BETTER WATCH OUT

by Christina Freeburn

  “What did you do?” Cassie pulled away from me.

  “I didn’t do anything.” Though, I was snooping and that was something, but my actions weren’t why Rachel was arrested. It was her own that had her in the police’s custody. “I had to tell—”

  “You went in the back,” Cassie cut me off. “The police came and arrested her. Why?”

  “Not here,” I whispered to Cassie. People were inching toward us and I didn’t want to supply the truth to everyone. “We can talk in the back. First, I’ll finish cleaning up the crafting table.”

  “No, I’ll do it myself.” Cassie stomped over. “I want you to leave.”

  I gaped at her. Was she serious? “Cassie, what’s going on?”

  She threw plastic ornament bulbs into the box then jammed the remaining stickers inside. “Go, Merry. Don’t you have a business you should be taking care of?”

  “Yes. But I’m not going to leave you and Garrett to handle stuff around here on your own. You need help.”

  “I don’t need yours.”

  I turned my head to look at Garrett. He was Cassie’s friend. Maybe he knew what caused her to snap. The young man shrugged, confusion and fear flashing across his face. I wasn’t sure if he was worried about Rachel or Cassie’s attitude. The girl was livid. It had been awhile since I dealt with a teenager’s temper tantrum and I had to say this was a doozy. But usually I had a small clue on what it was about. This time I was lost.

  Jack trailed his sister out of the store, helping to herd the four children toward her car. Two of the boys were thrilled about their baby sister’s antics, while the older one complained about the fact she wasn’t getting in trouble since he got into super trouble when the fire department was called because of him.

  Cassie yanked the box off the table, bumping into my shoulder as she took the long way around to the stockroom.

  That was it. I had enough. I reached for her arm.

  “Maybe it’s best for you to go.” Paul snagged my hand, twining his fingers through mine.

  The heat radiating from his skin started to calm my frazzled nerves. “And leave them to close the store tonight on their own? I can’t do that.”

  Cassie glared at our hands. “I’ve closed the store on my own before. I don’t need you.” She stomped away.

  I slipped my hand from his grasp. Was that why Cassie was angry? She thought Paul and I had something going on between us. Samuel and I had only been divorced—or I thought we had—two weeks before he died. I understood how it would be too soon for Cassie to consider someone she loved and had filled the mom role was moving on so quickly. I wanted to tell her that Paul and I were just friends but there were too many people around and I didn’t want to hurt Paul by proclaiming a lack of feelings with a large audience hovering nearby.

  Plus, it would be a lie. I did like Paul.

  “I’ll help them ring out the last few customers and close the store,” Paul said.

  “I have a feeling she isn’t happy with you either.” I tucked my hands underneath my crossed arms. “Rachel might not like someone else handling her business affairs. At least we’re friends. Or were.”

  A rueful smile played at his lips. “I don’t think Rachel has the ability to veto anything right now. As for Cassie, I’ll talk to her and explain Scotland has asked me to keep an eye on you. She’s been friends with my baby sister since kindergarten. She’ll listen to me.”

  “I can’t leave her.” The words flew out in a panicked whisper.

  “What’s going on?”

  “I irritated someone, and they made a comment about causing problems for Cassie.” I didn’t know if I was too scared or ashamed to tell Paul the whole truth.

  “I promise I won’t let that happen.”

  Nodding, I left, trying to ignore the “doomsday” fluttering in my stomach. Was it worry over my plan on talking with Nancy or disappointed in what Paul said—his interest in me was because of a promise made to my son? Or was the feeling confusion because I cared about what he said.

  If there was someone I trusted it was Paul. I didn’t know what it was about the man, except that he was a close friend of Scotland’s, that instantly made me trust him. Or it could be the guy always treated me with respect. He asked for my opinion, never tried to talk me out of anything or brush off my concerns. When I had called him with my concerns about Norman, he didn’t try to convince me that Norman wasn’t having a stroke. He came to help. Based on my words. No judgment. No admonishments later because I was wrong.

  Holding my head up high, I headed down the street. Even though Jenna wasn’t killed because of money, there was still a large amount of cash gone from the town’s budget and the mayor planned on making me liable for it.

  Plus, it gave me something to focus on beside my friend being arrested for aiding and abetting a murderer.

  Eighteen

  Yule Log was hopping even though it was nearing dinnertime. The diner was usually crowded for breakfast and the start of lunch, especially if homemade cinnamon rolls were on the menu. I’d never seen a long line stretching outside the door this late in the afternoon. Either rolls were added to the lunch menu or the gossip was awesome today. There was a lot to talk about: the parade, Jenna’s murder, and Eric’s disappearing act.

  Everyone in town was here for the same reason, find out what Nancy knew about Jenna and Eric. And soon the residents would also be interested in why Rachel was arrested, though it shouldn’t be too hard to guess it had to do with the murder—or the missing town money if that had leaked out. I was thinking not as no one had approached me about it yet. If for no other reason than to ask me to donate some money to cover the shortfall.

  The jingle bell above the door tinkled as a group of diners came out and another patch went in. A very long wait to go inside. The line was orderly, and everyone waited patiently for their turn as not doing so resulted in a person being banned. Yule Log had the best food, atmosphere, and prices.

  Sharon Dell, the owner of Yule Log, had a well-established system. There was a line for singles, giving you a spot at the counter when a stool was vacated. And don’t even think about jumping from the line of parties-more-than-one to snatch some stools if your required number of spots just happened to become available. Sharon would toss you out. You had to pick to either be a single or a party, and once you choose, you were stuck with that decision.

  Sometimes, couples took the risk of standing in the single line that they’d be able to wrangle side-by-side seats. Single diners were usually quicker as most of the time it was hunters, those heading to work, and the people who disliked talking to anyone. They were at Yule Log for a good, cheap meal, not to socialize.

  Waiting diners were staring at the cell phones or reading the newspaper. The front window had been washed and instead of Santa’s sleigh filled with toys, there was a greeting wishing everyone a safe holiday season. My holiday spirits dipped. I hated seeing the change to the whimsical window display. Sharon’s nephew was an amazing artist and had a folk art mixed with Norman Rockwell style. The drawings always reminded me of simpler times and expressed a timeless Christmas. The only reason I could think of the change to the window décor was people heard about Jenna’s final resting place.

  “Up on a Housetop” played from my phone. My spirits plummeted a little more. Scotland. I doubted he was calling to check on how the flow of the RV was working for me. One, he wasn’t much of a caller, more of a texter, and two, he was a police officer. I’m sure a murder, at a Christmas parade, popped up on his radar and was the reason why Paul was asked to “keep an eye” on me.

  “Good afternoon, son, are you off today?” Knowing darn well his shift had started at three, I hoped the reminder kept this call short. I really didn’t want a lecture from my child. I was surprised he was allowed time to call me.

  “Mom, what the heck is going on?” His tone was a tossup betw
een angry and fearful. Whether I liked it or not, I was getting a talking to. “Why didn’t you call last night to say you were hurt? When did it happen? Was it when you found the body?”

  No reason to ask me since he seemed to already know everything. Being a parent of an adult child was hard. Things seemed to be shifting where my children felt an almost motherly responsibility to me while I was warring with the need to mother them against the reality that I had to let them spread their wings. Some days were better than others and I hated to admit, it was easier to let them adult when they were an hour and half drive away. If they had stayed in Season’s Greetings, I’d have been all up in their business—and them in mine.

  “I’m fine. Just had something bounce off my head at One More Page. Aren’t you supposed to be working?”

  No need to tell him that I thought it was deliberate. I was still the mom in this relationship, and I didn’t want my son to worry and rush home. I wanted him to visit just not because he thought I needed a keeper. That was why he continually dropped hints about his friend Paul liking me, an easy way to keep tabs on his mother.

  “This constitutes as an emergency. My supervisor said I could make a quick call and check on you. Someone was killed during the parade you organized.”

  “No one was killed during it,” I corrected.

  Waiting diners swiveled in my direction. I hurried away, tucking myself into a small alcove between two buildings. The sun was setting, and the light started to fade. I hoped we wrapped up the conversation soon. I was getting a little spooked standing in the small space that wasn’t entirely closed off. There was a small walking path leading from the back of the stores. Perfect opportunity for someone—like the still missing Eric—to exit from the back door of a store and grab me.

  “Mom. What’s going on?” Scotland sounded frantic.

  “Everything is fine. Trying to find a private spot to talk to you.” I lowered my voice not wanting anyone to overhear the conversation. All the conversations of the people waiting had ceased. They were interested in what I was talking about. Couldn’t blame them. I’d have been eavesdropping too.

  “Mom, what aren’t you telling me? Where are you?”

  “I was waiting for a seat at Yule Log and left the line. From your bossy attitude, I have a feeling you already know what’s going on in town.”

  “Mother, I’m not a child anymore. You should be able to turn to me and Raleigh for help.”

  Which meant a lecture was coming from my daughter—and even worse—either a call or visit from her father, my ex-husband Brett. He had found reasons to visit Season’s Greetings every few days and this would give him another one. I couldn’t complain too much as he was helping with my divorced-or-not issue and the ticket.

  “Jenna Wilcox was murdered before the parade. She hadn’t shown up with her so-called float, so I went looking for her.” Actually, I went after Norman as the man had been acting out of sorts. That detail didn’t need to be passed on to my son. I didn’t want to start a rumor about Norman’s health. Though, I should find a way to chat with his wife. She might have noticed Norman’s confusion and memory lapses though with her health problems, Angela might not be aware of her husband’s declining health.

  “Oh God, Mom. You didn’t find her?” He sounded sick.

  The corner grew darker for a moment. I eased out of my spot and scanned the sidewalk. No one was walking away. Had anyone heard me? The setting sun was at a spot where a large Christmas display on the roof across the street had blocked the light. No one over heard me. I didn’t want someone targeting Norman because they thought he knew who killed Jenna or passing on the information to a lurking reporter who’d make it front page news. Chief Hudson would not be happy about that.

  “I’m meeting someone for a late lunch, early dinner. I have to go.” Deliberately ignoring my son’s last question, I didn’t want to lie to him—or say yes.

  “Who you meeting?”

  “A friend. Hope you have an easy day at work. Stay safe. I love you.” Scotland tried to interrupt, I talked right over him. Sometimes a mother had to assert herself. “Tell Raleigh I love her, and I’ll see you guys soon. I’ll head up to Morgantown next week if you guys can’t make it to Season’s Greetings.”

  While I had talked to my son the line had grown longer. By the time I got to the front, Nancy and her friends might be done eating and moving on to their next Saturday activity, bingo at the fire hall. I had to get in there. I was terrified of cutting in line for two reasons: the crowd and Sharon. Sharon did not put up with line jumpers. The last person was banned for a month. I turned off my phone, not wanting to be interrupted or hear a lecture from my other child.

  With Christmas season upon us, I didn’t want to get banned. Sharon made the most incredible cinnamon rolls. The rolls were a Christmas tradition for my children, and I didn’t want to disappoint them and explain I wasn’t able to purchase any because I cut in line. They’d never let me forget.

  I stood on my tiptoes. Still couldn’t see how many diners deep I was in line. I jumped up, nearly colliding into the man in front of me.

  He turned and narrowed his eyes at me.

  “Sorry, I’m hoping to get in before Nancy leaves. I have to talk to her.”

  Sharon was making her way toward me.

  I wanted to shrink into a speck of dirt. “She’s probably not even here.” I started to slink away.

  Sharon looped her arm through mine. “No, Nancy’s here. And I think you should have a word with her. She’s talking like you’re kind of responsible for what happened to Jenna because you organized the parade.”

  I drew in a sharp breath and willed away the brewing tears. It was one thing for me to chastise myself, but quite another for someone else to do it. Someone I liked. I should’ve seen or heard something, but I hadn’t because I was wrapped up in hosting a perfect Christmas parade. Visions of recent past dealings with the police flashed in my mind. I did not want to be a suspect again, or for people to consider me one. Organizing an event where someone was murdered didn’t place a person on the most-likely-to-have-committed-murder list, and shouldn’t because the best friend of the deceased couldn’t refrain from gossiping for one day.

  My anger let me forget for a moment—one small moment—that I had come because I hoped Nancy was gossiping about what she knew about Eric and Jenna. I just hadn’t ever considered I was part of it.

  I dropped my arm to my side, releasing me from my connection with Sharon. Patrons standing in line at the register parted, giving me a clear shot to Nancy. The woman looked like she was holding court rather than mourning her friend. The diner at the register waved off the waitress rushing over to ring her out. She wanted to stay because it appeared the feature show was about to begin.

  A mother tugged a high chair closer to the table as I marched over to Nancy. Forks stopped clinking on plates and conversations hushed.

  Nancy sat at a round four-top table with three women. Her entourage was hanging on every word, leaning forward with their elbows on the table, wicked glee gleaming in their eyes.

  “Two bodies,” Nancy said. “How many people find one much less two? Seems so unusual. Unless…” she trailed off and took a large bite of a BLT.

  “Slander is a crime.” I started to place my hands on my hips then decided to shove my shaking hands into my pocket. At the widening of Nancy’s eyes, I took my hands out, slapping them on the tabletop. I didn’t want anyone thinking I was about to whip a weapon from my pocket.

  The wreath at the register was tilted at an angle as the diners vied for a good vantage point of what was turning into a come-to-Jesus talk with Nancy rather than a fact-finding mission. Focus. You’re here for information not a cat fight. No matter what Nancy was saying.

  “Slander?” Nancy’s expression was full of innocence. “That is a harsh accusation to throw at people for stating basic facts of someone�
�s life.”

  The three women excused themselves, exchanging glances that said Nancy was right about the possibility of my involvement. My show of temper wasn’t helping me.

  The fight had gone out of me. I didn’t want to fight with Nancy. She had just lost a friend and was hurting. She wanted to know—needed to know—what happened and was trying to puzzle it all out. Jenna wasn’t a nice person but didn’t deserve to be killed. I had those same feelings after Samuel was murdered.

  I sank into a chair. “I’m so sorry for your loss, Nancy. Jenna was your best friend.”

  A waitress ventured over to us. Her hesitant steps told me she was reluctant to do so. “There are a few cinnamon rolls left if you’d like to order one.”

  “I’ll take one and a cup of coffee.” I’d be up half the night now, which would be a good thing since I still had orders to complete. Spent a lot of time sleuthing rather than crafting.

  Nancy and I sat across from each other, neither of us making eye contact or talking. People grew bored and returned to their meals and conversations. The waitress placed my order on the table and walked off, shooting confused looks at us. It had to be strange. One minute, Nancy is a chatterbox and I’m about to tell her off, now we’re both mute.

  “I’m sorry,” Nancy whispered. “I was trying to hint that you were responsible. The only time people listen to me is when they think I’m revealing dirty secrets.”

  I placed my hand on hers. “You need people today and all anyone wants is gossip about your friend. To be honest, that was my intention. I feel like I have to find out what happened to Jenna. You knew her best.”

  “Why Jenna?” Tears filled Nancy’s eyes. “I’ve been asking myself that all day. Did I tell her something that caused it? I was starting to think she was using some secrets I told her as a…bargaining tool.”