The Mystery Before Christmas

by Kathi Daley

  “I guess I’m going to have to take a raincheck on our dinner,” Cass said after he slipped into the passenger seat of my car once the body had been taken away.

  “I know. It’s fine. Maybe tomorrow?”

  “Maybe. I’ll need to see how this whole thing plays out. Are you volunteering at the Santa House tomorrow?”

  I nodded. “In the afternoon, from two until six. I’ll probably come to town early in case Hope needs help with anything else. If you want to find me, I’ll have my phone, so you can call or text.” I looked out toward the pond. “Do you think this was an accident, or do you think someone put Ford in the lake?”

  He paused, pursing his lips. “I’m not sure at this point, but my gut is telling me that Ford didn’t simply wander out into the middle of the forest and fall into a frozen pond. His vehicle isn’t anywhere in sight, nor is his fishing gear, as we discussed before. And as we also discussed before, he isn’t dressed for ice fishing. I think we are going to find that we have another murder on our hands.”

  “It sounds like you are even more certain that Buford’s death was a murder.”

  He nodded. “If it turns out that Ford was killed elsewhere and dumped here as I suspect, then yes, I’m even more certain that Buford was murdered as well.”

  Chapter 21

  Monday

  By the time Monday rolled around, Ford’s death had officially been ruled a homicide. With the new evidence relating to Ford’s death, Cass was even more determined to prove that Buford had been murdered as well. He’d been working a lot of hours, so we never had gotten around to having dinner together, but I was hoping he’d have some time to talk later this afternoon. I had to admit that I was anxious to find out what he had discovered by this point.

  But before I could meet with Cass, I needed to meet with Dex. I had the second story relating the Secret Santa mystery to turn in, and I had an article on Ford’s body being found in Logan Pond as well. Both articles had turned out even better than I hoped, so I was fairly confident he would be happy with them. I just hoped that his satisfaction with this week’s articles would prevent him from firing me over my refusal to unmask Secret Santa.

  I’d given the situation a lot of thought, and while I did admit to being conflicted, I knew that in the end, I had to follow my conscience. I wanted a shot at being a real reporter, and I knew that at times real reporters followed the truth no matter who might end up getting hurt in the process, but I also knew there were reporters out there who followed their heart and their conscience first and foremost and that, I’d decided was the sort of reporter I wanted to be.

  “Waffles?” Aunt Gracie asked after I emerged from my room dressed and ready to tackle the day.

  “Just coffee.”

  “I have blackberry compote and whipped cream.”

  I did love blackberry topping. “Okay. Maybe just one.”

  Gracie handed me a mug of coffee. “So, what are your plans today?”

  I took a sip of the coffee and then sat down at the empty table. “I have to meet with Dex, and then I’m hoping to meet with Cass and get an update on Ford Fisher’s situation. Where is Tom this morning?”

  “He’s having breakfast in town with some of the guys from the lodge. I guess everyone is pretty freaked out about losing two of their own. They wanted to get together and discuss the situation.”

  “The whole thing is really odd. First, Buford dies under suspicious circumstances, and then Ford is found dead just a day after being released as a suspect in Buford’s death. I don’t know what is going on, but I would be willing to bet that the two deaths are related.”

  Gracie slid my plate in front of me. Boy, did it look good. In my opinion, having waffles with fruit topping and whipped cream for breakfast was a bit like having pie. Totally decadent and generally much enjoyed.

  “Was Cass able to determine Ford’s cause of death?” Gracie asked.

  “He, like Buford, was hit over the head with a heavy object, only the injury to Ford was a lot more extensive. Cass said that he most likely died from the blow, whereas the cause of death for Buford seems to have been hypothermia. I’m not sure why the killer went to all the trouble to dump Ford’s body in the lake. The fact that he did seems important to me. It appeared that Buford was hit and then left where he fell, but Ford was moved and then placed under the ice. That would require someone to make a hole in the ice so the body could be inserted. I have to wonder why someone went to all that trouble.”

  “It took a lot of effort,” Gracie agreed. “Do you think there is symbolism at play?”

  I frowned. “Like what?”

  “I’m not sure exactly, but I do agree that even if the person who killed Ford didn’t want to leave the body at the location of the murder for some reason, there are easier ways to dispose of remains. Even if he wanted to leave Ford at Logan Pond, why not just dump him on the shore or in the forest? Why go to all the trouble to chop a hole in the ice and slide the body into the water?”

  I took a sip of my coffee. “I guess that is the question of the day. I know Cass has been struggling with it. Maybe he knows something by now.”

  “Maybe. I hope he figures this out soon. Tom and the other guys from the lodge are really worried about things. I think they are concerned that the reason Buford and Ford were targeted was because of their association with the lodge, and perhaps that could mean that one of them is next.”

  I paused to consider this. “I don’t think the lodge is the common link. Ford and Buford were both at the bar on the day Buford died. I would think if there was a place that served as a common denominator, it would be the bar and not the lodge. But even that seems like a longshot. I suppose that being taken in for questioning in Buford’s death could have led to Ford’s death. I know Cass has considered that scenario.”

  “Why would Ford be killed for being questioned in Buford’s murder?”

  I shrugged. “Maybe whoever killed Buford suspected or even knew that Ford knew something that could help Cass to identify him or her, so the person who killed Buford decided to kill Ford before he could talk. Maybe the pond was chosen as the dump spot because it is shocking and public. The killer might even have known about the ice fishing competition.”

  “So the killer was trying to send a message.”

  “Perhaps.”

  “To who?”

  I shrugged. “Maybe there is someone else out there who knows something the killer doesn’t want to be told.”

  “Well, that’s frightening.”

  “Yes,” I agreed. “It is.”

  “Let’s just hope that Cass can figure out who did this terrible thing and lock them up before they can hurt anyone else.”

  I licked the last of the whipped cream from my fork. “Cass is a good cop. He’ll figure it out.”

  Chapter 22

  I had to admit that I was more than slightly nervous about my meeting with Dex. I wasn’t sure if he’d be angry or disappointed in me or if he’d understand my trepidation and simply pass the story to Brock. I really wanted Dex to like me, and I really wanted to expand my hours at the newspaper, but I’d given the situation a lot of thought, and as I’d told Gracie, I really needed to follow my heart and my conscience.

  “Hey, Gabby,” I greeted the friendly receptionist after entering the building. “Is Dex here? I have my articles.”

  “Actually, he isn’t here. I’m not sure if you heard, but there was a house fire on the north end of town this morning. Brock is still on leave due to issues of a personal nature, so Dex is covering it himself.”

  I frowned. “Was anyone hurt?”

  “No. Based on what I heard, the Christmas tree caught fire after the lights were left on all night. I guess the tree is in a separate living area in a finished basement, and no one even knew it had been left on. The light sets used on the tree were old, and it looks like one of the strings may have shorted out. The kids had already gone to school by the time the fire started, and both parents were at work. Ther
e were a couple of cats indoors, but a neighbor got them out in plenty of time, so everyone is fine.”

  “I’m glad to hear that. I feel bad that the family lost their home, but homes can be replaced while people and pets cannot.”

  Gabby smiled gently. “I couldn’t agree more. If the fire had started while everyone was sleeping, who knows what would have happened.”

  I pulled up a chair and sat down. “I know this is none of my business, but what’s going on with Brock. When I saw Dex on Saturday, he mentioned that Brock was taking care of some personal issues, but I wasn’t aware there was anything so serious going on that he would still be out this week.”

  “His wife left him. I don’t think that is common knowledge at this point, so please don’t say anything to anyone. Apparently, the couple had a huge fight on Friday, and she packed her bags and took herself and the kids to Virginia, where her sister lives.”

  “Oh, no. I’m so sorry to hear that. I’ve only spoken to Brock twice and even then only briefly, and I’ve never met his wife, but I hate to hear about families in crisis.”

  Gabby picked up her stapler and secured the stack of papers she’d been shuffling around since I’d been there. “According to Dex, Brock has asked to be off until after New Year’s. He decided to go to Virginia to try to work things out. It is going to make things tough on Dex, but at least he’d decided to assign the Secret Santa story to you and not Brock. It would have been a real mess if he’d been the one responsible for the series.”

  “Yeah,” I groaned. “A real mess.”

  Now, what was I going to do? I’d been all set to pass Secret Santa off to Brock, but now that wasn’t going to work out. Maybe Dex would want to do the final story himself. Not that he had time to research Secret Santa now that he’d lost his only full-time reporter. The poor guy was going to have his hands full shuffling everything he was already doing with everything Brock had been assigned.

  “I guess I’ll just leave the photos and stories I have with you.” I handed Gabby the envelope with the hard copy, photos, and thumb drive with digital copies of everything. “If Dex has any questions, he can call me. I know he is probably going to be swamped today, but I do need to talk to him. I guess maybe just pass that message along. My schedule is pretty flexible, so we can meet whenever it is convenient for him.”

  Gabby took the envelope. “Okay. I’ll tell him.”

  “And let him know if he wants me to help pick up some of the slack, I can make myself available to cover other stories. I’m not sure what Brock was working on, but I’m sure Dex is going to have his hands full.”

  “I’m sure Dex will appreciate the offer, and I suspect he’ll take you up on it. Not that there is ever a good time for Brock to be gone, but now with everything that is going on, it seems like a worse time than normal.”

  “Well, I’m willing to do what I can.”

  She smiled. “Dex really likes you, you know. I can tell. There have been other folks from time to time who’ve contributed stories on one event or another. Sometimes Dex runs them, but that is usually the end of it. After your first one, the one about the murder of those young girls, I could see that Dex was sold. I overheard him telling someone on the phone that you had real talent. A talent he hoped to hone and utilize in the future.”

  I grinned. “Thanks for telling me that. It means a lot.”

  “I think Dex was really impressed when you made your case about being assigned the Secret Santa series as well. Most people who basically have zero experience doing a series like that wouldn’t have wanted to put themselves out there the way you did. Most wouldn’t have been willing to take the risk. But you just jumped right in and went for it. I know that impressed Dex. Heck, it impressed me. I’m pretty sure if you are interested, you have a real future here.”

  I forced myself to continue smiling when all I wanted to do was cry. “I am interested in a future with the newspaper, and I appreciate everything you’ve said.” I stood up. “I should go. Tell Dex to call me when he is ready to chat.”

  “I will, and good luck with the third installment of your series. I can’t wait to see who Secret Santa is.”

  “Yeah, me too,” I mumbled under my breath.

  Chapter 23

  Cass was in his office when I stopped by. I immediately noticed the colorfully decorated tree on the corner of his desk. It was one of those live trees they sold at the market. I wasn’t certain if he’d brought it in himself or if someone from the community had brought it by, but it did make the place feel a bit festive.

  “So, how did your talk with Dex go?” Cass asked shortly after I’d taken a seat. We’d talked about the chat I’d planned to have with Dex, and he knew how nervous I’d been about it.

  “It didn’t go. I guess Brock has taken a leave from the newspaper until after New Year’s, and Dex had to cover a house fire, so he wasn’t in when I stopped by to drop off my stories.”

  Cass frowned. “I haven’t heard about a house fire.”

  “The house that burned down is outside of town. I suppose the main dispatch might have sent someone from the Rivers Bend office. It might even be closer to where the fire occurred.”

  “Was anyone hurt?”

  “Gabby says no. Which is good. It is too bad the family who lived in the house lost their home, but at least no one was home when the fire broke out. While devastating, it could have been worse.”

  He nodded. “Yes, it could have been. So what’s going on with Brock?”

  “Family stuff. It sounds like he is working on it, which is good, but I’m afraid that leaves me in a bit of a pickle. We talked about the fact that I’d decided that I didn’t want to identify Secret Santa even if I do manage to figure out who he or she is, which at this point, isn’t a given, so I’d planned to pass the story along to Brock, but now that he’s out on leave…”

  “There is no one to pass the story to.”

  “Exactly. I suppose that’s Dex’s problem, and he could do it himself if need be, but I can’t do that to him. I’d feel like I was bailing on a sinking ship. I still don’t want to do the story for all the same reasons I didn’t want to do it the last time we spoke, but I also don’t want to add to the pressure Dex must be feeling by telling him that I decided not to write the story I promised I would write and he is depending on me to provide.”

  Cass leaned back in his chair. He rocked gently front to back. “You are in a tough situation,” he admitted. “Maybe you can convince Dex that it is a bad idea to reveal Secret Santa’s identity. If you can, then you can write a lovely Christmas Eve piece minus the big reveal.”

  “That would be ideal, but with the Post in the mix, I doubt he will go for it.”

  “Yeah,” he said, blowing out a breath.

  “I let Gabby know that I was free to take on some additional assignments if Dex needed my help. I’m hoping that if I can help him fill the void left by Brock’s absence, he won’t fire me when he realizes that I was unable to finish my assignment.”

  “Perhaps, but it seems that unable to finish might be easier to stomach than unwilling to finish. If you are able to identify Secret Santa, but then refuse to give him up, I have a feeling Dex might take that personally. If you do your best, but simply can’t figure it out, I’m not really sure how he can fire you over that.”

  “So, I should just continue to look for Secret Santa, but maybe not too hard?”

  He shrugged.

  “Don’t you think he’ll see through that? Maybe I should just be honest and take whatever consequences might come my way as a result.”

  “I suppose that might be the best way to deal with things, but I wouldn’t wait. He might not be able to give the story to Brock as you hoped, but if you wait to tell him that you are unwilling to deliver the story he wants until it is too late, it seems to me that he’ll be twice as mad.”

  “I know you’re right. I’ll let him know what is on my mind when we have our meeting. Maybe I will be able to convince him that not
unmasking the guy really is the best thing to do for everyone involved.”

  “That’s the spirit. A positive frame of mind wins out every time.”

  “I guess,” I said, lifting a shoulder. “So, how are you doing with your cases?”

  “Not as well as I’d like. We know Ford was definitely murdered. As I mentioned earlier, the trauma to his head is a lot more evident than the trauma to Buford’s head. Still, I suspect the same person is behind both deaths. It looks as if Buford might have been hit where he fell. The blow to Buford’s head didn’t bleed, so it is hard to know for certain. Ford’s wound, however, bled quite a lot. We found blood in his living room, so we assume he was killed in his home and then transported to the lake.”

  “So was there other evidence?”

  “CSU is going over everything. They are looking for fingerprints and other physical evidence. The thing is that Ford has never been a good housekeeper, and things have been really bad since Buford died. The crime scene guys are never going to be able to pick out evidence such as clothing fibers in all the mess.”

  “That’s too bad. Any clue at all as to who might have killed him?”

  He slowly shook his head. “I suppose that the killer must be someone known to both Buford and Ford. Given the fact that Buford froze to death as a result of passing out, which could have been caused by the blow to the head, it does seem possible that the whole thing was just a terrible accident. If that is true, then the killer might even have confided in someone.”

  “Like Ford.”

  “Exactly. But then once Ford was brought in on the secret, the killer started having doubts about Ford’s ability to keep his secret, and once he was brought in for questioning, he panicked, so he killed him to keep him quiet.”

  “That explanation works for me, but how are you going to prove it?”