“I don’t know,” said Tiffinie, continuing to scroll. “Wait a minute! It happened at Mistletoe Manor… while we were there?”
“Wild, right? Are you bringing a pumpkin pie or a pecan pie?”
“I can’t make pie, Dave. It’s just about impossible. Can’t we just bring a bottle of wine?” She kept scrolling. “What? How did this all happen when we were there and we didn’t even realize it? Is this that ‘small fight’ the woman at the front desk was talking about?”
“Good question!”
“Neil’s poor daughter. Can you imagine having two parents who are that awful?”
“I forgot he has a daughter. You know, I’ll bet it was some kind of an accident.”
“The murder, you mean?” she asked.
Dave nodded.
“How could he have been staying at Mistletoe Manor, that old man, I mean, and we didn’t even know it?” Tiffinie asked.
“Bizzarro!” said Dave.
“That was him, smoking that pipe, wasn’t it? And eating all that food in the dining room. He was at the table right next to us. And we didn’t even know it was him. This is so strange. Do you think he overheard you talking about him that second night there, before the snowball fight? He must have, Dave! We could see him standing there, smoking his pipe.”
“He was probably too old to hear what we were saying.”
“Why would Neil have killed him? Couldn’t he have just told him he wasn’t interested in leasing his land to him?”
“Maybe he’d already signed something,” said Dave. “Or maybe it was an accident. An argument gone wrong. Or… I’ll bet I know what happened!”
“What happened?” said Tiffinie.
“Self-defense. They determined it was the old man’s gun. Clearly, he was going to kill Neil and Neil was just protecting himself.”
“I guess that makes the most sense,” Tiffinie agreed. She handed Dave’s phone back to him.
“Of course it does,” he said. “So, what do you think we should wear this afternoon to Dodd and Cindy Lou’s party?”
“I’m not sure. What were you going to tell me in the car? That morning when we left the inn? Remember how you were teasing that innkeeper?”
“I don’t remember that.”
“Telling her ‘shame, shame’ and all of that?”
“I don’t remember,” said Dave.
“It was only a week ago.”
“Whatever it was,” he said, “it must not have been that important.”
“It seemed like you caught her doing something dirty.”
“That uptight librarian? Klarinda Snow. Even her name sounds frigid. I doubt she’s ever done anything dirty. Forget about her.”
“Okay…” Tiffinie sighed. Then she turned to him and said, “Dave, I’ve been meaning to tell you, your lips look amazing.”
“Thanks,” he said. He leaned in for a kiss, but she stepped back.
“When did you start taking such good care of them?” she asked.
“I don’t know.” He smooshed them together a couple times and went in for another kiss. This time she reciprocated.
“It’s kind of a new habit, isn’t it?” she asked him, when he pulled away.
“It was dry out in Idaho.”
She nodded.
“I’m going to take a shower,” he said. “You joining me?”
“No. I need to iron some things.”
“Run the iron over my tan slacks while you’re at it,” he said.
Chapter 47
“Hello, is this Sheriff Carter?” Tiffinie whispered into the phone.
“It sure is,” he said.
“I’m sorry to bother you so early, and on a holiday.”
“It’s no trouble. Who’s calling?”
“My name’s Tiffinie. I’m Dave Sommerset’s fiancée. Dave and I were guests at Mistletoe Manor in Windy Pines last week.”
“What can I do for you?” asked the sheriff. She could hear him much more clearly now. It was as if he was really close to the phone and listening now.
“I have to hurry while Dave’s in the shower. The thing is, Sheriff, I think Dave may have had something to do with that murder that took place out there.”
“You do?” asked the sheriff.
“Yes.”
“And what makes you think that?”
“I, uh…” She listened to make sure the shower was still running. It was. “I’m pretty sure he went outside that night. For some reason. I was half-asleep, but I kind of recall it happening.”
“Kind of?”
“I’m sure it happened. Okay? He had gloves on the next morning that had been left in the car, for one thing. I know he was out there. And my Chapstick had been brought inside. We were supposed to meet that man who died, but we never did. That old man was actually the one who flew us out there.”
“He was?” asked the sheriff, sounding excited.
“The shower just turned off. I have to go,” she said. “Don’t call me back here or I’ll be in trouble. And please,” she said, “whatever you do, take it easy on him. He’s not a bad person. He has a good heart. It’s just hard to see that sometimes.”
Chapter 48
“All we want you to do, is tell us the truth,” Deputy Franklin said to Dave Sommerset.
Dave was seated in the interrogation room of the Windy Pines Police Department. He was wearing his favorite tan slacks—Tiffinie had managed to put quite the nice crease down the center of each leg—and a navy blazer over a crisp maroon dress shirt. His tie was navy, covered in tiny tan hound dogs. He’d thought it was the kind of kitschy, snooty, silly tie Dodd Mortenson would love. He’d picked it out from his closet specifically with Dodd in mind.
It was nine p.m. in Windy Pines, making it eleven o’clock back in Port Elspeth. Thanksgiving. The irony. Dave had had so much to be thankful for, just fourteen hours earlier. And now what?
He hadn’t even gotten to have a Thanksgiving meal. As soon as he’d gotten his tie knotted just right, the doorbell had chimed. Two members of the Port Elspeth police department were standing on his front step, telling him that he was getting escorted to Windy Pines, Idaho.
And here he was. Back in this Godforsaken place.
“We know you and Barney knew each other,” said Sheriff Carter.
“So?” said Dave. “If you would have asked me, I would have told you. It’s not as if I was trying to hide anything.”
“He even paid to fly you out here and rented you a car,” said the deputy.
“That’s right,” said Dave.
“Just tell us the truth about what happened in the early morning of November twenty-first. Did Barney Philman participate in that snowball fight?”
“Keep in mind,” added the sheriff, “there were many witnesses. There’s no point in hiding anything.”
“No, he didn’t participate,” said Dave. “He was an old man. I didn’t even know that old man was Barney Philman. I thought he was just some old guy smoking his pipe.”
“How late did your snowball fight go?” asked the sheriff.
“Two? Two fifteen? Something like that.”
“Then what did you do?” asked the sheriff.
“I went to sleep. I thought you had this case all sewn up. What about Neil Prescott?”
“We have new evidence that might exonerate him,” said the deputy.
“You do?” asked Dave.
“That’s more information than you need to know,” the sheriff said, glaring at Deputy Franklin. “Just tell us again about that last evening and early morning at Mistletoe Manor.”
“Fine,” said Dave, “but there’s nothing you haven’t already heard.”
Chapter 49
It was late in the evening on Thanksgiving. Pierre and Klarinda were seated at Myrtle and Rod’s dining room table, recounting the events of the past week. Mistletoe Manor was always closed from Thanksgiving through the following Tuesday. The break, especially this year, was a welcome relief, even if it meant no in
coming money for nearly a week.
“Would you believe,” said Klarinda, “that I had imagined I’d be spending Thanksgiving with Neil? Meeting his daughter and her boyfriend. I still can’t believe he would do something so horrible.”
“It’s because he’s rich,” said Myrtle. “Rich people are usually corrupt. They have too much to lose. I’ll bet he got himself in over his head with that old man and he figured this was the only way out.”
Klarinda didn’t agree with Myrtle’s sweeping, simplistic view of the wealthy, especially since it was so unflattering to Neil. She wouldn’t admit it, but she still wanted to believe in him. She wasn’t going to argue with Myrtle, though. Especially not on a holiday and when she was in Myrtle’s own home. Her grandparents who’d raised her had always taught her to be twice as respectful as you’d usually be when you were in someone’s home. So, to keep herself in line, she stood up and began clearing the dishes.
“I’ve got them,” said Myrtle.
“No, you cooked all day. You three rest. I’ll take care of these.” She topped off all their wine glasses and her own, and then went into Myrtle’s kitchen and began filling the sink with hot water. After a few minutes, she tuned out their conversation in the other room and got lost in her own thoughts. The question was, if Neil didn’t do it, who did?
The answer seemed so obvious. Of course it had to be Dave Sommerset. But was that just wishful thinking?
She recounted that last morning he’d been there. He’d known about her and Neil. She couldn’t prove it, but it had been obvious. What else had he said that morning? She scrubbed at a pan, trying to remember. And then she knew. She wiped off her hands and ran to grab her cellphone.
“What’s the matter?” asked Myrtle. “Overcome with dishpan hands?”
“No,” said Klarinda, dialing Sheriff Carter’s cellphone number. “I remembered something. And if it means what I think it does, Neil Prescott is innocent.”
Chapter 50
Sheriff Carter could only ignore the non-stop vibrating phone in his pocket for so long. “Could you excuse me?” he said to Deputy Franklin and Dave Sommerset. When he stepped out into the hall and looked at his phone, he saw he’d missed four calls from Klarinda Snow. She’d also sent him a text, so he checked that before calling her back.
Dave Sommerset knew there was a tow truck driver at Mistletoe Manor, even though it was at 4:00 AM when everyone was sleeping. Please call me!
“Got him,” the sheriff said under his breath. “Very interesting. Very interesting, indeed. Thank you, Klarinda.”
He went back into the room before Deputy Franklin could go off-script and ruin everything. The comment about Neil Prescott being exonerated had been a scripted lie, and it had gone well, but that was about as much as he could hope for in one night.
He went back in the room and closed the door behind him, just as the deputy was asking Dave whether he wanted a cigarette.
“This is a no-smoking room,” the sheriff interrupted. Then he said to the deputy, “I think we need to get the tow truck driver back in here and talk to him a little more.”
“Derb?” asked Deputy Franklin, looking devastated. “Why would you think Derb’s to blame?”
“That’s a good point,” said Dave. “What about him? Has anyone asked him about this? It’s a little weird that he was there at four in the morning, isn’t it?” As soon as he said it, his face turned white.
“How do you know there was a tow truck driver at the inn at four in the morning if you were sleeping?” asked the sheriff.
“Because he woke me up,” Dave admitted.
“Then what happened?” asked the deputy.
“I’d like to call a lawyer,” said Dave.
“If you didn’t do anything wrong, why do you need a lawyer?” asked the sheriff.
“You’re making me uncomfortable,” said Dave.
“Dave,” said the sheriff, “the last thing I want is to make you feel uncomfortable. Can I ask you a question?”
“Okay.”
“No one is perfect. Would you agree with that?”
“Sure,” said Dave.
“Every last one of us, now or then, makes a mistake in life. Right?”
“I suppose,” said Dave.
“Just tell us your side of things, why don’t you?”
Dave sighed. “I got woken up around four o’clock in the morning by that tow truck. It was noisy and its lights were really bright. Tiffinie and I were in the room in the front, overlooking the parking lot. We couldn’t miss it.”
“So, you got out of bed to take a look?” asked the sheriff.
“Sure. Who wouldn’t?”
“Anyone would,” agreed the sheriff, nodding understandingly.
“’This place is something else,’ I said to Tiffinie. She’s a deep sleeper. She turned over and stuck her head under the pillow.”
“Go on,” said the sheriff.
“That’s all.”
“That’s all? You saw the tow truck and you went back to sleep?” asked Deputy Franklin.
Dave nodded.
“Why didn’t you mention that you saw the tow truck out there before?”
“I guess I forgot to mention it. It didn’t seem important.”
“Do you remember Josephine? She works at the front desk at Mistletoe Manor,” said the sheriff. “Blonde. Real pretty?”
“Oh, sure, I remember her,” said Dave.
“She was working that night. She was outside talking to the tow truck driver. She told us this when we questioned her. She’s certain she was out there. Did you happen to see her when you looked out the window?”
“Not that I… recall?” said Dave.
“You almost would have had to have seen her, though,” said the sheriff. “If she was out there, how could you have missed her?”
“You know, I might have seen her. I’m not sure.”
“Do you remember if you went downstairs to get something out of your car? Some gloves, maybe?”
Dave’s eyes narrowed and his face turned stony. This, the sheriff knew, was the moment when he first realized Tiffinie had spoken to them. The moment when he realized that Tiffinie was the reason he was here.
“I don’t remember,” he said.
“Maybe some ski gloves?”
“I’m done talking,” said Dave.
“We know about the gloves. We know about the Chapstick. We know you were out there the same time as the tow truck driver was dropping off Neil Prescott’s vehicle. Let me guess,” said the sheriff. “You heard a noise, you looked out the window, and you saw Josephine standing out there?”
Dave shook his head, trying not to remember how hot she’d looked, standing out there in the snowy yard. Her hair was back in a ponytail and she’d had those tight little leggings on…
Trying to forget how he’d said, “Tiffinie, I just remembered, I’ve got to get something out of the car,” as he’d pulled on his coat over his bare chest and yanked a hat onto his head.
“Mmmmmmmmmmm,” she’d moaned. “Shhhh. Sleeping.”
“Be right back,” he’d assured her, pulling on his jeans as fast as he could and stuffing his feet into his shoes.
Then he’d raced out the door of their room, zipping zippers and rubbing dried drool off his cheek the whole way down the hall and stairs.
When he’d gotten outside, the tow truck driver had been backing a Mercedes-Benz GLS that looked just like his ex-wife’s vehicle out onto the parking lot. The tow truck driver had seemed to be caught up in his own world, paying no attention to Dave. For a split second, Dave had felt a little down, missing his ex, wondering whether she missed him. Then he’d remembered he hated her and he’d been content and happy again.
“Dave,” said the sheriff, “mistakes happen. They happen to everyone. Even good people make mistakes. I’m guessing you went outside to have a little talk with Josephine, right? I’ll admit, she’s a looker.”
Dave shook his head.
“Would you
like a bottle of water?” asked Deputy Franklin. “I’ll get you one. Be right back,” he said, standing up and leaving the room.
“We’ve all been there,” said the sheriff. “You probably just wanted to say hello. I understand why you went out there, but can you tell me what went wrong with you and Barney Philman? We know he was out there with his gun. Did he attack you? Just tell me what happened?”
“I thought I heard an animal,” Dave said quietly.
“You thought you heard what?”
Dave buried his face in his hands.
“Take your time,” said the sheriff. Dave heard the door of the interrogation room open and the sheriff tell the deputy, “Just give me that bottle of water and go back out until I come and get you.”
Dave pressed his big, meaty thumbs to his temples, recalling how he had unlocked the Chevy Spark and wedged himself into the passenger side, how he’d taken a moment to rummage around and grab a tube of Chapstick from a cupholder and a pair of ski gloves from under the seat, since getting something out of the car was the whole reason he’d supposedly gone out there. He’d applied a thick coat of the Chapstick, put on the gloves, and then gone off to have a look around the premises.
The foxy little blonde from the front desk had been nowhere to be seen. Feeling energized, despite only going on a couple hours of sleep, he’d decided to take a lap around the property. He’d been out there, anyway. He’d figured he might as well take a look around. And she’d looked so cold! If he had run into her, she would have been happy to see him. She could have borrowed his coat.
He’d begun walking around the side of the inn that faced the road, trying not to be overly crunchy about it. Even though the tow truck had probably woken up everyone at the front of the inn, things on this side of the inn were much quieter.
He’d passed the lineup of snowmen, and taken a moment to chuck a couple of carrot noses from the faces of competitors’ snowmen as far as he could throw them.
In the Heart of Windy Pines Page 14
