Ring In the Year with Murder--An Otter Lake Mystery

by Auralee Wallace

  “What surprise?” I asked, still repeating everything she said in the form of a question.

  “Your mother will explain everything.”

  “Oh, okay.” I didn’t move though. It had just occurred to me that Mrs. Watson might be the best person to ask about all the rumors floating around town. She had hired us after all. Maybe I could get a little further than Freddie had to the truth about why. “Uh, before I go in,” to see God knows what behind door number one, “I wanted to ask you…”

  Mrs. Watson raised an eyebrow.

  “You haven’t…” I stopped a moment, choosing my words. “This may sound a little crazy, but seeing as Freddie and I are keeping an eye on things tonight, I thought I’d ask you about some strange rumors we heard around town?”

  “What kind of strange rumors?”

  “Well, you haven’t heard anything about a threatening letter?”

  “Oh dear, that wasn’t supposed to get out,” Mrs. Watson said, shaking her head. “You see, I know about it because my nephew, Amos, works at the sheriff’s department. Did you know Amos worked there?”

  Of course I knew. Everyone knew. Mrs. Watson was very proud of her nephew. And Amos was very sweet, but … well, let’s just leave it at Amos was very sweet.

  “He told me about the letters because he thought we might want to be a little more vigilant at the party tonight, but we weren’t supposed to spread it around town.” She leaned in close and whispered, “But I’m glad you know. And it’s been more than just one letter. There’s actually been quite a few.”

  I frowned. “Exactly what kind of letters are we talking about?”

  “Well, I won’t go into the details, but let’s just say somebody wants Candace to leave town,” she whispered, “or else.”

  “Candace!”

  She covered her mouth with her hand. “I probably shouldn’t have let that slip either. And it’s not about Candace. It’s about MRG.”

  MRG was the company responsible for turning Otter Lake’s small quaint cottages into luxury summer homes. Not everybody was happy with all the changes, but pretty much everyone liked Candace. My ex-boyfriend’s new girlfriend was very likable. Like baby bunny likable. It took a lot of work not liking her … not that I’d know anything about that. I’d moved on.

  “Grady’s been working round the clock to find out who’s been sending the letters, but no luck so far,” she said, shaking her head. “He’s so protective.” Her eyes widened a touch. “I’m sorry. Was that awkward of me to say?”

  “Not at all,” I said. Although Stanley was groaning again. I relaxed my grip. “But … you don’t have any reason to believe that something will happen tonight?”

  “Oh no. In fact, Amos tells me these poison-pen types are usually all bark and no bite.”

  I nodded. “Well, I suppose that’s something.”

  “And I’m sure Grady won’t be taking his eyes off of Candace, so you don’t have to worry,” she said. “But if you do see something strange…”

  I nodded. “Of course.”

  Mrs. Watson patted my arm. “Now you go see your mother before Freddie sees you.”

  I blinked. “Before Freddie sees me? What?”

  But Mrs. Watson had already turned to leave.

  Well, this night was becoming more complicated by the second.

  I took a deep breath and stepped into the cozy lamp-lit room to find my mother sitting at a round wooden table. An array of what I could only assume were props lay spread out in front of her.

  “Erica!” my mother said, jangling her braceleted arms into the air. “What do you think?”

  I had so many questions to choose from, but I decided to go with, “Mom, why are you wearing a turban?”

  Chapter Three

  “And why do you have a crystal ball?” I said, pointing to the glass monstrosity mounted on a pewter base smack-dab in the middle of the table. “And a plastic skull?”

  My mother closed her eyes and placed her fingertips on her temples. “I’m sensing that you are a little grumpy.” She then peeked one eye open to see if I had gotten her joke.

  I frowned.

  “What?” she asked, getting up and twirling around. She was wearing a gold hip scarf with coins dangling from the seams. She had been really into belly dancing for a while. I was pretty thankful I had missed that stage. “You don’t like it?”

  “Mom, stop moving. You know I can’t talk to you while you’re dancing.”

  She dropped her arms. “I think the room is perfect.”

  “Every room in this house is perfect.” I had to admit, though, with the fireplace going and lamplight, it was pretty cozy in a wealthy Victorian kind of way. It also had nice dark wood paneling, some leather armchairs, and an audibly ticking clock on the mantelpiece. “And it’s hard to say whether I like this or not given that I don’t know exactly what this is.”

  “I think it’s pretty obvious.”

  I waited.

  “I’m tonight’s entertainment.”

  “No. No,” I said, pointing at the door. “There’s a jazz band in the other room. I heard them warming up. They’re the enter—”

  “They’re the background entertainment,” she said, once again spinning in a circle and letting the many folds of her skirt fly. “I’m the main event.”

  I took a deep breath. My mother and I had always had somewhat of a reverse parent-child relationship. She flung herself headlong into things without really giving much thought about how they might affect her, her business, or other people, and I basically just worried. But I had been trying to let a lot of that go because my worrying never really stopped her from doing anything. Ever. “Mom, seriously, stop spinning. Does Matthew know you’re the main event? Did he agree to this?”

  “Well, it’s not just his party. It’s the Otter Lake Historical Society’s party, of which I’m a member.” She placed a hand on her chest and curtsied. God knows why.

  That was true. The event tonight wasn’t just a New Year’s party, it was a thank-you party put on by the Historical Society to show their appreciation to all of the volunteers who had helped put on the Winter Carnival.

  I gently lowered Stanley to the floor then slid him toward the fireplace with my foot. He looked like he might be cold. “Since when have you been a member of the Historical Society?”

  “Since Mrs. Watson asked if I would be interested in telling people’s fortunes for the New Year. That woman makes wonderful fruit cordials.” She leaned over the table and smiled. “And yes, Matthew agreed to this. He thought it would be cute.”

  “Let me guess,” I said. “He was drinking the cordials too?” It wouldn’t be the first time Mrs. Watson had manipulated Matthew with her sweet liquors.

  “Darling,” she said with a big smile, “we were all drinking the cordials.”

  I sighed.

  “You should try one. I think she’s got some samples at the martini bar.”

  “Mom, since when are you a fortune-teller?”

  “Oh, don’t worry. It’s all in good fun,” she said, half twirling around a chair before she caught herself mid-spin. “And you know I’ve always considered myself to be a little bit psychic.”

  I took a long, deep breath. In the past, this was exactly the type of thing that would have had me really worried. I mean, my mother ran a spiritual retreat for women. Her wheelhouse was probing into her guest’s deepest fears and insecurities. She’d probably have half the room in tears by midnight with her predictions … probably diagnose a few with adrenal fatigue too—she was also really into naturopathy … but that was none of my concern. Healthy boundaries. That’s what adults practiced. “Well, it’s not my party. I mean, you can do whatever you want. Just maybe keep things light and fun. And don’t fake any accents, okay?”

  “Vat accent should I vake?”

  “Oh God.” I put my hand over my eyes. “Please stop.”

  “I’m kidding! Of course I’m not going to fake an accent. That is so insensitive.”
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  Not sure what that made the turban.

  “And I didn’t ask you in here to get your permission.”

  “Okay,” I said, trying to anticipate what possible turn this conversation would take next … and coming up empty. “Why did you ask me in here?”

  “To get you to ask Freddie for his blessing.” She sat back in her chair and folded her hands on the table. “I don’t want to hurt his feelings.”

  “Why would he be offended?” Oh wait … uh-oh. I couldn’t believe I hadn’t seen the issue the minute I walked in here. For a while, Freddie had worked as an online psychic. In fact, I was pretty sure he prided himself on being Otter Lake’s one and only psychic. And while I was also pretty sure that he wouldn’t have wanted to spend tonight doling out fortunes—pretty sure, not entirely sure—he would have expected to have at least been asked. “Why didn’t Mrs. Watson go to Freddie first?”

  “Well … there was that unpleasantness between them a couple of years back.”

  The next logical question would have been, What unpleasantness? But I just didn’t have it in me.

  I sighed. “You couldn’t have chosen a worse night for this. Freddie’s already in a mood because of Stanley.”

  “So this is him?” my mother said, looking at the floor. “He’s adorable.” She didn’t come over to pet him though. She saved all her love for evil cats. “It’s so strange to think of Freddie with another dog.”

  “Yeah, and it’s bringing up a lot of stuff for him.”

  “All the more reason for you to talk to him about this.” She swirled her hand around the room.

  “You know what? I’m really sorry,” I said, “but I think I’m staying out of this one. You guys made this decision. You have to own it.”

  “I understand, darling,” she said, nodding and then adjusting her turban. “I really do. But Mrs. Watson just asked me to talk to you because, well, so many people have worked so hard to make tonight happen.” She sighed heavily as she stroked her crystal ball. “And she was worried that Freddie might make a scene.”

  “Come on, when has Freddie ever made a—” I couldn’t say it. Some lies are too big to come back from. “I’m really sorry, but you should know by now that I can’t stop Freddie from doing anything.”

  “Fine. Okay,” my mother said, arranging her bracelets. “Then maybe you could just steer him away from this side of the house?”

  I shook my head. “I’ll see what I can do, but I’m not promising anything,” I said, scooping up Stanley.

  She sighed. “Well, I’m sorry we felt we needed to bring this up. I know this is already such a difficult night for you.”

  “Why does everyone keep saying that?” I asked. “This is not a difficult night.” Well, maybe it was a little more difficult than it had been just moments ago, but still, I wouldn’t say difficult. “I love New Year’s and—”

  “And Grady Forrester is coming.”

  She always said his full name like he was still an eleven-year-old boy.

  “No, Mom, it’s—” It was too late. That’s what it was. My mother had flown across the room in an instant and had me clutched in a bear hug. Stanley grumbled as I spat out the strands of curly brown lemon-grass-scented hair covering my face. “Mom, seriously,” I said, pulling back from her. “I’m fine with Grady being here.”

  The absolute last thing I needed tonight was my mother getting all worked up about Grady. Because, really, nothing tells your ex-boyfriend that you are totally cool postbreakup better than your mom yelling at him in front of the entire town. “Things just didn’t work out between us. It happens. He’s allowed to date other people.” Sounded reasonable in my mind.

  “I hate him.”

  Guess not in hers. This was my fault. I had shared too many of the details from when Grady and I broke up last spring. She took great exception to the fact that Grady had refused to talk our issues through and had just started dating Candace. Come to think of it, I took a bit of an exception to that too.

  “He has caused nothing but heartache in your life—”

  “Whoa. Whoa. Whoa,” I said, stepping back. “Let me stop you right there.”

  Her eyes narrowed.

  “I’m fine.”

  She just kept on staring at me.

  “Really. I am. You don’t need to worry. I’m looking forward to the new year.”

  Huh. Funny. Her look was the exact same one Rhonda and Freddie had given me earlier.

  “Really?” she asked.

  “Really.”

  Suddenly she smiled. “It was that retreat I gave a few weeks ago, wasn’t it? Be Your Own Best Boyfriend?”

  “Sure,” I said, trying to nod, but it came out a little wobbly. “That was a big help.”

  “Well, good. I’m proud of you.”

  “Me too,” I said, readjusting Stanley in my arms. “Okay, so I’m going to go.” I jerked a thumb back at the door. “But, good luck with all this.”

  “Thank you, Erica,” my mother said, eyes twinkling.

  I slid the door on its track and walked out into the party.

  Maybe there was still time to go back to Freddie’s and find some game shows on TV.

  I sighed and scratched Stanley’s ear. No. No. While all these new developments were a little stressful, I was going to have a good time tonight. And really, I had handled that situation with my mother pretty well. I mean, yes, I was a little worried about how Freddie might take the fortune-telling news given his current mood, but I couldn’t take that on. I wasn’t responsible for his feelings. My job was to simply support him through all those feelings. I frowned. Where had I heard that? Maybe it had been from the Be Your Own Best Boyfriend retreat. Whatever. It felt right. Mature. Adult.

  I was still perturbed about the whole threatening-letters thing though. I really needed to talk to Freddie about it. If nothing else, it might distract him from all of his dog troubles.

  “What do you think, Stanley?” I said, looking down at the furry monster in my arms. “Should we go talk to your daddy? Oh, there he is. I see him.”

  I hustled across the marble floor as quickly as I could clutching a dog and wearing strappy heels. Freddie was in the middle of talking to a group of people, but I figured it was worth interrupting. “Fred—”

  I suddenly cut myself short.

  And much to my surprise, spun on my heel in a full one eighty, and hurried back in the opposite direction.

  Mrs. Watson’s information could wait for a little bit.

  Freddie was busy talking to people.

  People I wasn’t necessarily ready to see.

  Candace and Grady–type people.

  Chapter Four

  “Erica?”

  I was pretty sure that was Freddie calling after me. But not certain. Who could hear anything over all this jazz music and party noise? Not me. Besides, I couldn’t answer him anyway. I was busy too. Running away. Well, maybe not running … speed walking. I was speed walking toward the ballroom with a dog clutched in my arms. Nothing weird about that.

  Okay, so maybe hiding from one’s ex and one’s ex’s new girlfriend wasn’t the most mature thing in the world to do. But I needed to start my adulting adventures slowly. I’d have more success that way. And in all fairness to me, it was really hard to be fine when everyone was telling you you’re not fine.

  I hustled my way through the crowd smiling and nodding at the early guests, being careful not to make eye contact long enough for anyone to waylay me with talk. A moment later I spotted the perfect safe haven by a small bit of wall that separated the foyer from the ballroom. There was a seating area with a coffee table, a large potted frond-type plant, and three heavy leather club chairs—one of them unoccupied.

  I laid Stanley on the floor and quickly scissored my way over the armrest of the open chair, landing my butt awkwardly in the seat. I nodded at the identical faces seated across from me. “Hey,” I said, probably too quickly to achieve the level of casualness I was going for. “I like your outfi
ts.”

  The twins across from me exchanged identical looks.

  “Really,” I went on, darting a quick glance behind me. “The matching tuxes are cool.”

  They were cool. Then again, the twins were cool.

  I turned back to them. “You kind of look like hit men for Al Capone. Very gangster.”

  Kit Kat and Tweety were my pseudoaunts and the only other inhabitants living on my mother’s island. Currently their friend Alma was putting them up in town while the lake was frozen over. It was tricky business living on an island in winter. In the past, the twins just bulked up on supplies until the lake was safe enough to cross by snowmobile, but their place had burned down last spring and the new one wasn’t ready yet. They had been staying with my mother and me at the retreat, but this year none of us wanted to be stuck on the island, so we were all staying on the mainland until we could get back and forth.

  The twins were in their seventies and completely identical in both appearance and dress tonight—right down to the thick black bow ties hanging loose around their necks, collars slightly open. It was a good look for them. I couldn’t really see them in flapper dresses. They were also holding identical glasses of what I was guessing was Scotch. They looked right at home.

  “Erica,” Tweety began. “What the h—”

  “Oh!” I said, jumping to my feet. “Just one second.” I shuffled the half step over to the large fern and grabbed the pot. Hmm, this sucker was heavy. I pushed it against the hardwood floor but that made an awful scraping sound—and these floors had to be a hundred years old. I then tried rocking it side to side a few inches away from the wall to give us some more cover. After that I dropped back into my seat, with its back against the small partition wall, and smiled. “Sorry, what were you saying?”

  “What the hell are you doing?”

  I nodded. “I’m, uh…”

  “Hiding,” Kit Kat said, leaning back in her chair to see into the foyer. “She’s hiding. Grady and Candace have arrived.”

  “Ah,” Tweety said knowingly.