Yule Log Murder

by Leslie Meier

  If Ryan’s murder was a crime of passion, then Lenora was certainly off the hook. Her affair with Ryan sounded more like a cold business transaction rather than anything remotely passionate.

  “Lenora, what about Lacey and Beth’s husbands? Do you think one of them may have found out about his wife’s affair with Ryan and flew into a jealous rage?”

  Lenora guffawed, dropping her half-knitted Christmas stocking in her lap. “Oh, Hayley, no! Are you kidding me? Have you been living in a cave? Dan Reinhart would be thrilled to know Lacey is getting some on the side because he’s been so preoccupied with his own torrid affair with his secretary, Mimi Whitford. Dan’s been looking for any excuse to divorce Lacey and marry Mimi. And as for Stan Sanford, let’s be honest, Hayley, everyone knows Stan is gayer than a picnic basket! The poor man would be relieved, too, knowing Ryan was satisfying Beth in the bedroom so he didn’t have to. How could you not know that?”

  “I’m just not as plugged in as you to the town gossip, apparently,” Hayley said.

  “As for me, I didn’t go to Liddy’s party because I knew Ron and that sniveling new wife of his, DeAnn, were going to be there, so I went to another holiday cocktail party at my hairdresser’s house. I stayed until well after midnight, and there were about twenty eyewitnesses there who saw me. And we had a grand time. I’m sure it was a far more memorable gala than Liddy Crawford’s boring old party.”

  Despite Lenora’s confidence, there was no way her hairdresser’s gathering could possibly compete with Liddy’s. Because at the end of the day, one of Liddy’s guests had been brutally murdered, so it was certain her party was going to be the talk of the town for years to come.

  And the killer was still out there on the loose.

  Chapter Nine

  When Hayley arrived home and entered through the back door, which led into the kitchen, she found Gemma pouring hot chocolate into three holiday ceramic mugs.

  Hayley instantly noticed the strain on Gemma’s face. “What’s wrong?”

  “Mona is here, and she’s acting really weird.”

  “What do you mean, ‘weird’?”

  “I don’t know. She showed up here, looking for you, and I told her you’d be home soon. I asked if she would care to wait, and she just sort of grunted and nodded and sat down in the living room. Conner’s in there now, trying to make small talk, but she won’t even look at him. I think she’s being very rude.”

  “Mona’s always rude,” Hayley said, smiling, before reaching for one of the mugs of hot chocolate.

  “Not like this,” Gemma said, gently slapping her mother’s hand away. “Wait. I haven’t topped it off with the whipped cream yet.”

  Gemma picked up a wooden spoon and scooped a dollop of whipped cream out of a bowl and plopped it down on top of the hot chocolate. She picked up the mug and handed it to her mother. “Would you go see what’s gotten her so upset?”

  Hayley took a sip of the hot chocolate. “I’m on it.”

  Gemma stopped her mother, picked up a dish towel, and wiped some whipped cream off her upper lip. “Thank you.”

  Hayley strolled into the living room, where she found Mona sitting upright in Hayley’s recliner, her whole body stiff as she stared straight ahead. Not once did Mona glance at or even acknowledge Conner, who sat on the couch, awkwardly peppering her with questions about her lobstering business.

  “So, do you haul the traps all by yourself, or do you have help?”

  Mona managed a shrug, but refused to answer the question.

  Hayley noticed Mona’s white knuckles as she fiercely gripped the sides of the recliner.

  “She has a few employees who help out, but Mona does a lot of the heavy lifting,” Hayley said.

  Mona whipped her head around. “Oh, good, you’re home. Let’s take Leroy out for a walk.”

  “Gemma and I already took him out when she got home from the funeral,” Conner said.

  “The dog’s getting too fat. You feed him too much, Hayley,” Mona growled. “Another walk will do him some good.”

  “Mona, what’s gotten into you . . . ?” Hayley started to ask before Mona shouted over her.

  “Leroy! Here, boy!”

  Leroy bounded down the stairs, surprised to see Hayley. He had probably been sound asleep on Hayley’s bed, his favorite napping spot, and didn’t hear her come home. With his tongue panting and tail wagging, he ran into the kitchen and stood by his leash, which hung from a rack next to the dishwasher. Hayley’s Persian cat, Blueberry, was perched under the kitchen table, his own tail flapping up and down, signaling his displeasure with all the unnecessary commotion.

  Mona pushed herself up and out of the recliner, grabbed her coat, which she had flung on the floor next to it, and hurriedly shoved her arms through the sleeves.

  “Nice chatting with you,” Conner said, his tone dripping with sarcasm.

  “Yeah, okay,” Mona muttered, avoiding eye contact and pounding out of the living room toward the kitchen.

  Hayley followed her, still utterly confused by Mona’s strange demeanor. She yanked her own winter coat off the back of a chair, where she had deposited it after arriving home, and attached the leash to Leroy’s collar. Mona was already out the back door, and Hayley and Leroy had to run to catch up to her.

  They were halfway down the street, a good distance from the house, before Mona finally spoke.

  “It’s him,” Mona said gravely.

  “Him who?”

  “Gemma’s boyfriend.”

  “Conner?”

  Mona nodded, her face a ghostly white.

  “What about him?” Hayley asked.

  Leroy was too preoccupied with a squirrel racing up the bark of a nearby tree to be interested in their conversation, but as he sprang forward, Hayley had to pick up her pace to keep up with both her dog and Mona, who seemed to want to just get as far away from the house as possible.

  “He’s the killer,” Mona whispered.

  “What?” Hayley exclaimed.

  “Shhhh. Keep your voice down,” Mona scolded.

  “No one’s around. What are you talking about, Mona?”

  Mona stopped suddenly and snatched a fistful of Hayley’s jacket. She stared intently at her and spoke slowly, to make sure Hayley heard every word of what she was saying. “I saw him on TV. On one of those Most Wanted crime shows my deadbeat husband, Dennis, watches all the time. They were saying he is some kind of serial killer who has been romancing young women all along the East Coast, from Maine to Maryland, for the past two years.”

  “Conner? Oh, come on, Mona . . .”

  “I’m serious, Hayley,” Mona said, clasping her jacket tighter. “I never forget a face, and I swear when they showed his picture on TV, it was him.”

  “Mona, that can’t be . . .”

  “According to the host of the show, that former FBI agent, you know, the cute one with the wavy black hair and dimples to die for, well, he said Conner wins the hearts of his victims by wining and dining them, and planning a future with them. Then, when they disappoint him, and they always disappoint him at some point, he strangles them and buries their bodies in the woods. So far, he’s done away with three victims.”

  “This is preposterous, Mona, surely you’re mistaken . . . Did they mention his name?”

  “No, but he goes by a number of different aliases. And brace yourself . . .”

  Hayley clenched her fists, not sure she wanted to hear this next part.

  “They showed photos of his last three victims. All of them were pretty blond girls in their early twenties, with blue eyes . . .”

  Hayley’s heart nearly leapt into her throat.

  The description matched Gemma to a tee.

  “Let’s just slow down here,” Hayley said, catching her breath. “If all of Conner’s victims were women, it doesn’t make sense that he would kill Ryan Toledo.”

  “Oh, yes, it does,” Mona cried. “His last victim, a girl he met in Providence, Rhode Island, was dating another guy
, who got in his way. Conner mowed him down with his car, or so the police suspect. The poor fool survived, but is still in the hospital with a concussion and a bunch of broken bones. Anybody gets in Conner’s way, he gets rid of them. Ryan tried getting in his way!”

  “Look, Mona, I don’t want to jump to any conclusions until we have a chance to talk to Conner . . .”

  “Talk to him? What are you going to say? ‘Mona saw your mug on TV and we know you’re on the FBI’s Most Wanted list for murder!’ Then what? He probably pulls out a gun and shoots us all on the spot! I don’t think it’s very smart to confront him like that!”

  “But what if you’re wrong, Mona?”

  “I’m not wrong. It was him!”

  Hayley’s head was spinning.

  Liddy was usually the overdramatic one.

  Not Mona.

  Mona was never one for hysterics.

  Or hyperbole.

  And yet, here she was, standing in the street, crying at the top of her lungs, “Wake up! Your daughter is dating a cold-blooded serial killer!”

  It seemed like such an outlandish notion.

  How could that possibly be true?

  No, Mona had to be wrong.

  But what if she wasn’t?

  If there was the slightest possibility she was right, if that was Conner’s photo on the Most Wanted show, then that meant her daughter was back at her house, alone, with a depraved criminal.

  Hayley took off running back toward the house, dragging poor Leroy by the leash behind her. The poor dog was confused and disoriented by the sudden reverse in direction, as Mona hauled butt to keep up with them.

  Island Food & Spirits

  By Hayley Powell

  Recently I attended my dear friend Liddy Crawford’s annual Christmas party, which, as most of you probably know, is one of the most popular events of the holiday season. Well, this year was no exception. With all the festivity around me, I was amazed I had a rare quiet moment to myself. I found myself gazing across the room at my now-grown daughter, Gemma, who was having a grand time catching up with old friends.

  Although my eyes saw a lovely, grown woman, so mature and self-assured, so full of grace and kindness, now in her early twenties, my heart could only see my daughter as she was at seven, sporting her favorite pair of denim shorts paired with her Power Ranger T-shirt. And it was not the pink ranger, mind you, whom she deemed too girly-girl, but rather the red ranger, the indisputable leader. Her hair was in a messy ponytail, and there were a few freckles splashed across her nose. When she smiled, she was missing a front tooth from a fall off her bike, which, unfortunately, happened while racing the neighborhood kids down the big hill near our house.

  Gemma was always a competitive child, and a tomboy to boot. She loved collecting bugs, playing baseball with the boys, and she never missed an opportunity to build a fort in the woods with her posse. But with all that said, she was definitely still a daddy’s girl.

  Gemma and her dad loved to fish out on Eagle Lake in the summer, play board games like Operation and Battleship on a rainy day, but their absolute favorite times together were right after a fresh snowfall.

  Gemma’s favorite season of the year was winter, mostly since she was born in December during a raging snowstorm.

  Gemma and her dad would bundle up in their winter coats, pull on their hats and gloves, and head out to engage in a snowball fight, erect a snow fort, or, most likely, build a snowman. Making a snowman was a tradition, something they did together since Gemma first learned to walk. Their early efforts were modest, but in just a few short years, they began getting more creative. This particular year, they decided to build their snowman at the bottom of our driveway for everyone to see as they strolled past or drove by our house.

  The two worked hard for hours, creating the perfect snowman with all the trimmings. I must admit, I was quite impressed. There was a bright red stocking hat and a matching red scarf wrapped around its neck, walnuts for eyes, carrot nose, beads for its smile. They even put mittens on the branches they used for arms, and positioned them to give the impression that the snowman was waving to the cars that came down the street.

  Gemma was so proud of their snowman that she gave him a name—Harvey. She was beyond excited when she heard cars driving by and honking their horns at Harvey. In honor of Harvey, who was becoming quite popular in the neighborhood, I decided to pay tribute by creating my own snowman in the kitchen. Gemma’s favorite food was pizza, so I made a snowman out of pizza dough on a cookie sheet and served it to her and my husband, Danny, with some piping-hot cocoa to celebrate a job well done.

  Unfortunately, the next morning, Gemma rushed into our bedroom, with tears streaming down her face, screaming hysterically, “Someone killed Harvey!”

  I bolted out of bed, with my heart pounding and my mind roiling over and over with thoughts of “Who’s Harvey?”

  And then I remembered the snowman.

  Trying to calm my fast-beating heart, I peered out the window, and, sure enough, all that was left of Harvey was a red stocking hat and scarf scattered in the middle of the road.

  Danny came inside after having inspected the damage and promised they would build another one that very day.

  I wish I could say that was the end of it, but, unfortunately, the same fate befell Harvey #2 the following evening. It was as if some serial snowman killer was terrorizing the neighborhood. But father and daughter were fiercely determined not to be deterred and to keep building.

  That evening, Danny growled that someone was running down the snowmen with his or her car and he vowed not to allow that to happen again. When I asked just how he planned on doing that, he just mumbled something under his breath and stalked out of the house. I shrugged it off and sipped my hot chocolate and went back to reading my arts-and-crafts magazine.

  Well, it was sometime after midnight when Danny and I were jolted awake by a loud crash and commotion outside. We jumped out of bed, and Danny bounded down the stairs as I raced to the bedroom window to look down to the street.

  Illuminated by the streetlight, I could see two teenage boys frantically trying to remove something from under their car, and it looked like the front end of the vehicle was pretty banged up.

  A few of our neighbors’ lights snapped on, and several people wandered out of their houses to see what was going on. Danny flew out of the house and confronted the panicked teens, who were still desperately trying to drag something out from under their car. From my vantage point, I could see Danny giving them quite a lecture, his arms waving about, gesturing toward our house as our neighbors all appeared to be nodding in agreement, caught up in his rousing speech.

  Finally, with a little help from Danny and a neighbor, they dislodged what was under the car. I gasped as the realization of what had happened hit me, and I had to chuckle.

  When Danny went outside before bed, he had taken some old cinder blocks, which we had in the garage, and stacked them up and rebuilt the snowman around them. So when the troublesome teens sped down our street late that night to once again destroy the snowman, they ran smack into a pile of cinder blocks and a couple of the blocks got stuck underneath the car after they toppled over from the impact.

  I went back to bed, hoping Gemma wouldn’t be too upset about poor Harvey #3’s unfortunate fate. But I need not have worried.

  The following morning as I came downstairs to make breakfast, I heard Gemma in the kitchen say brightly, “Good morning, Harvey #3!”

  In the kitchen, Danny was sitting at the table, drinking his morning coffee, and he winked.

  Apparently, I learned later, Danny had struck a deal with the teens. He wouldn’t call their parents or the police if they replaced what they had destroyed. They spent two hours restoring Harvey #3 to his original glory. And I am proud to say we have had many more Harveys waving at passing cars over the years, and not one was ever a victim of a hit and run ever again. All our Harveys eventually just passed of natural weather causes.

  G
emma’s Christmas Snowman Pizza

  For this recipe you can most certainly buy your favorite store-bought pizza dough and also your favorite store-bought pizza sauce to save time, especially during the busy holiday season.

  However, I’m sharing my favorite pizza dough recipe, topped with a simple homemade Alfredo sauce.

  Ingredients

  For the Pizza Dough:

  3½ to 4 cups all-purpose flour

  1 teaspoon sugar

  1 envelope dry yeast

  2 teaspoons kosher salt

  1½ cups warm water

  2 tablespoons oil

  Optional toppings you can use for the snowman’s eyes, buttons, nose, mouth: sliced black olives, pepperoni, baby carrot, sliced sausage

  Using the dough hook on your stand mixer, combine your 3½ cups flour, sugar, yeast, and salt in the bowl of a stand mixer. While your mixer is running add the water and oil and combine until the dough forms a ball. If your dough is too sticky, add more flour a tablespoon full at a time until it comes together in a smooth ball. If your dough is too dry, add a tablespoon of water at a time until the dough comes together.

  Remove your dough and place on a lightly floured surface and knead until it is in a nice smooth ball. Place in a lightly oiled bowl and cover with a towel. Let the dough rest for up to an hour.

  For the Alfredo Sauce:

  2 tablespoons butter

  2 tablespoons flour