Mistake in Christmas River

by Meg Muldoon

  I had tried calling him the day before. I’d worked up the courage, thinking that maybe I’d somehow get him to come clean about his involvement with Laura Baynes and how she’d been much more than just a news story to him.

  How in some ways, he’d played a crucial role in her death.

  But Rex had hung up on me as soon as he heard my voice.

  There’d been no joshing. No “sweetie pie” or “honey.”

  I realized now that his supposed obsession with finding out what happened to Amelia and Laura had less to do with being a good reporter and more to do with his own guilt over Laura’s disappearance.

  He must have known that she had been out here in the first place to see him.

  For some reason, Rex’s denial about the whole thing didn’t surprise me.

  Sometimes we tell ourselves lies so long, those lies almost become the truth.

  That had happened to Rex. He’d spun his story for decades, and I wasn’t sure whether he could handle facing what actually happened.

  Luckily, Roberta Finch was doing enough talking for the both of them.

  She’d confessed to following Vicky and me to and from the prison when we talked to Sully Coe. She confessed to running us off the road. She had told police that it would have killed two birds with one stone – getting rid of me – who she thought Rex had eyes on. And also making sure that her secret was never found out in case Sully had told us anything that would have helped us solve the Laura Baynes’ case.

  Roberta had also confessed to the murder of Laura Baynes.

  She told the authorities in detail how she tracked Laura down, lured her out to Christmas River, shot her, and then pushed her body out into The Christmas River right above Christmas Falls. She also confessed that she’d set it up so the whole thing looked like it could be connected to Amelia’s disappearance a year earlier.

  The reporter who had written this latest Redmond Register news story had gone out and talked to Laura Baynes’ son in Eugene. Benjamin Smith had told the reporter that he was thankful to finally have closure after all of these years.

  Even if he still had some conflicted feelings about his mother.

  One of Benjamin’s quotes was particularly insightful.

  “She might not have been a great mom. She might not have been a great person, either. But maybe in the end, even the worst of us deserves justice.”

  I set the newspaper down, mulling over that quote.

  Maybe I should have been happier that Laura Baynes’ disappearance was now solved.

  But all of it left a bad taste in my mouth that I couldn’t seem to wash out.

  It was always disturbing to realize that the people around you – the ones that you thought you knew – turned out to be so different than they pretended to be. I had never known Rex that well – but I never dreamed so many dark secrets existed right there behind the plastic television personality smile.

  I gazed out the window at the woods behind the pie shop.

  The layer of hoarfrost that had been covering the trees was now dripping away, turning the woods damp. The fog was burning off, and up above, I could see windows of blue sky.

  “And that… should just... about do it.”

  I looked over just as Marty Higgins shut the door of my brand new industrial-sized oven and dusted his hands off on his collared shirt.

  “Thanks a bunch, Marty,” I said. “I really appreciate it.”

  The warranty people had offered to send out a handyman to install the oven. But I told them I already had a friend who could help – one that I trusted to do a great job.

  “No problem at all, Cin,” he said.

  It felt good to know that Marty wasn’t holding any grudges about how everything unfolded. Things seemed to be back to normal between us – almost as if nothing had ever happened.

  I was glad of it. Marty was a good sort. The kind that you could count on.

  And the way I saw it, there wasn’t enough of his kind in the world.

  “Can I get you another slice of something?” I asked.

  I’d already served him up a slice of Chocolate Hazelnut Pie, but since then, he’d been installing the oven, and I figured he might have worked up an appetite again.

  He patted his large gut.

  “Aw, I think I better say no,” he said. “The wife will be on me about that first slice, no doubt. I don’t want to add insult to injury.”

  I smiled.

  Then I went for my checkbook in my purse. I started writing out a check to him, but he shook his head.

  “Nope. I don’t charge friends.”

  “C’mon, Marty. Just let me pay—”

  But he just shook his head again and collected his tool box from up off the floor.

  “I’m glad to see that you’re doing better, Cin,” he said. “And I wanted… I wanted to thank you.”

  “For what?” I said.

  “It’s just... secrets have a way of dragging a person down. And I’ve felt dragged down for a long, long time carrying mine around. But now I feel like I might have turned a new page, you know? I feel freer than I did.”

  I smiled at the big man.

  Then I went over and gave him a hug.

  “I’m glad we’re still friends,” I said.

  He smiled, looking a little bashful.

  “Me, too, Cin. Anyway, we’ve been friends too long to quit now.”

  I went over to the fridge and pulled out a pie I’d boxed up. I handed it to him.

  “I know Iggy probably still won’t approve. But take it home and see what she says. Maybe she ought to take it easier on you.”

  “Aw, thanks, Cin,” he said, genuinely touched.

  “No problem, Marty. No problem at all.”

  Chapter 68

  “Tiana! That’s amazing!”

  I was in the middle of whipping up a batch of Cherry Blossom Pudding Pies – a seasonal flavor for spring that I was perfecting – when Tiana came back from her break, beaming like she’d just won the lottery.

  I knew that I probably had gone back to work a little earlier than the doctor, or Daniel, for that matter, would have liked. But the way I saw it, with the Ireland trip in just a few days, I needed to get things in order at the shop. Tiana, Tobias, and Ian were going to be helming it while I was gone, and although I didn’t expect it to be too busy given the time of year, I wanted to make sure I helped them prepare as much as possible.

  Tiana handed me her phone. I dusted off my hands and peered down at the Visit Vancouver web page, scrolling through it.

  “I mean, it’s not as far as Europe or anything,” she said, sliding out of her jacket and hanging it up on the coat rack. “But I figure it’s a good start to international travel. Not too far, and not too expensive – but a good beginning. Toby and I can see if we like it this October, and maybe next year we’ll venture out a little farther.”

  I smiled at her.

  It wasn’t easy getting out of your comfort zone – I knew that first hand. But sometimes – most of the time, in fact – it was worth it.

  Traveling was way out of Tiana’s comfort zone. So I knew that booking a flight and hotel in Vancouver for a week-long trip in the fall was a big step.

  I was proud of her.

  “You guys are going to have a great time,” I said. “I’ve heard that Vancouver’s beautiful.”

  She smiled, her cheeks flushing slightly. She washed her hands at the sink and then grabbed the bag of flour, beginning work on some crusts.

  “Yeah – it’ll be nice to get away with Toby,” she said. “The leaves are supposed to be beautiful there in the fall and—”

  Tiana stopped speaking, her eyebrows drawing together as she looked past my shoulder.

  I glanced back, seeing what had made her go quiet.

  He stood there in the doorjamb between the dining room and the kitchen, wringing his cap between his hands in an awkward manner.

  He cleared his throat.

  Tiana glanced back at me.
<
br />   “You know, I think I forgot to ask the hotel for our booking number. I’m just going to step outside and make a quick phone call, if that’s all right, Cin.”

  She quickly grabbed her phone, hurrying out onto the back deck, closing the door behind her.

  Tiana always seemed to have a sixth sense about that kind of thing – making herself scarce when it seemed like I had a visitor who needed to have a word in private

  I stared at the man in the doorway.

  Frank Longworth looked like he needed a good night’s sleep and a shave. The man had a jittery look to him, like he’d been under fluorescent lights for too long.

  I imagined that most people looked that way after sitting in jail a few days.

  “Do you mind if we talk?” he said.

  I raised my eyebrows, slightly surprised that he had even come here in the first place.

  But then I nodded.

  “Do you like cherry pie?” I asked.

  He sat down at the butcher block, nodding stiffly.

  Then he told me what he’d come here to say.

  Chapter 69

  “She hasn’t been well for a long time,” he said, gazing out the window, a sorrow-filled expression on his face. “Not since Jake’s passing. They were very close, and it’s been tough for her to handle.”

  I set down a steaming mug of fresh coffee on the counter in front of Frank Longworth and took a seat.

  “I keep my business to myself. Never was much for sharing. Most people around here don’t know I lost my son a couple of years ago to a drunk driver down in Medford. I didn’t want them to know. I didn’t want looks of pity or people making a fuss over something that wasn’t any of their business.”

  I’d always known that Frank Longworth was a serious character, but like the rest of Christmas River, I hadn’t had the slightest idea that he’d been through such a recent tragedy.

  “I’m so sorry,” I said, peering at him.

  He averted his eyes, as if the condolence was almost too much for him to stand.

  “The driver who hit Jake had a blood alcohol level four times the legal limit. Four times. He’d been at this seedy bar and they kept serving him. He hit Jake’s car head-on, and both of them… They both died. And sure – that seedy bar got its liquor license taken away for a few months for over-serving. But they couldn’t prove the guy had been there all night drinking. And if you go down to Medford today, you’ll find that it’s open and operating. Like nothing ever happened.”

  Frank drew in a deep breath.

  “I know it’s not all the bar’s responsibility,” he said. “I know it was the drunk driver behind the wheel who was mainly at fault. But still... when something like this happens, you find yourself blaming everyone involved. I often lie awake at night, thinking about what would have happened if the bartenders had cut the drunk off from liquor that night. I know he’d probably just have gone to some other bar. But sometimes I think that simple act might have changed the whole night. He wouldn’t have been on that same road at the same time Jake was. And Jake might still be here today.”

  Frank stared down at the floor, not meeting my gaze. He ran a hand over his balding head.

  “I guess my daughter’s been doing some of that thinking too. And I guess it finally got to the point where Spider couldn’t take it anymore. She had to act – to do something. To somehow try and make things right. To find some sort of… some sort of justice. Justice we never got.”

  It was now clear to me why Frank’s daughter had done what she’d done – why she’d been robbing places where they sold liquor.

  It was an act of vengeance. She couldn’t take her anger and pain out on the man who had killed her brother. So she’d gone on a rampage, looking to take that anger and pain in any other direction but inside.

  “I didn’t know what she was doing,” Frank said. “I swear. Not until she’d already robbed several businesses. And then I tried to help her get rid of any evidence that linked her to it. When the police came to the bread bakery, I confessed to the robberies. I was trying to protect her. I’d much rather be in prison myself than see my daughter suffering any more out of all of this.”

  I didn’t ask, but I had done some thinking about it, and I realized that Frank had kicked me out of his kitchen the week of Valentine’s Day not because I’d left the place a mess – but because he’d put two and two together about his daughter being the Booze Bandit. He was afraid that I’d see Spider at the shop and recognize her as The Booze Bandit.

  “I would have taken the fall, too. All the way if she hadn’t confessed to the Sheriff,” he said in a dejected tone.

  He closed his eyes to hide the fact that they were getting damp.

  “But I guess she couldn’t stand the thought of me being in prison for something that she did.”

  Frank stopped talking, and a silence settled over the kitchen.

  It was hard to know what to say. The situation was so tragic and it wasn’t over yet. Frank’s daughter would still face charges for what she’d done.

  “I’m just so sorry,” I said. “And if you… if you need anything… I mean, if Spider needs anything during all this, please don’t hesitate to let me know.”

  I gulped hard, clearing my throat.

  “I know I wouldn’t be alive if she hadn’t…”

  I trailed off.

  Frank nodded solemnly.

  “She always was a good kid,” he said. “But she shouldn’t have done what she did. She hurt people. Your grandfather among them.”

  He was right – his daughter was responsible for a lot of turmoil: For Warren, myself, and plenty of others in the Central Oregon area.

  But no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t bring myself to hold any of it against her.

  In the end, she’d done the right thing – turned herself in.

  And I knew she’d only done what she’d done out of deep-seated pain and misery brought on by her brother’s death. And a desperation for justice.

  Something that wasn’t always easy to come by in this tough world we lived in.

  I couldn’t judge her. Even though I knew others would.

  “She must still be in a lot of pain,” I said.

  “Yes. But Spider and I will get through it. I know we will.”

  He cleared his throat.

  “We still have each other at least.”

  He he stood up and started heading for the door.

  He hadn’t so much as touched the slice of cherry pie.

  “Mr. Longworth?”

  He stopped and turned back around.

  “Frank,” he said. “Please call me Frank.”

  I nodded.

  “Take care of yourself, Frank,” I said. “And I mean it about letting me know how I can help Spider. I’d like to if I could.”

  The corners of his mouth turned up just barely at that.

  Then he turned and left for good.

  Leaving me to think about how easy it could be to lose your way in life sometimes.

  Chapter 70

  Nobody would have approved of me taking Hucks and Chadwick out for a walk in the woods later that day – considering that I was still recovering from everything that happened. So I made a point not to tell anybody where I was going that afternoon, quietly sneaking out of the pie shop and heading over to the McCall Mountain Trail.

  I walked slowly through the woods and up the dirt path, letting Hucks and Chadwick guide me. The two pooches seemed happy to be out on a walk with me. I didn’t know how much they understood about what had happened in the last few days, but I knew that they sensed I was in a more fragile state than usual. Since I’d gotten home from the hospital, they’d been particularly attached to me, not wanting to leave my side unless they absolutely had to.

  They trotted along the trail, and I followed, stopping every once in a while to catch my breath. My head was doing much better, but I felt like I was getting winded a little more easily than usual.

  Still, I couldn’t complai
n.

  I knew I was lucky to be climbing up here at all.

  I ascended the last hill, happy to see the old red barn appear in the distance. I dug my hands into the pockets of my jacket, pulling out the bag of sugar cubes that I’d brought. I stopped at the wooden gate, resting my arms on top of it.

  I didn’t have to wait long.

  A moment later, a large head peeked out of the barn. He saw me and slowly began ambling in my direction.

  Good old Crabtree.

  The old donkey moved as fast as his legs would carry him – which wasn’t fast at all. A few moments later, he was nuzzling his snout against my hand, looking at me with his one good eye.

  I stroked his ears, the way he liked. Then I placed my hand with the sugar cubes out. They were gone in a fraction of a second.

  “I wanted to come by and say goodbye,” I said, stroking his ears some more.

  He brayed a little, as if understanding what I was saying and not being very happy about it.

  “Now don’t you worry. I’ll be back in a few weeks. Maybe I’ll bring something special back for you from across the pond. How about some Irish oats? I’ve heard those are good.”

  The donkey nuzzled the side of my neck, hitting a ticklish spot. I let out a laugh.

  “He’ll be sad for a while,” a voice sounded from across the field. “But it’ll make it all that much sweeter when you return.”

  I looked up.

  Elise Orcutt stood there, wearing her usual flannel shirt, worn jeans, and galoshes caked with mud.

  She had just come from the greenhouse, and in her arms were a basket of flowers.

  She walked over to me. Then she reached out, stroking Crabtree’s side.

  “He sure is a nice old donkey,” she said.

  “Yes,” I agreed, swallowing back some saliva and studying her. “I’ve really enjoyed coming up here so often these past couple of months.”