The Killer Christmas Sweater Club

by Terry Ambrose

  “Hey, Joe, are you around?” Rick called out.

  “Just a minute.”

  The voice sounded like it was only a few feet away, but it was also muffled. Rick walked around the counter and looked down. The lower half of a man’s body stuck out from the cabinets behind the counter.

  “Are you okay?” Rick asked.

  “No need to yell, Rick. I can hear you just fine.” A moment later, the body wriggled out of the small opening, and Joe put one hand on the counter to steady himself as he stood. “I had a drop in water pressure. It’s all taken care of now, but I’ve spent most of the day getting it fixed. What can I do for you?”

  Rick craned his neck so he could look into the tiny space Joe had squeezed into. The opening itself wasn’t much more than twelve inches wide and the pipes filled much of the space. “I knew you did most of your own maintenance, but I didn’t realize you were a plumber, too. And a ninja. How’d you fit in there?”

  Joe laughed as he stretched to his left, then his right. “You guys on land have it easy. You ever try to get a plumber to make a house call when you’re two-thousand miles from the nearest port?”

  “I see your point. Somehow, I don’t think I could ever keep a boat operating at its peak.”

  “Sometimes you don’t worry about peak. You just pray you’ve done things well enough to make it to land. Speaking of peak, I understand you’re getting the B&B in tip-top condition for Christmas.”

  “We’ve been doing some work. The whole place feels so much more alive.”

  Joe nodded, then his brow wrinkled. “So tell me something. Did you do any decorating in your office?”

  “No. I’ve left most things the way they were.”

  “What about the old map?”

  “The one of the bay? That’s one of the things I haven’t touched. Did you want it?”

  “No. Just curious. I like those old nautical charts.” Joe’s lips pinched together as he shook his head.

  Rick eyed Joe for a moment. His interest seemed more than idle curiosity, and wasn’t that the way it was with the B&B? There seemed to be an abundance of old secrets. Rick said, “I may want to reframe it at some point, but things have to settle down first.”

  “Good enough.” Joe pursed his lips and nodded, then leaned against the counter. “I’m sure you didn’t come here to marvel at my prowess as a nautical handyman or discuss decorating ideas. What’s up?”

  “It has to do with Thorne’s murder.”

  “Of course it does. Why else would you visit me?”

  “Ouch. Am I that bad?” Rick winced.

  “Not quite, but close. Tell you what, invite me to that fancy open house you’re having on Christmas Eve and all will be forgiven.”

  Rick’s hand went to his chest and he felt a rush of heat in his cheeks. He couldn’t believe they’d overlooked Joe. “You weren’t invited?”

  “Actually, I was. I just wanted to see your reaction. You passed with flying colors.” He winked and his bright blue eyes sparkled with mischief.

  “Okay.” Rick let out the breath he’d been holding. “You had me worried for a moment. Marquetta doesn’t make mistakes like that.”

  “You’re right. She doesn’t.”

  “Tell me something. Did you meet with Thorne Waldorf last Friday?”

  Joe nodded. “Ah, the reason at hand. I did. How’d you hear about it?”

  “You were listed on his calendar as having an appointment at two-thirty.” He deliberately left off having been seen entering the office.

  “I was trying to appeal to his human side.”

  “You mind telling me what happened?”

  “I don’t mind at all. He didn’t have one. A human side. Turned me down flat.”

  “To…?”

  “Is this part of the police investigation?”

  “It is. We’ve decoded Thorne’s calendar and discovered you were one of three people who had appointments with him that day.”

  “Who were the other two?”

  Rick snickered. If Joe’s skills as a nautical handyman were as good as his interrogation skills, he was an ace. “It’s no wonder you helped organize the Cove Talkers newsletter. I guess there’s no harm in telling you. Word will be out soon enough. Dennis Malone and Alex’s mother.”

  Joe raised an eyebrow. “I noticed you didn’t call her your wife. Have you got someone to talk to about it?”

  Rick nodded. “I do. Thanks. So what did you say to Thorne?”

  “I asked him to lay off Dennis,” Joe said. “Have you talked to him?”

  “Briefly, but I have more questions for him. I know he had an arrest more than ten years ago.”

  “You must have made a pretty good reporter. You’re relentless. Look, Dennis is one of those people who worries too much. He made a stupid mistake when he was young. All he got was a slap on the wrist, but he’ll carry that burden on his shoulders for the rest of his life. His biggest fear is losing his family. Thorne was leveraging that extremely well.”

  “How so?”

  “Thorne was in the background with Exploration International’s work until a few months ago. All of a sudden, he jumped in with both feet. As near as we can tell, it was…”

  “Wait. Who’s this ‘we’?”

  “Sorry, Dennis and me. Ken was part of this, too. He and Dennis are pretty tight.” Joe paused, picked up a small brass trophy from the counter, and turned it over in his hands. “Thorne really got his leverage when a few surfers were caught getting high on the beach back in August. They’d been in his shop, so Thorne decided he was somehow linked to the drugs.”

  Rick shook his head in disbelief. “How would he make that connection?”

  “Because Dennis was working so hard to look innocent that he looked guilty. Thorne took on the role of judge, jury, and executioner. He wrote to the landlord, which is a real estate company in San Ladron.”

  “That’s San Ladron Realty Investments, right?”

  Joe nodded. “Exactly. So he wrote to them and told them the guy was dealing drugs out of his store. The company contacted Dennis, told him what they’d heard, and threatened to terminate the lease if it was true. He denied it, of course. And he even suggested they contact the police to see if there had been an arrest.”

  “And that didn’t take care of the problem?”

  “It might have if Dennis hadn’t decided to get even with Thorne. He told Thorne he wasn’t going to deal with him or Exploration International anymore. Unfortunately, that’s when Dennis exploded and got belligerent. I’m sure that’s what gave Thorne the idea of looking at Dennis’s background. He uncovered the old arrest record and retaliated by sending a copy to the real estate company.”

  “So Dennis and Thorne were in this battle over the store and Dennis got worried his wife would find out?”

  “Now you’re getting the picture. In my opinion, neither Dennis nor Marianne were prepared for parenthood, and between the financial and interpersonal pressures—well, their relationship is on the rocks. Dennis said he was worried Marianne might hear about his arrest and the potential to lose their source of income. Her parents never liked Dennis, so that’s another bone of contention.”

  “Wow.” Rick shook his head. “Guy’s got all kinds of problems. It sounds like most are of his own making.”

  “I don’t know whether Dennis would tell you any of this or not. I’m doing this for his own good. The guy’s so paranoid he’s not thinking straight. And if he starts telling lies to you or Adam, things will only get worse. He’s so desperate right now that he’ll do or say anything to maintain the status quo. You need to know the truth before you talk to him. The only way he’s going to get past this once and for all is to face it head on. And Dennis isn’t much of a facer; he’s more of a runner.”

  Rick’s image stared back at him from the mirror behind the counter. What would he do if he were faced with the same situation? He’d avoided dealing with his broken marriage, and now it was coming back to bite him. “Ever
yone likes to think they’re strong enough to deal with a crappy hand, but I guess you really never know until you see your cards.”

  “So true,” Joe said. His gaze narrowed at Rick. “How are you doing?”

  “Well…” Rick ran his hand through his hair to push back the lock that tended to fall forward. “If I can clear my wife of murder and then divorce her, my life will be heaven.”

  “No pressure, Rick.” Joe laughed and then quickly added, “You don’t have any other suspects?”

  “Everybody who got one of those sweaters—Ken, Laurel, and Giselle. Her’s was in the back of the car, but she claims someone put it there. I think the only way to solve this case is to follow a hunch. If that doesn’t pan out, my life won’t be heaven for a very long time.”

  “Let me ask you something. Why do you need to wait until you clear Giselle to divorce her? Why not separate the issues altogether?”

  “Doesn’t that seem pretty callous? I mean, she could be facing this legal battle for her life and you think I should hit her with a second one?”

  Joe leaned forward on the glass countertop with both elbows. His blue eyes were clear and bright. Rick had no idea how old Joe Gray was, but he’d been married to the same woman for thirty-six years. Obviously, he knew something about how to make things work.

  “What would you suggest?” Rick asked.

  “Just ask yourself whether you want to cut your ties with Giselle or not. If you do, then don’t wait to see how this whole thing with Thorne works out. I learned a long time ago that chaining together unrelated decisions is very unhealthy. You could also look at it this way. What if she is charged and found guilty? What would you do then? Face it, Rick. As my CO told me during my first stint in the Navy, ‘There ain’t never a good time for some things.’”

  CHAPTER 50

  ALEX

  December 21

  Hey Journal,

  Daddy spent most of the day here today and Mr. Van Horn delivered our tree first thing this morning! Marquetta volunteered to make him breakfast and he kinda pretended to not want anything, but his stomach was growling so she told him she wasn’t gonna take no for an answer. You know what, Journal? Mr. Van Horn can eat a lot of food!

  Anyway, after we got everything cleaned up, me and Daddy and Marquetta helped set up the tree. Mr. Van Horn said he wanted to help, too, so we made up an old-fashioned fire brigade. We formed a line and passed the boxes down from the attic. It was fun! Then we all carried the boxes downstairs.

  While we were putting up ornaments, I kept trying to get Daddy and Marquetta to stand over by the butler door, but they never went there at the same time! Can you believe it? I’m really starting to feel the pressure, Journal. What if we go the whole, entire Christmas and they never meet there?

  Daddy left a little while ago to go see my mom. He asked me if I was ready to talk to her, but I told him I wasn’t. I thought I was gonna do it, but now I’m not so sure. It’s like this super hard decision ‘cause if I say I’ll meet with her, she’s gonna be part of my life again—and I don’t know if I want that.

  Maybe tomorrow all this stuff will make more sense…

  xoxo

  Alex

  P.S. If I don’t come up with a story soon for the Cove Talkers newsletter I might get fired. Oh man, just what I need, more pressure.

  CHAPTER 51

  RICK

  Rick stood at the edge of the dock studying the ocean. The water today was gray in the harbor. Out beyond the breakwater, it darkened into a cold and choppy soup. He shrugged himself deeper into his jacket to ward off the bite in the air, and then dialed Jordan Lane’s office. He waited as Beth transferred his call.

  “Hey, Jordan, let’s try the settlement agreement path. When can you do it?”

  “I already have it drawn up. Just waiting for you to pull the trigger. I’ll hand these off right away. What changed your mind?”

  “I had a great day yesterday with Alex putting up Christmas decorations. I realized it’s not fair to her to have my indecision hanging over her head. And then Joe Gray said I’ve been postponing this for ‘the right time.’ As he so eloquently put it, there’s never a good time for some things.”

  Jordan chuckled. “Got it. Joe sharing his Navy stories again. I’m just happy to see you move forward. This won’t take long. Beth is standing in front of me with Adam and we’re discussing the missing sweater debacle. From what I hear, you guys haven’t gotten very far in the last couple of days.”

  “I know. It feels like the leads are turning as cold as this day. I want to tell Giselle before Adam serves the papers.”

  “I’ll let him know. Will an hour be long enough?”

  “Plenty. Thanks.” They disconnected the call and Rick checked the time. It was already four-thirty. He walked up the street and when he saw Hot Feet, he entered the store. Inside, Laurel Harris waved to him from behind the counter at the back of the shop.

  “Hey Rick, what’s up? Are you here for those shoes?”

  “Not yet. I have a couple of questions for you.” He headed toward Laurel, passing a round table filled with trendy sandals.

  “Okay, what do you need to know?”

  “Let’s start with something easy. Are those sandals a popular item?”

  Laurel laughed. “You wouldn’t believe how much the tourists love them. More than half of my customers are from out-of-town. They get here, see those, and fall in love with the ‘beach vibe.’ I’ll bet most of those never get worn when they go home.”

  “I wondered,” Rick said. He paused, then asked, “Did you see the altercation between Dennis and Thorne that happened back in November? It happened in front of Scoops & Scones.”

  “I remember.” She began rearranging the shoes on a small, round display table. “Poor Dennis. He really blew up. I felt terrible for him.”

  “Do you know what the argument was about?”

  “The usual. Thorne was trying to force Dennis out.”

  “I’ve heard you, Ken, and Dennis were putting up a united front.”

  “That could be why he stopped seeing me. The day he and Dennis had it out on the street was when I started to realize Thorne was just using me. He found different weaknesses in each of us.”

  Rick glanced across the street at where the argument would have taken place, suddenly realizing how devastated Laurel must be. “I’m sorry. You must feel terribly victimized.”

  “I have good days and bad. Telling someone about this is kind of cathartic—in a perverse sort of way.”

  “You said before that you saw Thorne about a week before he died.”

  “Yes. He stayed at my place that night and didn’t call again. To be honest, I made no attempt to call him either. I don’t know about him, but I knew it was over at that point.”

  “When was the last time you stayed over at his place?”

  “I think it was the week before. By then, the whole thing was more of an awkward ritual than a love affair.”

  “Back when things were better, did he ever show you the photographs he’d taken of the house?”

  “He said something once in passing about keeping photos for insurance purposes. Typical Thorne—it was in the context of him telling me I was stupid for not having photos of the interior of my place. He was like that, you know? He would give you this suggestion to do something good and ruin it with a cutting remark. Sorry…I’m rambling. I heard about the photos, but never saw them.”

  “No worries,” Rick said. “But you were in his office, right?”

  “Of course. If there was one thing he always wanted to share, it was his trophies.”

  “When was the last time you were in that room?”

  “The night I stayed over.”

  “Did he ever show you his photo from when he graduated law school?”

  “Oh God, you’d think the man had performed brain surgery blindfolded. Yes, he showed me the photo on several occasions.”

  “Was it there the last time you were in the office?”


  Laurel paused, studied a nearby display of sandals for a moment, then nodded absently. “I’m pretty sure it was. It was his proudest moment, so I’m sure nothing had happened to it.”

  “Thanks. That’s all I have for now.” Rick waved goodbye and headed for the front door. Before he left, he turned and said, “I promise. When this is over I’ll be back for a pair of shoes.”

  On his way to the Seaside Cove Inn, Rick called Marquetta and told her he would be home as soon as he could. When the brown-and-white sign for the Seaside Cove Inn came into view, Rick took a deep breath. He was really doing this.

  Giselle’s rental car was parked in the same place it had been on his last visit. He climbed the stairs, and at the top of the second-floor landing, looked down over the pool area. There was too much concrete, not enough character. Off to the side, a garden hose had been left on the path. It was the kind of tripping hazard he’d never tolerate.

  “This is why we do everything first-class,” he said to himself, then went to Giselle’s room and knocked.

  The drapes parted slightly and the door opened a few seconds later. Giselle’s eyes were rimmed in red and she wore no makeup, accenting the signs of age Rick had noticed the other day. They exchanged an awkward greeting and Giselle invited him in. She sat on the edge of the bed, straightened the sweatshirt she wore, and dabbed at her cheek with a tissue she held in her hand. Rick sat opposite her on the chair.

  Giselle straightened up as she pushed a few strands of red hair out of her face. “Have you made any progress on your murder investigation?”

  “Some. I’ve narrowed down the list of suspects.”

  “Let me guess, I’m one.”

  “Unfortunately, yes.”

  “How convenient,” Giselle hissed. “You’ve finally figured out a way to get rid of me.”

  “No. That’s not my plan at all. In fact, I don’t believe you murdered Thorne. I still have a lead or two I need to work on. And I keep hoping something will turn up that we’ve missed. So far, though, we haven’t had a lot of luck.”