Death by Eggnog

by Alex Erickson

  Paul must have been thinking the same thing because he was suddenly on his feet, looking like he’d done something illegal. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled, brushing snow from his jeans.

  I lay there, panting, a moment longer, not quite able to catch my breath, before rising. My legs were shaky and I was cold through and through. Paul’s car was now blocking off the entire road, it having bumped out of the ditch and coasted into the oncoming lane. We were lucky it hadn’t rolled back and crushed us while we’d thrown snowballs at one another.

  I brushed myself off, but it was a futile exercise. My hair was thick with snow, nearly frozen into one solid lump. The only way it was going to come out was if it melted. Paul’s own hair was sticking straight up, snow making it look almost white in the light from my headlights.

  He started for his car and a sudden fear he’d get in and pull away without saying another word gripped me. I rushed forward and stopped him with a hand on his arm.

  “Don’t go. I’m sorry.”

  He glanced at me and flashed me those dimples of his. I swear the snow melted off me almost immediately as my entire body warmed. He really needed to stop doing that.

  “I need to get the car out of the middle of the road,” he said.

  “Oh.” This time I warmed with a flush. “We should get cleaned up,” I said, desperately needing to change the subject. “Do you want to stop by and have some coffee? You shouldn’t drive soaking wet.”

  Paul looked as if he might say no, but changed his mind. I think the way he was starting to shiver had more to do with it than anything else. “I’ll see you there.”

  I got back into my car, both jittery and freezing my tail off. I waited for Paul to get his car back onto the right side of the road, and then followed him the rest of the way to my house, wondering what I was thinking inviting him over in the first place. Sure, I hadn’t seen Will in what felt like forever, but that didn’t mean I needed to sate my loneliness with another man.

  Nothing is going to happen, I told myself, firmly. We were just two adults, needing to warm up and dry off. And while it might be Paul Dalton, there was nothing left between us. Whatever spark we’d once shared, had long ago faded. Or, at least, it was being dutifully ignored since we were both seeing other people. Well, I was. I wasn’t sure if he was still seeing Shannon or not. Their relationship had been rocky of late, which Shannon blamed on me.

  After what I’d just experienced, I was beginning to wonder if she might not be right.

  We reached my house without either of us losing control again. I got out and unlocked the front door. Paul knocked snow off his boots before following me into the kitchen. He gave Misfit, who was sitting on the island counter, a quick scratch behind the ears. The orange cat eyed him distrustfully for a moment before giving in and demanding Paul focus on his back.

  “I didn’t mean to drop in on you like this,” Paul said. “I was on my way home and thought I’d see how you were doing. I know you have a past with this Robert guy and . . .” He looked down at his feet and fell silent.

  “I’m fine,” I said, getting the coffee I’d promised him ready. I peeled off my coat and found I’d somehow gotten snow inside it. No wonder I hadn’t been able to warm up on the ride home. My shirt was soaked through, as were my pants. “We barely talk to each other anymore.”

  “I see.”

  I looked at him to find Paul was still staring at his feet. His cheeks were bright red, hair dripping wet. He was making a puddle where he stood. Come to think of it, so was I.

  “Be right back.” I hurried out of the kitchen and got into the closet for a couple of spare towels. I carried them back to the kitchen and handed one over.

  “Thanks.” Paul ran the towel through his hair, wiped off his face, and then placed it on the floor to stand upon it.

  It wasn’t until he was done that I realized I’d been standing there, watching him. I looked quickly away and did my best to dry off before filling two mugs with steaming hot coffee. I handed one over and took a sip, black, needing the heat more than I needed sugar.

  “Do you have any more suspects in Chuck’s murder?” I asked.

  Paul gave me a blank look before shaking his head. “I’m not really involved with this one,” he said. “Buchannan is handling everything with Officer Garrison. I’m not sure he wants me to be involved, to be honest.”

  I guess I wasn’t surprised. There always seemed to be a bit of competition between the two. “So, you have nothing to do with the case at all?”

  He shrugged. “If I’m needed, I’ll talk to some people, but I think Buchannan is pretty confident he has the right man locked up. I haven’t been asked to do much of anything.”

  I lifted my mug to my lips and muttered, “He didn’t do it.”

  “What was that?” Paul asked, setting his own mug aside.

  “I said, I don’t think he did it.”

  “Now, Krissy, just because you two have a past, doesn’t mean he’s innocent of the crime. People do bad things sometimes, even people we know.”

  “I know that,” I said, growing a little angry at the insinuation. “But I know him. Robert wouldn’t kill anyone. He’s a jerk, don’t get me wrong, but he’s not a killer.”

  Paul frowned at me and crossed his arms. His foot tapped on the towel, a clear indication he was waiting for me to go on.

  “Trust me,” I said. “You should look into it some more. Robert came upon the body after the man was murdered. He stepped in some blood, which was why his elf shoes were covered in it. Robert’s not too bright, so instead of letting someone know, he ran.”

  “And you know this how?”

  Hmm. If he was asking that, then it was unlikely anyone told him that Robert had been arrested at my house. “His girlfriend told me,” I said, deciding to play it safe.

  “Krissy, you can’t trust her word. People often lie to protect those they care about.”

  “I know that too. It’s just . . .” How to explain it to him without sounding like I was out investigating the murder behind his back? In the end, I simply shrugged. “I just know he didn’t do it.”

  Paul walked around the island counter, his wet boots squeaking on the linoleum. He hesitated a moment, and then pulled me into a damp hug. “I know this has to be hard on you. When I found out you knew the guy . . .” He left the rest unsaid.

  I let him hug me longer than I should, enjoying the warmth of him. And besides, if he thought I was acting the part of a distraught friend, then perhaps I could use it to my advantage.

  “I want to talk to him,” I said.

  “What?” Paul pulled back to look me in the eye.

  “I said I want to talk to Robert. I need to hear his explanation straight from his own two lips.”

  Paul stepped back, fully releasing me. It got suddenly colder in my kitchen. “I’m not so sure that’s a good idea.”

  “It’s not just for me,” I said. “Maybe if he sees me, he’ll confess. Or maybe he’ll be more willing to talk. He might say something that will help Buchannan with the case.” I lowered my voice, pleading. “Please, Paul. Just a couple of minutes. That’s all I’m asking for.”

  He sighed. “I’ll have to check with Chief to make sure it’s okay, but no one said he isn’t allowed visitors.” He raised a finger the moment I opened my mouth to thank him. “But it will be a monitored visit. You won’t be alone with him and I don’t want you milking him for information. You aren’t investigating this, right?”

  “Of course not.”

  He stared at me and I gave him my best innocent smile before he heaved another sigh. “Be there first thing tomorrow morning.” Paul picked up the towel, wiped away a few more small puddles of water, and then handed it over.

  “I’ll see you then,” I said.

  He nodded, looking mad at himself for caving.

  I walked Paul to the door and bid him a good night. There was a moment when I thought he might kiss me on the cheek, but he thought better of it and left witho
ut so much as a handshake. I watched him go, a strange sense of longing churned in my gut.

  Then again, maybe that was hunger.

  He got into his car as I closed the door. With a sigh of my own, I turned and headed back inside. I peeled my way out of my wet clothes, dried off completely, and then changed into something warmer before heading into the kitchen to find something more substantial than a cookie to eat.

  13

  Police Chief Patricia Dalton met me outside the station house the following morning. She was in full uniform, hat tipped back so the winter sun shone directly into her face. She was a short woman, yet seeing her now, she looked larger than life, kind of like a sheriff in an old cowboy movie. It might have been how the sun hit her wrinkled face, or simply how she was standing. Either way, it gave me a bad feeling.

  As I got out of my car, she squinted at me, a frown crossing her lips. “I’m not sure what you said to him, but I’ll be the first to say, I don’t like it.”

  I gave her my best innocent smile. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Uh-huh.” She sighed. “We put him in interrogation room one. Officer Dalton . . .” She trailed off, her frown growing. “Paul is going to be in the room with you the entire time.” She raised a hand when I started to protest. “No argument. This man is a murder suspect and I’m not going to leave you alone with him. We’re doing this not because we want you involved, but because he is allowed visitors and there is no reason not to let you talk to him.”

  Which I could tell wasn’t exactly true. I think she wanted me to talk to Robert, see if I could weasel anything out of him. If they haven’t charged him for murder yet, that meant they didn’t have enough evidence for a certain conviction.

  “Buchannan’s holding off on charging him then?” I asked.

  “Officer Buchannan wants to make sure he has all the facts before he commits. We can’t hold Mr. Dunhill much longer without charging him, which if nothing new crops up very soon, will happen in the next day or so. Once that happens, you’re not going to be allowed to talk to him, so you’d better get everything off your chest now.”

  “Okay,” I said. “Thank you.”

  Chief Dalton eyed me a moment longer, then took a step toward me. “Don’t make me regret this.”

  “Have I let you down before?”

  She snorted. “Depends on how you look at things, I suppose.”

  And with that, she turned and led the way into the police station.

  I followed her in, thankful she hadn’t rejected my request to see Robert outright. My relationship with the Pine Hills Police Department wasn’t exactly a loving one. Chief Dalton had once tried to set me up with her son, Paul, but that was before I started snooping into every murder that happened in town. Now, I don’t think she liked me very much, which made me sad. She was gruff sometimes, and wasn’t always trusting of me and my methods, but I liked her.

  I was worried Buchannan or Garrison would be waiting for me inside, but when I entered the station, I didn’t see either. I hoped they were out questioning other suspects, not just trying to pin the crime on Robert. I could see Buchannan forcing evidence to fit with Robert, just because I’d once dated him.

  But then again, he was a good cop. He might not like me all that much, but I doubted he’d intentionally ignore crucial evidence just to get at me.

  Chief Dalton led me down the hall to the door to interrogation room one, which to my knowledge, was the only interrogation room in the place. Paul was standing outside, arms crossed. As soon as I stopped in front of him, he put his hand on the doorknob, though he didn’t turn it right away.

  “You sure you want to do this?” he asked.

  “Positive.”

  His eyes flickered to his mom. She must have nodded from behind me because he sighed and pushed open the door. He led the way inside, waited for me to enter, and then closed the door behind us.

  The room was exactly as I remembered it. A table with plastic chairs around it sat in the middle of the room. A couch was against the wall, dartboard above it. I think the darts were still in the same places as when I was last inside the room, telling me they didn’t play it very much these days.

  All in all, the room was kind of cozy, which fit with the Pine Hills Police Department. The town wasn’t huge, and the police force reflected the laidback personality of Pine Hills. Sometimes, that was a good thing. Other times, it made things more challenging.

  Robert was sitting at the table, hands atop the wood. His wrists were bound with handcuffs, not the zip-strips the local police usually used when arresting someone. His head was drooped and his shoulders slumped in a way I’d never seen them before. He looked defeated, as if he had absolutely no hope of beating this thing. Was it a sign of guilt? Or, like many people in Pine Hills, did he not believe the police capable of solving a crime?

  “Robert,” I said, moving to the opposite side of the table. Paul remained by the door, watching.

  Robert lifted his head and glared at me. “This is all your fault, you know?”

  “Mine? You shouldn’t have run.”

  He snorted and lowered his gaze. “Why’s that, exactly? They would have stuck me in here if I would have stayed. At least running gave me a chance.”

  I sat down slowly. The plastic chair creaked and listed to one side. One of the little metal feet was missing, making the whole thing wobbly. Every subtle shift of my weight made the chair jerk alarmingly, but it was unlikely to collapse.

  “But it also made you look guilty,” I said. “I mean, what did you think you’d accomplish by hiding?”

  He shrugged, refused to meet my eye.

  I glanced at Paul before leaning forward and lowering my voice. I expected it would carry across the room, yet I hoped some of what I had to say would go unheard by anyone but Robert.

  “Trisha came to see me.”

  At his girlfriend’s name, Robert perked up. “Is she doing okay?”

  “She’s fine. I don’t think the police believe she had anything to do with the murder. I imagine they’ve talked to her by now and she’s told them her side of the story. As long as you are telling me the truth, it can only help.”

  He nodded, managed a weak smile. “She’ll collaborate my story.”

  “Do you mean corroborate?”

  “Whatever.”

  I bit back a not so nice response and said, “Trisha seems like a very nice person.”

  “She is.” Some of the old Robert came back in his smug grin. “Very nice.”

  I rolled my eyes, continued. “She asked me to help you. She said you didn’t kill Chuck, and I’m of the mind to believe her.”

  This time, the smugness was aimed at me. “See, I was right. You made a mistake calling the police on me. I’m here because of you. Do you know, they are calling me a flight risk? It’s why I haven’t been able to walk out of here already. If it wasn’t for your betrayal of my trust, I wouldn’t be in this situation.”

  “Hardly,” I said. “You ran, you pay the price.” And then, before he could say anything else to annoy me, I said, “I’m helping you not because I like you, but because I believe that if you are innocent, then the real killer needs to be caught. I want to make sure no one else gets hurt.”

  Robert smiled at me, and then winked, as if we were sharing some deep dark secret.

  “Robert, I’m serious.”

  “Okay, okay.” He glanced back at Paul and then sat back in his chair. He tried to cross his arms, but the handcuffs made that impossible, so he settled on dropping his hands into his lap. “If you want to help me so badly, then why are you here? Shouldn’t you be out there, catching the bad guy?”

  “I need some information from you,” I said, watching Paul to see how he’d react. Other than a brief tightening of his jaw, he showed no reaction to what was being said. “What can you tell me about Trisha?”

  Robert looked startled by the question. “Why do you want to know about her?” Then the grin returned. “Je
alous?”

  I started to stand. “If you can’t be serious . . .”

  Robert’s eyes widened and he sat forward. “No! Wait! I’m sorry.”

  I hesitated, and then sat. “I need to know more about her in case it becomes important somehow.”

  Robert let out a relieved breath. “I don’t see how it could be,” he said. “Trisha’s a good girl. She doesn’t have any enemies, if that’s what you are asking. Everyone likes her. And she had no reason to want Chuck dead, so . . .” He shrugged.

  “He had been hitting on her though, hadn’t he?”

  A tic under Robert’s eye jumped. “Yeah, there was that.” And then realizing how that must have sounded, he added, “It’s still no reason to want him dead.”

  “From what I gather, Chuck wasn’t the only one interested in Trisha.”

  “Brad Clusterman.” Robert’s nostrils flared. “I told you he did it.”

  “You also told me you’d never cheat on me, and well, we saw how that turned out.”

  Robert blushed. “Sorry about that.” He cleared his throat and leaned in closer. “Brad has wanted to date Trisha for like, forever. She says he used to stalk her when they were kids. He’d show up outside her house, offer to drive her to school, and then later, practices.”

  “So they went to school together?”

  “Yeah. He thinks that means they have a stronger connection than what she has with me.” He snorted a laugh like he thought the mere idea preposterous. “She told me how he was, how he still is. The guy’s a creep.”

  “Do you know why he would be so moody lately?”

  “He’s probably feeling remorse for what he did. Killing Chuck has only solidified Trisha’s and my commitment to one another.”

  I ignored that, lest I say something more about Robert’s ability to commit to anyone. “Do you know what Brad wanted with Chuck when he interrupted your fight the other day?”

  “He wanted to kill him, duh. The guy was the last person to see Chuck alive, right? He had to have done it.”