Jessie stared at the cell company printout. “And that fits. Lottie was on the phone for a half hour from one thirty. There’s no way she could have gotten from her home back to the café in fifteen minutes, murdered somebody and then left again.”
She looked up when Chief Daly didn’t respond. His expression was tight and strained.
“Chief?”
“Jessie, that’s her cell phone record. I wish she’d spoken to them on her landline—then we could have placed her at home with no doubts. But this?” He tapped the page aggressively. “This means nothing. She could have called from the back of her store. That would have given her plenty of time to get back to the café.”
Jessie sighed and sat back heavily in her chair. The phone records had been her last hope in a way. She raked her hands through her hair. “I don’t understand. I’m so sure that it wasn’t Lottie. So why can’t I find a shred of evidence that proves her innocence?”
Chief Daly looked at her blankly. Jessie knew what he was thinking.
“What do you think, Chief?” she asked in a small voice. “Do you think she did it?”
He sighed and pulled the call records away, stacking them neatly in a corner of his desk. “I don’t know, Jessie. It’s my job to find evidence. And there’s a lot of it in this case. Her fingerprints on the meat thermometer. Her DNA on the Santa suit, which she owned. That boy—I know he didn’t give us much, but we all heard him yell that Santa was in the building at the time of the murder. That gives us a good indication that the killer wore a Santa suit. Then we found out that he thinks Lottie is Santa. I’ve checked—there’s no other store in town with posters of cows or any other animal.”
“Then there’s the fact that her alibi isn’t solid. Jessie, I don’t know what to think. I know she’s a good person, but sometimes good people do terrible things. You saw that video footage of her argument with David. She was clearly at the end of her tether.”
At a loss for anything to say, Jessie pointed at the call lists. “Do you mind if I look through?”
Chief Daly shook his head, seeming relieved that she wasn’t pushing the issue. “Sure. Though I’d rather you don’t take them out of this building.”
Jessie nodded. “No problem.” She stopped. “Has she been released on bail?”
“Yes,” he said neutrally. “They finalized the paperwork about an hour ago.”
Jessie jumped up. “I’ll look at this later if that’s okay? I’d better go see her.”
Chapter 15
The drapes were pulled across all of the windows of Lottie’s small home. Jessie parked and hurried to the front door, fearing what she might find. It wasn’t like Lottie to hide herself away and it was still bright outside. Jessie rapped on the door and stood back, wondering if she should call the chief to break down the door.
To her surprise, the door swung open almost immediately. Even more surprising was the look on Lottie’s face—she was beaming as if she’d just won the lottery.
“Lottie,” Jessie said hesitantly. Part of her wondered if she had gone to the wrong house, or if she was in the middle of an elaborate hoax. Lottie’s demeanor was at odds with the severity of the charges she faced.
“Hi Jessie,” her friend smiled. “How are you?”
“Good,” Jessie said carefully. “And you? When did you get back?”
Lottie tilted her head. “Oh not long ago. Come on in.”
Jessie walked past her, expecting a chaotic scene inside. But the small home was as neat and orderly as always. She entered the living room and stared at the drapes. Lottie rushed across the room and pulled them open.
“I haven’t had a chance to open those. Though I suppose it’ll be dark soon anyway.”
“Yes,” Jessie said slowly, sitting down on one of the pristine couches.
What’s going on, she wondered. Are we just going to sit here and make small talk?
Jessie really didn’t want to be the one to raise the topic, but after several moments’ silence, she felt like she had no choice.
“Look, Lottie. About your arrest,” Jessie said, shuffling awkwardly in her seat. Lottie made no attempt to end the prolonged pause that fell over them.
“What’s going on?” Jessie asked at last.
Lottie shrugged. “I guess somebody’s trying to frame me,” she said simply, as if she was making an observation about the weather.
“And that doesn’t make you crazy?” Jessie asked warily. She had seen Lottie lose her temper over far less serious matters.
Lottie made a sweeping motion with her hands. “It’ll blow over. The whole thing is too ridiculous to take it seriously.”
Jessie gasped. “You can’t possibly believe that! I don’t mean to panic you, but these are murder charges we’re talking about. Do you have a good attorney?”
“Public defender,” Lottie shrugged. “Some guy from over in Glenvale who should have retired twenty years ago.”
Jessie balked. Had Lottie just laughed at the incompetence of her attorney? “Sheesh, Lottie. I can’t… I feel like this is a dream. This is your freedom we’re talking about. Let me help you find a decent attorney. We can ask Mike to help.”
Lottie just stared at her. Jessie couldn’t work out if the stress was making her friend ignore the truth or if she had actually lost her mind.
“Lottie, let me help you. Please.”
Lottie shrugged. “The truth will come out in court.”
Jessie gritted her teeth. She was coming closer to losing her temper than she ever had before, but it wouldn’t do to lose her cool—what would that achieve? “What if it doesn’t, Lottie? There’s a ton of evidence against you and not much to clear you. Aren’t you interested in clearing your name?”
Lottie shook her head stubbornly. “I’m innocent. I don’t see why my life should be turned upside-down because of something I didn’t do.”
Jessie buried her head in her hands, wanting to scream at the top of her lungs. “Lottie, listen to me. It doesn’t matter if you’re innocent. If you don’t convince the jury of that, they’re going to send you away for a very long time.”
Lottie made no response.
Sighing, Jessie realized that she wasn’t going to get through to her friend that way. “Okay,” she said, trying to keep her voice level. “Let’s talk this through. What were you doing between twelve thirty and two fifteen on the day of the party?”
Lottie looked hurt. “You think I did it too?”
“No,” Jessie hissed. “No, of course I don’t. But it doesn’t matter what I think. I know you—the jury won’t. They’ll see all of this evidence and draw the natural conclusion.”
The one that I’m drawing to now, Jessie thought, before immediately blocking that idea from her mind. She believed Lottie was innocent. But it made her heart heavy that even she was having doubts—doubts caused by Lottie’s point blank refusal to defend herself.
“Okay,” she said again. “Talk me through it. There must be something we’re not seeing that we can use to prove there’s no way you did this. What did you do after you brought the turkey to the café?”
Lottie shrugged. “It’s... I don’t—”
“You want to spend the rest of your life locked up?” Jessie said and immediately regretted it.
“No,” Lottie said in a small voice. “I… I was helping set up and I realized I’d forgotten to order condiments. They fly off the shelf at this time of year and lord knows I could use the extra income. Their deadline had passed and I hadn’t brought the keys to the store. So I rushed home. I had to beg and plead and offer to pay a premium, but eventually they agreed to rush me an order.”
“What time was this?”
“Twelve forty-five-ish, I guess,” Lottie said. “I was going to shower, change and get back to the café as quickly as possible. I had planned to get ready in the morning as the turkey cooked, but then there was that drama with my stove.”
“Your stove,” Jessie said, thinking of something. “Has it been fi
xed?”
Lottie rolled her eyes, giving Jessie a flash of her old self. “No. I’ve been kind of busy.”
“Fair enough,” Jessie said, glancing toward the kitchen. “Do you know what’s wrong with it?”
Lottie shrugged. “No idea. I’m a butcher, not an engineer.”
Jessie bit her lip and made a note to keep updated. Could it be possible that somebody had tampered with Lottie’s oven, knowing that she’d be home? She shook her head. Why would somebody do that? It would have forced her into a public space. No, if somebody was trying to frame her, they would have jumped at the chance of having her home alone with no witnesses.
“Okay,” Jessie said. “What happened then?”
“Well, I showered and dressed. And just as I was about to leave here, I got the email from Clintock’s Meats.” Lottie lifted herself up, indignation written all over her face. “They said they’d received more orders than expected and they were canceling mine. Can you believe that? ‘Sorry, you’re off the list. Tough luck.’ No matter that I had hundreds ordered. It would have ruined Christmas for so many folks around here. By now even if they drove over to Glenvale or Stanleyton, it’s likely they wouldn’t find anything. People book their Christmas meat weeks in advance around here. So even though I was already late, I got right on the phone.”
Jessie sighed and picked at the hem of her dress. “Why didn’t you call from your landline?”
Lottie threw her head back. It disheartened Jessie to see her lose patience already—the prosecution would drag things out as much as they could and Lottie couldn’t afford to act like the court proceedings were boring her.
“Just roll with me, okay? Isn’t it better you go through this with me than some stranger? Maybe we’ll find something.”
“We shouldn’t have to find something. Am I not innocent until proven guilty?”
“You want to take the risk that everything will work out okay? Sheesh, Lottie. You’re more proactive about stock rotation than you are about getting off a murder charge.” Jessie’s cheeks burned—she knew she’d been too direct, but it was hard not to be with so much at stake. “I’m sorry, okay? You’re my friend and I care about you. It just… I can’t understand why you’re not taking this more seriously.”
Lottie seemed to collapse in on herself. Jessie gasped in surprise and pity before she bolted over to the other couch. She wrapped her arm around her friend who had always seemed so tough and unflappable up to that point. “I’m sorry; I’m so sorry. I never wanted to upset you.”
“It’s okay,” Lottie sobbed. “It’s… you’re right. I know it. Everything you said makes sense. It’s just that I…” She gasped for breath. “I suppose I thought that if I kept my head up and my dignity intact that this thing would go away. I didn’t do it, Jessie, you know that.”
“I believe you,” Jessie said, patting her back. “But unfortunately that won’t keep you out of jail.”
Chapter 16
Jessie waited until Lottie had dried her eyes before she launched into the subject again. Jessie knew she wasn’t very subtle—she had seen it in the way that little boy had clammed up around her but opened his heart to Chief Daly. But at that moment, her bluntness seemed like a positive. They didn’t have much time. The trial wouldn’t take place for several months, but Jessie worried about how Lottie would react to trial by public opinion. Springdale was an idyllic place, but even idyllic places had nasty elements—Jessie had witnessed it firsthand not so long before.
“Right,” Jessie said, reaching over to the coffee table and grabbing another handful of tissues from the box. She handed them to Lottie. “We need to focus.”
Lottie nodded halfheartedly. “What do you want me to do?”
Jessie reached into her purse and pulled out her dog-eared notebook. “We need to stem this thing. Prevent it from becoming a scandal. I’ll go speak to Ken at the Chronicle tomorrow—find out what he knows and get an idea of what sort of angle he’ll take. I’ll try my best to persuade him not to go down the sensationalist route.”
Lottie smiled weakly. “Thanks, Jessie.”
“Second,” Jessie said. “I know you’ve got nothing to hide and you have every right to hold your head up high. But.” She sighed. It wasn’t easy to tell somebody like Lottie what to do, but the alternative didn’t bear thinking about. “Be aware of how you’re coming across. Let’s say the worst happens and this goes to trial. We don’t want the jurors thinking you’re heartless. I know you’re scared—you just told me. Well, don’t be afraid of letting others see it too, okay? I know you usually don’t like to show weakness, but trust me on this.”
Lottie stared at her, eyes glazed. “I’ll try,” she said at last.
“Okay. Now,” Jessie said, relieved that that was out of the way. “Let’s talk about the ‘evidence’ they’ve got.” She made sure to make quote marks with her fingers. “There’s the meat thermometer. The Santa costume. The fact that you were caught on camera arguing with the victim.”
Lottie nodded.
“We’ll start with the meat thermometer. The murder weapon had your fingerprints all over it; nobody else’s.”
Lottie stared back at her dumbly. “I don’t know how that happened.”
“Could they have taken your thermometer from the butchery? From here?”
Lottie shook her head. “I doubt it. I mean, I don’t have one at the store. And here…” she looked over to the kitchen.
“When’s the last time you used it?” Jessie asked quickly, sensing that this might be an angle.
“The day of the party, I guess?”
“Okay,” Jessie said, scribbling that down. “So you brought it from here to the café. Then we went to Lindemann’s.” Jessie rubbed her forehead, trying to remember if she’d seen it. She was sure it hadn’t been in the huge baking tray when they had lifted the bird onto the platter to bring it to the table.
Lottie nodded. “I don’t think I would have taken it out until I was sure it was done.”
“Okay,” Jessie said. “That’s good. Why don’t we see if it’s here? If we don’t find it, I’ll call Freddie and see if they’ve got an extra one floating around their kitchens.”
Lottie winced. “It’s the holidays. He’s going to be run off his feet.”
Jessie sighed. “You’ve been charged with murder. This is serious—he’ll be happy to help; I’m sure of it.”
“Okay.” Lottie seemed to brighten a little at that.
She stood and left the room. Jessie got up and followed her.
***
“I just texted Freddie,” Jessie said, coming back to the kitchen with her phone.
She was almost certain he’d tell them there was no sign of an extra meat thermometer in his kitchen. She and Lottie had spent a half hour looking in all of the drawers and cupboards in Lottie’s spacious kitchen. There was no sign of a meat thermometer.
“Jessie,” Lottie muttered. “I don’t mean to sound negative, but what’s this going to prove exactly? They’ll just say I brought my own thermometer from home.”
Jessie squeezed her arm. “It’s a lead, I suppose. If we can prove it’s your thermometer, then we can try to work out how the real killer got their hands on it.”
Lottie shook her head. “I don’t understand.”
Jessie turned and paced over to the dining table. “There are three places it could be—here, the café and Lindemann’s. If we don’t find it in any of those places, then we can assume your thermometer is the murder weapon. And we’ll be able to narrow down who might have had access.”
“But that doesn’t change anything. Say it was in the kitchen in the café. Remember I came in through the back? Anybody could have gotten in that way.”
“True,” Jessie said with a grimace as she remembered the door they always kept locked. “Okay. Let’s focus on something else. The Santa suit?”
Lottie nodded. “We already know that it’s mine. I checked the store and mine isn’t there.”
“Yeah,” Jessie said. “I figured it was yours from the way Buster was rubbing himself against it.”
Lottie balked. “Really? You sure he wasn’t trying to murder it?”
“No,” Jessie said, remembering. “He was brushing himself against it like it was his owner’s leg.”
“Then he must have changed his tune,” Lottie said with a laugh. “Because the little monster really hasn’t taken to me at all. If cats had opposable thumbs then I’d suggest that it was Buster who murdered David in an attempt to frame me.”
Jessie didn’t laugh. She stood frozen to the spot. “Frame you,” she said thoughtfully. “Do you think that’s a possibility here? It would certainly explain why I can’t find anybody with a grudge against David.”
“Except for me,” Lottie said drolly.
“No, what I mean is, what if it’s somebody with a grudge against you?”
Lottie laughed. “I’ll say this for you, Jessie. You’ve got a great imagination.”
“Think about it,” Jessie pleaded, even though she knew it was an off-the-wall theory. “That would explain why your fingerprints showed up on the weapon and why they made sure to be seen in your Santa suit.”
“Okay, but nobody knew I was going to call Ray Clintock. That wasn’t part of the plan. Jessie, I think it was a coincidence. Even if I was framed, I don’t think it was about me as much as it was about framing someone.”
“Do you have any enemies that you can think of? Anyone who might hold a grudge against you?”
Lottie shook her head. “No. I… I know I’m not the sweetest person in the world, but I can’t think of anyone who would benefit by getting me out of the way. I keep myself to myself.”
“What about Karen? It was her kid who yelled out about seeing Santa, and I hate to say it, but she didn’t have one nice thing to say about you before the party.”
Lottie waved her hand. “Karen and I went to high school together. Never got along. But I don’t see how her kid seeing Santa implies she’s involved?”
“We went to see him, Lottie. He thinks you’re Santa. He sees you in your store all the time. And Karen had told him to look out for Santa at the party. What if she’s behind all of this? You know, come to think of it, she wasn’t at the table at least one of the times little Ricky yelled out. She could have got up and followed David to the bathroom and then pulled out the Santa suit. You’re roughly the same build. She trained the child to look out for that suit, knowing he’d jump to the conclusion that it was you.”
Mistletoe is Murder : A Christmas Cozy Mystery (Bee's Bakehouse Mysteries Book 6) Page 6
