Death by Eggnog

by Alex Erickson

  Knowing I wasn’t going to get any real information on Brad, other than the mostly groundless accusations Robert was throwing around, I moved on. “What about the director, Lawrence?”

  “What about him? Dude’s cool enough, I suppose. Kinda mean when things don’t go his way, but he’s never yelled at me.” He puffed out his chest. “I’m going to be a star, he says.”

  I ignored that, too. “Do you know why he would be seen exchanging an envelope with Randy Winter?”

  Robert frowned. “That’s the drunk Santa guy, right?”

  I nodded in affirmation.

  “No, that’s not right. Those two hate each other.”

  “I have a reliable source that says otherwise.”

  “Can’t be.” Robert shook his head and sat back. “Randy took a swing at Lawrence one practice. Knocked the d-man on his ass.”

  “Do you know why?”

  He shrugged. “Probably because he was still whining about losing his job as Santa. Said it was Lawrence’s fault, that if he hadn’t walked in on him some night, then none of this would have happened.”

  “Wait. What night? Seen him doing what?”

  “Beats me. They were yelling at each other in the parking lot on the second day of practice. Trisha and I showed up late and saw it all go down. No one else was out there, and since that Randy guy left immediately after, I didn’t think nothing more of it.” He paused. “You think it could mean something?”

  Did I? How did Randy and Lawrence go from fistfighting to Randy getting his role back and everything seeming hunky dory between them? Did it have to do with that envelope? What was it Lawrence had seen that had caused the other man to lose his job? I’d always assumed it had to do with the drinking, but could there be another reason the two didn’t get along?

  I stood and stepped back from the table. Robert’s eyes widened and he himself started to rise, but Paul cleared his throat, so he sat right back down.

  “Don’t leave me,” he said, panicked. “I can’t stay here much longer.”

  “I’ll come back if I learn anything more,” I told him, keeping my voice low. “Stay strong.” I reached out, hesitated, and then patted Robert awkwardly on the arm. He looked surprised by the gesture, almost as much as I was.

  I hurried away and went to the door. “I’m done here for now,” I said.

  Paul opened the door for me and followed me out into the hall. When I tried to keep walking, he stopped me with a hand on my arm.

  “Krissy, wait.” He waited until I turned before saying, “About last night . . .”

  “What about it?” I asked, warmth making my toes tingle.

  “I . . . I shouldn’t have . . .” He shook his head.

  “It’s fine. We had a little snowball fight. Nothing more. I think we both needed the stress relief.”

  He looked me in the eyes for a long moment before nodding. “Now, about what he said in there . . .”

  “What do you mean?” I asked, all innocence.

  “You don’t think he did it.”

  I shrugged, noncommittal. “It’s not for me to decide. If I were to guess, I’d say no.”

  “And what was all that about two people getting into a fight?”

  “It might not mean anything,” I said. “I’m sure Buchannan is all over it.” Actually, I wasn’t sure anyone else knew about it, which made it unlikely Buchannan was asking the right questions. But who was I to tell him? If I were to try to tell Buchannan who to talk to, what to do, he’d likely do the exact opposite, just to spite me.

  “You’ll stay out of trouble, won’t you?” Paul asked. “I can fill Buchannan in on what little I overheard in there. There’s no reason for you to involve yourself.”

  “Don’t worry about me,” I said. “I’m focusing on the play. If I hear anything that might help, I’ll be sure to let you or Buchannan know, but I won’t go looking for it.” I hoped he didn’t see my fingers cross.

  Paul looked doubtful, but nodded. His hand left my arm and I was surprised to realize it had been there the entire time. I was far too comfortable with him touching me, and I wasn’t sure I liked it. I was with Will, a man who had everything a woman could want.

  But where is he now?

  I left the station, feeling guilty, and needing to talk to Will in the worst way. Calling him was out of the question—he was working and wouldn’t answer his phone.

  But if I made a quick little stop at his practice, he’d have to see me, wouldn’t he?

  I got into my car, started it up, and with my mind squarely on the man who should be number one in my life, I drove away, determined to lay my guilt to rest once and for all.

  14

  Butterflies swirled in my stomach as I made my way to the door of Will’s practice. I was so nervous, I felt like I was on a first date rather than visiting a man I’ve been dating for months. The lack of communication between Will and I as of late had me worried there was more going on than simple scheduling. It was a miracle I’d even landed him in the first place, considering my usual track record with men. Exhibit A: Robert.

  Nurse Bea sat at the front desk when I came in. The eighty-year-old woman looked at me over her bifocals and scowled. She knew I wasn’t there for an appointment, and clearly disapproved of my arrival. I smiled at her as I walked up to the desk.

  “I need to speak with Doctor Foster for just one minute, please.”

  “He’s busy.”

  “I know.” I glanced around the waiting room. Besides me, there were only two other people here. “It’ll only take a couple of minutes. I promise.”

  Bea stared at me, expression locked in an annoyed scowl. I stared right back, smiling away like I didn’t notice. The desk nurse was always like this when I came in, even when I had an appointment. I hoped we’d eventually call a truce since I planned on spending quite a lot of time around Will in the future, and my own doctor worked here.

  Finally, Bea heaved a sigh. “Fine,” she huffed. “Take a seat and I’ll let him know you’re here. I can’t promise he’ll be able to see you right away, so you could end up waiting a while.”

  “That’s fine, thank you.”

  Bea turned away and picked up a phone. I took it as a dismissal and found a seat.

  I was hoping Will wouldn’t be mad at me for showing up unannounced. The only time I ever came here was when I needed to see my doctor, Paige Lipmon. I knew Will’s friends, Carl and Darrin, worked here with him, but I had yet to see either of them. They all put in time at the hospital the next town over as well as keeping hours here at their own practice, so maybe I just timed my visits wrong.

  The door opened and I started to rise, but it was only a nurse. He called for “Jeremiah,” and a middle-aged man who was sitting next to me rose and followed the nurse into the back. That left me with a heavyset girl who was busy swiping furiously at her phone. It was kind of hypnotic to watch, and was far more interesting to watch than the muted Fox News on the TV.

  Of course, watching someone play Pokémon Go! could only hold my interest for so long. After only a few minutes, I removed my own phone, but instead of clicking on the only game I had installed—Mahjong, unsurprisingly—I chose the Facebook app.

  I am admittedly bad at social media. I never post, never check it for anything more than research anymore. As a stalking tool Facebook can be great, depending on permissions. I can’t stand it for anything more these days. There were too many memes out there, and too many people who never really think about whether what they post is mean or offensive or downright wrong. I decided one night to not bother reading most posts anymore because I’d much rather keep my friends, estranged or not, than to start disliking them because of some poorly worded post.

  I clicked on the search bar and typed in “Randy Winter.” The very first hit was the one I wanted, since we had a couple of mutual friends from town. Unfortunately, like so many Facebook pages these days, I couldn’t even click on his photographs without being his friend, let alone read any of hi
s posts. So much for cyber stalking my suspects.

  With a sigh, I closed the app and shoved the phone back into my purse. I could have tried to look up Lawrence, Chuck, and Brad, but didn’t want to waste the time. Even if their pages were open to the public, I doubted I’d find much that would help with this particular case. Besides, I needed to be focusing on what I was going to say to Will, not worrying about the murder.

  The door to the back opened again, but instead of the nurse, Will poked his head out this time. “Krissy?” he asked, sounding concerned. “Is there something wrong?”

  I rose and hurried to the door. “I’m sorry for bothering you at work, but I had to see you.”

  In the movies, the man would soften at that comment and would sweep the woman off her feet with a kiss and a swell of dramatic music. Will, however, only frowned, forehead bunching. “I’m working.”

  “I know.” I lowered my head, feeling dumb. This wasn’t the movies. He had a business to run, patients to see, and here I was, getting in the way of that. It wasn’t like Death by Coffee where I could take a break whenever I wanted and everything would be fine. If Will walked away at the wrong time, someone very sick might get worse and end up needing a visit to the hospital.

  Still, I couldn’t help but admire the sight of the man before me. His creamer-rich coffee skin tone, mixed with those dark eyes of his, melted away much of my worries. Coming here might have been a mistake, but at least it made me feel a little better about myself. If I could snag a man like this, I couldn’t be all bad, right?

  “I should probably go,” I said.

  “No, don’t.” He rested a hand on my arm. “I have a few minutes. I’m just surprised to see you.”

  I noted both Bea and the heavyset girl were watching us, but there wasn’t anywhere for us to go unless he took me into one of the exam rooms. That sort of thing only happened on romantic dramas, however, so we stayed put.

  “I won’t keep you,” I told him. “And really, I don’t know why I came.” I sighed, gave him an apologetic smile, and then asked, “What are your Christmas plans?”

  He seemed surprised by the question. “The practice is closed on Christmas, so I won’t be working unless there’s an emergency. I figured we’d get together and have dinner, maybe watch a movie or two. You still want to do that, don’t you?”

  “I do,” I said, happy he’d remembered. Our chat over the phone had been so brief, I could barely remember it happening at all. “But something else has come up.”

  “You have to cancel?” His face fell and he sounded disappointed, which actually made me feel even better about our relationship.

  He truly does care! “No, it’s nothing like that,” I said. “Vicki and Mason invited us over for Christmas dinner and a gift exchange. Vicki and I used to do it every year when we were younger, but stopped once she moved away. We’d kind of like to start it up again and would love it if you would join in on the festivities.”

  Will smiled, looked like he wanted to give me a hug, but held off. We were still in his office. “Of course it’s okay. Just text me the details and I’ll make sure to be there. But for now, I need to get back to work.”

  “Okay,” I said. “I’ll get everything to you later.”

  He nodded and vanished into the back.

  I practically skipped toward the door, I was so happy. All my worries that he was avoiding me or unhappy with me were just my paranoia sneaking in. My failed relationship with Robert had left me feeling unworthy and unwanted, and apparently, I had yet to get over it. I should have realized it was my own personal issues—not disinterest from Will—from the start.

  I was about to step outside when the nurse stuck his head back into the room and called out, “Mandy.”

  I stopped, the name instantly pinging my interest. The heavyset girl made one last swipe on her phone screen and then rose.

  “Mandy Ortega?” I asked, stepping back inside.

  “Yeah?” she asked, looking me up and down. Just because she was large, didn’t mean she wasn’t pretty. Her hair was dark, and I could see her Mexican heritage in her face, which looked to be used to smiling and laughing. “Who are you?”

  “My name is Kristina Hancock,” I said, extending a hand. “I’m replacing you in the Christmas play.”

  She took my hand in a firm grip and shook. “I feel sorry for you.”

  “Why’s that?” I asked.

  “The director can be a real jerk sometimes.”

  “Mandy,” the nurse said, a little more forcefully. “Doctor Lipmon is ready for you.”

  I felt bad for interfering since I knew from experience Paige hated it when her patients were late for their appointments, but I didn’t want to lose this opportunity to learn something from someone no longer connected with the play. Mandy might be more willing to speak freely, especially about Lawrence, now that she wouldn’t have to fear getting cut for opening her mouth.

  “This will take just a sec,” I said to the nurse, who gave Bea a bewildered look before vanishing back behind the door.

  “I really should head back there,” Mandy said, touching her stomach gently.

  “Are you really sick?” I asked. “Some are saying you quit because of tension between you and Lawrence, not that you’re actually ill.”

  “Gallstones,” she said, holding her finger and thumb in a circle. “About as big as a quarter. Going in now to discuss my options.”

  “Ouch.” I’d never had gallstones myself, but heard they could be painful. “Are you in much pain?”

  “Sometimes.” She paused, seemed to realize it was none of my business, and changed the subject. “Is there something I can do for you?”

  “I was just curious to know what you thought about the people involved in the play. I don’t know if you’ve heard, but the man playing Santa, Chuck, was murdered a few nights ago.”

  “I heard.” Mandy frowned down at her hands. “He wasn’t really all that bad of a guy if you could get past his crudeness.”

  “Do you know of anyone who might have wanted to hurt him?”

  She shrugged. “There was a lot of tension going around this year. I know a lot of people didn’t like Chuck because of the way he hit on some of the women, but it wasn’t as bad as some of them would make you believe. He really only went too far with one person.”

  “And that would be?”

  “Trisha McConnell.” Another shrug. “She’s the prettiest woman there, so it’s no surprise.”

  “What about Brad Clusterman?”

  “I don’t think Chuck was interested in guys.”

  “No, I mean, did he make any untoward advances to Trisha? Maybe he resented Chuck for hitting on her, too?”

  Mandy rubbed her foot onto the carpet, clearly uncomfortable with the gossip. “I don’t know. I tried not to butt in on anyone else’s business. I was there to act, not take part in any real life drama.” She paused. “Although there was this one time when Brad and Chuck went off alone together. When Brad left the room, he slammed the door, though Chuck acted like nothing was wrong. I just assumed it was more tension between cast members. As I said, it’s been happening a lot lately.”

  Interesting. Not only had Chuck and Brad gone off alone the night of Chuck’s death, but had done the same before. Could something have been building between them that eventually led to Chuck’s death? And if you consider Randy and Lawrence had their own private meetings together, it was starting to appear as if there indeed was quite a lot of secret dealings going on around the theatre.

  “Mandy,” the nurse said, opening the door again. “You need to come back and see Doctor Lipmon. If you would rather wait, we can reschedule . . .”

  “I’m coming.” She turned to me. “Sorry, I’ve got to go.”

  “That’s okay. You’ve been a big help.”

  Mandy headed for the back and I made a quick prayer that her gallstones wouldn’t require surgery. Any sort of invasive procedures came with risks, and she seemed like a really nice gi
rl.

  Another couple of people came into the office then. I caught the door before it closed and headed outside to my car. There was still a lot of time before I needed to be at practice, and I wanted to eat a good solid meal before tonight. I’d barely made it through last night.

  Besides, I needed to think about how I was going to approach Randy, Brad, and Lawrence. While I hadn’t learned anything that amounted to a smoking gun, I was finding the relationships between the various cast members to be more and more intriguing.

  Why were Brad and Chuck going off alone to talk, not just once, but at least twice? What passed between Lawrence and Randy and how did it affect their working relationship? How did Trisha and Robert fit in to all of this? Or were they simply at the wrong place at the wrong time? Or was there more to it, a sort of Natural Born Killers thing going on between them?

  I shook off the thought, not only because I couldn’t see it, but imagining Robert in Woody Harrelson’s role simply wasn’t happening. It would take time, but I was determined to figure out how all these secret meetings could possibly lead to Chuck’s death, even if, no matter how ludicrous it sounded, Robert turned out to be the bad guy.

  15

  Bundled tight, I made my slow way across the theatre parking lot, watching every step I made as if it might be my last. Someone had shoveled away the snow, but didn’t bother to scrape away the thin layer of ice that lay beneath. Footing was beyond treacherous, and I was worried I’d end up on my rear before I made it anywhere close to the door. As nice as it was to see snow, I was already ready for spring.

  Just ahead of me, Prudence walked with the assuredness of someone who’d spent most of her life in this kind of weather. I was an admitted newbie, so I didn’t feel too bad about my plodding, though I did envy her quick, shuffling pace. It wasn’t just cold out tonight; it was bitter. I wanted to get inside where it was warm and I could dance away the chill that was making my bones ache.

  Prudence opened the door and waited for me to work my way to her.

  “Thank you,” I said as I slipped past her, footing still iffy. The floor just inside the door was dirty and wet. While most of the snow and ice had melted off everyone’s shoes, there were still slick spots where it had fallen off and the constant opening and closing of the cast entrance door was causing it to come close to freezing again.