Mistletoe and Mayhem

by London Lovett

  "You go ahead. I'm going to check out the items for sale on the carolers' table." I wasn't exactly sure what I was looking for at the table, but I hoped something new and significant would jump out at me. I still needed to figure out what the chemical odor was on the sweater and the ribbon. With any luck, I'd find something that matched it.

  My best laid plans were delayed by the large group of people standing around the trestle table. I should have predicted that it would be a popular spot on the pier. I decided to let the line shrink some and headed over to the bike rental kiosk where Yolanda and some of the high school kids were selling hot chocolate to raise money for the sports teams. The line there was long too, but I decided to give it a try.

  I searched around hoping to see Detective Briggs, but he was not a fan of crowded town events. I wondered if he had gotten any further on the investigation. I was highly curious to know what he'd found out from Tim Ruxley about his relationship with Charlene.

  My fortitude paid off, and I reached the front of the cocoa line. One of Franki's sons was filling the cups for Yolanda.

  "Hey, Miss Pinkerton," Taylor or Tyler said as he placed the lid on the cup.

  I leaned forward and took a deep smell. I had to concentrate to block out the rich fragrance of the cocoa. "Taylor, right?"

  He smiled, seemingly thrilled that someone had actually guessed right. "You're getting good at telling us apart. That's pretty fast compared to most people."

  "Thanks but I sort of cheated. I saw Tyler this morning when he was helping with the window awards. I know he's been wearing that sharp smelling sports medicine."

  "Oh wow, I hadn't thought of that. Maybe I should tell him to wear it all the time. Only he'll have to sleep in the garage because no one can stand to sit or eat or sleep near him."

  "Yeah, that might be sort of inconvenient for the family. I'll just have to find something else to help me tell you two apart."

  "That's easy." He pointed at his chest with his thumb. "I'm the handsome one."

  I laughed at his comment as I handed Yolanda my two dollars. "Looks like things are going pretty well considering," I commented as she handed me my cup.

  "Yes, I suppose it could be worse," Yolanda said. "Although someone did die, so maybe not."

  The line behind me was getting longer. I nodded my thank you and turned around to scoot off with my hot drink. I was sure it wouldn't be as good as Lester's, but it would be hot and that was all I needed.

  I had my head down, trying to keep it out of the bitter cold and keep my face closer to the warmth radiating from the cup, when I heard Kate Yardley's voice. I peered up from my drink.

  Kate was decked out in an adorable red coat with white fur trim. Her boots, gloves and hat were all made from shiny black leather. But it wasn't the fashionable holiday attire that had my attention as much as the man she was attached to. Her shiny black gloved hand was wrapped around the arm of Randall Dayton. He had left behind the yellow construction hat and switched out his work clothes for a thick winter coat and beanie.

  Gigi was right. The man really got around. And I now knew how to fill in the blank Gigi had left when she talked about Dayton in the store. I wondered when Kate had met him. Even more so, I wondered how on earth the guy had so much spare time to meet and date women when he was running a large construction job.

  Kate spotted me, and I was certain she wanted to make sure I saw her. She guided Dayton so that they passed directly in front of me. She didn't bother to say hello, which I pretty much expected. She was probably hoping I'd mention seeing her to Dash. But she could just keep hoping on that. Her date with Randall didn't interest me at all, especially because they seemed to be leaving and walking away from the activity and my heartsick friend, Lola.

  They were well past when something struck me. Randall had left the smell of tobacco in his wake. It was strong too, as if he'd just recently smoked a cigarette. Was it possible that he only smoked away from the job site and only when he was out of his work clothes? The whole thing was more than a tad baffling.

  Chapter 32

  Even though I knew Detective Briggs was still stuck deep in the middle of the murder case, I was relieved that the holiday event was over. Most of the boats had taken down their decorations and some were already making their way back up the coast. A lot of tourists were still lingering in town, but most would be gone by afternoon. I looked forward to the return of some quiet in Port Danby.

  Miraculously, Lola, Elsie and I had managed to get through the rest of the evening without any drama, which by drama I meant running into a certain construction worker and his busy dating agenda. Seeing Dayton with Kate Upton on his arm would have erased all the good the comfort food and caramel cake feast had done. In fact, Lola seemed to be back on her way to her usual good spirits. I only wished that Dayton Construction had been packing up along with the boat owners. I knew little about building houses, but I was sure they'd be around for at least a few more months.

  I headed to the shop. It was Sunday and the shop would stay closed. It gave me the perfect opportunity to finish up dull paperwork. And, if I was being honest with myself, I also hoped to see Detective Briggs while I was on Harbor Lane. I hadn't spoken to him since I told him about the apparent affair between Tim and Charlene.

  Lester was not usually open on Sunday, but I smelled the heavy scent of coffee as I reached my shop door. I hadn't seen him much all weekend and decided to stop in and say hello before starting paperwork.

  I knocked on the front door and peered through the window to get his attention. Lester put down the coffee pot and came to the door to let me inside.

  "I see you are working on Sunday too," I said. "I'm finally going to get to the paperwork I have piling up on my desk." I looked at his coffee station. It was covered with flavored syrups, cans of whipped cream and bits of chocolate. "I think your Sunday drudge work looks much more fun than mine."

  "I'm trying out some new flavors, so you're just in time to do a little taste test. If you don't mind."

  "Not at all. I could use another burst of caffeine. Yesterday was a long day . . . and night."

  Lester walked behind his counter to his barista station. "I, for one, am glad to have this whole event behind us. With the crowds, the news crews, the unfortunate murder and that blasted window decorating contest, this past week seemed about a year long."

  "I totally agree with that, Les. Elsie tells me you are remodeling your bathroom and putting in one of those fancy soak tubs."

  "Yes. We just put in the drain last night. Looking forward to that tub too. Especially in the cold weather. My days as a firefighter have caught up to me. I can feel every joint and muscle these days." He poured some syrup into a cup and followed it with hot coffee. The aroma of coffee and vanilla filled the air.

  "Smells good. What flavor is this?"

  "This is my vanilla and peppermint surprise. Would you like a squirt of whipped cream?"

  "The day I say no to that question is the day I've given up on all that is good in the world. So yes."

  He chuckled as he topped the coffee with a creamy white swirl. He grabbed a handful of crushed peppermint and tossed it on top of the whipped cream.

  He smiled proudly at his creation as he handed it to me.

  I did what any self-respecting coffee taster would do and licked off some of the whipped cream and peppermint first. As always, the mint tickled my nose. I placed the cup quickly down on the counter to avoid tossing the coffee all over the store as I sneezed. Lester looked somewhat taken aback as I covered my nose. A sneeze chirped through the store.

  "Bless you."

  "Thanks. Peppermint makes me sneeze." I lowered my hand, but as I drew it away, another faint smell threaded through the rich aroma of coffee and the strong scent of peppermint. I lifted my hand to my face again.

  "Another sneeze?" Lester asked. "I shouldn't have put the mint candies on top."

  I shook my head. "No, it's not the candy. I smell something else." Poor Lester
looked almost distraught as I rubbed my hand on the cup and brought my palm to my nose. "That's it. That's the same chemical odor I smelled on the victim's sweater."

  Lester paled and his mouth dropped open.

  "No, I know you didn't have anything to do with the murder, but there is something on this cup. It's faint, too faint for the normal nose." I reached my hand out. "Do you mind, Les? I think you might just have helped Detective Briggs' case."

  The color returned to his face as he placed his hand in mine. I brought it closer to my nose. "It's on your hand. It's a strong chemical smell. It's exactly what I smelled on the sweater. Is it from something you use here in the coffee shop?"

  Lester's fuzzy brows bunched together. "Gosh, I hope not. I don't think my customers would appreciate chemical odors with their coffees." He walked to his sink and carried over the sanitizer he used to wash his hands.

  I took a deep whiff and shook my head. "That's not it."

  "Thank goodness. I've been using that hand cleanser since I opened." He reached up and scratched his chin and then smelled his fingers. "I know exactly what it is." He lightly smacked the side of his head. "Of course. I must have washed my hands a dozen times last night to try and rid my hands of the odor. It's the adhesive my plumber friend and I used to stick together the pipes for the bathtub drain. The drain pipes are made of a special thick resin, and they require an adhesive to make a proper seal. It's quite odorous, as you noticed."

  My sleuthing adrenaline kicked into gear, but I had to keep a lid on my excitement. Mostly because the direction my mind was heading still didn't make much sense. "Is this adhesive something that gets used a lot on a house construction site."

  "If the homeowners are planning to have bathrooms, yes," he said with a light laugh.

  "Good to know." I lifted my cocoa cup and raised it with a wink. "Thanks for the minty treat. It's delicious. And thanks for having smelly adhesive on your hands. You just solved a mystery for me."

  Chapter 33

  My plan to muddle through paperwork was interrupted by the latest development in the Ruxley murder case. I sat down at my desk and pushed aside my work to write down everything we knew about the case so far. Or everything I knew. I hadn't seen Detective Briggs since the day before when he was leaving to ask Tim Ruxley about his relationship with Charlene. He'd mentioned that he'd be speaking to Randall Dayton too. Alibi or not, this last piece of evidence had me focused back on Dayton. I pulled out a blank sheet of paper from my printer and scribbled down a quick graphic. There was Timothy Ruxley, brother of the victim who had hardly spoken to Chad in years because of a falling out in the family business, a business Chad, his older brother, had inherited. Inheritance issues could sometimes create a lot of animosity between family members. It seemed that had been the case with the Ruxley brothers.

  Timothy also appeared to have romantic feelings for Charlene Ruxley, Chad's ex-wife, and it seemed Chad never really got over losing her. But there was no connection between Tim and the two unexpected odors on the sweater and ribbon. Or at least none that we could find.

  On the other hand, Charlene the ex-wife, who was romantically linked to Tim, had access to the same ribbon that was discovered around Chad's throat. She also had access to the trestle table that had the distinct odor of Douglas Fir, the same woodsy scent I smelled on the sweater and ribbon.

  Then there was the third wheel on my three-wheeled diagram. Randall Dayton had a past with Chad Ruxley. Chad was instrumental in the collapse of Randall's father's business and indirectly responsible for his suicide. It seemed Randall had a much bigger motive than even the disgruntled brother or ex-wife. It was easy to connect Randall to both of the unique scents on Chad's clothing. He worked with a great deal of Douglas Fir lumber, and while there was no direct evidence of it yet, it was easy to assume that at some point he had been working with the adhesive for plumbing pipes. But there was a big hole in the Randall Dayton theory. The man couldn't have been in two places at once. It was the pancakes that should have taken him right out of the running, but something kept bringing me back to Dayton. I was missing something that was as obvious as the talented nose on my face. I just couldn't figure it out.

  I decided to take a stroll around the shop to free my mind and, who was I kidding, procrastinate a few more minutes before starting paperwork. I walked to the big bay window where Ryder's magical display was slowly shrinking and drying. Even in its slightly deteriorated state, it was wonderful. I could have kicked myself for immediately confessing that Ryder had done the whole thing. Naturally, I didn't feel right taking even an ounce of credit, but at the same time, it might have been better to keep it to myself. At least until after the judging. Fortunately, Ryder took it in stride and didn't seem too disappointed in losing.

  As I spun away from the window display, something popped into my head about that day. Tyler was helping Yolanda. I could recognize him because of the pungent sports cream he'd applied to his sore muscle. The night before, I saw Taylor and knew it was him because of the lack of medicinal smell. I had seen Randall Dayton three times. The first time in the diner, I didn't notice any tobacco smell. Although I wished I had. It might have stopped Lola from even sharing a slice of pie with him. Then Lola complained that he smelled like smoke on their date. In the Corner Market, with the blonde, no tobacco smell. But last night with Kate, it was back.

  Just maybe Randall Dayton could be in two places at once. I rushed back to my computer and spent the next few minutes typing in keywords and combing through the pages. I found the article about Big Bob Construction losing its license. As I read further, there was a mention of Bob's sons, Randall and Scott. I typed in both their names, and bingo, I found what I needed. Randall and Scott Dayton were identical twins. Randall followed in his father's footsteps and went into construction, but Scott had gone to Hollywood to try his luck in show business. It seemed he was mostly a commercial actor. One thing was for sure, the two brothers were as closely matched as Franki's boys. Only Randall and Scott were easy to tell apart because one smelled like tobacco and one did not. I wasn't completely sure which one was the smoker, but at this point, it didn't matter.

  I stared down at the paperwork on my desk. It could wait. But the new information I had for Detective Briggs couldn't. I walked out to the sidewalk and stared down Harbor Lane. Detective Briggs' car was not parked out front. The black and white patrol car was gone too. Maybe Briggs had figured things out and he was already heading out to the site to find Dayton.

  After I'd helped out on the murder case for Marian Fitch, Briggs had given me his direct line. I dialed the number and was disappointed that it went straight to voicemail. I left him a quick message to call me but didn't want to provide details over the phone. I hoped it wouldn't be long until he listened to his messages. It was Sunday and, in truth, I didn't know all that much about Briggs' social life, except that he rode a motorcycle and he didn't like crowds. It was possible he had been out late Saturday night, and he'd decided to unplug from work for the morning. And just exactly what was he doing out so late on Saturday night? I had to squash that thought right away before it led my imagination astray.

  I was thoroughly disappointed that I couldn't reach him. So thoroughly that I was sure I couldn't possibly concentrate on paperwork. I decided to walk down to Franki's for breakfast while I waited for him to call me back.

  Chapter 34

  An angry looking storm loomed out over the ocean. The gulls that usually huddled on the pier in the morning waiting patiently for food crumbs and fish bits had moved inland. The birds always knew when it was time to clear the coastline for a storm. It was no wonder Kingston had tucked his beak back under his wing when I invited him along for the morning.

  I could feel this one coming in my bones as well. The clouds were tall, reaching far up into the atmosphere, and they carried with them that dark, ominous glow of thunder, lightning and sheets of rain. The morning air was cold but not quite frigid enough for snow. That meant the blanket of sno
w on the town would be turned to mushy ice.

  The depressingly gray sky, the eerie quiet left behind from the weekend's event and my sense that I had discovered the name of the murderer sent an odd chill through me that had nothing to do with the temperature.

  Long before I reached the diner, I'd decided firmly on one of Franki's yogurt parfaits for breakfast. Her parfait was a whispery light concoction of vanilla honey yogurt, berries and Franki's homemade pecan granola. After the very irresponsible dinner of mashed potatoes, macaroni and cheese and caramel cake, I needed to eat something nutritious or risk feeling like a soft potato myself. I could almost feel the heavy starches weighing me down as I walked through the diner parking lot.

  Most of the town had been out late last night, and there were only a few cars and one work truck in the parking lot. I didn't give the work truck a second glance as I walked past it until the diner door opened and Randall Dayton walked out. Or was it Scott? Or was I totally wrong about all of it?

  Dayton was alone. He had just finished a phone call as he stepped off the curb to walk around to the driver's side of the truck. Rude jerk that he was, he took a moment to look me up and down. Then he pulled the keys from his pocket.

  I didn't know if it was the way he'd so brazenly looked at me or if it was the way he'd treated Lola but my anger made me blurt out the words before I could give them careful thought.

  "I must be seeing double," I said with a forced laugh.

  He stopped halfway along the driver's side and turned back to me, his dark brow arched in suspicion. The work truck led me to believe that I was talking to Randall. There was no tobacco smell.

  "Excuse me?" The harsh way he said the words should have given me pause, but I forged right ahead.

  "It's just that I've been seeing you so much this weekend. It's almost as if there are two of you. Identical twins, I assume."