by Kathi Daley
“So, if someone killed Buford in such a way as to make it look like an accident and then stole the money as we’ve speculated, who even knew about it to carry out that plan?”
“That is a very good question.”
I stood up, crossing my arms over my chest. “What about the nephew, Jason? We know he knew about Buford’s inheritance, and we know he was unhappy that his mother left all that money to her brother rather than to him. We know he tried to freeze the account that was left to Buford, but the money was already gone. What if he came to Foxtail Lake to confront Buford, and when he got here, he found all that money just stuffed in a drawer in Buford’s home? Could he be the one who killed him and then took off with the money he considered to be his in the first place?”
“I think that is a good possibility. I’ve been trying to track the guy down. He lives in Denver, so I may have to have the Denver PD go to his house and talk to him. I guess I’ll see if he calls me back.”
“And in the meantime?”
“In the meantime, I’m going to speak to Rupert now that Naomi has tracked him down for me, and I plan to continue to dig around in the memories of the guys who hang out at the bar and the lodge. I’ve got someone looking for money or correspondence relating to an offshore account, but to be honest, money in a mattress seems more Buford’s style than something as sophisticated as an offshore account.”
“Based on what I’ve heard about the guy, I agree. Are you going to be able to go to the tree lighting with me?” I asked.
He nodded. “I’ve been looking forward to it all day. Do we need to pick up Gracie?”
“Aunt Gracie and Tom are picking up Ethel and Paisley. They’re going to meet us there. I thought maybe we could get something to eat after.”
“That sounds good. I’m starving. The actual tree lighting only lasts fifteen to twenty minutes. There are a few speeches, the tree is lit, and then everyone sings a couple of carols. Still, it can be crowded, and parking is an issue at times, so I suppose we should head in that direction.”
“Should we tell Naomi that we’re leaving?”
“Based on my observation when I went up to the house to talk to Naomi, I think she and Hancock might be busy. We’ll lock up, but I don’t think we need to bother them.”
I called the dogs and headed toward the kennels. “Naomi said that Hancock is leaving again tomorrow.”
“That’s what Naomi indicated to me as well. I guess that is the package that comes with his job. It’s not a lifestyle I would enjoy, but it seems to work for him. Did you already fill out the training log?”
“I did. I think we’re good to go once we return everyone to the kennel.”
After being exercised, the dogs seemed happy to return to their beds, where they had plenty of fresh water. I had to hand it to Naomi; she seemed to know exactly what needed to be done to ensure that each animal in her care was as happy and healthy as they could be in the absence of a special human that belonged only to them. There were times when I considered adopting one of the dogs, but I wasn’t sure how Gracie and Alastair would feel about that. Volunteering allowed me to spend time with the dogs without making a long-term commitment. Then I would see how Milo and Cass interacted, and I’d find myself envying the bond they seemed to share with each other. The relationship between a man or woman and their dog really is a pretty special thing. Of course, the relationship I had with Alastair was pretty special as well, and I liked the fact that he was independent most of the time, but in the end, he was Gracie’s cat. Maybe one day, I’d want to have a pet who was just mine.
Chapter 10
Monday
“This is good. Really good,” Dex said after reading the column I’d just turned in that featured the recipients of the Secret Santa gifts. “This is exactly what I was looking for. Something personal. Something that really brings home the effect the gifts have had on the lives of those they’ve been bestowed upon.”
I let out the breath I’d been holding. “Great. I’m really glad you like it. I worked hard on the interviews and the write-up. I really wanted to give you the story you were after.”
“Well, you seem to have accomplished your goal.”
I smiled, encouraged by his positive response. “So, about the second article, the one featuring the Secret Santa prospects. Am I cleared to run with it as well?”
He hesitated. “Writing the second article is also supposed to serve the purpose of gathering the information you are going to need for the third article… the big reveal. Do you really think you are up for that?”
Did I? Honestly, I wasn’t sure. I wanted to assure Dex that he had nothing to worry about, but I knew how important this series was to him and didn’t want to be the one to let him down. “I have some good leads,” I answered. “And I’d really like the chance to see where they take me.”
Dex puckered his lips. “You did a good job this week, and I want to reward that by allowing you to continue, but I have a lot riding on this. I need you to be certain you can see it through.”
There was a part of me that wanted to take the easy way out and tell him to give the story to Brock, but if I ever wanted a staff position, I knew I needed to step up and do what needed to be done. Besides, Calliope Rose Collins wasn’t a quitter. I would never have been able to reach the heights I had as a musician if I’d allowed myself to quit every time things got tough. I knew that if you wanted to make your dreams come true, you had to clutch onto those dreams and never let go. “I can get you what you need,” I said with more confidence than I felt. “I have some strong leads, and I promise I will follow them wherever they might take me. You can count on me.”
“Okay. The series is yours. I look forward to the next two articles.”
“Thank you so much for this opportunity. I won’t let you down.”
“You are most welcome.” Dex got up and refilled his coffee mug. “How was your weekend?”
“It was really nice. The tree lighting was lovely. I forgot how much I used to enjoy it when the whole town came together to celebrate. It was cold, that’s for certain, but really, really pretty.”
“I got some great photos for this week’s edition. I think I have one with you and Cass and Paisley in Santa’s sleigh.”
I smiled softly at the memory. “We did take a sleigh ride. When Paisley first asked about it, I was afraid it was going to be much too cold, but there was a warm blanket in the sleigh, and the man who ran the ride gave us hot cocoa. The ride went through town, so we could enjoy the decorations and then through the forest, so we could experience that as well. The trail through the forest was lined with white lights, which reflected off the snow like millions of little diamonds. It was magical.”
“I don’t suppose you want to write up a small feature about your experience to go with my photos.”
I paused. “When would you need it by?”
“The end of the day.”
I slowly bobbed my head. “Okay. The memory of that special evening is actually pretty fresh in my mind. If you have a computer I can use, I’ll write something up right now.”
He clapped his hands together. “Great. There is a computer on the desk in the front office.”
I picked up my stuff. “Okay. I’ll take care of it before I leave.”
After I sat down at the desk, I took a minute to take it all in. To this point, I’d written the features that had been printed on my laptop at home, but working at an ink-smeared desk in a real newspaper office felt totally different. I actually felt like a real reporter for the first time. I had to admit the feeling was one I liked quite a lot. There was something about the scent of the place and the subtle noises in the background as various machines hummed and whirred. I don’t remember ever wanting to be a journalist, but as I sat at the desk in the middle of the bullpen, I had the sense that I was really home.
“Did Dex finally give you a desk?” Gabby asked after walking in from somewhere down the hallway.
“No. I stopped by to tu
rn in my Secret Santa story, and he asked me if I could write a feature about the tree lighting. He just wanted something short to go with the photos he took, so I told him I would write something up while I was here.”
She sat on the corner of the desk. “So how’d Dex like the piece you wrote on Secret Santa?”
“He liked it. He is going to let me run with the rest of the series.”
“That’s wonderful.” Gabby leaned forward slightly. “I might have a piece of information to share.”
I leaned in even further. “Do tell.”
“One of the women who goes to the same gym I do, told me that she heard from her hairdresser that Carolyn Worthington received a large shipment of flowers from a wholesale place in Denver and then the very next day, the church received an anonymous donation of red and white flowers for their advent service.”
“So, Carolyn received an order of red and white flowers?” I asked.
“Actually, the woman I spoke to didn’t know if the flowers Carolyn ordered were red and white. They came in boxes, so there is no way to know if they are the same flowers that were donated to the church. And even if Carolyn did donate the flowers, that doesn’t necessarily mean that she is Secret Santa since a donation of flowers to a church is a whole lot different than making a down payment for someone on a restaurant, but I still thought it was worth mentioning.”
“It was, and thank you. Carolyn is on my list of people to talk to, so I’ll try to make a point to ask her about the flowers.”
Once I completed my piece about the tree lighting, I turned it in to Dex and then headed toward the bank. I needed to identify Secret Santa, so even though I wasn’t overly confident that the people at the bank would or could tell me what I needed to know, starting with the individuals who’d processed Connie’s loan and Grover’s mortgage payment seemed as good a place as any to start. After that, I supposed I’d start figuring out a way to run into my main Secret Santa suspects. Carolyn was in town often, so she wouldn’t be too hard to corner, and Dean and Martin were friends with Cass, so I could ask him to arrange a meeting with them. Haviland Hargrove’s name had been brought up, although I doubted he was Secret Santa. Still, he was usually hanging out at the lodge or at the bar, so I figured I could track him down fairly easily.
Once I arrived at the bank, I asked to speak to Randy Trainer. I’d never met Randy, but I figured I could pretend to be interested in a loan of some sort, and then once the ice was broken, ask what I was really here to ask. I planned to jump in by asking about Connie’s down payment and then segue into a discussion about Grover’s mortgage.
“Can I help you?” one of the women behind the teller’s counter asked. There were two women at the counter today, but there were windows to accommodate three.
“Yes. My name is Calliope Collins. I’d like to speak to Mr. Trainer if he is available.” I glanced toward the hallway, which featured doors to several offices.
“I’ll see if he is available. Have you spoken to Mr. Trainer previously?”
“No. This is the first time. I grew up in Foxtail Lake but moved away after high school. I’ve only recently moved back.”
“Of course. You must be Gracie’s niece.”
“Yes. That’s right. Do you know my aunt?” Of course, she knew Gracie. It was a small town. Everyone knew Gracie.
“I do. She was already a customer when I started working here. Please have a seat, and I’ll check with Mr. Trainer.”
The waiting area was small but really nice. There were several long sofas arranged in a U-shape, which framed a river rock fireplace. The nearby picture window looked out onto a wooded area. As far as bank waiting areas that I’d been in, this was by far the nicest. The fire was warm and cheery. I was sure customers here on actual business would find that the pleasant atmosphere at least partially helped with any stress they might be experiencing.
“Mr. Trainer will see you now,” the woman said. “Please follow me.”
I stood up and ran a hand down the front of my thick forest green sweater. The sweater was nice, but glancing down at the rest of my attire, I realized I probably should have worn something a bit nicer than faded jeans and heavy snow boots. Of course, this was Foxtail Lake, and folks tended to dress down even if they were applying for a loan, which in reality, I wasn’t.
“Ms. Collins,” Trainer came out from behind his desk to shake my hand. “How can I help you today?”
“Honestly? I’m here to talk to you about Secret Santa. I spoke to Connie Denton, and she gave me your name. I understand you were helping her with her loan for the diner when Secret Santa provided the down payment.”
The man motioned for me to take a chair. “Yes. That is correct.”
“Connie told me that you received a cashier’s check, which was sent to you anonymously, along with a note letting you know where to apply the money.”
“Yes, that is correct, as well.”
I crossed my legs and leaned forward just a bit. “I don’t suppose you have any idea as to the source of the check?”
The man paused and then answered. “As you’ve already indicated, the check was delivered anonymously. I did verify that it was legitimate before depositing it into an escrow account, but I really can’t tell you any more than that.”
“Because you don’t know more or because you aren’t at liberty to say?”
“Both actually. I honestly don’t know who sent the check, but even if I did, I wouldn’t tell you or anyone for that matter. I’m sure you understand that all banking transactions are confidential.”
I did understand that and was even expecting that response, but I figured I had to ask.
“And Grover Wood’s mortgage? Was that also caught up by an anonymous donor?”
“The fact that you are asking indicates to me that you know it was. Is there a particular reason you are asking these questions?”
I knew it was a bad idea to tell the man I was researching a story, but it was the truth, and if he didn’t know that now, he would figure it out when tomorrow’s newspaper came out. “I am writing a series of articles for the newspaper about Secret Santa. The first article about the recipients of the Secret Santa gifts will come out tomorrow. I am currently researching the gift giver. There are a lot of opinions out there as to who Secret Santa might actually be, so tracking down the person responsible for all the generous gifts won’t be easy. It occurred to me to ask those people who received the money from Secret Santa in exchange for goods and services for others, or in this case, in exchange for help with individual loans.”
He leaned his elbows on the desk. “I see. I can’t fault you for your logic, but as I’ve already said, I really can’t help you.”
I stood up. “Thank you for your time. I guess I knew you probably couldn’t help me, but I had to try.”
“Why are you trying to unmask Secret Santa anyway?”
“Like I said, I’m writing a series of articles.”
He tilted his head slightly. “I know what you said, but why are you taking that approach. It seems to me that Secret Santa is a good person who is doing a good thing for the community and wants to remain anonymous. Why not let his identity remain a secret? I would think that if you simply focus on the recipients of the gifts and the positive effect those gifts have made on their lives, you will have plenty to write about.”
“Actually, I agree with you. The problem is that my boss wants to publish a tell-all. I really love my job, which by the way, I’m brand new at, and therefore I really want to do a good job for him.”
“I understand. Good luck with your story.”
“Thank you. And again, thank you for taking the time to speak to me.”
After I left the bank, I slowly drove through town toward the library. I needed to refocus, and I figured spending a few minutes chatting with Hope would help me to accomplish that. Hope Mansfield had been the librarian in Foxtail Lake since I’d been in high school. I figured she knew most of the people in town, and I knew
from experience that she had a good head on her shoulders.
I waved to a group on the side of the road who were hanging wreaths on all the lampposts. Most of the town had been decorated before the tree lighting, but for some reason, perhaps the weather, the wreaths had been left for this week. I knew that the mayor and the entire event committee wanted to make sure everything was perfect before the huge Christmas in the Mountains event this upcoming weekend. Most of the store windows in town featured magical Christmas scenes, and the now barren trees along Main had been strung with white lights, so I figured once the wreaths were hung and the stop signs wrapped with red and white paper to make them look like candy canes, the merchants would be ready for the throngs of people they hoped would make the trip up from the valley next weekend.
“Morning, Hope,” I greeted after entering the cheerily decorated library. “I love your tree. I didn’t notice it on Saturday when I was here for the volunteer meeting.”
“I didn’t decorate it until after closing on Saturday.”
“What made you think about hanging books on it?”
“This is a library. The paperbacks were donated to sell at our next fundraiser, but I figured I could use those with Christmas themed covers to brighten up the tree. What brings you out on this frosty winter morning?”
“Secret Santa.” Then I explained the series of articles Dex wanted to run and my part in the whole thing.
“Wow. That’s a tough assignment. Personally, I think most folks in town prefer that Secret Santa remain a mystery.”
“Yeah,” I blew out a breath. “I’m beginning to get that idea. I don’t think pursuing Secret Santa’s identity is going to win me any popularity contests, but Dex is my boss, and this series is a big deal to him. I really want to do a good job.”
“Maybe you can talk him into doing the series without the big reveal at the end. I would think that the local paper would want to keep the secret as much as anyone.”
