Murder for the Holidays

by B. T. Lord

  Copyright© Bety Comerford (B.T. Lord)

  All rights reserved.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.

  No part of this book may be reproduced or utilized in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the author.

  ISBN-13: 978-1729421833

  Other books by B.T. Lord:

  Coffin Islands Paranormal Mystery Series:

  The Man In the Snow

  Twin Ponds Mystery Series:

  Murder on Ice

  Murder by Misadventure

  A Perfect Case of Murder

  Murder by Duplicity

  Murder Among Crows

  An Equal Measure of Murder

  Murder To Die For (a free Twin Ponds novella available only on my website – www.btlordwriter.com)

  To my Tribe ~

  You always have my back

  PROLOGUE

  December 22nd at 2 am

  The downtown streets of the small oceanside town of Beachport, Maine were once again ablaze with the spirit of the upcoming Christmas holiday. Giant twinkling stars strung across the wide Main Street, waving Santas, prancing plastic reindeer, chubby snowmen and decorations that threw off multi-colored shadows onto the surrounding mounds of shoveled snow made one think they’d stepped back in time to a 1940s Hollywood movie.

  This was especially true in the one holiday tradition Beachport had become famous for over the years. In the center of Main Street, on a small round hill of grass that cars had no choice but to drive around, stood an enormous spruce. It was brought down every year from the northern woods of Maine, and it was spectacular. With thousands of lights and decorations donated from local businesses and local citizens hanging from its thick branches, people came from all over the surrounding areas to enjoy its wonder. In the evenings, while people scurried about doing last minute shopping, a choir of bundled up carolers kept them company, singing out, in perfect harmony, hymns of old and more recent holiday tunes.

  On this particular night, the scent of snow was in the air. The streets lay empty, the Christmas lights’ reflections blinking on deserted sidewalks and closed up shops. No cars drove through the downtown area at such a late hour. Everyone was home, snug in their beds, thoughts of that last gift left to buy put aside for a few hours of restful sleep.

  As the century old clock that stood over the local bank struck two am, a lone figure scurried down the shadowy streets. He’d picked this particular time because he knew he didn’t have to worry he’d be seen. Despite Christmas being right around the corner, he understood the habits of the locals. It was too late and too cold for them to be out. He’d get his business over with, then, like the inhabitants of Beachport, he’d return home and climb into his warm, cozy bed.

  Wrapping his scarf tightly around his neck to ward off the frigid cold that came up off the ocean, Walter Long questioned yet again why he was out here in the first place. There was nothing left to say. He’d said it all. And quite vociferously too. If he’d had any compassion in his make-up, he might have regretted the way he’d said it. Yelling and insults were not a behavior he generally indulged in. He had other crueler and more subtle ways to make his opinions known. Compassion and kindness were as foreign to Walter Long as a sweltering hot day in the middle of a New England winter. Yet here he was, walking along a deserted Main Street in the wee hours of the morning, freezing his butt off on his way to a meeting that he knew was completely useless and unnecessary.

  Maybe I’m getting soft in my old age.

  He chuckled under his breath, emitting a cold vapor that enveloped his face before disappearing into the night air. If there was one thing Walter Long was not, it was soft. He had no use for sentimentality or maudlin sympathy. Still, the question lingered in the back of his mind. What the hell was he doing out here? Could it be that somewhere, buried so deep he’d missed it completely, there was a tiny bit of benevolence that caused him to act completely out of character by agreeing to revisit, one last time, an issue that, as far as he was concerned, was settled?

  He crossed the street and headed towards the Christmas tree. As usual, he shook his head at the unnecessary drain on the town’s financial resources. It wasn’t cheap getting the tree cut down and transported to town. Nor was it cheap putting the damned thing up and decorated. Not to mention keeping the lights on 24/7 from the day after Thanksgiving until right after New Year’s.

  The island was another issue that irked him. Its location, in the middle of a busy thoroughfare, had caused more near accidents as drivers did their best to avoid the gawping visitors who came every year to stare at a dead tree with lights strung on it. He couldn’t wait for the holiday to be over so people could return to normal. He loathed hearing ‘Merry Christmas’ or ‘Happy Holidays’ called out wherever he went. If he’d been born in an earlier time, he would have served as the perfect model for Ebenezer Scrooge. Yet, unlike Ebenezer, he had no wish to ever honor Christmas in his heart and try to keep it all the year.

  Walter’s boot slipped in the slush, sending the freezing slop up and through the leather, leaving his sock and foot wet and cold. He let out a loud curse. This was ridiculous. What had he been thinking when he agreed to this?

  He stopped, intent on going home. Then sighed. The time to change his mind had been ten minutes ago when he’d put on his overcoat and walked out the front door. Now he was here. He’d give it five minutes. Then he would leave.

  He arrived in front of the Christmas tree and stamped his damp boots in an effort to keep his feet warm. While he waited, he thought back to the argument that had led up to this meeting. Once again, he felt his ire rise as the words they’d flung at each other rolled through his memory, their bitterness still sharp and biting.

  This was a mistake. I never should have come. I don’t give a rat’s ass about making amends. I meant every single word I said. This meeting isn’t going to change that.

  It wasn’t fully five minutes yet before Walter decided to leave. He was angry at himself, angry at the person he was meeting, angry at his cold and wet feet, angry at everything.

  He turned and was about to walk away when he heard the crunching of the snow behind him. Whirling about, his eyes narrowed as his mouth settled into a thin, tense line.

  “Do you truly enjoy being so cruel?”

  His spiteful laugh echoed throughout the empty streets. “I was born cruel, don’t you know that?”

  “Do you honestly believe that?”

  He shrugged. “You simply chose not to see it.”

  “For the sake of the love we once had for each other –”

  Once again, Walter gave a vicious bark. “Yeah, whatever love means. Look, I’ve said all I’m going to say. Go home. I’m not about to rehash –”

  He stood in front of the Christmas tree. A symbol of a season that meant so much. Had always meant so much. He was defiling it, making it into something as vile as he was.

  “Merry Christmas, Walt.”

  A blur of movement caught his eye. Before he could fully comprehend what was happening, he heard a strange pop, followed by a sudden, excruciating pain exploding throughout his stomach. He fell back against the Christmas tree, sliding slowly to the ground as lights and large glass balls shattered all around him, littering his overcoat with glittery shards. He stared down at his gloved hands, surprised to see the expensive calf hide stained in blood. It took several moments to reali
ze the blood was his.

  Walter tried to speak, but he couldn’t formulate the words to explain something he couldn’t yet fully grasp. This couldn’t be happening. Not to him. He was always the one in control. He was always the one who left people quaking and frightened. How could he have gotten this so wrong?

  He felt rather than saw someone approach and stand over him. He brought his eyes up.

  It was then he understood.

  The stark hatred glaring back explained it all. It was now he who was left quaking and frightened.

  “This should have been done a long time ago. I only wish I hadn’t polluted this beautiful tree with the likes of you.”

  Walter opened his mouth, but the only sound he could manage was a bloody gurgle.

  He watched the figure walk away, its dark form wavering as the pain grew more intense. When he could no longer see his assailant, he allowed his head to loll backwards. His last view was of the sparkling Christmas lights twinkling above him while the prickling of the pine needles bit into his cheeks. He tried to move his face, but he had no strength left.

  As snowflakes fell from the sky and gently landed over his still body, Walter watched as the lights above him slowly blurred into one large ball. Then, with one last shuddering breath, they blinked out completely.

  CHAPTER ONE

  The day before - December 21st, 11:00 am

  Sheriff Cammie Farnsworth allowed herself a moment of pleasure as she luxuriated in the heat emanating from the front seat of the Ford 150 truck. This was the first road trip she and her boyfriend Jace Northcott were taking in his new truck and she wondered how, after savoring the gadgets and computerized conveniences, she was ever going to be content with her Explorer with its stained fabric, unheated seats and a console that looked so unsophisticated, it was downright embarrassing.

  She’d surprised Jace with the truck the week before, using some of the money she’d inherited a few years back from her ex-boyfriend, the famous hockey player Eli Kelley.

  Jace was a master auto mechanic – he’d managed to keep his old truck going on chewing gum and willpower. But even he had to admit that time was running out for the ancient Chevrolet. He kept an eye out to see what he could afford, but it wasn’t until Cammie visited the garage where he worked and saw an auto magazine opened to the newest Ford F150 that she decided what she had to do.

  It hadn’t escaped her attention how ironic it was that she was using Eli’s money to buy a vehicle for the man she’d had no choice but to arrest as a suspect for Kelley’s murder.

  It was an irony that hadn’t escaped Jace’s notice as well. Which explained his reluctance to accept the gift.

  “I appreciate this, I really do,” he’d said when she presented him with the keys. “She’s a beauty. It’s just that…”

  Cammie put her arms around him and gave him an affectionate hug. “You do so much for our town. You do so much for me. And you never ask for anything in return. You deserve this truck. Please, let me give it to you. You can consider this a combination birthday and Christmas gift.” When she saw his look, she added, “For the next three years.”

  He finally acquiesced, though she knew he still wasn’t entirely convinced he wanted the vehicle. Glancing at him now, however, she noted the delight in his eyes as they drove along the winding roads. As expected, the truck handled beautifully. With each hill they climbed, and each turn they took, it was wonderful not to hear the sounds of near-death wheezing and seat rattling they’d become accustomed to from his old Chevrolet. It was also wonderful to feel the warmth from the heated seats enveloping them; the old truck had a malicious streak that would appear on the coldest of days when the heat would conk out for no reason, leaving them feeling like human popsicles. They’d learned to keep a pile of blankets in the backseat. Those days were now mercifully gone.

  Now that he’d actually driven the new truck and was enjoying every minute of it, there was no way he’d go back to chewing gum and willpower to keep the old Chevrolet going. Cammie turned her attention out the window, happy to see him so happy. It was a feeling she knew she’d need to hold onto throughout the days ahead.

  It was Christmas – Cammie’s favorite time of year. She loved to watch the snow gently fall over the lights she and Jace put up on their cabin, nestled on the shores of Mkazawi Pond on the outskirts of Twin Ponds, Maine. She adored going out into the forest with Jace and picking out a tree they would then cut down and drag into their living room. With Bing Crosby and Frank Sinatra singing Christmas carols in the background, they would spend the next few hours decorating the tree with old and new ornaments. Once evening fell, she cherished turning off all the house lights and snuggling with Jace on the couch, watching the Christmas lights from the decorated tree blink on and off.

  Every year she allowed herself to indulge in the fantasy that maybe this year would be the year that peace on earth and goodwill towards men would finally come to pass. She knew it was silly; but there was a feeling that only came around this time of year that made it possible, at least for a little while, to believe in miracles.

  This Christmas, however, she was going to need a Mega Miracle. A supersized, megaton miracle of miracles.

  She absently chewed on her thumbnail as snow covered pine trees zipped by in a blur.

  For many years Cammie had refused to believe in the power of love. She’d considered it a fantasy, created by greeting card companies and romance writers. Her opinion had been shaped by relationships that were definitely not in her best interests. They’d been forged more to scratch an itch or ease a bit of loneliness before it was time to move on. Then she met Jace who, through patience and sensitivity, had shown her love did exist. It wasn’t perfect, and each day didn’t always end in a box tied up in a red ribbon, but what they had was worth holding onto.

  Which right now sucked because she wished she didn’t love Jace as much as she did. Because if she didn’t, she never would have agreed to spend Christmas with his parents.

  What the hell was I thinking?

  Harold and Pamela Northcott hated Cammie. Actually, they loathed her. From the first moment they discovered their only child was dating the town sheriff, they’d been suspicious of her. They couldn’t understand why a woman seven years older than their son would be interested in him, except as some sort of boy toy. Despite evidence to the contrary, they remained convinced that Cammie would eventually stomp on his heart and hurt him deeply.

  Their relationship was further damaged when Cammie had no choice but to arrest Jace for the murder of Eli Kelley. Although the real killer was eventually caught, that fiasco torpedoed any chance she had of getting them to at least accept her as part of Jace’s life.

  Aware of their rancorous feelings towards her, Cammie had successfully avoided the holiday get togethers so far. It helped that the Northcotts had moved out of Twin Ponds soon after she and Jace got together. Harold retired, and he and his wife relocated to Beachport to realize their lifelong dream of living closer to the ocean. Naturally assuming Jace would relocate with them, they were stunned and angered when he refused.

  “My life is here with Cammie,” he’d told them.

  No matter how much they argued and harangued him, Jace would not leave the woman he’d fallen in love with.

  Which added yet another black mark against her in their minds.

  Since then, as the holiday season rolled around, she used her job as an excuse to avoid making the long trek to spend her favorite time of year with Mr. and Mrs. Grinch. She knew Jace wasn’t stupid. He knew exactly what she was doing. Sadly, he couldn’t blame her. His parents could be very formidable, and he had no wish to spend Christmas fighting with them over a relationship they couldn’t and wouldn’t accept or understand.

  However, life was moving at what seemed break-neck speed. Jace awoke one morning with the stark realization staring him in the face that his father was nearing seventy. His mother wasn’t far behind. How many more years would they be around? Did he really want t
o waste precious time by continuing this needless cold war? It was time to rectify a situation no one really wanted to talk about. It was time for them to leave the past behind and give Cammie a chance.

  The first step was to get Cammie to agree to go. He wasn’t sure how she’d react to his suggestion they spend Christmas with his parents. She was weird that way. Sometimes when he expected her to argue, she’d instead agree without batting an eyelash. Other times when he thought it would be a shoo-in, she’d come up with a thousand arguments against it.

  He needed to carefully plan this.

  Making sure he wasn’t being obvious, he surprised her with a romantic evening sipping wine in the large jetted tub they’d installed in their newly renovated bathroom. He made sure to put out her favorite sandalwood candles and jasmine vanilla scented bubble bath.

  Taking one look at the display, Cammie literally melted into the tub. She’d spent the day dealing with a drunken brawl and two car accidents and this was exactly what she needed.

  After drinking the wine, they made slow, soapy love. When they were done, he cradled her against his chest and nuzzled her wet hair.

  “I love you,” he whispered.

  “I love you too.”

  “In two weeks, it will be Christmas.”

  “I know. I look forward to it all year and once it’s here, it flies by.”

  “I know what you mean about time flying by so fast. Hard to believe it’s been three years since I convinced you to play pool with me at Zee’s.”

  “And beat the pants off you.

  Jace chuckled. “Well, actually, the pants didn’t come off until much later.”

  She laughed. Taking advantage of the soft, relaxed mood, he plunged ahead. “Speaking of time, I realized the other day that my dad is about to turn seventy. Somehow, I still picture him the way he was when I was a kid. Strong, robust, with a head full of black hair.”