Holly and Homicide

by Leslie Caine

  I grabbed a second box and followed, noticing that Angie was heading toward the street, taking a diagonal path across the side yard. Strangely, she’d opted not to pull into the long driveway, or to park anywhere near the inn.

  Late that afternoon, Cameron dropped by. I spotted his car—a black Mercedes—from the stepladder. Ben had finished hanging the lights on the eaves of the highest roofs; I was contenting myself with the first- and second-floor windows in the front, skipping the porch roof to avoid violating the police cordoning. I watched Cam approach, noting the same purposeful stride I remembered from a decade ago. I was wrong about him looking exactly the same; he was even more handsome now. His thick, wavy brown hair was neatly styled and nearly as dark as his coat. He could have been a male model, but his aura was one of pure power. Heaven only knows how I’d once fooled myself into thinking I could actually keep up with the man. Life was too short to have to work that hard just to feel comfortable with someone.

  He gave me a full-wattage smile, his teeth white as the snow. “There she is, Erin Gilbert herself, up on a pedestal. The goddess of my dreams …and such a sight to behold.”

  His greeting was so over the top that I had to laugh. “Before you envision a Pantheon around me, notice that I’m standing on an aluminum stepladder, sticking a string of lights onto little hooks. Does that sound like goddess activity to you?”

  “Indeed not, Athena. Which is why I’ve come to sweep you away in my chariot. Can I give you a hand?”

  “No, actually, I was just finishing up. But thanks for offering.”

  “Even better! Come away with me. We’ll have an early dinner and get caught up a bit.”

  “Hang on a sec.” I fastened the last strand of lights, my calves and arms aching. As I came down the ladder, I said, “The first thing you need to know if you want to catch up with my life is that Steve Sullivan is not just my business partner.”

  “I realize that. It’s pretty obvious from the way he was looking at you. And glaring at me.” (I couldn’t help but smile; hard to say which man was really glaring at the other. Maybe it was simultaneous.) “Did my kiss last night cause any friction?”

  “A little, actually. But we’ll overcome it.”

  “Invite him to join us.” He spread his arms and said with a wink and a big grin, “Steve and I will be fast friends in no time. To know me is to love me.”

  “Your ego’s still intact, I see.”

  He laughed. “Always. I’m confident by nature. You have to be in my line of work.”

  “Which is what, exactly?” I gazed into his eyes. He was only a few inches taller than I. I’d sometimes wondered if he’d picked me out of the crowd strictly because he figured we’d make a tall, striking couple.

  “I’m Wendell Barton’s right-hand man. I handle the money problems and the employee problems, and hire people to handle the incidentals.”

  I turned my attention to collecting the boxes. Cameron picked up the ladder for me, and we started toward the shed. “Did you notice the police crime-scene tape in the front?” I asked.

  “Some workmen discovered human remains, right? I heard about that from Snowcap’s illustrious sheriff. That had to be a dumb prank.”

  “A bone and a skull. The sheriff has put an indefinite hold on rebuilding the steps.”

  “I wouldn’t worry about that. Even government bureaucracy can be edged along, if you know the right buttons to push.”

  “You’re going to bribe the sheriff?” I asked in dismay.

  “No way,” he said with a chuckle. “I know better than to cross that line. But I do know how to motivate individuals.”

  That was true. Cam had been a natural leader in college. I opened the door to the shed. He followed me inside. “The ladder goes right next to the door.” I continued on to the back shelf. He was standing by the door, watching me when I turned around.

  “And speaking of motivating individuals, you, my lovely Erin, are overdue for a sloe gin fizz.”

  I laughed. “I haven’t had one of those in over ten years!”

  “Not since the days of your fake ID. My point exactly. It’d be hard to get more overdue than that!”

  “I’ve moved on, Cameron. Which is why I can’t agree to join you till I talk to Steve about it.” Who, I realized, was still not here. “Excuse me for a moment.” I locked up the shed, then dialed Steve’s cell phone.

  “Erin,” he answered immediately. “Sorry I’m late, hon. There was a massive pileup on I-Seventy, according to the radio. I’m waiting till it clears and still haven’t left Crestview.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that. Cameron’s here and wanted to know if he could take us both out to an early dinner.”

  There was a pause. I couldn’t tell if the crackling noise was from the faulty connection or Steve grinding his teeth. “Go ahead. No sense in your missing out. Plus I’m sure he’s standing right there.”

  “Yeah.” I didn’t want to clue Cameron in to the fact that Steve had given me a green light till I was sure that he really meant it. “Okay. No problem. We’ll all just do this another night.”

  “No, you and Cameron will go now, and you’ll feel all nostalgic and revel in old times. Then afterward, you’ll remember that you’ve been there and done that, and that what you have now with me is better.”

  I smiled, falling in love with Steve all over again. “That’s certainly true.”

  “Yeah, I know. That’s why I said it.”

  “I love you, Steve.”

  “Love you, too. Have a horrible time tonight.”

  “Okay. I will.”

  “See you in a couple of hours.” He hung up before I could reply.

  “Let me guess,” Cameron said when I pocketed my cell phone and looked at him. “He’s giving you plenty of rope in the hopes that you’ll strangle me with it.”

  “Something like that.”

  He took my arm and started leading me to his car. “It’s like I told you earlier. I know individuals and how they tick. I’ll take you to my favorite place, run by a couple of Aussies who can pull a wonderful pint …and can mix up a first-rate sloe gin fizz, as well. Are you still lousy at darts?”

  “Unless a ten-year layoff has worked its magic.”

  “Perfect! The one thing I could always beat you at. I rule!”

  Despite our handicap system that gave me a point just for hitting the dartboard, Cameron beat me, which, in actuality, had been our general pattern and was in no way confined to just darts. He was exciting and dynamic, and our every minute together reminded me of how it felt a decade ago to be the center of such a force of nature, when he’d had me convinced that absolutely anything was possible. That is, right up until he’d left for London, and my mom slowly died from lung disease, and I found myself alone when I most needed comfort and support. One night, I’d called to tell him so. The woman’s voice with the ever-so-cultured accent who’d answered his phone was burned into my memory banks.

  Strangely, I learned very little about his personal life tonight; he claimed he’d been “too busy” to date much, and that I was “too tough of an act for any woman to follow.” Flattering, but a load of nonsense.

  I looked at my watch and realized we’d been gone for more than two hours. Maybe Steve was at the inn by now.

  Cameron searched my features. “Has our carriage turned back into a pumpkin?”

  I hesitated. “This has been great fun, Cam, but I need to get back.”

  He rolled his eyes and grumbled, “To Steve, aka the love of your life.”

  “Yes, actually.” It was time for me to step out of the vortex and back into Steve’s arms.

  “Well, okay, then. Let’s go.”

  We made small talk during the short drive, admiring the lights as we slowly passed the house. Cameron drove me around to the back. Sullivan’s van was still nowhere to be seen.

  “We’ll do this again as a threesome, with your lucky guy. I hope he’s good enough to deserve you.” “He is.”

 
“I’ll take your word for it.” He gave me one of his winning smiles.

  “Right. Good night. Thanks, Cam.” I got out and, before shutting my door, asked, “Are you coming by the inn tomorrow?”

  “Absolutely. Got to keep things hopping. It’s my job. See you then.” I watched as he drove away, feeling a touch of sadness, though I didn’t know why.

  I started toward the door, and gasped as I spotted a man at the corner of the house, his flashlight beam darting along the ground as he walked. I stared until I recognized him. “Henry. You startled me.”

  “Sorry, Erin. I was just checking the fuses. The lights on the bridge aren’t working.”

  I glanced in that direction. “That’s odd. They were working earlier. I remember checking them.”

  “The fuses are all good, though. Something probably got unplugged. I’ll fix it now.”

  A gust of chilly air hit me, which felt like an omen. My stomach was instantly in knots. The reaction was silly, I knew, but even so, I was worried at the thought of Henry going alone. Henry had taken a couple of steps, his boots crunching through the icy snow.

  “Wait. I’ll join you.”

  Henry pulled up his collar against the wind. There was an awkward pause as we headed down the hill. “Cold out tonight,” he muttered.

  “Yes, it is.”

  We slipped into silence, our trudging boots the only sound. He had to be curious at how Cameron had dropped me off just now and Steve had been gone all day. Finally, Henry said, “The place is starting to look real nice. You and Steve are doing a great job.”

  “Thanks. I’m really—”

  By the beam of Henry’s flashlight, I spotted a dark shape near the foot of the bridge. Henry spotted it, too, and cursed under his breath. “Go back to the house, Erin.”

  “No.”

  I hurried my step. There was enough light for me to see that someone in a dark coat was lying facedown in the snow, and the sight terrified me. Wordlessly, both Henry and I broke into a run. Henry reached the foot of the bridge a step before me and grabbed the person’s shoulder.

  “Oh, my god. Angie?” Henry cried. He rolled her onto her back. Angie was motionless—and lifeless. She’d been strangled with a string of lights that had been yanked off its hooks.

  Chapter 7

  This is Erin Gilbert,” I said to the 911 dispatcher, my words coming out in a mindless rush. “There’s been a murder at the Goodwin estate in Snowcap Village. I’m here with Henry Goodwin, and we found Angie Woolf’s body. Outside by the creek.”

  She said something, but I only caught a couple of syllables.

  “Your voice is breaking up. What?”

  “Are you two the only ones there on the premises?”

  “No. But we’re the only ones outside. I think.”

  She said something that sounded like: “Stay where you are. You’ll be hearing the sirens soon.”

  Henry had already walked a short distance up the hill, partway back toward the house. I followed and told him, “The dispatcher says we’re supposed to wait where we are.”

  He stopped. “I’ll watch for the police vehicles from here.”

  The dispatcher said something else, but our weak connection failed completely. I hung up and stuck my cell phone in my coat pocket. Filled with dread, I kept an eye on the house, watching for familiar silhouettes in the window. Cameron and I had been gone for a couple of hours; maybe Angie wasn’t the only victim.

  Henry was popping Tic Tacs in his mouth every few seconds, pacing three or four steps and then turning—like an animal in a small cage.

  “Henry, how long were you outside before I arrived?”

  “I can’t—What?”

  “How long has it been since you were inside?”

  “I don’t know. Ten, fifteen minutes.”

  “Are you sure Audrey’s all right?”

  “Yeah. She’s fine, Erin. We’d just spoken as I headed out the door. She was with Mikara.”

  “Mikara has no idea that her sister’s dead.”

  “Oh, God.” He put his hand to his head. “That’s right! I didn’t … this was such a shock, I didn’t think of that. Damn it! I need to go tell her now, so that …” He let his voice fade as sirens cut through the wintry silence.

  A small chartreuse ambulance, with lights flashing, pulled into the circular portion of the driveway behind the inn. A pair of EMT’s emerged. Seconds later Audrey and Mikara burst through the back door, donning their coats as they ran toward us.

  “Erin?” Audrey called. “Is that you? What’s wrong? What’s going on?”

  “There was an accident … down by the creek,” I called back.

  “Are you hurt?” Mikara cried.

  “No.”

  “Is Henry?”

  One of the paramedics hustled them back inside as the other approached Henry and me. I couldn’t overhear what was being said to Mikara. Was he telling her about her sister? Henry spoke to the second EMT and started to lead him to Angie’s body, but the EMT flicked on his powerful flashlight and told us both to wait for the police where we were. I watched from a distance as he checked Angie’s vitals, which I knew was pointless.

  A patrol car arrived. Two sheriff deputies emerged and quickly separated us; one led Henry into the patrol car and one stayed with me on the high point of the path that led down to Angie’s body. The deputy took my name, birth date, address, and phone before asking me what had happened. Shivering uncontrollably despite my warm parka, I told him that I’d gone to the pub for about two and a half hours with Cameron, and had returned and spotted Henry. Then I described our grim discovery.

  A crunch of car tires on gravel distracted me, and I recognized the headlights of Steve’s van. He abandoned his car in the middle of the parking area. Another vehicle pulled into the driveway behind him—a second patrol car.

  “Erin, are you okay?” Steve started to trot toward me.

  “Yeah, I’m—”

  “Halt!” an amplified voice boomed at us. Sheriff Mackey got out of the passenger side of the patrol car and was using a police bullhorn. “Stay right there!”

  This was probably the first murder case Sergeant Mackey had ever been charged with investigating. There was no chance that he’d prove to be up to the task.

  “It’s all right, Greg,” one of the EMT’s called back to Mackey. “That’s just her boyfriend.”

  Jeez! This town really was gossip central!

  “That may be so,” Mackey retorted into the bullhorn, “but he’s not allowed onto the crime scene.”

  “What’s going on?!” Steve demanded.

  I watched the back door; Mikara was still inside and couldn’t possibly overhear me. “Angie Woolf was murdered,” I called back. “Down by the bridge. Someone strangled her with a string of Christmas lights.”

  Steve was still standing on the edge of the parking area. I could tell how perturbed he was by his stance and balled fists, though it was too dark to see his features.

  “Look, Sheriff,” Steve said. “I haven’t been here all day, so I’ve got no idea of what happened. All I want to do is go talk to my partner. Can I please go do that?”

  “No, sir, you cannot,” Mackey retorted. “You can wait in your vehicle, or you can wait in the house.”

  “Steve, I’ll talk to you soon,” I shouted, waving at him.

  “I’ll wait in my car,” he called back to me.

  “Silence!” Mackey said, again using his horn. Steve returned to his van and closed the door.

  “There’s really no need for the bullhorn, Greg,” Henry said, emerging from the passenger side of the patrol car. He slammed his door shut. “We can all hear you just fine.”

  “That so, Goodwin?” Mackey said, his amplified voice, if anything, a notch louder.

  “Yeah, that’s so! I’m still the mayor, and I appropriate the police budget, including the equipment that you’re now misusing! I’d rethink your attitude, if I were you.”

  Raising his bullhorn once agai
n, the sheriff announced, “I am in charge of this murder investigation, Mr. Mayor, and you are one of my suspects!” He chucked his bullhorn into his car.

  “Suspects?!” Mikara shrieked, suddenly standing in the doorway. “The paramedic won’t tell us who’s been hurt! Who’s the victim? What the hell is going on?!”

  “I’m so sorry, Mikara,” Mackey said, his voice kind. “Just go back inside, and I’ll explain everything in a minute or two.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean … you’re ‘so sorry’? Last time you said that to me was when my dad had his—his heart attack.”

  “Just … go back inside,” Mackey repeated sadly. “Please. I’ll be in as soon as I look at the crime scene.”

  “Oh, my god!” Mikara cried. “Something must have happened to Angie, didn’t it?” She started trotting down the path.

  “Wait!” Mackey started to follow her.

  “No! I need to see my sister!”

  “You can’t!” Mackey slowed his pace. “Stop! We have to keep everyone away. There are footprints in the snow. You could destroy the evidence without even realizing it.”

  Mikara hesitated, but only for a moment. She tried to rush past us down the shoveled path to the creek. The deputy closest to me grabbed her arm.

  “Come on, Mikara,” he said. “Let’s go back to the house. I know how hard this is, but you—”

  “Don’t tell me that!” She yanked free of his grasp. “Don’t you dare tell me you know the first thing about how hard this is! Have you ever had your only sister get murdered?!”

  Henry headed toward us down the path, past Mackey and one of the deputies. “Henry!” Mackey shouted. “You need to stay right where you are, or—”

  “Shut up, Greg,” Henry growled. “You folks can go do whatever you need to do. I need to show some kindness. Nobody else is. You got a problem with that, you can come handcuff me and haul me away.”

  Henry kept walking, and nobody made a move to stop him. He gently pulled Mikara into his arms, where she promptly broke into wracking sobs. It was excruciatingly difficult to hear someone in such agony, and it brought back painful memories of the losses in my own life.