Murder for the Holidays

by B. T. Lord

  CHAPTER TEN

  Pamela’s jaw dropped in shock. “What are you insinuating? You think I was sleeping with Walt? Have you lost your mind?”

  “I heard he was sleeping with a married woman.”

  “So you naturally assumed it was me?” She quickly got out of bed and stared down at Cammie, her face contorted in rage.

  “If I’m wrong, I’m sorry.”

  “You are most certainly wrong!”

  “Pamela, please…”

  “If I didn’t love my son so much, I’d throw you out of my house this very minute. For his sake I won’t. But that doesn’t mean I need to speak to you.”

  This time she left the room. Cammie lost her tenuous hold on her temper and she followed her down the corridor.

  “Who are you protecting, Pamela? You won’t tell me what the argument was about. You won’t tell me why you ended your relationship with Walter. You won’t even answer a simple question as to whether your sister was in love with your husband. What in heaven’s name are you hiding?”

  Pamela paused halfway down the corridor. She remained still, as if unable to move forwards or backwards. Cammie came up and said in a gentle voice, “I know this is hard. But this may be the only hope we have of figuring out what truly happened.”

  The air seemed to go out of her. She turned, and the two women returned to her bedroom.

  “I must be insane to answer your questions.”

  “It’s the only hope we have.”

  Pamela hesitated for a long moment. Then gave in as she realized this could be her only hope of helping her husband. “You’re right. Pru was in love with Harold. But he loved me.”

  “What ended your relationship with Walter?”

  “Walt was one of those men who simply couldn’t help himself. He saw a pretty woman and off he went. It was some sort of addiction. When I found out he was cheating on me, I broke it off. Harold was there to pick up the pieces. Naturally Pru was terribly upset. You see, she’s always been in competition with me, ever since we were children. It’s stupid. I mean, she was the oldest and much prettier than I was. But she never saw it that way. She was convinced that things came easily to me, while she always had to work hard for whatever she wanted. This relationship was a perfect example. As soon as I met Walt, we fell in love. At first, it was wonderful. He was quite a charmer in those days. He was tall and handsome, and he knew exactly how to treat a woman. I didn’t realize it at the time, but it must have bothered Pru seeing me so happy. By that time, she’d fallen in love with Harold, and despite knowing how he felt about me, she was sure she could change his mind. Then of course I broke up with Walt and --” Pamela grew quiet. Then she added in a low whisper, “I warned her against Walt. I told her he’d break her heart. And he did, over and over again.”

  Cammie caught her breath. “Wait a minute. Pru slept with Walter?”

  She nodded. “This was her way of getting back at me for taking Harold away from her.”

  “So that’s why you and she were estranged for so long. It wasn’t because she was living in Pennsylvania. It was what she’d done with Walter that so upset you.” As things began to make sense to Cammie, she continued. "I had my staff look up the different jobs Walter held over the years. He jumped around quite a bit. The longest place he stayed at was in Pennsylvania. It was near where Pru and her husband were living, wasn’t it?” Pamela closed her eyes, the pain evident on her face. “What did she mean the other day when she said you’d opened up your home to her out of guilt?”

  Pamela abruptly began to pace, her fists opening and closing in agitation. Watching, her, a thought suddenly occurred to Cammie. “Do you think Harold killed Walter to protect Pru?” Pamela stopped and covered her face with her hands. “I think we need to talk to Pru.”

  “I don’t want you upsetting her.”

  “Why not?”

  She opened her eyes and tears welled up. “Because she’s dying of cancer.” She choked back a sob. “I wanted this last Christmas to be special for her. I wanted to finally forget and forgive the past.”

  “Is that what the argument at the hardware store was about? Was it about Pru?”

  She shook her head. “It was about me. Walt told me he was still in love with me. Harold overheard.” She walked over to the dresser and began to wipe away her tears and reapply her make-up. "I’ve answered your questions. I don't want to talk about this anymore. I’m going to freshen up, wake up Pru and we’re going to try our best to carry on tonight. It’s Christmas Eve, after all.”

  “Pamela—” Cammie began.

  She whirled around and snarled, “I mean it. No more. It’s Christmas Eve and goddammit, we are going to get through it!”

  Cammie had no words. And she knew Pamela wasn’t about to say anything more. She silently watched as Pamela made herself up, smoothened her clothes, then walked down the corridor towards Pru’s room where she softly knocked on the door.

  “Pru, sweetheart, it’s Pamela. Let’s go downstairs and I’ll make you something to eat.”

  There was no response. Cammie came up beside Pam as the woman rapped again. “Pru, please. Wake up.” There was still no response. “Sometimes the medicine knocks her out. I’d better check to make sure she’s okay.”

  She opened the door and both women stepped inside. The shades were down, casting a gloominess throughout the room. Pamela reached to the right and flicked on the light switch.

  The room was empty.

  There were clothes scattered about haphazardly on the furniture and bed. Pamela gasped in horror as she looked about. “Oh my God, where can she be?”

  “Maybe she’s downstairs. I’ll look,” Cammie offered. She hurried down the stairs and looked throughout the living room, kitchen and dining room, but the rooms were empty. She popped her head out to the back porch where Pru liked to smoke, but it was empty as well. Coming back into the living room, she saw Pamela hurrying down the stairs. In her hands, she held Pru’s coat.

  “We have to find her,” she said in despair. “She’ll never survive outside in this weather.”

  “I’ll call Jace right away.”

  Fifteen minutes later found Cammie, Jace and Pamela sitting in his truck as they drove the surrounding streets looking for Pru. She hadn’t had a chance to fill him in, but when she called and asked him to return to the house as quickly as possible because Pru was missing, he’d sped back, his mind full of questions, but wary of asking them in front of his mother.

  They slowly drove up and down the streets, but there was no sign of the missing woman.

  “Where would she go?” Jace asked, more to himself than to the group. “This is her first time in Beachport, right?” Pamela nodded. “We’ve covered every street and there’s still no sign of her.”

  “If she’s so ill, and without her coat, she can’t have walked very far,” Cammie said. She felt Jace give a start next to her, but he didn’t glance her way.

  “There’s one place we haven’t looked,” Pamela said slowly. “Growing up, she always loved the ocean. She must have gone there.” Tears streamed down her face as she looked out the window. “Why, Pru? Why are you doing this?” she asked aloud to herself.

  Jace immediately turned around and headed straight for the beach. They parked in the empty parking lot and scanned the shore.

  “We need to get out and look,” Jace finally said. “She could be sitting behind any one of these sand dunes.”

  They clambered out of the truck and onto the beach. They looked around, but the beach was vast and the sand dunes plentiful.

  “Jace, you and your Mom go the right. I’ll go to the left.”

  The group separated, and Cammie moved closer to the water’s edge so she could jog along the hardened, wet sand. The wind gusts blew hard, and it wasn’t long before the dampness burrowed its way into her bones. Her face was numb with cold, but she pushed herself forward, scanning the sand dunes as she ran along.

  Dusk was falling when she saw her. If she hadn’t
turned her head, she would have completely missed the wizened woman in the growing darkness. Pru was squeezed into the side of a large sand dune and she appeared motionless.

  Running to her, Cammie’s stomach clenched when she saw how thinly dressed the old woman was. She wore a thin pair of slacks and a light sweater over a t-shirt. What frightened Cammie was the blue tinge to her skin. She looked like a cadaver.

  “Pru?” she asked. There was no response. Terrified she was dead, she kneeled down and took her hand from her lap to feel for a pulse. It was then a notebook tumbled down onto the sand. She almost cried out in relief when she felt a faint pulse. Quickly ripping off her coat, she draped it over Pru’s shoulders. She then whipped out her cellphone and dialed Jace.

  “Jace, she’s down here. Hurry.”

  Her next two calls were to 911 and Dale Beecham.

  After making the calls, she gathered the frozen woman into her arms and rubbed her back, trying to use her body warmth to keep Pru warm.

  “It’s going to be okay, Pru. Just hang on.”

  “I’m dying,” she heard a raspy whisper in her ear. “Helping it along.”

  “You’re not going to die, Pru. Not yet,” Cammie said even though in her heart she knew it wasn’t true.

  “Tell Pam I’m sorry. Never Harold – no blame…” She then went very still. A few moments later, Jace and his mother ran up. Pamela cried out at the sight of her sister. She quickly took off her coat as well, laid it over Cammie’s and took the woman in her arms. She began to cry as she rocked her sister back and forth.

  “Pru, why? I said I’d take care of everything. Why?”

  Cammie and Jace exchanged concerned glances. What did his mother mean? Had Cammie been wrong all this time? Instead of Harold or Pamela, was it Pru who murdered Walter Long? She’d been sleeping with him for years, yet he’d told Pamela three days before he was still in love with her. Did Pru snap, realizing that once again her sister had won the prize that always seemed to elude her? More chilling, did Pamela know what her sister did and tried her best to cover for her, never realizing she’d jeopardized Harold by doing so?

  While they waited for the ambulance and Dale to arrive, Cammie picked up the notebook from the sand where it had fallen. She and Jace walked a few feet away from the two women. With his arms around her in an effort to keep her warm, they began to read.

  Christmas dinner was subdued. In fact the whole of the 25th of December was overshadowed by the events of Christmas Eve. They’d forced themselves to go through the ritual of opening their gifts that morning, though it was obvious no one’s heart was in it. It was especially painful to see the small pile of gifts set aside that had been meant for Pru.

  Despite the paramedics’ best efforts, Pru passed away at seven pm on Christmas Eve. Weakened by the advanced cancer riddling her body, she had nothing left to fight the hypothermia.

  “I never would have guessed it was that tiny little lady,” Dale replied in wonderment as Cammie handed over the notebook. “What made her do it?”

  “She’d been involved in an on again/off again relationship with Walter Long for years.”

  “You’ve got to be joking.”

  Cammie sadly shook her head. “It goes all the way back to their college days. She’d fallen in love with Harold, but he, unfortunately, was in love with Pamela, who was in love with Walter. Are you with me so far?” Dale warily nodded. “When Pamela found out Walter was cheating on her, she broke it off. Harold seized his opportunity.”

  “That must have pissed off Pru,” Dale said.

  “She was devastated. So she got her revenge by sleeping with Walter. She knew Pamela was still in love with him despite being with Harold. This was her way of sticking it to her sister for stealing the man she loved. The mistake she made was falling in love with Walter herself. That started the estrangement between her and Pamela. When she found out Walter was in Beachport, she contacted him again.”

  “She wasn’t hoping to rekindle anything, was she?”

  Cammie shook her head. “I think it was more to say good-bye. She knew she was dying and wanted to see him one last time. When you read the journal, you’ll see how horribly he treated her. In fact, it seems he wasn’t nice to her at all during their entire relationship. At their last meeting, he actually told her that each time they’d slept together, he’d imagined he was sleeping with Pamela.”

  “Good God,” Dale grimaced.

  “Exactly. That was the straw that broke her. With death staring her in the face, she had nothing to lose. So she set up the meeting downtown with the intention of killing him. Payback for all the years of rejection at his hands.”

  “The sad part is that until that last meeting, she kept going back again and again, didn’t she?” Cammie nodded. “Any particular reason she picked the Christmas tree as the spot to commit the murder?”

  “Christmas meant a great deal to her. That’s when she became pregnant with their son.”

  “Son?” Dale asked, astonished by the news.

  “She was married to Roy at the time. However, she was still involved with Walter and believed the baby was his. I remember she said something to Jace and I the other day that I completely misinterpreted. She said she didn’t want another Christmas ruined by this family’s stubbornness. I assumed it was Harold she was referring to. But it was Pamela. She must have told her sister about the baby and that only hardened the estrangement between the two. Seems Pamela can be as stubborn as Harold when it comes to holding grudges.”

  “Whatever happened to the baby?”

  “She lost him at the age of two to pneumonia. It was something she never quite got over. When she reached out to Walter to tell him what had happened, he never responded.”

  “He really was a shit, wasn’t he?”

  “She spent years making excuses for him. But after treating her as badly as he did last week, it was as if she saw him for the first time. Not with the rose-colored glasses of a woman in love, but with the eyes of someone whose veil had been savagely stripped away. She’d conceived a new life around Christmas. It was time to take a life around Christmas.”

  Dale shook his head. “What a horrible thing to happen. To be driven to kill a man you’d once loved and who never loved you. There’s something I don’t understand though. How did that frail woman walk all the way from her sister’s house to downtown and back?”

  “She didn’t. According to the journal, she called a cab that picked her up about a block away from the house and dropped her off in front of one of the homes behind Main Street. She did the same thing after she killed Walter. Each time, she made it appear as if she was returning from a late night visit to a friend’s house. I’m sure if you talk to the local cab company, you’ll find the cabbie who picked her up and dropped her off.”

  “With this information, Knowlton will kill two birds with one stone. He’ll release Harold and still be able to claim the murder was solved.”

  “Have you told him yet?”

  “I thought I’d wait until I got all the facts.”

  “Do me a favor and make it look like you found the journal yourself. Don’t involve me at all in this.”

  Dale raised an eyebrow. “But you solved it.”

  “Let him have his moment of glory that his department solved the crime. He has to live here. I don’t.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “I know what it’s like to have an investigation blow up in your face the way it did for him seven years ago. Believe me, it’s better this way.”

  “Whatever you say.” Cammie started to turn away when he asked, “Why do you suppose she went to the beach to die?”

  “What would you rather do? Die in a hospital bed attached to a machine? Die in a prison cell? Or die looking out over the ocean?”

  Although the turkey was moist and tender, and the rest of the meal cooked to perfection, Cammie didn’t believe anyone at the table tasted it. They were all saddened and depressed over how all of this had played out. Th
e setting for Pru had been removed; although the plate and silverware were gone, her presence still lingered, her life a sad testimony to the destructive power of love.

  Pamela’s eyes were rimmed with tears while Harold’s face was still drawn and hollowed out. He’d come so close to spending the rest of his life paying for a crime he didn’t commit. Despite the fact that Pru’s journal would have exonerated him, and Cammie was sure she’d written the journal so he would be exonerated, the fear of what he’d almost lost was still with him.

  Looking at Harold trying his best to eat his meal, she also wondered if he was haunted by the decision he’d made all those years ago. He’d turned away from one sister to love the other. It seemed the right thing to do at the time. Yet that decision had festered, almost destroying their family. Almost destroying him.

  He still hadn’t come to terms with it all.

  She felt Jace’s warm hand on her thigh, his touch reassuring her that she’d done well, even if no one else was ready to acknowledge it.

  When dinner was done, Harold sat back in his chair. He cleared his throat several times before forcing himself to look at his son and his girlfriend.

  “Why did Pru do what she did?” he asked.

  Cammie slowly and methodically laid out the whys and wherefores of the case. When she was done, Harold wiped a tear from his eye. Without a word, he stood up and slowly left the dining room. When he was gone, Cammie looked across to Pamela and saw her face completely empty of color.

  “What is it, Mom?” Jace asked. “Are you alright?”

  She shook her head back and forth several times. Then, she abruptly stuffed her napkin into her mouth and began to sob. Cammie and Jace, astonished by her behavior, jumped up and ran to her.