by Linnea West
I didn't want to shout to him from here, so I quickly took a plastic bag out of my pocket and shoved the paper inside. I hurriedly shut the door and locked it as quietly at I could. The bag and my gloves were put in my sweatshirt pocket so that I could look at the paper as soon as I got another chance.
Once I was at the top of the stairs, I called down to my dad to tell him I'd be right down. I took one more look at the door to make sure I hadn't disturbed the police tape, but it looked just the same as it had when I had come up the stairs earlier. No one would be any the wiser that someone had been in there.
I ran down the stairs, hardly noticing the creaking now that I wasn't sneaking around. My dad was standing the doorway to the garage, letting in a cold draft as he waited for me. I noticed that instead of bringing a load of things in as he came to get my help, he had come in empty handed. Sometimes he didn't think things through, but that was just how he thought.
"Hey Dad," I said. "Sorry, I was upstairs and I was washing my hands. I could hear you, but I didn't want to just scream down to you."
"That's alright Pumpkin," he said as he smiled at me. "I just need you to help me get your mom out of the car and bring in the stuff we brought. Of course we ended up with more than we went out for, but you know your mom."
We laughed together because we really did know my mom. She loved the holidays and everything about them. She loved to decorate, as evidenced by the extremely large outdoor display. My mom also loved to buy presents for everyone, usually way more than any of us needed. They would be wrapped up with large bows that doubled as accessories after they'd been torn off of the presents. Everything about her gift-giving was over the top.
I followed my dad out to the car and found that indeed the back of the car was stuffed full of shopping bags. My mother sat in the front, looking nonchalant as I gave her a look that told her she had gone overboard. She pushed open the car door and pretended she didn't see my disapproval.
"Tessa, as soon as I get inside, I have one more thing to ask of you," she said. "I had kind of forgotten about it with everything that has happened recently. But let's get me settled and then I'll go into details."
"Okay Mom," I said and I grabbed her crutches for her.
She managed to crutch her way to the stairs, but once she got there she stopped and waited. My dad and I each took one side of her. She put her arms around our necks and we slowly, step by step helped her hop up the stairs. She took over at the top and used her crutches to get into the family room. She collapsed exhausted on the couch.
I had broken my leg as a kid and I remembered how tiring using crutches was. Now I tried to consider what it was like to use them as someone who was nearing retirement age. I figured it must be awful, which is why I tried to be of as much physical help as possible.
"I'll go back and get the bags," my dad said. "Some of the presents are for you after all and you can't see them before Christmas."
He turned and jigged back down the stairs and I turned to see my mother look like she was ready for a nap.
"I'll go make us some tea, okay?" I said. I figured it would give her a little time to potentially take a cat nap while I could hide the note so that I could read it later when I was all alone again. I was dying to open it now, but I didn't know how I'd explain it if anyone found me reading it.
My mother nodded with her eyes closed as I went to the kitchenette that we had in our family area. We ate the majority of our food downstairs using the real kitchen, but it was nice to have a little area to cook without having to venture into the rest of the bed and breakfast.
As the tea pot was heating up on the stove, I slipped over to my room and put the gloves and the plastic bag with the note into the drawer of my nightstand. Really, I could have put it just about anywhere because it wasn't like someone was going to come into my room looking for the note I had taken that no one knew about except me and a dead woman. But I felt a lot better knowing it was hidden away.
I put the tea bags in to steep and put some sugar and milk on a tray along with a few cookies. When I brought it all back into the family room, my mother was firmly asleep. I quietly set the tray down on the television tray next to her side of the couch.
She stirred as I sat on the other end of the couch and pretended like she hadn't been sleeping. When we were kids, my mother would always say that she was just resting her eyes and while I understood that phrase now that I was an adult, I also knew that she was totally cat napping each and every time.
"Oh good, I really need this," she said as she reached for one of the cups. "After shopping and being out in the cold with those stupid crutches, a hot cup of tea is just what the doctor ordered."
I grabbed the other cup and took a few sips. Tea was definitely not my cup of tea. I would have taken a cup of coffee any day, but I had already been making a cup for my mother, so it had been easier to just make two. Besides, my mother razzed me about drinking too much coffee which was rich coming from someone who used to drink a steady stream of it from the time she woke up until she went to bed every day.
"Now, for what I wanted to talk to you about," she said. "I hope you don't have too much on your plate right now. I know that you are already so busy and having me out of commission has just added more stress. But I thought of one more holiday thing that I would love your help with."
I tried not to outwardly groan. It wasn't that I didn't like the holidays, but being so busy this year was enough to make anyone stressed and ready for Christmas to be over. Instead of grimacing, I took a Santa shaped cookie and bit off his head. I tried not to read too far into how I took out my stress and just tried to savor the sweetness as I nodded at my mom.
"Do you remember how I used to throw a holiday party every year?" she said.
Did I remember? Of course I did because it used to be one of the highlights of my year. Mom would pick a Saturday in December and invite literally everyone we knew. We all could invite any friends we wanted to. When party day came, the house would be bustling with people, practically bursting from Christmas cheer. Holiday carols would be pumping from the speakers and the entire first floor would be covered from wall to wall in Christmas lights. My memories from those parties included the special cookie decorating station for the kids, the hot chocolate that we would bring out to sit next to the fire pit in the back yard and dancing to some of my favorite carols.
"Well before I broke my leg, I wanted to start up my tradition of throwing a party again," she said. "So now I am wondering if you could help me with that. And before you say anything, I already picked the date and it is Saturday, so I'm not sure if that is feasible at all."
"Maybe we just cancel this year and try again next year," I said, hoping she would take me up on that.
"That had been my plan, but then today we ran into my friend Betty and she mentioned being excited to come to the party and I realized that I had already sent out one of those email invitation things to everyone in my address book, so we kind of can't cancel."
I let that hang in the air for a minute while I tried to wrap my head around everything I already had to do and adding planning a giant Christmas party to that. But how do I tell my mother no? She gave me life, she had welcomed me back into her home, and all she was asking was for me to throw together a party for all of our family and friends totally last minute.
"I know it is asking a lot," she said quietly before another sip of her tea.
"No, that's okay Mom," I said. I set my tea cup down. "I can do it. In fact, I have a few ideas to jazz it up. This just may be the best Christmas party we have ever thrown."
I collected our empty tea cups and brought the tray back to the kitchen. As I cleaned up our snack, I just hoped I could deliver what I had promised. The party was one thing I couldn't drop the ball on. I couldn't do that to my mother.
Chapter Twenty-Three
That night before bed, I waited until I heard my parents close their bedroom door before I took the note out of my nightstand to read. I
didn't want anyone to accidentally burst in and see it, which was totally an unfounded fear because once all of my family members had passed the age of seven, they all become pros at knocking before opening a door. I felt kind of silly with all of the secrecy, but it felt like I had to be as secretive as possible.
I pulled the gloves back on my hands and opened up the little plastic bag. I pulled the note out and slowly opened it up. Once again, I saw that Claire's name was at the top in pen, but this time I scanned through the rest of the typewritten note. There wasn't much there to read which meant there wasn't much to try and figure out who wrote it
Claire,
Meet me at the Christmas Shop tonight around 10 so we can talk.
That was all it said. It wasn't even signed. I had gotten myself all worked up for nothing. In retrospect, I'm not sure what I thought it would say. But I had hoped it would at least say who had written the letter.
I read it over and over again, but it was pretty cut and dry. There didn't seem to be any sort of hidden meaning or ways for me to tell who had sent it. I folded it up and put it back in the bag before taking off my gloves.
As I laid back on my pillows and looked at the ceiling, I wondered if I should turn in the note to the police. It probably wouldn't come to anything, but it seemed like something I should do. It technically was a clue in a murder investigation. But there was something about the note that still wasn't sitting right with me.
I got up out of bed and got ready to go to sleep. There was just something that was gnawing away at me. Something about that note wasn't sitting right. I brushed my teeth and put my pajamas on, but I just couldn't put my finger on it. Sleep came easily, which seemed about right because I spent all of my waking hours running around like a crazy chicken with my head cut off.
Suddenly, my eyes popped open and there was a thought in my head like I was just about to remember something. I glanced at the clock and saw that it was just past midnight. The moon was shining in my window and I laid as still as I could, willing the thought to come to me.
Suddenly, Max's voice echoed in my head.
"Our working theory is that Rich happened to see her going into the Christmas Shop to do some mischief as he was closing up the Loony Bin. We think that it made him so mad that he went in and the confrontation drove him into a fit of rage."
Claire had been invited by someone to meet at the Christmas Shop; she hadn't been there to do mischief. So who invited her? If Rich had, what would they have to talk about? I highly doubted Claire would have accepted an invitation from Rich, a man she had just met and only talked to for a few moments, to meet late at night at the Christmas Shop.
Besides, the only handwritten part of the note didn't look much like a man's handwriting. It was beautiful handwriting, almost too perfect. And while there were definitely males with nice handwriting, chances were that a woman had written that.
I sat straight up in bed. The only person who Claire would have been interested in meeting would have been Sue. She was the one that Claire needed to get out of the way. Claire probably went to the Christmas Shop hoping to get Sue to leave the Shop early. I would have to ask Sue if she wrote the note.
No, I couldn't do that. If I asked her and she had already killed, she could potentially kill again. That seemed like a ridiculous thought that little old Sue would go into a murderous rage, but laying by myself in the dark and watching the shadows dance on the wall could make anyone think dark thoughts.
Then an idea popped into my head. I could ask Jill. I needed to return that necklace to her anyway and she lived just upstairs from the Shop. Maybe she would know something, or at least be able to tell me if she had seen anyone's car that shouldn't have been there.
In the morning, I would ask her to meet. I would also let Max know about the note because if it proved Rich was innocent, I needed to make sure it found it's way into the right hands.
For now, I laid back down and shut my eyes. As hard as it would be, I needed to try and get more sleep, especially if I was going to be throwing together the party of the year and telling the police that they had the wrong guy in custody for the murder suspect I had stumbled upon.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Even though I am not a morning person, I was up with the birds the next morning. I just couldn't make myself sleep more after my middle of the night realization. I was even more excited about it because when I woke up in the morning, my realization still made sense, unlike other times I had middle of the night, mid-sleep cycle epiphanies.
I did wait nervously until a more acceptable hour when I could send messages to Max and Jill. I needed to speak with both of them about the murder and I had something to deliver to each one. First up was Max.
Hey Max, I have something really important to show you. Like 911 emergency important. When can we meet?
Then I sent a message to Jill.
Hey Jill, It's Tessa. I found that necklace you had been wanting from Claire's room. I also had a question for you. Let me know when I can come by and drop it off.
After waiting nervously for five minutes for either of them to answer and getting nothing in response, I decided a trip to the Donut Hut was in store. I needed to talk to someone and if Jill and Max weren't going to get back to me, I needed to talk to Mandy.
On my way down the steps, I happened to run into Trina, who was coming up to visit with our parents. I figured she may have been on desk duty when Claire got that note, so I asked if she had seen if anyone had brought something over for Claire that day.
"When I checked the mail that day, there was an envelope with Claire's name on it," Trina said. "It had been hand-delivered to the mailbox, so I have no idea who it came from."
I thanked her and continued down the stairs. Of course she hadn't seen who delivered it because that would make my life way too easy.
A short time later, I was sitting in a booth in the Donut Hut with a maple long john that had snowflake shaped sprinkles on top and a mug of coffee. Mandy was sitting across from me. Sunday mornings were feast or famine when it came to customers at the Donut Shop. There would be an initial rush when people woke up and then everything would slow while people went to church and then it would pick up again when families would come for after church donuts.
I was glad to come during a slow time when I could get not only my tasty breakfast, but also some time with Mandy. I didn't even have to whisper because most of the time while I was there, the only customers were people running in to buy a half dozen donuts to go.
After I finished telling Mandy about the note and my revelation, I sat back and took a large bite of my donut. Mandy seemed shell-shocked, like she couldn't quite believe what I just said. For a moment, I thought she was going to say something, but then she grabbed her coffee mug and took a drink. Finally, I just had to break the silence.
"So? What are you thinking?" I finally prodded. "Isn't that all just totally insane?"
"It definitely is," Mandy said. "But I think you might also be insane to think that Sue was the one who did it."
"I must admit, that is the one part of my new theory that I am not completely sold on," I said. "But who else would Claire have been wanting to meet?"
I took another bite of donut. Each time I bought another sweet, I promised myself that I would make a goal to stop eating so many sweets. I don't know when I would make that goal, but sometime I would. The new year would be here before I knew it.
"What if she just thought she was meeting Sue?" Mandy said. "Claire thought Sue wrote the note, so she went to the store. But someone else had written it and met her there instead."
"But who would do that?" I asked.
Mandy shrugged and I had to do the same. Really, any of the other suspects could have done it. And we had only known Claire for such a short time. Maybe it was someone from out of town that had followed Claire to Shady Lake. Maybe the murder really had nothing to do with the Christmas Shop and it was purely coincidental that the murder had occurred there. If that
was the case, how would we ever figure it out?
"Mandy, do you really think Rich did it?" I asked. "Like just look at the acts of the case. Does it make sense that he did it?"
"Yeah, I guess," she said. "Maybe he was worried about business with the dog grooming place next door so he got Claire to come just to talk to her but got so enraged that he killed her."
"Would you kill someone if they wanted to put a dog grooming place next door to the Donut Hut?" I asked her.
"No, but I think the fact that Claire was doing that and kicking a good friend of Rich's out of business to do that makes a big difference," Mandy said. "Overall, the whole situation would make me upset."
I nodded. Mandy was always able to put things into perspective for me. That was a nasty combination of circumstances and while I never condone murder, I do understand the anger that Rich may have had towards Claire.
"I am hoping Max will text me back soon," I said. "I'm going to give him that note and see what he thinks."
"I think you have to," she said. Mandy checked her watch. "I need to get a move on. The after church rush will be starting any minute now. You want another cup of coffee to go?"
"You know I do," I said.
I grabbed the dishes and brought them back into the kitchen while she filled my travel mug with more coffee. I needed all of the coffee I could get because I was going to go tackle more of the inside decorating since we were now throwing a gigantic party in less than a week.
As I drove back home while sipping my coffee, I considered once again if maybe the murder's location was coincidental. I would bring that theory up to Max whenever he agreed to meet. As much as I understood what would make Rich so angry, I just didn't think he could kill over it.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Max had finally gotten back to me around lunchtime. He was a workaholic and it seemed like he was always on duty but when he wasn't working, he did like to sleep in. Police hours were so crazy that he often ended up losing sleep so that he could get things done.
