Murder for the Holidays

by B. T. Lord

  A thought crossed Jace’s mind that brought a frown to his face. “It just occurred to me that Dad may have lied to Knowlton. Why would he be seeking a loan to redecorate the house and build a shed out back if he and Mom were planning on moving back to Twin Ponds?”

  “Or what if he lied to us about moving back to Twin Ponds?” Cammie countered. The despair in his eyes was evident. And heartbreaking to see. “We don’t have all the pieces yet, babe.”

  “He told us he wanted to move before we found out about the body. Now it makes sense why he and Mom wouldn’t answer the phone. They were terrified of being found out. That Dad really is a killer.” Jace tore his hand through his hair. “Damn, I don’t think I can do this. I don’t think I can be objective. What you just told me makes me feel as though I’ve been punched in the gut.”

  Cammie squeezed his hand. “I know, sweetheart.”

  “Yet at the same time, I can’t be a wuss either. I have to see this through. No matter where it leads.”

  She leaned over and kissed his cheek. “Are you sure?”

  He gave a sharp nod of his head. “I’m sure.”

  She leaned her head against his. “Jace, I want you to know something. Even if none of this had happened, I still don’t regret coming here.”

  He jerked his head away and gave her an incredulous look. “You like being insulted?”

  “Of course not. But I knew what I was getting into when I agreed to come.”

  “Then why did you come?”

  “I told you. I don’t want you to ever have to make a choice between me or your parents.”

  He looked at her for a long time, tears pricking his eyes. He then bent down and kissed her deeply. She returned the kiss and soon Harold, Knowlton and Christmas were pushed aside as passion ignited. It was a passion tinged with regret and fear and despair. He needed Cammie more than ever. She was his anchor in a world that was quickly collapsing around him. He needed to forget, at least for a little while, the situation right outside their bedroom door. A situation where the truth had the potential to destroy a piece of him.

  She allowed him to cling to her, knowing the reasons behind it. It strengthened her resolve to do all in her power to bring this to a conclusion. She could only pray it was a conclusion they could all live with.

  Just as he gently pushed her down onto the bed, there came a knock on the door.

  “Really?” he muttered angrily under his breath. She chuckled as she pulled away.

  “Hold that thought. The night is young.”

  She got up and crossed to the door where she opened it. Aunt Pru stood in the doorway.

  “Hope I wasn’t disturbing anything,” she said.

  “Nope. Come on in.”

  She entered. Looking down at the two twin beds, she rolled her eyes. “I’m here to apologize on behalf of Harold and my sister. He always was a stubborn SOB. Once he got something in his head, it was impossible to dislodge it.”

  “Thank you, Aunt Pru, but it’s not up to you to apologize for them,” Jace replied wearily.

  “For what it’s worth, if I was going through what Harold is going through, I’d definitely want you on my side. As it is, I spoke to Pamela and insisted she speak with you. She doesn’t need to follow the path of stupidity, if you know what I mean. And it pays to be the older sister, sometimes.”

  “Did she tell you anything about what happened that day at the hardware store?” Cammie asked.

  “I was out back having a cigarette when they returned. I could tell something had happened. They were both tense and out of sorts. When I asked what was wrong, Pamela made up some story about being frustrated by all the shoppers and traffic and the inability to find a parking spot. The way she was talking, you’d think they’d gone shopping in mid-town Manhattan.” She pointed her finger at Cammie. “So you just keep doing what you’re doing. Even though Harold can be a huge pain in the keyster, I don’t want another Christmas ruined by this family’s stubbornness.”

  “Aunt Pru,” Cammie began slowly. “Do you think Harold is capable of killing Walter Long?”

  Her eyes went opaque for a moment before she blinked whatever emotion she was feeling away. “I don’t like to think that the man my sister has been married to for over thirty years could be capable of something like that.”

  She turned and walked out of the room.

  “That wasn’t much of a response, was it?” Jace responded after she’d gone.

  Cammie remained silent. She’d seen too many instances where something that seemed as insignificant as a disagreement was enough to trigger tragic consequences. Yet, as she well knew, there was always an underlying reason, something that lay quietly dormant that could suddenly be awakened, spewing forth with deadly results. Was that what had happened to Harold? Was his anger directed towards Long? Or was there something else, something more insidious that had caused the death of the loan officer?

  In an effort to calm Jace’s escalating emotions, she asked, “What was it like growing up with Aunt Pru? She seems very down to earth.”

  “I only got to know her in my teenage years,” Jace conceded. “As I told you earlier, she and Uncle Roy lived in Pennsylvania, so we never visited. She always sent me gifts for my birthday and Christmas though.” He chuckled. “I always thought of them as arriving from my mysterious aunt who lived on another planet. Anyway, when I was nineteen, she and Uncle Roy moved to Bucksport. He’d gotten sick with emphysema by then and I think she wanted to be closer to Mom. The few times we got together, she always went out of her way to make sure I was having a good time.”

  “She and Roy never had any children?”

  “I think they had a son who died young. It was way before I was born and naturally, it’s not something the family talks about. But I have a memory of overhearing Mom and Aunt Pru talking about it during one of the Christmases we spent with them. It was a pretty tense conversation as you can imagine, so they let it drop and as far as I know, it was never brought up again.”

  “You said she and her husband Roy were close?”

  “Very. They were completely devoted to each other. I remember their house was always filled with laughter. Uncle Roy could be quite the character. Always had us all in stitches.”

  “Different from your home, huh?”

  Jace shrugged. “I know Mom and Dad love each other very much. And they’ve always been 100% there for me. They just – I don’t know – they never seemed as carefree as Pru and Roy were. Maybe it’s because they had more responsibilities, raising me and Dad taking care of his business.” He glanced at her. “I don’t want you to get the impression I had a lousy childhood. I didn’t. It’s more that my parents are more serious-minded than Pru and Roy ever were.”

  “I get it.” Cammie stood up. “I’d better get my talk with your Mom out of the way before she changes her mind, despite what her older sister may have ordered her to do.”

  Cammie went downstairs. Harold and Aunt Pru were in their usual spots in the living room – he in his armchair watching TV while Aunt Pru quietly knitted on the sofa. She looked up at the sound of Cammie’s step on the stairs and lifted her chin towards the kitchen. Cammie nodded. She found Pamela seated at the round table with a cup of hot tea in front of her.

  “Would you like some?” she asked when she saw Cammie approach. “It’s peppermint tea.”

  “No thanks.” She pulled out a chair. “Mind?” Pamela shook her head. Cammie slid into the chair. Before she could say anything, Pamela spoke up.

  “I’m not sure we should have this conversation now. Not with Harold in the next room. There really isn’t much to say, but I’d rather he didn’t hear me telling you about it.”

  “I’m only trying to help.”

  She remained silent for a long moment, then slowly let out her breath. “Jace has been telling me about the cases you’ve solved over your career. You’re obviously good at what you do. It’s just that—” She hesitated.

  “I had to do my job,” Cammie
said softly. “I didn’t like doing it as much as you and Harold didn’t, but I had no choice.”

  “Yes. And as Jace keeps reminding us, you never let up until you found the true murderer of Eli Kelley.” She paused, then asked, “Is it true what you said earlier today? Do you honestly think Chief Knowlton is determined to blame Harold for what happened to Mr. Long?”

  Cammie nodded. “Everything is pointing that way. That’s why it’s vital I find out exactly what happened at the hardware store the other day.”

  Pamela took a long sip of her tea. The aroma of peppermint wafted over to Cammie, reminding her of candy canes and Christmas treats.

  “And what do you expect to do with the information?”

  “Maybe I’ll notice something Knowlton didn’t see. Or won’t see.”

  “You make him sound so diabolical. He’s always taken very good care of Beachport. What little crime we’ve had, he’s been right on top of it. In fact, the town is worried about what’s going to happen once he retires next year.”

  “Don’t you think that’s why he’s so hellbent of solving this case? Because he is going to retire soon and wants to go in a blaze of glory?” Pamela’s eyes widened in sudden comprehension. “This makes it more imperative that I find out what happened if I have any chance of helping Harold.” Her gaze hardened. “Unless you think he did it.”

  Pamela gasped aloud. “How dare you--!”

  Cammie put her hand up. “I didn’t think so. Look, if it helps, I’ll start. Harold told Knowlton the fight was about the loan he needed in order to redo the house. Although his credit was good, Long turned him down.” Pamela’s face remained neutral. Cammie continued. “Yet why would he be planning on remodeling this place if you and he are moving back to Twin Ponds?” She leaned forward. “When did you first meet Mr. Long?”

  “It was in May of this year when we applied for the loan.”

  “Why would something that happened eight months ago trigger a physical fight between the two men? What’s the real story between Harold and Walter Long?”

  The woman said nothing. Then, she abruptly stood up and grabbed her mug of tea. “I will speak to you tonight after Harold goes to bed.”

  She turned on her heel and left the kitchen.

  Cammie remained at the table, slowly going over what little Pamela had said. Instinct told her Harold’s story about moving back to Twin Ponds was a lie. He’d only decided to return after the argument with Long. Not before. Why? Did he think moving to Twin Ponds would save him from a possible assault charge? Or did he think if he left Beachport, they’d never discover he’d killed Long?

  As to the reason behind the argument, she knew there was much more to it – so much more than he was willing to admit.

  And it had to do with Pamela.

  She leaned forward and cupped her chin in her hand. It hadn’t escaped her notice that when Pamela sat opposite her, she’d referred to the victim as Mr. Long. Yet when she’d had that heated argument with Pru earlier in the day, she’d referred to him as Walt. Not Walter, or Mr. Long. But as Walt.

  It was a very familiar and intimate way to refer to a man she’d supposedly only met eight months before when she and Harold applied for a loan.

  So instead of asking what the real story was between Harold and Long, she should have asked what the real story was between Walter Long and Pamela Northcott.

  Was she the married woman Long was allegedly having an affair with?

  With fear gnawing at her, Cammie got up and returned upstairs to the bedroom where she found Jace lying on his bed, reading an old beat-up copy of The Illustrated Man by Ray Bradbury. “I loved this book when I was a kid,” he said as she came in and closed the door behind her. “I found it in the closet and thought I’d re-read it. But I just can’t seem to concentrate. No surprise there, eh?” He looked up as she sat down on the edge of his bed. “That was a short conversation,” he added.

  “She didn’t want to talk while your dad was in the living room. She said we’ll speak once he goes to bed.”

  Jace glanced at the clock that sat on the night stand between the two beds. “It’s 7:30 now. You really want to rachet up the tension meter by sitting in the living room with him while he watches the news?”

  “That ranks up there with wanting to walk outside barefoot during a blizzard.”

  Jace closed the book and tossed it onto her bed.

  “You still want to hit downtown at one in the morning?” She nodded. “Then what do you want to do between now and then?”

  Desperate to forget about the worry surrounding Pamela and Long, and hoping to ease his worry over his father, she leaned over and kissed Jace’s lips. She then began to unbutton his shirt.

  “What if someone comes upstairs?” he asked.

  “What if they do?”

  He grinned. “Mmmm. The added spice of being discovered. Floor or bed?”

  “We’ll start on the bed and see where we end up.”

  “Sounds like a plan.”

  Forty-five minutes later, Cammie was lying half off the twin size bed while Jace was barely holding onto the edge. Forty-five minutes of bliss where she’d managed to forget about Harold, Pamela and Walter Long.

  “I don’t think I’ve ever made love without making a sound,” she panted, trying desperately not to have all that worry come roaring back at her.

  “It was kinda erotic, wasn’t it?” he admitted. “Doing it while Mom and Dad are downstairs.”

  She glanced at him. “Your idea of erotic is pretty much different from mine.”

  She shifted her weight and Jace lost his precarious balance. He loudly toppled onto the floor. “Oh shit!” they both exclaimed. They listened to see if the sound was heard downstairs, but when they heard nothing, they breathed a sigh of relief.

  “Never thought I’d ever be going through that again,” he said as he stood up and started throwing on his clothes.

  Cammie lifted an eyebrow. “Again?”

  “Come on. You never snuck a boyfriend into your bedroom right under your parents’ noses?”

  She wasn’t about to tell him the only boyfriend she’d ever snuck into her room was Eli Kelley. Instead, she said flippantly, “All the time.”

  It was his time to raise an eyebrow. “Oh?”

  She laughed. “Okay, so neither you or I were angelic teenagers.” She glanced at the clock. “We still have four and a half hours before your dad goes to bed.”

  “You promised Walter’s neighbor we’d go check out his decorations. No better time than the present. If nothing else, maybe the sight of all those happy reindeer and snowmen will get us into the Christmas spirit.”

  And keep her concerns about Pamela at bay a little while longer.

  Walter’s neighbor hadn’t been exaggerating at how much the small neighborhood loved Christmas. Every house was heavily decorated and lit up so brightly, the two considered putting on their sunglasses even though it was night. For a few hours they were able to forget the tension waiting for them back at the Northcott household as they oohed and aahed over the beautiful displays. Cammie felt like a kid again as she watched the mechanical Santas and reindeers bow up and down to the passersby who not only slowly drove along the street, but those families that braved the frigid temperatures to walk up and down the sidewalks.

  It was close to 10:45 when they arrived back at the Northcotts. Cammie walked up the front steps then stopped when she noticed Jace wasn’t with her. She turned back and saw him still standing on the sidewalk. His face was turned up to the sky and his eyes were closed as a few snowflakes began to fall. She smiled warmly as she came up to him.

  “Are you going to turn into Linus from the Charlie Brown Christmas Special and try to catch snowflakes on your tongue?”

  “No. I’m just enjoying the moment.”

  Cammie knew he wasn’t being completely honest. What he was really doing was putting off, as long as possible, entering the house where he’d be once again enveloped in the strain and anger.
It was easy to understand his desire – his need – to hold onto the magic, at least for a little bit longer, of what they’d just experienced seeing all the wondrous lights and displays.

  She never wanted his Christmas to be like this. She’d expected a little bit of tension, but she’d thought they could at least put their differences aside for the sake of the holiday. But with Knowlton breathing down Harold’s neck, and with his hatred of her on full display, this was a Christmas that would definitely not be making her top ten list of Christmases to remember.

  Her heart went out to Jace. All he’d wanted was to spend the holidays with the people he loved the most – his girlfriend and his parents. Who could have ever imagined it would come to this?

  She slipped her arm through his and rested her cheek against his shoulder.

  “It is a beautiful night, isn’t it?” And before she could stop herself, she started catching snowflakes on her tongue. Jace laughed and soon followed.

  They stayed outside for fifteen minutes, running about like two carefree children, catching snowflakes on their cheeks and tongues. But soon, they couldn’t ignore any longer the coldness creeping through their clothes and into their bones. Jace sighed a heavy sigh and pointed at the door.

  “Once more unto the breach,” he said, quoting the famous line from Shakespeare’s Henry V when he rallies his troops to attack the wall of an enemy city. She grinned. How appropriate.

  They entered the house and found the living room empty. The TV was turned off, though a lamp had been left on for their return.

  “Looks like Dad and Aunt Pru must have gone to bed,” Jace remarked, visibly relieved, as he took off his coat, scarf and hat. Cammie did the same, then poked her head in the kitchen. A moment later she returned, her face in a frown.

  “Let me guess,” Jace said. “Mom’s not in there.”

  “Nope.”

  The look on her face made him realize there was more to it than his mother neglecting to speak to her. “What is it, Cam? There’s something else bothering you.”