Yule Log Murder

by Leslie Meier

  “Germany? Are you all going to Germany?” asked Lucy, assuming that Toby had gotten a new job, or perhaps a fellowship of some sort, involving German fishery practices. “How wonderful for Patrick to experience another culture, and maybe even learn German.”

  “Patrick’s not going,” said Molly. “I’m going to study German language and folk tales at Heidelberg. I’m actually flying out of Boston on the twenty-eighth.”

  Bill cast a concerned look at his son, who was staring at his plate. “Is this a separation?” he asked anxiously.

  “Well, we’ll be apart, but we’ll still be married . . . ,” offered Molly. Lucy noticed her daughter-in-law looked different, and it wasn’t just the new hairstyle. It was the way she set her jaw, exhibiting a new, determined attitude.

  “Patrick and I are going to be bachelors for a year,” said Toby. “We’re going to hunt and fish and play video games whenever we want.”

  “And I’m not gonna have baths anymore,” said Patrick.

  “Well, I’m not sure about that,” said Toby.

  Lucy was silent during this exchange, trying to understand why Molly would choose to leave her husband and son and go to Germany for a year. “Why, Molly, I didn’t know you were interested in German folk tales,” she finally said.

  “I am, ever since I first read the Brothers Grimm,” said Molly. “It’s something I’ve wanted to do for a long time.” She sighed, a long sigh, as if she was finally free of a terrible burden. “And more than that, I need some me time.”

  “Well,” was all Lucy could say. She stared at the half-eaten servings of salad and chili and corn bread on her plate, picked up her fork, and put it back down. Suddenly she didn’t seem to have any appetite.

  Chapter Six

  Next morning, Lucy couldn’t wait to get together with her friends at Jake’s to vent her frustration about Molly and the pit bull. As she drove down Red Top Hill, she wasn’t sure which of the two creatures was most upsetting, but finally settled on Molly. Skittles, after all, was merely a dumb beast, but Molly had been blessed with understanding and a conscience, although Lucy definitely had doubts that her daughter-in-law had been listening to that still, small voice. At bottom, what she found most troubling was the effect Molly’s departure would have on Toby and Patrick, and that’s what she found herself saying when she joined her friends at their usual Thursday-morning table in Jake’s Donut Shack.

  “I’m terrified that this is the first step toward a divorce,” she said as Norine filled her mug with coffee. “She can call it whatever she wants, a sabbatical or the junior year abroad she never got, or me time, but it’s really just a separation.” Lucy stared glumly into her mug, noticing the reflected light on the surface of the coffee.

  “Usual all round?” asked Norine, who’d been serving the same choices to the friends for years: a sunshine muffin for Pam, yogurt and granola for Rachel, eggs and hash for Lucy, and black coffee for Sue. “Sure you don’t want to try something solid for a change?” she asked Sue, pencil poised over her order pad, just in case.

  “No thanks, not today,” said Sue, who dodged the same question every week.

  “I suppose you ate at home?” persisted Norine, narrowing her eyes.

  “Actually, I did,” admitted Sue, with a virtuous little nod. “I had a square of dark chocolate. It’s supposed to be good for you.”

  “Chocolate for breakfast,” scoffed Norine, rolling her eyes and marching off to the kitchen to deliver their order.

  “You know what they say, eat dessert first,” said Sue, with a naughty smile.

  “I don’t know if that’s supposed to mean breakfast,” said Lucy. “Not that I think little Patrick is eating any better. All he seems to want for breakfast are frozen pancakes, which he eats while watching TV.” She took a sip of coffee and shook her head. “I really don’t like the way things are going, and I don’t understand why Toby isn’t taking a stronger stand. He wasn’t brought up to live like this—his whole attitude is very puzzling. Yesterday his nose was all out of joint because the animal control officer told him he couldn’t let that pit bull run loose.”

  “I suppose things are different in Alaska,” said Pam. “Things are probably freer, what with all that space.”

  “I have to agree with Lucy,” said Sue, who was running a manicured finger around the rim of her coffee mug. “It’s terribly rude to bring a dog along on a visit, unless you’ve cleared it in advance with your host.”

  “It sounds like Molly really loves the dog,” said Pam, who was a sucker for anything with four legs. “And pit bulls are really unfairly maligned, they are awfully sweet dogs.”

  “It does make you wonder if Lucy’s right and something is amiss in their marriage,” said Rachel, who was a psychology major and never got over it. “This dog seems to represent masculinity and virility. . . .”

  “Ohmigosh! You don’t think Toby is, you know, having difficulties in the bedroom?” Lucy was horrified at the thought.

  “It’s definitely a possibility,” said Rachel.

  “He’s much too young for that,” said Pam. “I don’t think anything’s the matter. It sounds to me like Molly is just beginning to discover she’s more than a wife and mother, and needs to develop her own interests and forge her own identity.”

  “That might present a real challenge to Toby,” said Sue. “He might feel his masculinity is threatened.”

  “The male ego,” said Lucy, thoughtfully. She remembered her mother’s repeated warnings that a wife’s first duty was to protect and preserve her husband’s ego, advice that she’d thought was ridiculously old-fashioned.

  “What about women? Aren’t we supposed to have egos?” demanded Pam.

  “Of course,” said Rachel.

  “Only occasionally,” said Sue.

  “I think I’ve misplaced mine. I’m going to have to look for it, and dust it off when I find it,” said Lucy, getting laughs from the others as Norine arrived with their orders.

  Lucy dug right in, and was stabbing her egg to let the yolk ooze over her hash, when her thoughts turned to Elfrida. “What’s Bob got to say about Elfrida?” she asked Rachel. “They don’t really have a case against her, do they?”

  “Bob doesn’t think so, but I guess the knife is pretty damning evidence, since it only has Elfrida’s and Bobbi’s fingerprints.”

  “A lot of people are in and out of that kitchen,” said Lucy. “Anyone could have taken it, and there wouldn’t be prints if they wore gloves.”

  “There’s no smudges from gloves, though. Just the two sets of prints.”

  “Maybe it was an accident, like Elfrida claims,” said Lucy.

  Rachel picked up her muffin to take a bite, then reconsidered and put it back on the plate. “Bob says they will most likely arraign her today. He’s hoping to get her out on bail.”

  Lucy’s jaw dropped. “Are they really going to charge her with murder?”

  “He’s not sure of the charges, could be something lesser, like manslaughter.”

  “Golly,” said Pam, stunned, and speaking for all of them. “Golly gee.”

  * * *

  When Lucy got to the Pennysaver office later that morning, she found the door locked and the closed sign hanging in the window. After letting herself in and turning on the lights, she called Ted and discovered he was at the county courthouse.

  “I’m staying here, waiting for the arraignment,” he told her. “I need you to hold the fort at the office, since Phyllis is at Elfrida’s place, taking care of Wilf and the kids.”

  “They ought to be at school now,” said Lucy. “I’ll give her a call.”

  The phone rang quite a few times and almost went to voice mail before Phyllis picked up the call. “Hello,” she said, sounding breathless.

  “It’s me, Lucy. How are things going?”

  “Under control, for the moment, since the kids are all at school,” replied Phyllis. “Angie really stepped up and made sure they were dressed and even gave them bre
akfast—just cold cereal—but they all started the day with something in their tummies.”

  “How’s Wilf doing?”

  “Well, he had to have surgery, you know. They had to pin his leg together.”

  “Is he still in the hospital?”

  “Are you kidding? They let him out yesterday with a bottle of pain meds. He’s on the couch, pretty out of it and mostly dozing. I don’t know how I’m going to manage later, though. He’s got a follow-up with the orthopedist over in Gilead at noon, and little Arthur gets out of kindergarten at eleven-thirty.”

  “Don’t worry, I’ll fix something up. Toby’s family is here for Christmas. . . .”

  “You must be thrilled.”

  “Yeah,” admitted Lucy, wishing she could actually spend some time with them. “It’s a little crazy with such a full house, but I bet Patrick would enjoy a playmate for the afternoon.”

  “That’d be great, Lucy.”

  “I’ll give Molly a call and get back to you.”

  “Good, ’cause I have to let the school know who’s picking him up.”

  Lucy dialed Molly next, apparently catching her out running. “What is it?” she demanded, panting into the phone.

  “Sorry to interrupt your run. It’s just that my friend Phyllis needs some child care for her grandnephew and I thought it would be nice for Patrick to have someone to play with this afternoon. . . .”

  “Are you crazy?” Molly’s breaths were coming fast. “You want me to take care of somebody’s grandnephew? What do you think I am? A day care center?”

  Somewhat flummoxed, Lucy was quick to explain. “It’s little Arthur, you know, Elfrida’s little boy. He’s a sweetheart.”

  “Elfrida!” Molly sounded like Queen Victoria being asked to receive one of the Prince of Wales’s mistresses. “That slut! I can just imagine what her kid is like.”

  “Well, actually, Elfrida has really turned her life around. . . .”

  “Then why can’t she manage to arrange care for her child?”

  “Well, she’s in jail,” confessed Lucy, realizing the gigantic flaw in her argument. “Not convicted, mind you, so we should consider her innocent. Actually, it’s really just a big misunderstanding.”

  “No, Lucy.” Molly was not about to yield. “I am very careful about choosing Patrick’s playmates and there is absolutely no way I will allow any child of Elfrida’s anywhere near him.”

  Wow, thought Lucy. Not quite the reaction she expected. Of course, Molly did grow up in Tinker’s Cove and had probably heard all sorts of gossip about Elfrida, probably from her parents. Jim Moskowitz was a successful insurance agent and his wife, Jolene, was very mindful of social distinctions.

  Lucy’s next call was to Sue. She didn’t answer her phone, and since it was already ten past eleven, Lucy figured she’d better pick up Arthur herself. She called Phyllis as she closed the office and headed out to her car, asking her to alert the school.

  “Oh, Lucy, you’ve got too much to do . . . ,” protested Phyllis.

  “It will be fine. I’ll keep him with me at the office and you can pick him up on your way home from the doctor.”

  “Okay, thank you. You’re a lifesaver.”

  “Nonsense, I’m just doing what anyone would do.” Anyone, she realized, except her daughter-in-law.

  Since it was lunchtime, Lucy decided to give Arthur a special treat and took him to the McDonald’s out on Route 1, where he made short work of a Happy Meal. After he’d finished eating, he insisted on keeping the box, so he wouldn’t lose the little toy figure that came with the meal. This was a child who was familiar with fast food, and knew how to protect his treasures from his siblings.

  Back at the office, she settled him at the big table in the morgue, supplying him with copy paper, pens, and colored markers she raided from the supply closet. Amazingly enough, she also found a box of Legos stashed there, probably donated for the holiday toy drive and somehow missed when the toys were packed up and sent to the food pantry to be distributed to needy families.

  With Arthur happily occupied, she was able to work, planning the next issue’s news budget. The investigation into Bobbi’s death would undoubtedly be the front-page story and she decided to call Ted for an update from the courthouse.

  “How’s it going?” she asked, keeping her voice low so Arthur wouldn’t hear. She figured Phyllis had probably been censoring the news, and had probably only told him that his mother was away, but would be home soon.

  “Nothing yet,” said Ted. “I guess the DA can’t figure out what he wants to do.”

  “That’s probably good,” said Lucy. “Maybe they’ll drop the whole thing.”

  “Uh, doesn’t look like it,” said Ted. “I see Bob’s in the courtroom and so is the DA. Gotta go.”

  “Darn!” exclaimed Lucy, forgetting the little pitcher with big ears in the next room.

  “Is something wrong, Lucy?” asked Arthur.

  “No. Everything’s okay.” She went into the morgue to check on him, wondering if he needed a snack, or wanted to use the toilet, and saw he was busy drawing a picture. “Can I see your drawing?” she asked, looking over his shoulder.

  “That’s really nice,” she said, recognizing the drawing as a portrait of his mother, complete with curly blond hair and blue eyes.

  “It’s Mom,” he said, completing the picture by drawing a series of thick vertical black lines across his mother’s face. “She’s in jail.”

  Lucy was floored, she didn’t know what to say. And how did he know about his mother’s arrest anyway? “Who told you that?” she asked.

  “Natalie. She’s in my class.” He paused. “Is it true?”

  Lucy’s heart was breaking for the little boy, with his Spider-Man T-shirt and freshly cut hair. She sat next to him and looked him in the eye. “It’s true, but it’s a mistake. Your mom didn’t do anything bad, and lots of people are helping her.”

  “So they’ll let her out of jail?”

  “Yes. They’ll let her out.”

  “When?”

  “I don’t know,” said Lucy, wrapping him in a big hug.

  * * *

  That evening, Lucy was back on set. Ross wasn’t satisfied with the previous day’s shooting and was doing it over, barking orders to everyone and trying to hurry things along. Lucy had arrived late and, after quickly changing into her costume, was one of the last extras to go to the makeup area set up in the morning room. No one was there except one of the costume girls, who was chatting with the makeup guy.

  “Where have you been?” asked the makeup man, choosing a bottle of foundation. “The call was for six o’clock sharp.”

  “Busy day,” she replied, noticing the name Jimmy was tattooed on his wrist. “Are you Jimmy?”

  “No. I’m Peter. Jimmy’s my little boy. He’s three.”

  “I bet he’s adorable. I’m Lucy, by the way,” she said, raising her face so he could apply the foundation. “So what’s the mood around here? Are people upset after last night?”

  “Subdued is the word, I guess,” said Peter. He turned to the costume girl. “What do you think, Ray?”

  “Well, I don’t want to speak ill of the dead, but I’ve got to admit that things are a lot calmer without Bobbi’s cute little pranks. She loved to switch the labels on the costumes, you know, and it was a real pain to keep things straight. One day she hid King Arthur’s crown and it took hours before we found it hidden underneath his throne.”

  “Yeah,” he agreed, applying eyebrow pencil to Lucy’s brows. “She mixed up my palette a couple of times, and it was pretty frustrating to reach for a brown eyeliner and find it was blue.”

  “Did Bobbi have any real conflicts with anyone?” Lucy asked as Peter brushed her apple cheeks with dark powder, making her look somewhat gaunt.

  “Make that everyone,” said Ray, with a snort. “Ross isn’t exactly calm and collected, if you know what I mean. . . .”

  “He doesn’t have it together, doesn’t have a clue,�
�� said Peter.

  “So every time one of Bobbi’s little pranks caused confusion or delay, he’d absolutely lose it and blast whoever the poor victim was, even though it wasn’t their fault at all.”

  “I saw that myself,” said Lucy. “He was furious with Elfrida, the cook, about that Yule log cake on the banquet table, but she had nothing to do with it. It was Bobbi.”

  “Right.” Peter put down the makeup brush. “You’re done, and I gotta say, you look very fifteenth-century.”

  “Thanks,” said Lucy, hopping down from the stool she’d been perched on and hurrying outside to the lawn. The fake snow had been freshly touched up, erasing the damage caused by the previous night’s comings and goings. It was almost as if Bobbi’s death had never happened, thought Lucy, joining the assembled group of villagers.

  The lights came on, Ross called action, and the extras began trudging toward the great hall, where the leaded-glass windows were glowing with light. As before, the scene was filmed by cameramen with portable cameras, who circled around the edges of the carolers, and Lucy found it was almost possible to forget this was all make-believe and to feel as if she were in another time and place.

  The lusty lads toting the Yule log tapped it against the oaken door with its enormous wrought-iron hinges, the door flew open magically, and they proceeded into the hall, singing their hearts out. The lighting had been changed for this second take and the scene inside the hall took Lucy’s breath away: Torches on the garlanded walls blazed brightly, the richly garbed nobles were splendidly arrayed on the dais, and a fire was glowing in the enormous stone hearth.

  The scene had been rehearsed numerous times and Lucy knew exactly where she was supposed to stand, right in the middle of the assembled yeomanry who were gathered by the fire, grateful for its warmth after coming in from the cruel cold outside. Someone, or maybe several people, had gotten mixed up, however, and she found herself in the wrong place, right in front of the fireplace at the very moment the Yule log was thrown onto the hearth, releasing a spray of flaming cinders.