The Killer Christmas Sweater Club

by Terry Ambrose

  Alex’s eyes widened and she yelped, “You did catch the killer!”

  “Hey, Sweetie, don’t get too excited,” Marquetta said as she dropped a pat of butter into the hot pan. She swirled it around, then positioned two assembled sandwiches on top.

  Rick took a deep breath. “The second reason has to do with the person who had the sweater in their possession.” He paused and waited until Alex was looking straight at him. “It was your mom.”

  Alex blinked a couple of times, and her brow furrowed. “What?”

  “Oh, good lord.” Marquetta stood at the stove gaping at Rick.

  He reached out and rested a hand on Alex’s arm. Her eyes were misting over, and her jaw hung open. “I don’t have all the details as to why she is here, but she claims someone put the sweater in her rental car on Friday night.”

  Alex shook her head and tears welled in her eyes. “She can’t be. No.”

  “I’m sorry, kiddo,” Rick said. “I don’t understand what’s going on with her or why she’s here now.”

  Marquetta approached them and knelt next to Alex. “Sweetie, I am so sorry.” She pulled Alex into a hug and the two clung to each other.

  “Uh, Marky, your sandwiches are burning.”

  Marquetta’s hand flew to her chest. She rushed back to the stove, quickly flipped both, then winced at the almost black crusts. “I’m so sorry…”

  “It’s fine,” Rick said. “Really. Right Adam?”

  “I like extra crispy.” The deputy gave Marquetta a thumbs up.

  Rick pressed his lips together. Alex was strangely detached from the conversation and was staring off into the corner with tears brimming in her eyes. He reached out to take her hand. “We’ll find a way through this, kiddo. I promise.”

  Alex wiped at a tear dribbling down her cheek. “She can’t be here.”

  Marquetta set plates in front of Rick and Adam, then sat on the stool next to Alex and pulled her close. “Let’s take this one step at a time. Okay, Sweetie? Your dad has to find out what your mom wants.”

  Alex nodded as she leaned into Marquetta. She choked back a sob and said, “But she’s ruining Christmas.”

  “Oh, Sweetie. She can’t ruin Christmas. We’re all still here.” Marquetta kissed Alex on the forehead.

  “Will you still be here on Christmas Eve?”

  Marquetta smiled and blinked back tears. “Of course.”

  “And Christmas morning?”

  Marquetta’s eyes flicked in Rick’s direction as she leaned her cheek against the top of Alex’s head. “I wouldn’t miss it.” She gave Alex’s shoulder a gentle shake and pulled away.

  Deputy Cunningham picked up the second half of his grilled cheese and smacked his lips. “This is way better than anything I’d make.”

  “Why would someone put one of the sweaters in the back of her car?” Marquetta asked.

  “It had blood on it? Was it still wet?” Alex asked.

  “We didn’t touch it, kiddo.”

  “Marky, to answer your question, she says it was a break-in.” Deputy Cunningham shook his head. “That’s a hard pill for me to swallow.”

  “Why would she hang onto it?” Alex asked.

  “She didn’t. One of the maids found it in the trash and had Ray call the police. I had to tell Mrs. Atwood to not leave town.”

  “Of course you did.” Marquetta waved her hands in front of her. “Sorry, that came out wrong. I meant telling her to not leave town makes sense—where did this supposed break-in happen? Sorry…it’s not my place.”

  “Nonsense,” Rick blurted. “You and Alex have every right. We don’t know for sure, but we think it might have been while she was here.”

  “Here?” Alex buried her face in her hands. “This totally isn’t happening. My mom killed Mr. Waldorf?” She leaned back on her stool, her lower lip trembling.

  “We don’t know who killed Thorne…yet. For all we know, the real killer put the sweater in the back of her car just like she said. Or maybe the blood has nothing to do with Thorne’s murder.” Rick’s face flushed at the absurdity of his statement. None of them believed such nonsense. “I know. That seems farfetched, but she’s innocent until proven guilty.”

  “It would help if we knew more details about Friday night,” Adam said. “She told us she came here, peeked in, and then went for a walk. But she didn’t give us details about her time with Thorne. Maybe you should talk to her, Rick. Alone.”

  “So she must be the person our guest saw Friday night,” Marquetta said.

  “She admitted as much. At least we know who the guests were talking about now.”

  “The poor woman,” Marquetta muttered. “She must be feeling terribly alone.”

  Rick knew he, too, should feel compassion for Giselle—yet he didn’t. No, couldn’t. Not yet. He studied Alex’s face as she stared at nothing in particular. “Are you doing okay, kiddo?”

  “What if she did it, Daddy?”

  Rick wrapped his arm around her and pulled her close. “I know it looks bad, kiddo, but there’s no solid evidence. I don’t think she had a reason to kill Thorne. If he was alive when she left his office, which is what she claims, someone came in afterwards.”

  “She’s gotta be lying.” Alex sat up straight, crossed her arms, and huffed. “She always lied to us.”

  Rick rubbed the back of his neck, but couldn’t make the prickling sensation fade. A pang of guilt shot through him—a young girl should not feel that way about her mother. He gazed across the white granite countertop at Deputy Cunningham. “Let’s say I talk to her, Adam. Do you want me to record the conversation?”

  “I’m afraid the Seaside Cove PD doesn’t have any kind of fancy surveillance equipment. You’d be all on your own.”

  “Then I’ll just have to be extra cautious.”

  Rick regarded both Marquetta and Alex. He couldn’t…wouldn’t…endanger their relationship. For the first time in her life, his daughter had stability. And, dare he even think it? A woman who treated her as if she were her own daughter. He took a deep breath and turned his full attention to Alex.

  “There’s a question I want to ask you, kiddo. And you need to understand I’ll support you no matter what option you choose.”

  “What’s that, Daddy?”

  Marquetta rested her hands on Alex’s shoulders as though she knew what was coming.

  Rick swallowed his anguish. There was only one way to handle this—head on.

  “It’s your choice, Alex. Do you want to talk to your mom?”

  CHAPTER 33

  ALEX

  December 18

  Hey Journal,

  I’m super confused. Daddy asked me if I wanted to talk to my mom and I didn’t know what to say. Everybody probably thinks I should see her. Is it the right thing to do? I know it sounds mean, but what if I don’t want to?

  It’s not like I remember her. She’s just this person who was in my life, and then she wasn’t. Daddy says the first time she left us I was only a couple years old. Even when we moved to New York so we could be together again, she was always busy with her acting stuff. So why should I care? Right, Journal?

  Am I a bad person for feeling that way? And I don’t want to hurt Marquetta’s feelings. She says she’s cool with me talking to my mom, but really? I totally don’t know if I could be that strong.

  But Marquetta is. And I wanna be like her when I grow up. So if she could do it, I totally can. You know what, Journal? I’m gonna talk to her.

  I’m gonna meet with my mom and we’re still gonna have an awesome Christmas. Daddy said he’d support me no matter what I want to do. And I know Marquetta will totally do that, too.

  Okay, Journal. I’m gonna tell Daddy. Wish me luck!

  xoxo

  Alex

  CHAPTER 34

  RICK

  After Alex asked to be excused, Deputy Cunningham said he needed to catch up on cataloging evidence. So, here they sat, dark blue placemats before them, two people at an island that se
emed to stretch on forever.

  “Thank goodness you got Alex a journal,” Rick said. “She’s really taken to it.”

  “I had one when I was her age. There are so many things a young girl goes through.”

  “Like her mother reappearing in her life as a murder suspect.”

  “That’s one I never had happen to me. I can’t imagine what she’s going through. Or you.”

  Marquetta reached out and laid a hand on Rick’s. He returned the gentle pressure, and Marquetta started. She sucked in a small breath and pulled away.

  “This whole mess with Giselle,” Rick said. “It’s like having a yoke around my neck.” He stared out the bank of casement windows over the sink. They brightened the room so much; if only they could do the same for his mood.

  “Why? It’s not your fault.”

  “I keep wondering if I hadn’t had Jordan serve those divorce papers whether she’d be here.”

  “The only way you’ll find out is to talk to her, Rick.”

  “I know. I just wish—are you really okay with me doing that?”

  Marquetta stood and went to the sink, picked up a towel, and began wiping one of the already clean pans. He waited patiently, knowing the question must be a difficult one for her. When she spoke, her voice was tentative.

  “What I want doesn’t really matter here. You have to do what’s best for Alex. And you.”

  He ran his fingers across the smooth surface of white granite, the weight of his decisions still heavy on his shoulders. “You’re right, of course. For the record, I hope Giselle didn’t kill Thorne, but I want her out of our lives.”

  Marquetta started to say something, but stopped and put her hand to her throat. She turned away and spoke without looking at Rick. “This is such an awful situation. Thorne wasn’t a nice man, but who’d want to murder him?”

  He went to stand next to her and leaned against the counter. Her eyes were misted over and her smile tight.

  “There could be a number of people who wanted to kill Thorne,” Rick said. “One who comes to mind is Darcy Willoughby. Do you think she’s capable of murder?”

  “You’re asking me? I have no idea.” Marquetta laughed nervously and kept her back against the counter. “Maybe you should ask Alex. She seems to be pretty good at this kind of stuff.”

  “I’d like to keep her out of this.”

  “That may not be possible. She’s asked me to help her solve the murder.”

  Rick stuffed his hands into his pockets and took a long breath. “I knew she wanted to play detective, but I never thought she’d enlist your aid. I never saw that one coming. What kind of help?”

  “She’s convinced the rumor mill can solve this. I told her I’d share what I know, but if we find something valuable we have to share it with you.” She quickly added, “I thought it would be a way to keep tabs on her.”

  Rick covered his mouth with his hand and chuckled. “Thank goodness.”

  “You’re not mad?” Marquetta’s eyebrows went up and she raised her eyebrows at Rick.

  “Quite the contrary. I don’t want Alex involved, but if she’s working with you—at least I know she’ll be safe.” He took Marquetta’s hands in his and said, “Don’t you see? She looks up to you and when you tell her ‘no,’ she understands you mean it. When I tell her the same thing she sees it as a challenge.”

  Marquetta’s cheeks colored with a tinge of pink as she backed away and began rearranging her ponytail. “So you’re okay with this?”

  “I’m delighted.” He gave her a reassuring smile. “I’m sure Alex is, too. Just keep me in the loop, that’s all I ask.”

  “Of course.”

  The room brightened, and Rick turned to look out the window. The sun had been playing peekaboo with the clouds all day and, in a way, it felt like what he’d been doing his entire life. Once Thorne’s murder was resolved, he was moving forward. How Giselle fit into that plan, he had no idea.

  “So, Darcy Willoughby. What can you tell me about her?”

  “Darcy’s a couple of years younger than me. She’s kind of nutty, but sweet.”

  “What do you mean by nutty?”

  Marquetta rubbed the back of her neck as she rolled her head in a circle. “This is really hard—thinking of people I’ve known my whole life as suspects. But I’ve never really been close to Darcy. It’s almost like her mother kept her sequestered after she graduated high school. She was two years behind me and there were a few stories about her.”

  “Stories? What kind? Anything you can tell us would be helpful.”

  Marquetta grabbed a sponge and began wiping down the already spotless six-burner stove. “Darcy gets lost in her own little world sometimes. She made up stories about various boyfriends in school. None of them were true. Nobody could ever tell if she believed the stories or was just making them up to get attention.”

  “Did she ever have a boyfriend? Did she date?”

  Marquetta put down the sponge and faced Rick. “I have no idea. But you saw her at the party. She’s so flamboyant. Did she tell you about her next book?”

  “We only got as far as it being number six or seven and how she used multiple pen names.”

  “It’s some sort of thriller about a serial killer in a small town.”

  Rick rubbed his chin as he stared straight ahead. That was not what she’d led him to believe. “She told me she wrote historical romance.”

  “I think you’re correct. I also think Darcy is more eccentric than dangerous. That’s my take, anyway. Who else are you looking at?”

  “Laurel Harris, Ken Grayson, Dennis Malone. That’s all we have so far.”

  “So you guys definitely think the killer was a local?”

  “It had to be. Thorne was threatening the very fabric of this town. What I don’t know is if the suspect list is limited to those who received a sweater. For instance, Darcy didn’t get one, but she was jilted by Thorne and could have gone off into a jealous rage if she confronted him.”

  The color in Marquetta’s cheeks drained.

  “What?” Rick asked.

  “It’s nothing.”

  “It doesn’t look like nothing. At the party, Darcy kept looking around like she was expecting someone. The expression on your face tells me you know something about her.”

  “There’s nothing I know for sure, but you might want to take a closer look at her.”

  “Why?”

  “Just a feeling.”

  “No way. You heard something.”

  “The plot for her next book? The thriller? She was telling me about it and—it sounds—well, it sounds familiar. That’s all I’ll say. All I’m asking is that you look at her, okay?”

  “Will do. Anyway, we need to go through Thorne’s papers again. Maybe we can turn up a few more suspects. My money’s on the jealous lover which, based on the way you’re acting, could be Darcy or Laurel.”

  “When I talked to Laurel at the party she told me she was afraid he’d moved on. It was too much for her. But it didn’t seem like she’d resort to murder.”

  Rick rubbed his throat with his hand and shook his head. “Jeez. Two women. Both dumped. I’d have to say, being with Thorne probably ranks up there in their lives as one of those worst-decision-ever choices.”

  “It would in my book. I’d rather enter a convent.”

  After a moment of hesitation, Rick said, “Anyway, Laurel’s at the top of the list because she broke into Thorne’s house this morning. According to what she told us, she saw him with a redheaded woman through the front window the night before. We’re almost positive it was Giselle. Did she say anything when you talked to her?”

  “As a matter of fact, she did. There was a lot of venom when she described what she saw. I guess she waited out front in hopes that the woman would leave so she could have it out with Thorne.”

  “It was raining,” Rick said.

  “I know. The things we do for love.” Marquetta shook her head. “Laurel has always seemed so level
headed to me. Her taking up with Thorne still baffles me.”

  Rick rubbed the smooth surface of the granite and nodded. “I would be a terrible one to criticize Laurel.” When he glanced up, Marquetta was watching him.

  “Because of Giselle?”

  “Fool for love.” Rick raised his right hand. “Guilty, as charged. No longer, though. Once this is over, I’m taking steps to make a clean break.”

  “I’m not sure there’s such a thing as a clean break when love is involved,” Marquetta said.

  He nodded his agreement. It might not be clean, but it would be a break. He started to say something, but stopped when Marquetta looked past him at the butler door.

  “Hey, Sweetie, what’s up?”

  Alex crossed the room and sat on the stool between them. “I have a confession to make.”

  CHAPTER 35

  RICK

  Alex’s freckled cheeks were tight, her brow wrinkled. She looked so sincere. So worried. Rick wasn’t sure what she’d done, but for her to come to them like this could only mean one thing—it had been bad.

  “What did you do, kiddo?” Rick fought against an urge to be demanding.

  “It’s kinda about the party,”

  Rick and Marquetta exchanged a shrug. “Oh?” Rick said.

  “I kinda did some spying.”

  Rick closed his eyes and had a momentary flash of Sasha’s accidental collision with Isabelle Murdoch. Of course. He didn’t give much credence to coincidence, and that little accident had smacked of it. So what had Alex orchestrated? “Does this involve Sasha and Robbie?”

  “You can’t tell anyone about this. I don’t want them getting in trouble.”

  “Let me guess, you organized something.”

  “It’s totally on me.”

  “Tell you what. You want to take responsibility, it’s yours. Unless the other kids did something dangerous or illegal, we’ll keep this between the three of us.”

  “I’m good with that.” Alex nodded enthusiastically. “They didn’t do either of those things. All they did was help me.”

  “Does this have something to do with Mrs. Murdoch?” Rick asked.