Ho-Ho-Homicide (A Liss MacCrimmon Mystery Book 8)

by Kaitlyn Dunnett

  Dan looked from Sherri to Liss and back again. “What, exactly, is Juliette’s big secret? What is it that would drive her to such extremes?”

  Sherri laughed. “You tell him, Liss. I’ve got a couple of phone calls to make.”

  “What do you think?” Liss asked.

  Dan had been shaking his head in astonishment for the past five minutes. “Unbelievable.”

  Affronted, she glared at him. “I didn’t make it up.”

  “Poor choice of words. I believe you, Liss, but it boggles the mind that she’d be able to stay in business so long without anyone trying to shut her down.”

  “Police corruption, remember?” Liss was on her feet again, pacing in the limited space between table and door.

  “Sherri hasn’t let anyone forget.” He ran his fingers through his hair, as if that would help him order his thoughts. “Prostitution is one of the rackets run by organized crime, right?”

  “That’s what I’ve always heard. Drugs and prostitution. From what Sherri was able to find out, the nature of Juliette’s second business venture was fairly widely known. It’s a miracle her mother never heard a whisper about it,” she added as an afterthought.

  “Maybe she did,” Dan said. “Maybe she ignored or discounted it.”

  Liss frowned as a snippet of conversation from the dance studio came back to her. Rowena had said something to Juliette along the lines of, “Do what you like. You always do.”

  “Surely she didn’t know Simeon Snowe was one of her daughter’s customers. She couldn’t have made the connection between those private lessons and sex for hire, although I suppose Juliette would argue that sex is excellent exercise.”

  Dan gave a snort of amusement. “I haven’t met this woman—Juliette. Is she really that cold?”

  “I wouldn’t be surprised if she’s already taken her mother’s cat to the animal shelter and started assessing the contents of her shop for a quick sale.”

  “And you say she has two younger women working for her?”

  Liss nodded. “That’s what we think.”

  Another flash of memory confirmed her opinion of Juliette. Kitty had been afraid of her. She’d been falling all over herself to apologize because she was a few minutes late. Late for what, Liss didn’t care to contemplate.

  “Let me see if I have this straight,” Dan said. “John Doe comes to New Boston because he’s heard about Juliette’s successful operation. Maybe he’s planning a hostile takeover?”

  “Could be. And she, naturally, doesn’t want any part of a merger with the mob. She’s a big, strong woman. If he underestimated her, she could easily have attacked him. If she already killed her stepfather and stuffed him into that freezer, she wasn’t exactly a stranger to violence.”

  Dan conceded her point and gestured for her to continue.

  “Okay. She’s not playing with a full deck, so she comes up with the idea of framing Snowe. After the body is found, he must have panicked and decided to lay low until he could figure things out. What if he hid out on the second floor above All Things Mystical? Rowena might not have known he was there. She doesn’t live there.”

  “That would also give him a clear view of Juliette’s studio.” Dan’s voice was thoughtful.

  “Exactly.”

  “But I don’t see how that would get him killed. He already knew what she was up to.”

  “Yes, but maybe he’d been trying to get her to quit, for her mother’s sake. Rowena claims he was a romantic at heart. He could have been pressuring Juliette to give up her sideline, knowing that if Rowena ever found out about it, it would break her heart. Maybe Juliette told him she had, but from his hiding place he’d have seen that it was business as usual. If he confronted her about it, it would have been a fatal mistake. She couldn’t risk letting him live to tell her mother or anyone else.”

  Dan mimed wiping sweat from his brow.

  “I’m serious!”

  “I know you are, but you’re making some pretty sweeping assumptions. The gaps in your logic are big enough to drive a semi through.”

  “The gaps are in Juliette’s logic. She’s clearly got issues. But the motive for all the murders looks pretty straightforward to me—in all three cases, she was trying to protect her source of income.”

  He shook his head. “I thought she killed Snowe to keep Rowena from finding out about the prostitution, which makes no sense when she was so quick to throw her mother to the wolves this afternoon.”

  “You’re right. Snowe might have been worried about breaking an old lady’s heart, but Juliette could have cared less.” Liss flung herself into the chair beside him. “Mothers and daughters,” she muttered, thinking of that photograph of Simeon Snowe with Rowena on one side and Juliette on the other, all of them smiling as if they hadn’t a care in the world. “Can you say ‘dysfunctional’?”

  Dan’s arm slid around her shoulders. She inched her chair closer so she could lean against him. The part about killing to protect her income. That still made sense.

  “Not all mothers and daughters have difficult relationships,” Dan murmured into her hair.

  “No. Some are lucky.” It was a pity she couldn’t call any to mind at the moment. Certainly she and her own mother had a . . . complicated relationship.

  “You, for instance, would make some lucky girl a terrific mother.”

  It took Liss a moment to understand Dan’s meaning. When she did, she tried to pull away from him. He tightened his grip and kept her tucked in at his side.

  “I wouldn’t,” she protested. “I’d be awful at it.”

  She felt him draw in a deep breath, the kind that preceded broaching a touchy subject. “No more evasions, Liss. Let’s settle this now.”

  “This is a weird time to have this discussion.” With her head on his shoulder, she couldn’t see his face, but she could hear his heart beat beneath her ear. It sped up, just as hers had. “Let me up.”

  He released her, but she didn’t go very far. She scooted her chair around so that they were facing each other. For a long moment, both of them hesitated. Then Dan blurted out the question Liss had been dreading.

  “Do you want to have kids or not?”

  She closed her eyes and crossed her fingers. “Not.”

  “Me, neither,” Dan said.

  “What?” Liss’s eyes popped open to stare at him.

  “You heard me. Now, listen to me.” He placed his hands on her shoulders, but his touch was gentle. “I have no particular desire to be a father. I have never had any particular desire to be a father. I’d have gone along with having children with you if that was what you really wanted, because I love you, but—”

  “You idiot,” Liss whispered as relief washed over her.

  “Well, thanks a lot!” But he was grinning.

  “I was trying to talk myself into having a baby just to please you.”

  The grin widened. “Then it’s a good thing we finally had this little chat.”

  They sealed their new understanding with an enthusiastic kiss and the promise of further celebration when they were back in Moosetookalook.

  Dan wouldn’t admit it, but he was still feeling the effects of his concussion. He went to bed early. Liss and Sherri stayed up late, watching another old movie on videotape. Neither of them paid much attention to the screen. They’d both seen Indiana Jones go after the Holy Grail many times before.

  The day’s developments occupied a large portion of Liss’s mind. She was kicking herself for not having told Dan sooner how she felt about having children. She should have known they’d see eye to eye on the subject. The only thing of any importance they ever disagreed about was her inability to avoid getting involved in murder investigations.

  “I suppose,” she said after a while, “that everything in that storage locker has been confiscated, even that shoe box full of snapshots. I wish I’d been able to get a look at them.”

  “It was a long shot to begin with,” Sherri reminded her. “I mean, really, how
likely is it that Snowe had his picture taken with the other victim?”

  “Not very,” Liss conceded.

  “Those file boxes are going to put Juliette in jail and make the police think twice about charging her mother with murder.” Sherri reached for the bowl of popcorn between them on the sofa. After her conversation with Mike Jennings, she had been able to report that Rowena had not been arrested. She had been questioned for hours but had then been allowed to go home to her cat.

  “We can’t be sure what those bins contain. All I saw were lots of folders.”

  “What else could they be but client records?” Sherri sent a sidelong look Liss’s way. “You’re sure you didn’t see any labels?”

  Liss shook her head. “Sorry.” She munched popcorn, smiling as she watched Harrison Ford and Sean Connery. Tied to chairs, each one thought the evil Elsa was talking to him when she referred to their having made love.

  Her thoughts strayed during the next bit. The files in the storage unit might shut down Juliette’s illegal sideline. They might even provide proof of Wyatt Purvey’s dishonesty. But would they link Juliette to three murders? Theories wouldn’t stand up in court without proof. Worse, Rowena could end up being tried on circumstantial evidence and convicted, a handy scapegoat for her uncaring daughter.

  The action on the screen diverted her attention. The escape. The chase on the motorcycle. The flight in the zeppelin. Constant danger. A pity no one was guaranteed a happy ending in real life.

  “Remember what I said before about walking out in the middle of the picture?” she asked. “I still feel that way. I wish there was some way we could set a trap for Juliette and force her to confess.”

  Sherri laughed. “Oh, I suppose we could, but that confession wouldn’t be admissible as evidence. And you’d probably end up under arrest for—oh, I don’t know—kidnapping? Or even assault, if you really got carried away. Let it go, Liss. I’ve passed on everything we found out. Now we both need to stay out of it. Believe me, that isn’t any easier for me than it is for you.”

  “So, we go home in the morning and forget all about it? All about Rowena?”

  “That’s right.”

  Liss reached for another handful of popcorn and tried to follow Sherri’s advice.

  Two hours later, she was still obsessing about bringing Juliette Cressy to justice. She rolled over in bed and tried to beat her pillow into a more comfortable shape with one fist. Beside her, Dan snored softly, sound asleep. She envied him. He was a champion sleeper. Once he was down for the count, it took an earthquake to wake him.

  Good thing, she decided a few minutes later. The way she was tossing and turning, she’d ruin the rest of anyone who was a light sleeper.

  The luminous dial of the clock on the bedside table told her it was nearly three in the morning. If she didn’t doze off soon, she’d be miserable company on the drive home. Dan and Sherri didn’t deserve that.

  Thinking that a glass of milk might help, she got out of bed, slid her feet into the boots that had been doubling as slippers during their stay, and felt her way to the door. The room was so small that it was only a few steps away. In the entry hall, a small night-light burned. There was another in the living room and a third in the kitchen, providing plenty of illumination without turning on any of the overhead fixtures.

  She was in the middle room, in sight of the kitchen door, when a peculiar odor made her nose wrinkle. She froze. Imagination, she told herself. That couldn’t be smoke.

  Then the first alarm went off. The batteries Dan had replaced a few days earlier had it blaring at full volume.

  “Dan!” she screamed and raced back toward the bedroom.

  She stumbled in the entry hall but caught herself before she fell. All the while she kept yelling at the top of her lungs, calling out to Dan and to Sherri.

  “The house is on fire!” she shouted. “Wake up! Fire! Fire!”

  Another smoke alarm went off, this one in the stairwell. Then the lights went out.

  “Oh, God!” Temporarily blinded, she felt for the side of the bed.

  Dan was stirring. If Sherri was also a heavy sleeper, Liss knew she’d never get them both out, not if the fire was fast moving. She tugged at her husband’s arm, shouting right in his ear.

  “Move, Dan! Damn it! Get out of bed right this minute!” She threw the covers aside and pulled harder, her agitation increased by the complete and utter blackness all around her.

  He wasn’t fully awake, and he was too heavy for her to drag all the way out of the house. He had to get up. He had to maneuver the crutches for himself.

  The crutches—where were they? Her eyes had started to adjust to the darkness, but not fast enough. She couldn’t find them.

  For a moment, panic rendered her immobile. He had a broken ankle. How was she going to rescue him when he couldn’t walk? What if she couldn’t get him out of the burning house? In desperation, she gritted her teeth and hauled him toward her.

  “What the hell? Ow! Stop it, Liss.”

  “We’ve got to get out of the house. It’s on fire.”

  As if he couldn’t guess that from the earsplitting sound of the smoke alarms.

  “Get yourself out!” he shouted at her.

  “Not without you.”

  “Crutches.” He thrashed around, feeling for them. Liss heard the clatter as they fell to the floor.

  The stairwell door slammed open, and Sherri burst through. “Pitch black in there,” she gasped. “Well, hell! Out here, too.”

  For a moment, hysterical laughter bubbled up in Liss’s throat. Only a week earlier her biggest worry had been that the bulb in that stairwell would burn out while she was going up or down.

  The smell of smoke grew stronger. Liss thought she could hear the crackle of flames. “Hurry, Dan!”

  “Can’t find the damned crutches. They landed somewhere out of reach, and it’s too dark to see where they are.”

  Sherri pushed past Liss into the room. “Put your arm around my shoulders, Dan. Liss, you take his other side.”

  Together, they got him into the hallway. They were all coughing as smoke tried to engulf them. Liss knew you were supposed to get down on the floor and crawl to safety in a fire, but she didn’t think Dan could crawl, and she and Sherri wouldn’t be any help to him on their hands and knees.

  Shifting Dan’s weight more heavily onto Liss, Sherri fought with the dead bolt on the front door. Seconds seemed to stretch into hours, but at last they were through, out onto the porch and stumbling down the steps. Liss gasped in deep breaths of fresh air.

  A few more staggering steps took them clear of the house.

  Within seconds, the cold made itself felt. Liss had on boots, keeping her feet warm, but her flannel nightgown afforded little protection against a temperature well below freezing. In the dull red glow of the fire behind them, she could see that Sherri wore only a sleep shirt and slippers. Dan was in his underwear, and his feet were bare.

  Sherri steered them toward her car. “I’ve got blankets and woolly socks in the trunk.”

  She’d also had the presence of mind to grab her purse on the way out of the upstairs bedroom. The small shoulder bag was slung across her chest, leaving her hands free. As soon as she fished out her keys and unlocked the car, she helped Liss settle Dan in the backseat. Then she dug out her cell phone and called for help.

  While Liss opened the trunk, Dan scooted on his butt until his legs were stretched out in front of him on the seat. She could hear him rooting around in the pockets on the door and seat backs. Like the good police officers they were, Pete and Sherri would keep plenty of emergency gear handy, especially flashlights.

  Her arms full of blankets, Liss froze, staring at the burning building. Flames shot up from the back of the house. The kitchen? She couldn’t imagine how the fire had started. They were always careful to turn off the stove. They hadn’t been using any space heaters. And surely it couldn’t have been the furnace. If that had blown up, she’d have heard the e
xplosion.

  She looked away from the conflagration, her eyes stinging. There was no moon, but the light from the fire now illuminated the entire parking area and the side of the Quonset hut. The area beyond was completely dark.

  Or was it? The flicker of light came again—a narrow beam moving rapidly away from the Quonset hut toward the acres of Christmas trees and the logging road.

  A wooden building burns fast, Liss thought, but not that fast. Not without help.

  Before she could think better of the impulse, she thrust the armload of blankets into the backseat of Sherri’s car with Dan and sprinted after the person who had set the house on fire.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Liss heard Dan’s voice calling her name, then Sherri’s, but she paid no attention. If she didn’t move fast, Juliette would escape.

  Although she hadn’t gotten a good look at her quarry, Liss had no doubt about her identity. That Juliette would set fire to the farmhouse with them in it made little sense, but for anyone else to have done so made even less. The memory of how close they’d come to being trapped . . . to being dead . . . pushed Liss onward—right over the edge of reason.

  She plunged down the hill behind the Quonset hut and out into Simeon Snowe’s Christmas tree farm. Thinking herself safely out of sight of the parking area, Juliette had abandoned stealth in favor of a quick getaway. The light Liss had seen was her flashlight. She was using it to find the most direct route to the logging road, where she must have left her car. Liss saw the beam glint on chrome as Juliette closed in on her goal.