Mistletoe and murder, p.36
Mistletoe & Murder, page 36
“Well, maybe not,” said Char, “but we also know that based on the cut above the boxing guy’s eye, Rachael could defend herself.”
“A lot of good that did her,” muttered Tess.
“Maybe she put up a fight, you know, got one good kick in before . . .” Her words trailed off.
Tess shook her head. “I just feel so helpless.”
“I know,” said Char and then paused as if thinking. “But, remember, we still have four more pop-ups to go through.”
“Tomorrow,” said Tess, glancing at the clock on the dashboard. It was already close to five o’clock. “I don’t think I can look at any more clues tonight.”
“Okay,” said Char. “I’ll come over tomorrow around nine.”
Tess dropped Char off at her house, and even though she was tired, drained, and ready to just go home and watch some mindless TV, she drove into town to Tops Friendly Market, just for a few basic essentials and a couple more cans of Campbell’s Chicken and Rice soup.
As she loaded up the groceries in the backend of the Durango, she happened to look across the road and noticed Detective Curtis getting out of his car. He had parked in front of Hannigan’s Pub & Grub.
She closed the rear hatch and yelled out, “Detective Curtis!”
The detective turned around, stared at her for a moment and when recognition set in, he smiled and waved. “Ms. Langley.”
He started to walk across the street, his limp noticeable, so Tess hurried over to meet him.
“What are you still doing here in town?” she said. “I thought you’d be back in Rome by now.”
“I’ve just finished doing some work on the case, and I thought I’d grab a bite to eat before heading home.” He shifted his weight onto his good leg. “You want to join me?”
“Well, I uh . . .” Tess casually ran a hand over her short, blonde hair, smoothing down the cowlick in the back. “No, that’s okay. I’m not hungry.”
“Oh c’mon. You gotta eat,” he said and smiled at her. “My treat.”
Even though she was sure the detective hadn’t meant it in that way, it felt kind of like he was asking her out on a date. Something she was not mentally or emotionally equipped to handle right now.
She glanced over at the pub. The place was nothing fancy, but it did have killer burgers and fantastic homemade potato chips, and she was famished.
“Well . . .” she said and glanced over at her Durango. She hadn’t gotten any perishables and the cans of Campbell’s Chicken and Rice soup could sit out there for a hundred years and not spoil.
“I talked to Mr. and Mrs. Warren today,” he said.
That was all Tess needed to hear in order to sway her decision. “Sure, I’ll join you for dinner, but you don’t need to pay for mine.”
“I wouldn’t be,” said the detective as they both slowly walked toward the entrance to the pub. “Rome Police Department would.”
Hannigan’s Pub & Grub was a local hangout, filled with young and old. Known for its ample servings, it was the place to go for some good old-fashioned comfort food.
Even on a Tuesday, the pub was packed.
The two entered the eatery and were immediately struck by the cacophony of dueling TVs and loud groups of after-work partiers, there for a pint of their favorite beer, some good food, and some casual conversation.
Tess glanced around and saw that all the tables were already full. Spotting a couple of empty seats up at the bar and knowing that they’d go quickly if she didn’t act fast, she said, “Follow me,” and then she snaked her way through the crowd.
She slid into one of the chairs, put her purse on the other and turned around to make sure the detective hadn’t gotten knocked off balance. He had paused behind a young guy holding a pint of beer and yelling at the television with his buddies. When he looked at Tess, he rolled his eyes and then smiled.
It caused a tingling to rise up in her belly.
She immediately closed her eyes and shook her head. “Don’t even go there,” she murmured to herself.
“This place is busy,” said Detective Curtis as he grabbed her purse, set it on the bar and slid into the chair next to her.
“It always is,” said Tess. “It’s pretty much the only game in town.” She grabbed two of the bar menus and handed one of them to the detective. “Luckily, the food’s great.”
“What can I get you two,” said the bartender as he placed a bar napkin down in front of each of them.
“A Guinness,” they both said in unison.
Detective Curtis looked over at her and arched his eyebrows. “You like Guinness?”
“Love it,” she said. “Plus, it’s a lot less calories than an IPA.”
He looked her up and down and smiled. “You don’t look like you need to worry about counting calories.”
Tess could feel her face flushing. “Well, thank you, Detective. Even though I know you’re just being nice.” She grabbed the menu and quickly buried her face in it.
“So, what’s good here?” he asked.
“Everything,” she said without looking over at him.
“Do you two know what you want to eat?” said the bartender.
The detective perused the menu for a moment and said to him, “I’d like the sliders and a basket of the homemade potato chips, please.”
“Ditto,” said Tess, and then they both handed their menus to the bartender.
“You got it,” said the bartender.
While they waited for their food and drink, Tess said, “You mentioned that you talked to the Warrens.” She wanted to tell him everything that she and Char had found out about Rachael, but then the detective would want to know how she came by the information, and then she’d have to tell him about the book.
She still wasn’t ready to do that.
“Yes. I talked to them this afternoon,” he said.
“Here you go, guys,” said the bartender as he set the beers in front of them. “Your food will be out shortly.”
“Thanks,” said Detective Curtis. He waited until the bartender left and then added, “They told me that she had recently started doing sculptures with recycled wire.”
“So, maybe she had a pair of wire cutters on her,” said Tess, picking up her beer.
The detective nodded. “We think so, too.” He picked up his beer and took a sip. “Mr. Warren said that he’d gotten her a nice heavy-duty pair of NWS wire cutters from Germany with a red and silver custom grip. We suspect the killer used them to cut the fence, and since we haven’t been able to find them, we think that he—or she—either disposed of them somewhere else or might still be in possession of them.”
Tess knew she had to be strategic in what she said next. Too much information and the detective would know that she and Char had been meddling in the case.
“I wonder if she had planned on showing her pieces somewhere?” said Tess and took a sip so she wouldn’t have to make eye contact.
“Her parents said that she was working on getting a business loan so that she could rent the space next door to the jewelry store.”
“That’s interesting,” murmured Tess and took another sip. “Did they say anything about Max and Rachael’s engagement?”
“How’d you know about that?”
“Oh, the barista at Wheaton’s Deli mentioned it,” she said casually.
“According to Mrs. Warren, Rachael called them Saturday around noon from Wheaton’s. She told them that Max had proposed, but that she had told him she needed time to think about it.”
“I wonder why?” Tess said, fairly certain she already knew the answer to that question.
“Apparently, Mr. Dovelin had threatened to disinherit his son if he married the Warren girl, and from what I understand, we’re talking a lot of money. She told her parents that even though she loved Max very much, she was never going to marry him because she didn’t want him to lose his inheritance.”
“I wonder what Mr. Dovelin had against her?” said Tess.
Detective Curtis shrugged. “The Warrens didn’t seem to know the answer to that.”
Tess thought for a moment. Knowing now that Rachael was at the boxing ring in the morning and at Wheaton’s deli around noon, she said, “Did her parents see her on Saturday?”
Detective Curtis took a sip of his beer and then shook his head. “Sadly, no. They asked her if she wanted to come over, but she said ‘no’ because she had to go see someone that afternoon.”
“Did they say who?”
He shook his head. “No. She didn’t tell them, only that it was very important.”
“Here you go, guys,” said the bartender as he placed a large plate with four sliders on each in front of them, along with the baskets of chips.
As they ate their dinner, the conversation took on a more personal tone. At first Tess was reluctant to share personal information with the detective, but after a second Guinness, her lips loosened up and she told him about Howard’s passing being the reason she had moved to Whispering River and bought the old house.
“I know how hard this transition must be for you,” the detective said, “I’ve been through it myself.”
Tess discovered that the detective had been a widower for three years and that he had two sons, both of which were married with three children each.
“Six grandchildren,” said Tess.
“And another one on the way,” said the detective.
“That must be a houseful during the holidays,” she said and tipped back the last of her beer.
“It’s a madhouse,” he said, crunching down on the last of the potato chips. “And I wouldn’t have it any other way.” He took a sip of his beer. “It keeps me young, but it’s hard keeping up with them with this bum leg of mine.”
“What happened to your leg, if you don’t mind me asking?” said Tess, turning in her seat more toward him.
“Oh, I don’t mind.” He turned more toward her. “I used to be a motorcycle cop. It was a routine stop. I pulled a guy over because of a busted taillight. I got off the motorcycle, and as I was walking up to the vehicle, the guy threw the car in reverse, hit me, and then ran over my leg. He took off, but we eventually got him. Turned out he had a young girl tied up in the trunk of his car.”
“Oh, no!” said Tess. “Were you able to save the girl?”
“The girl, yes. My leg? Not so lucky there.” He rolled up his right pant leg to reveal a metal prosthesis. “Lost it right below the knee.”
“Oh, I’m so sorry,” said Tess.
“It’s okay,” he said with a smile. “It could have been a heck of a lot worse. Besides, having all this titanium makes me feel a little like Superman. I just can’t fly.” He paused. “Not yet, anyway.”
That made Tess laughed, and she realized she was actually having fun. That realization scared her. She wasn’t ready to let Howard go quite yet, so instead, she stood up and said, “Well, I better get going. Thanks again for dinner, Detective Curtis.”
“Anytime,” he said and rose from his chair. “And please, call me Jack.”
“Jack,” she said, smiling.
After the two said “good-bye,” Tess hurried across the street to the Durango and slid in behind the steering wheel. As she started it, she glanced in the rearview mirror just as Detective Curtis walked over to his car, opened the door, got in, and a moment later, pulled away from the curb.
She waited until his car was gone from sight and then pulled out of the parking lot. Thoughts of the detective flashed into her mind. His deep brown eyes. The way they sparkled when he talked about his kids. His silvery hair and how she had to stop herself from reaching over and pushing a strand away from his eyes.
“Don’t even start, Tess Langley,” she muttered to herself. “You’re too old for this.”
Somewhere in the back of her mind, a little voice whispered back, “No, I’m not.”
Chapter Eighteen
Tess woke up the next morning with a smile on her face. She threw the covers off of her, grabbed her bathrobe and said, “C’mon, Goobs. Let’s get some breakfast.”
Goober jumped up from his bed and followed her into the living room to picked up his bowl and then to the kitchen. After filling his dish, she set it on the floor—which he promptly gobbled down—and then she turned on the small TV set sitting on the counter.
As she put on a pot of coffee, thoughts of Detective Curtis fluttered into her mind, but she quickly sent them away. She needed to focus on other things. She glanced at the clock mounted on the wall. It was quarter to nine.
“I better get dressed,” she said to Goober. “Your Aunt Char’s going to be here in fifteen minutes.”
She turned to leave, but when a photograph of Rachael Warren flashed on the TV screen, she stopped and turned the sound up.
“The body of twenty-two-year-old Rachael Warren was discovered inside the Wild Wood Nature Preserve on Monday evening,” said the same anchorwoman who had first announced Rachael’s disappearance. “According to the authorities, a local woman who was out at the preserve searching for her lost dog, found the body and immediately notified the police.”
The photo of Rachael had been replaced with one of Detective Curtis. The male anchorman said, “We now take you live to the Rome Police Department where Detective Jack Curtis, lead investigator in the case, is holding a media conference.”
The scene turned to live feed of the detective.
“Do you know how the victim died?” asked a reporter.
Detective Curtis leaned down into the microphone and said, “According to the coroner, a preliminary investigation had revealed that Ms. Warren had been strangled to death.”
A different reporter asked, “Do you have any suspects in custody?”
“Not at this time,” the detective said. “But the investigation is ongoing.”
“Is there anything for certain you can tell us?” asked another reporter.
“We have something that we think might be evidence, but we are waiting to hear back from the crime lab before we announce anything.”
Tess stared at the TV screen until the detective’s face had been replaced with another news story.
She turned the sound down and said, “I wonder why he didn’t mention last night he was planning on talking to the media?” Tess felt a sense of urgency creep into her bones. Now that it was on the news, she and Char were going to have to work even faster putting all of the clues together.
When Char arrived, Tess answer the door with the book in her arms and said, “Hurry up, we’ve got work to do.”
“Well, good morning to you, too!”
The two of them walked into the living room. Char looked around at all of the boxes still there, and said, “I thought you were going to finish unpacking last night. What happened?”
“I, uh, got a little sidetracked,” said Tess and then cracked a slight smile.
Char narrowed her eyes. “What’s going on?”
“Nothing.”
“Like heck.” She glared at Tess for several long moments. “Spill it, sister.” When Tess refused to say anything, Char said, “Either you tell me what’s going on or I’m leaving.” She paused. “I mean it.” She started walking back toward the front door.
Finally, Tess said, “Oh, all right. If you must know, I had dinner with Detective Curtis last night.” She held up her hand, stopping Char from questioning her. “It’s not like it was a date or anything. We just happened to run into each other by the grocery store, so we went over to Hannigan’s, had a bite and talked about the case.” She paused. “Did you know he was a widower?”
Char smiled. “Sounds to me like you two did more than just talk about the case.”
“Speaking of the case,” said Tess, setting the book on the coffee table. “Detective Curtis told the media about finding Rachael’s body.”
“Yeah, I heard it on the radio coming over here,” said Char. “At least they didn’t mention us by name.”
“Thank God,” said Tess. She gave a shudder and reached for the book. “Guess we better get started.” She paused for a moment and then slid the book closer to Char. “Why don’t you do the honors?”
Char opened up the book, carefully thumbing through it, until she came to the pop-up of the eight maids milking. She looked over at Tess. “Ready?”
“Ready,” said Tess.
Char turned to the next pop-up.
It was of a stage with nine women, all in a row, each wearing a pink, frilly, ballet dress and standing on their tip toes with their arms up in the air. Behind them red, velvet-looking curtains hung in swags. In the foreground were three rows of theatre seats, each filled with people dressed in fancy attire.
Printed on the page beneath the pop-up was another poem:
On the ninth day of Christmas,
Nine ladies came to dance.
But times grew tough, with not enough.
They sought a second chance.
The two women stared at the pop-up.
“You know what comes next, don’t you?” said Char looking at Tess.
She turned the page to reveal the same scene as the previous one, only now ten men in ballet attire stood behind the women.
The poem beneath it read:
On the tenth day of Christmas,
Ten Lords, they came to leap.
Hours training for entertaining.
No time to eat or sleep.
Tess stared down at the pop-up. “Ladies came to dance and Lords came to leap. Hmm . . .” She looked over at Char. “Could the two pop-ups be referring to a nightclub where there’s dancing or maybe a bar or something?”
Char scrunched her face. “I don’t think so. ‘Hours training for entertaining . . .’ That doesn’t sound like a bar to me.” She flipped back a page. ‘“Times grew tough with not enough.” She shook her head and groaned. “I can’t think on an empty stomach.”
“You didn’t eat breakfast?”
“No,” whined Char. “I figured we’d stop at Wheaton’s. And you know how I get when I haven’t eaten.”
“Fine. Wouldn’t want you getting the ‘hangries’ and taking it out on me.” Tess closed the book and tucked it under her arm. She looked over at Goober laying down on a rug in front of the fireplace and said, “C’mon, boy. Let’s go for a ride.”
