther drew in a breath and made the sign of the cross. She had applied far too much red blush and her cheeks glowed like Rudolph the reindeer’s nose. I was pretty sure those delicate hairs scattered about her navy dress had come from a cat, but I decided now was not the time to bring the matter up.

  Cats are a no-no at Birds & Bees. I have a severe cat allergy. Esther, I was certain, had a cat, though she refused to fess up to the fact. I had yet to catch her . . . but it was only a matter of time.

  There was a rap at the front door.

  “It sounds like we have a customer.” Esther looked at her watch. “Time to open.”

  I set down my drink. “I’ll come, too. That could be Derek.”

  Kim walked with us to the front door.

  Derek waved from the other side of the glass and I let him in. I felt the cold tip of his nose on my cheek as he kissed me.

  “How are all you lovely ladies this morning?” Derek asked with a grin. He was in his lawyering clothes, as I liked to call them, a sharp three-piece gray suit. Stylish black boots and a black peacoat completed the outfit.

  Esther giggled as she attached her precious painted enamel cloisonné pin to the strap of her apron. It was shaped like a green parrot. Its gold lettering read: Esther Pilaster, Asst. Manager. The pin had been a gift to her from my mother—so had the assistant manager title.

  The way she puffed out her chest like a male frigate bird in mating season every time she put it on, you’d think it was the Presidential Medal of Freedom.

  “Do you have time for some coffee or tea?” I asked.

  Derek shook his head. “We should get going. Especially if Kim wants to stop at her place first.”

  Kim pulled at her unruly hair. “Definitely. I am not going down to the police station looking like this.”

  I didn’t blame her. Dan Sutton would likely be there, too. Kim couldn’t be feeling too bad if she was concerned about her looks. That was a good sign.

  “Okay,” I said. “I don’t suppose you’ve heard anything?”

  “From the police?” Derek said. “Not a thing.” He grabbed Kim’s long coat from the rack and handed it to her. “Christmas House Village appeared to be open, though.”

  “It is? How is that possible? I mean, isn’t it a crime scene?”

  Derek shrugged. “If there’s a crime scene at all, it’s only the apartment where Franklin Finch died. You can’t blame the owner of Christmas House Village for wanting to remain open. It is the height of the Christmas season.”

  “With this Finch fella dead, who is the owner?” Esther inquired.

  We all looked at one another. None of us had any idea and said so.

  “Ellery Belzer told me that Finch was divorced. I don’t recall him mentioning if there were any children,” I said.

  “That’s right,” Kim said.

  “Well, whatever the case, it’s open and business is booming,” said Derek. “Looking out my window this morning, I could see more people than ever wandering around.”

  “It’s all the curiosity seekers,” Esther speculated. “They’re probably wanting to see where it happened.”

  “That’s morbid,” I countered. Esther merely shrugged. Kim had remained unnaturally quiet.

  “If it’s morbid,” Derek said, as he pulled open the door for Kim, “then even our dear mayor has a sick streak.”

  “Mayor MacDonald was there?” I asked.

  Derek nodded. “Yep. Him and Dave Arbon.”

  I turned the Closed sign to Open. “Dave Arbon?”

  “He’s the chairman of the Ruby Lake planning and zoning commission. I met him at a business luncheon some time back.”

  “What about the employees who’ve been protesting outside Christmas House Village?” Kim asked.

  Derek cocked his head. “Now that you mention it, I don’t recall seeing them. I guess they don’t feel right protesting when the man they are protesting is dead.”

  Derek waved goodbye and promised to take care of Kim as they left Birds & Bees.

  I had business of my own to attend to. Franklin Finch’s death was troubling enough, but my best friend’s pangs of guilt over her imagined part in it were all the more so.

  Depression could drive people to do crazy things. I hoped that wouldn’t happen to her, but if it did, I hoped it would be something that she would live to regret.

  Anything else was too horrible to contemplate.

  9

  “Tell Mom I’ll be back later to take her to her hair appointment with Rhonda,” I instructed Esther.

  “Where are you off to?”

  “Christmas House Village,” I explained.

  “But I haven’t even given you my Christmas wish-list yet,” Esther said with a twinkle in her eye.

  “Very funny. It’s not buying that I have in mind. It’s selling.”

  “Oh?”

  “I’m going to do what I failed to do before.” I grabbed my coat off the hook and threw it on. “I’m going to convince them to take those birdseed ornaments.”

  “They already said no.”

  “They haven’t said no to taking them at cost.”

  “Are you crazy?”

  I shrugged. “It’s better than losing all the money we’ve put into them, right?”

  “If you say so.”

  “I say so.” I wriggled into my gloves. “Don’t forget to tell Mom I’ll be back in plenty of time. You’re in charge!” I called, scooting out the back door.

  “I know that!” Esther replied.

  I frowned as I went to my minivan. If I wasn’t careful, Birds & Bees would have a new manager—and it wouldn’t be me.

  * * * *

  Derek was right. Business was brisk at Finch’s Christmas House Village. Though how long it would remain Finch’s, I had no idea.

  I strode purposefully to Elf House and marched up to the second floor. A young man and woman, both dressed in matching elf outfits replete with green and red caps with gold bells, were focused on assisting customers and paid me no attention.

  The office door stood open. The surprise on my face as I peered inside must have been evident because it was the former manager, Eve Dunnellon who spoke first.

  “Hi, Amy. Come on in.” She beckoned me with her hand. “Surprised to see me?”

  “I’ll say.”

  Eve chuckled. “Have a seat. I’ll fill you in.” Eve Dunnellon was a plump, large-bosomed woman with a shock of ash-blond hair that swept over her head from left to right. I knew it wasn’t her natural color because Cousin Rhonda was her stylist-slash-colorist at Spring Beauty, a local hair salon.

  I took the proffered chair. The second chair was still piled high with beige file folders. “Please do.”

  “Believe me, I’m as surprised to be here as you are to see me.” She tugged at a single pearl hanging on a gold chain around her neck.

  With her long, pointy nose and raspberry-red dress, she reminded me of a male purple finch. The confusing name, like so many others, is derived from the Latin purpureus, which essentially means crimson. When it came to naming and identifying birds, science and reality didn’t always align, in my opinion.

  “Congratulations. How did it happen?”

  Eve placed her elbows on the desk and folded her hands together. “I’d barely gotten out of bed when I got the call.”

  “The call?”

  “Yes, telling me about Franklin Finch’s demise and asking that I fill in immediately.”

  I nodded toward her right arm, which was covered in a flesh-colored bandage. “What happened?”

  “This? It’s nothing.” Eve Dunnellon raised her arm and turned it slowly. “It’s merely a spr
ain. That’s what I get for taking the trash out in three-inch heels. Trust me, I’ll never do that again.”

  “So you got your old job back?”

  Eve settled herself behind the big desk. Her hand went to a stack of papers. “Temporarily, at least. I have no idea what the new owner will do. Even if the job is only for a month or two, I couldn’t afford to say no.”

  “Who is the new owner?”

  Eve looked up at me. “Franklin’s widow, I imagine. I haven’t actually been told.”

  “If you don’t mind my asking, who hired you back?”

  Eve smiled. “I don’t mind at all. I received a call from an attorney in New York, a Mr. Silbert. He said he’d handled the sale of Kinley’s for his buyer, Franklin Finch. Apparently, Franklin left his estate to his ex-wife.”

  “That’s odd.”

  Eve shrugged. “Tell me about it. My ex wouldn’t leave me a single cent. I can tell you that. Of course, it could be that Franklin simply had not had time to change his will.”

  “Have you met his ex-wife?”

  “Nope. Mr. Silbert said she was in New York, and as far as I’m concerned, she can stay there.” Eve Dunnellon grinned at me. “Maybe that way, she’ll let me keep my job.”

  “After everything that’s happened, you still like it here?”

  “What’s not to like?” Eve replied. “It’s Christmas every day.”

  I hated to quibble with her but couldn’t help thinking about my conversation with Franklin Finch. Christmas had meant nothing more to him than a chance to make a buck or two. “You have worked here a long time, haven’t you?”

  “Nearly ten years. And I loved every minute of it—up until the sale, that is.”

  “I can understand that, considering how Finch fired you.”

  “Yeah, can you believe it? He wasn’t here ten days when he canned me.” Her gaze drifted off into space. “Franklin used me. I showed him the ropes, then he cut me loose.”

  My brow inched up. Had she meant the rope reference?

  Eve waved a dismissing hand. “But that’s enough about that. I admit, the sale came as a complete surprise. But Finch taking over was just the last in a long line of things going wrong around here.”