Murder by Christmas (Edna Davies mysteries)

by Young, Suzanne

  Refusing Diane’s offer to help with the dishes, Edna said, “This is probably the start of the big storm the weathermen have been predicting. I’ll feel better if you leave soon and get home safely.” She hoped her face didn’t reflect her sinking feeling as she thought of cleaning up without her daughter’s help which meant Edna would probably not get any greeting cards written that evening. Her to-do list wasn’t getting any shorter as the time before Christmas drew nigh.

  Soon, Buddy went upstairs to the bedroom to get Albert’s suitcase while Diane fetched her father’s wool coat, hat and mittens. Roger went out to warm up the Suburban and brush away the snow.

  “Are you sure you’ll be okay here, sweetheart? I don’t like leaving you with a storm coming on.” Albert stuffed a paperback into an already stretched-out pocket in the green cardigan he wore over a yellow shirt.

  “That’s exactly why you need to leave, dear. If we’re to get three feet of snow, as they’re predicting, I might not be able to get you into the city for your doctor’s appointment tomorrow.” With mixed feelings of relief that he would be well tended and of sadness that she’d miss his company, Edna thought she might laugh and cry at the same time. Instead, she swallowed the lump in her throat and smiled. “I’ll be fine. You’ll be away for only a few days, and I’ll be so busy getting the house ready, the time will fly. Besides, Charlie promised to be here tomorrow. If we get much snow, I’m sure he’ll be willing to shovel me out. I’ll be perfectly fine.” She kissed him, wondering if she were trying to convince Albert or herself.

  Donning her own winter coat, hat and gloves, Edna followed her family out to their car and waved them on their way. As the tail lights disappeared down the road, she closed her eyes and lifted her face to the sky, letting snowflakes land and melt on her nose and cheeks. She enjoyed the sight and feel of a winter snow. She hoped the storm wouldn’t be as severe as the reporters feared, but she felt that snow enhanced the festive atmosphere this time of year.

  “Hi, neighbor.”

  The voice of the young woman who lived across the street interrupted Edna’s thoughts. She turned to greet Carol James whom she’d first known as Jaycee Watkins.

  “I saw your company leave and hoped you’d have a few minutes to spare,” Carol said. She looked like a marshmallow with stick legs in a thigh-length, white down coat. She wore no hat and her medium-brown hair was plaited into its usual single braid. Her hands were thrust deep into the coat’s side pockets.

  “Come in. I’ll make some tea.” Edna made her way back to the house and held the door for her visitor to precede her.

  “Thanks, but I can’t stay long. Gran has been filling me with so much tea, I think I might float away.” Carol looked sheepish in the brighter light of the hall when she turned to face Edna. “Actually, I’ve come to ask a favor.”

  “O-kaaay,” Edna said, drawing out the word as an image of her to-do list popped into her head. She hoped Jaycee’s favor wouldn’t be something time-consuming.

  “I’m flying to Chicago in the morning.” She paused, waiting for Edna to react to her news.

  Edna frowned. “This is rather sudden, isn’t it? So close to the holidays?”

  “It is sudden,” Carol agreed, “and a darned nuisance, but I guess the prosecutors want to go over my testimony once more. The trial starts right after New Year’s.”

  The trial was the result of Carol, a photojournalist, having caught arsonists in the act of burning down the house of a prominent banker. That accidental discovery was the reason she’d tried to hide under the alias of “Jaycee Watkins.” She’d been shooting photos of holiday lights in one of Chicago’s wealthier suburban neighborhoods just a year ago when she’d seen the fire and captured the criminals with her camera.

  “They say it’s really important,” she went on, “or I wouldn’t leave Gran alone right now.” Her face brightened. “I’ll be back in a couple of days, depending on how things go, but I’ll definitely be back for Mary’s party.”

  “I see,” Edna smiled, remembering that Carol’s boyfriend lived in the Chicago area. He would be joining Carol and her grandmother in Rhode Island for Christmas, but a couple of days in his city would be fun for the two young lovers. She didn’t speak these thoughts aloud, but instead said, “And you would like me to check on Gran while you’re away?”

  It was a rhetorical question, but Carol answered anyway. “Yes, please. Just to make sure she’s alright. I’ll worry about her with the snow coming and all.”

  “Of course. I’ll see that nothing happens to her,” Edna said, biting back a laugh at her neighbor’s transparent excitement. She had developed a fondness for Carol over the past several months and enjoyed the young woman’s zest for life.

  Edna also liked Carol’s no-nonsense grandmother who had arrived from Florida before Thanksgiving and planned to stay through the New Year. “Gran,” as everyone called her, had grown up in Westerly, Rhode Island, a half-hour’s drive south of Edna’s neighborhood. Gran and her third husband moved to Florida when he retired. Widowed now, she had decided to spend a few months with her granddaughter and was looking forward to her first white Christmas in years. Edna figured she would simply have to make a daily phone call to the energetic and outspoken octogenarian--neither an unpleasant nor a time-consuming chore.

  “You’re a great neighbor, Edna.” Carol gave her an impulsive hug. “I’d better get home and finish packing.”

  The snow was falling heavily when Edna opened the door to let Carol out. “I hope your flight won’t be cancelled.”

  “Me, too. I don’t want any further delays with this trial. I’m sick to death of it.” Carol smiled optimistically as she waved goodbye and disappeared into the night.

  Edna returned to the kitchen and had just finished washing dishes and tidying up the kitchen when Diane called to say they’d gotten home safely, the roads weren’t too slippery yet, and Roger was settling Albert into the downstairs room.

  Exhausted from the day’s activities, Edna decided to go to bed and get an early start in the morning. Mentally reviewing her schedule for the next day, she realized with relief that Beverly Lewis, owner of Housekeeper Helpers, was coming in the morning with her assistant. At least the house will be spotless for the holidays, Edna thought. She was about to drift off to sleep when she remembered her promise to Mary’s young friend. Thinking of how Albert was always admonishing her to “just say no,” she wondered why she had agreed to accompany Mary to the cat shelter. Bethany’s trouble with Laurel Taylor is none of my business. Her thoughts segued into planning what she needed to accomplish the next day. Charlie’s coming for lunch. What can I serve him that’s quick? How much snow are we going to get tonight? Will the weather delay my children arriving in time for Christmas? Where will I find a nice tree at this late date? Four days to Christmas. Only four days left until Christmas.

  With the image of a calendar and her to-do list spinning around in her head, it was another hour before she fell into a fitful sleep.

  Chapter 5

  The next morning, Edna was up before dawn. She jumped out of bed and hurried to the window, pleasantly surprised and greatly relieved to see the amount of snow that had fallen barely covered the grass. What she could see of the road was clear except for a narrow strip along the far edge.

  She surprised herself by being half disappointed that the storm hadn’t dropped an inch or two more, enough to give the landscape a Christmas-card appearance. The other half of her was happy the storm hadn’t been severe enough to impair travel, so humming a few bars of “Let it Snow, Let it Snow, Let it Snow,” she showered, dressed and went downstairs to greet Benjamin. After starting the coffee, she took a blueberry muffin from the freezer to thaw and was about to scramble an egg when the telephone rang.

  “Mornin’, Miz Davies,” came a nasal greeting down the line.

  “Beverly?” Edna wasn’t certain, but it sounded like her cleaning woman.

  “’S me alright. I got the flu, Miz Davies. I kn
ow this is a real bad time, but I won’t be able to clean your house today.”

  Edna hoped her distress didn’t reflect in her voice when she said, “I can help Junie. We’ll manage. The important thing is for you to rest and get well.”

  Junie Williams was Beverly’s employee. Housekeeper Helpers consisted of only the two women, although many people wondered why Beverly didn’t expand, since she had a page-long waiting list. When questioned, she always replied, “You want somethin’ done right, you gotta do it yerself.”

  “Junie won’t be comin’ along neither. She’s sicker than me.”

  Edna felt panic bubbling up from her stomach into her throat, but before she could think of a sympathetic reply the doorbell rang. Distracted, she gave Beverly assurance that Edna didn’t feel, wished the housekeeper a speedy recovery and rang off. Trying to think of what cleaning tasks would absolutely have to be done and what could be swept under the rugs, so to speak, she headed for the front door, muttering, “Who … at this hour?” It was not yet seven o’clock.

  “Hi, Edna. I smelled coffee.” Charlie Rogers grinned from inside a fleece hat that Edna knew was called a “mad bomber.” Silly looking, she’d always thought, but good protection against the crisp morning coldness.

  In her current crisis, she began to ponder what jobs Charlie might be willing to do. No, she silently chided and joked, she wouldn’t ask him to mop the floors. Unable to keep from smiling at the thought, however, she stepped aside and let him in. She felt cheered at the sight of him and, even in her distress, couldn’t help but laugh. “You’re here early. It isn’t quite time for lunch.”

  His cheeks turned a shade redder, and she suspected it wasn’t all due to the outside temperature. “I was in the neighborhood. I hope I’m not disturbing you, but I did see your lights on.”

  The thought flicked through her mind that he might be missing Starling, but she wouldn’t ask. Whatever was going on between her daughter and the detective was none of her business--unless, of course, he were to bring up the subject himself. Aloud, she said, “It’s too soon for lunch, but you’re just in time for breakfast. How about sharing some blueberry muffins and scrambled eggs?”

  “Be still my heart,” he quipped, removing his hat, gloves and down parka. “I swear, Edna, if you weren’t married …”

  “Stop your nonsense.” She slapped his arm gently and pretended to scowl before breaking into another laugh. “Come in and grab a cup. Tell me why you’re lurking around my house at this hour, other than your love of my cooking.”

  Without immediately answering, he stepped farther into the hall, laid his outer gear on a nearby chair and turned back to her. “Have you seen anyone riding a bicycle along the road recently?”

  She nodded. “As a matter of fact, Mary’s young friend Bethany rode a bike out here from town yesterday afternoon.” She shook her head, shutting the door. “Can you imagine? In this weather?”

  “No, this would have been after the storm, late last night or early this morning. I saw tracks in the snow at the side of the road about a half mile back, and I’m wondering how far into your neighborhood they’d come.”

  All thoughts of her housecleaning problems forgotten for the moment, she frowned. “I don’t think Bethany would have bicycled back here in the dark, but we can ask Mary. She’ll be over later.”

  At that moment, Benjamin appeared in the hallway to greet a familiar friend. Charlie bent to pick him up, stroking the cat’s ginger fur as he followed Edna into the kitchen. Depositing the cat on a cushioned chair, the police detective strode to the coffee pot to pour himself a cup while Edna took a few more muffins from the freezer to heat in the microwave.

  “Is that what brings you here so early?” she asked as she cracked an egg into a stainless steel bowl. “Are you looking for people who bicycle in storms? Don’t tell me you’re on a case when you’re supposed to be on vacation.”

  Holding his steaming mug of coffee in both hands, he leaned back against the kitchen sink to watch as she prepared breakfast. “When you told me that Albert was staying with Diane and her family for a few days, I thought you might need help with more than just hanging a few Christmas lights. I’m at your disposal for the entire day.” Spreading his arms wide, he gave her a courtly bow, careful not to spill his drink.

  Edna chuckled as she placed a skillet onto a lighted gas burner. “That’s very thoughtful of you, and I can certainly use your help, but tell me why you asked about bicycles. You’ve roused my curiosity.”

  “Those tracks I saw might be connected to a strange situation going on in town,” he said. “Someone’s borrowing bicycles.”

  “Borrowing bikes? Not stealing them?” She hastened to defend Mary’s friend. “Bethany borrowed a bike, but she said she had permission.”

  “I don’t think this would be Mary’s friend. It’s kinda weird.” He sighed and lifted his coffee mug toward his lips, but lowered it again before taking a sip. Staring into the brown liquid, he spoke haltingly as if thinking aloud. “The snow had probably stopped or the tracks would have been covered, at least partially.” He raised his eyes to meet hers. “Do you know when the storm ended last night?”

  “No idea. I went to bed early.” She whisked the eggs and poured them into the hot frying pan. Picking up a spatula, she began to stir the mixture as it cooked.

  “I’ll check with the guys on duty, but I’m thinking it might have been around eleven. Sometime before midnight, I’m pretty sure.”

  “Who would be riding around here at that hour?” she asked, briefly glancing up from the eggs. “It’s so cold and this road doesn’t have many street lights.”

  “I don’t know if my bike thief would ride out this far.” He paused, then spoke as if an idea had just occurred to him. “Maybe those tracks have nothing to do with the bike-napper I’m looking for. Maybe it was just some teenager who made the tracks along the road. Maybe visiting friends. Kids are impervious to cold. You should know that.” He smiled at the mother of four and grandmother of seven.

  “Silly of me not to remember,” she said, rolling her eyes. She scooped eggs onto two plates which she then handed to him. “Go sit and eat while it’s hot. I’ll bring the muffins, and I want to hear more about your case. I’m intrigued.”

  They ate in silence for several minutes before Charlie spoke again. “The first report we got on this bicycle mystery was three nights ago. A local fellow rode his bike to the pool hall ‘cause he knew he’d be having a drink or three. Left the bike outside, as he’s done before. When he came out around one in the morning, the bike was gone. Bartender called us. On his way to the site, our rookie spotted a bike about a block from the bar, so he took the guy over to look. Sure enough, it was his, so naturally we thought he’d forgotten where he’d left the thing. He’d had a few beers by the time he left the hall.”

  “Smart of him to ride his bike instead of driving,” Edna remarked.

  “Yes, well, same thing happened again night ‘fore last. This time the bike belonged to a student. Same M.O. Kid played pool until sometime after midnight but swore he hadn’t had more than three beers the whole time. When he left the place, he couldn’t find his bike. This time, it was found across the street and down a couple of storefronts.”

  “Very peculiar,” Edna murmured, sipping her coffee. “Did you stake out the place?”

  Charlie gave a laugh. “You’re ahead of me, Edna. Not exactly a stake-out, but the night patrol is making a point of cruising up and down that street regularly. Only thing is, nobody rode a bike to the bar last night, what with the snow and all. That’s why I was surprised to see those tracks this morning. I talked to our dispatcher and the only bike the patrol spotted was behind the new restaurant in town.”

  “Krispin’s Kitchen?” Edna mentioned the name she’d recently heard from her neighbors, Carol and Gran.

  “That’s the one.”

  “Gran’s been baking rolls for them and making soup, too, from what Carol tells me.”

&nb
sp; Charlie raised an eyebrow which Edna correctly interpreted as curiosity.

  “Apparently, the owner is an old friend of Gran’s. The daughter manages the place and will inherit it someday. Gran likes to keep busy and loves to cook, so it works out for her and for the diner.”

  “Hmmm,” he murmured. “I’ve been wantin’ to check out the place. Now I will for sure. Gran’s cooking is nearly as good as yours.”

  Edna laughed. “You flatterer. I know Gran is a better cook than I. You can say so without hurting my feelings.”

  He laughed, too. “Can’t say for sure. I’ll have to keep taste testing, I think.”

  Smiling briefly to acknowledge the compliment, Edna returned their conversation to the mystery. “Did you discover whose bike it was, the one left at the dumpster?”

  “Patrol spoke to the restaurant manager--guess that would be Gran’s friend’s daughter. She said it belonged to one of her workers, so that one has turned out to be a false alarm.” Charlie ran a hand through his curly hair and shook his head. “This morning, we have mysterious tracks in the snow, but no stolen bike. Doesn’t make much sense, does it?”

  The question was rhetorical, so Edna ignored it and asked one of her own. “Has nobody spotted the culprit, either riding off or returning?”

  “Not as far as we know.” He picked up his coffee mug, drained it and leaned forward as he placed it back on the table. “That’s why I was hoping maybe you’d seen someone. The snow’s already melted on the road, except in some shady places. That’s where the tracks are still visible. The last ones I saw were about a quarter mile back towards town.”

  Edna shook her head. “Other than Mary’s young friend pedaling out here yesterday afternoon, I don’t know of anyone who bikes at this time of year. I find it hard to imagine someone biking home, only to turn around and go back to leave their bike in town--and certainly not in the dark of night.” She grinned with amusement. “But then, we’ve lived here less than two years, so I’m not familiar with all the quirks of my neighbors.”