I tucked Dep into the carrier. “Thanks for the idea. I’ll walk north through the parking lots and then cut over to the square and kill time on pathways there. If Ronald is trying to find out what I know about him, he won’t see me among the ice sculptures, trees, and people.” I shuddered. At best, Ronald was merely enthusiastic about getting to know Olivia better. At worst, he wanted to find and silence me. And Olivia, also, if he thought she knew as much as he feared I knew or guessed. I hoped that knowing me wasn’t dangerous to her.

  We turned out the desk lamp, went out onto the porch, locked the door, and stood still, listening and watching. Very few vehicles were parked in nearby lots, and I couldn’t hear anyone driving through them, either. Olivia headed south. Smiling at the jaunty wreath decorating the door of the garage where our antique Deputy Donut delivery car was settled in for its long winter’s nap, I started north. Dep cuddled down into her pouch. Feeling the vibrations of her purring, I patted the front of my parka.

  Between the snow and the Christmas lights shining from the backs of buildings, the parking lots were bright, and I could see where I was going as easily as I would have on the sidewalks in front of the stores. The wintry air was refreshing and not very cold. Christmas lights on the rear of Deputy Donut made the loading dock and the door leading into our storage room cheery, and other shops had also decorated their rear entrances. On the other side of the strip of parking lots, festive lights decorated the backs of homes.

  I pulled my hood up over my striped stocking cap and dark curls. Ronald probably didn’t know that I often carried a cat underneath my parka. He might not recognize me with Dep’s added bulge in front.

  At the street bordering the north end of the square, I turned toward Wisconsin Street. I walked a half block, and then I needed to cross Wisconsin Street. I stared straight ahead instead of turning my face toward either direction of traffic, but my caution was unnecessary. The Fallingbrook Falcons van didn’t go past. I waited until all sounds of traffic were far away, and then I did a quick visual check and crossed the street.

  The square was crowded with people admiring the cheerfully lit ice sculptures. I hoped Dep wouldn’t poke her head up out of her warm nest and notice that some of the people were walking dogs. I also hoped that the dogs wouldn’t sniff the air and realize there was a cat hiding nearby. Their casually held leashes might not restrain them. I inched my parka’s zipper higher.

  “Emily!”

  Beyond a pair of crossed candy canes carved from ice and trimmed with red and white lights forming the traditional stripes, Whitney and Leo Valcriffe stood as arm-in-arm as possible for a gigantic man and a petite woman. They waved their free hands at me. I pushed my hood back and walked through deep snow to them.

  Whitney pointed at the top of the sculpture. “Isn’t it cute? The crossed canes form a heart in the top.”

  I’d seen a motif like that only minutes before.

  Leo said it aloud. “Fallingbrook Falcons. It’s their sculpture.”

  Whitney brushed long blond hair out of her face. “One of the Fallingbrook Falcons just called us to report that their sculpture was leaning. After staring at it, we can’t tell. Do you think it’s leaning?”

  I squinted at it. “It’s hard to be sure since the candy canes were carved at a slant.”

  Leo suggested, “Let’s walk around it.”

  Looking upward, we tramped a circle in the snow around the sculpture. We all agreed that the sculpture had not tilted from its original position.

  Whitney frowned up at its top. “A few minutes before Ronald called, he drove past here. Maybe if he’d been walking, he would have seen these candy canes differently. Besides, he was on the other side of the street. He could have turned around and driven along this side for a closer look, but I don’t think he did.” Her lovely face became sad. “Maybe after that accident with your sculpture, Emily, people worry about their own sculptures falling down.”

  “Or being pushed.” Leo’s voice was gruff.

  I tilted my head back to look up at his face. “Do you think that’s what happened?”

  His ball cap had slipped back. He straightened it. “Hard to tell, but we were out here about the time it must have fallen, and we heard something like a crash and then, maybe, a kind of thump down there near where your sculpture was. It could have been a snowplow, though, just plowing the street. Those blades make a racket. And you know how you can never be sure, but I thought the ground shook. Which, again, could have been because of a snowplow.”

  Whitney said, “I heard the noise but didn’t notice the ground shaking. I’d just arrived. Leo was still putting the finishing touches on the lighting on this sculpture at two in the morning.” She reached up and gave Leo’s cheek a fond pat. “Knowing him, I figured he’d work all night until he got it exactly the way he wanted it, no matter how cold he got, so I hopped into my truck and brought him some hot soup.” She turned to me. “Leo was working by the headlights of his pickup truck, so he was easy to find. Not that he can ever exactly hide anywhere. He’s bigger than most of the ice sculptures, not to mention the trees around here.”

  He slapped a hand against the chest pocket of his coat. “Only my heart, babe, only my heart.”

  Planted in Fallingbrook’s early days, the trees were about a hundred feet tall. And although Leo resembled a mountain, most of the sculptures were taller than he was.

  Smiling at the couple’s affectionate teasing, I asked, “Did you see any snowplows around the time you heard the crashing noise, or any other vehicles?”

  Leo prodded at snow with his boot. “A pickup truck stopped beside me for a second, but when Whitney arrived, he drove on and parked near Frisky Pomegranate. I couldn’t see well, but I think he got out of his truck and went in there. Two other pickup trucks were also parked near Frisky Pomegranate, though it’s closed at that time of night. I can’t say that I noticed any other vehicles right about then. Did you, Whitney?”

  She shook her head. “Only those three trucks. Plus, I didn’t stay long. I told the police that the bang we heard was about two fifteen. I went home shortly afterward.”

  Leo’s gaze down at me was direct and seemingly innocent. “Snowplows went around the square several times while I was out here that night, and there were other trucks out, but not many cars. And snowmobiles were zipping everywhere. I was afraid some of them would roar through here and not see a sculpture or even a tree. I didn’t notice any of them driving through the square, though, not up here.” He pointed south. “But they could have been going through that end of the square. Such a pity that your sculpture was ruined.”

  Whitney reminded him, “And that a man died.”

  He lifted a shoulder. “That goes without saying. It’s too bad he decided to come back here after all these years.” Leo didn’t sound very broken up about it.

  Biting her lip, Whitney looked off toward the south end of the square and didn’t reply.

  Dep stuck her head up and meowed.

  Whitney jumped and laughed. “You brought your cat! How cute. She startled me, though.”

  I rubbed the top of Dep’s head with the thumb of one mitten. “I think she’s reminding me that it’s her dinnertime. She had dry kibble available all day at Deputy Donut.” I wrinkled my nose. “She likes something fishy and more pungent at this time of night.” I told Leo and Whitney goodbye and sauntered farther east along the north end of the square. Dep wriggled her head down into the carrier again. The sociable cat would probably pop her head up again if I stopped to talk to anyone else.

  Instead of admiring the sculptures I was passing on the right, I was thinking about Whitney and Leo. Like Scott, Leo had noticed snowplows and snowmobiles near the square in the wee hours Thursday morning. Whitney and Leo had also heard a crashing noise and also maybe a thump that could have shaken the ground. I still thought that Dustin Loyvens, on a stolen snowmobile, was the most likely one to have pushed Frosty the Donut onto Travis, but if Ronald had torn that page out of the yearbook, he and his snowplow were right up there near the top of my suspect list.

  Whitney and Leo were at the bottom. Paige was right above them.

  I reminded myself that Whitney and Leo could have lied to give each other alibis. One or both of them could have killed Travis. I couldn’t picture them being so evil, though.

  Frisky Pomegranate was on my left. The last I knew, the Jolly Cops Cleaning Crew cleaned Frisky Pomegranate late at night or early in the morning after they finished at Deputy Donut.

  Maybe the pickup trucks that Leo and Whitney saw belonged to the Jolly Cops.

  Chapter 27

  I turned away from Frisky Pomegranate and followed a cleared path through the middle of the square. Colorfully lit ice sculptures loomed over me. I stopped beside a huge Santa on a throne. Shouting names of toys and games, snow-suited kids climbed ice steps and sat on Santa’s lap. I checked my phone in case I’d missed Brent’s call. I hadn’t.

  I phoned the Jolly Cops Cleaning Crew. Expecting to leave a message, I was surprised when a person answered.

  “Jolly Cops,” he sang out. “Hi, Emily!” Of course he had call recognition. I was at a disadvantage, though, because I didn’t know which man he was. We were never in Deputy Donut at the same time, and I’d never talked to them on the phone enough to know their voices. I must have waited too long to speak. Sounding a little less cheerful, this one asked, “Is anything wrong?”

  “No, not at all. I was wondering if any of you were around Frisky Pomegranate early Thursday morning, and if you saw anyone in the square at that time.”

  “Your ice sculpture is—or I should say was—at the other end of the square.” Trust a retired policeman to know every detail that was public, and probably a few others, besides.

  “Yes, but the vandal might have come from the north or driven north after he rammed the sculpture.” I didn’t sound particularly sure of myself.

  He chuckled. “Why do I get the impression that you’re looking into a murder more than into an act of vandalism?”

  “Because of my history?” I suggested. “But, you know, the killing might not have been deliberate. However, unless someone inadvertently slid off the road, the vandalism probably was deliberate.” I knew it wasn’t a good answer. The Jolly Cops were friends of Tom’s. In a second, this one, whoever he was, would tell me to leave the investigating to the police....

  He didn’t. Turning serious, he described what he’d seen that night. “I was driving from your place to Frisky Pomegranate a little after two. The snow was so heavy, I could barely see a thing, but there were bright lights near the north-west corner of the square. Being an ex-cop, I had to stop and see what was going on. The man doing the electricity for the Ice and Lights Festival was working by the light of his headlights. Then another pickup truck arrived, and a woman—I think it was his wife—handed him something like one of those insulated stainless steel water bottles. I went on to Frisky Pomegranate.”

  “Did you hear anything, like maybe someone crashing into Deputy Donut’s ice sculpture?”

  “No, but I might have been inside my truck with the engine running, or maybe I was already inside Frisky Pomegranate when that happened. Besides, my hearing isn’t as good as it once was.” He volunteered, “I went out on the patio around three thirty. Snow was really coming down, but I still saw the blur of headlights about where I’d seen those two pickups. When I left Frisky Pomegranate around four, the electrician was gone, and so were the trucks that had been near where he’d been working.”

  “Do you remember how many pickups you guys had at the site?”

  “Three. Two of the guys usually carpool. Truck pool.”

  I thanked him for his help and immediately received the warning I’d been expecting all along. “Stay out of trouble, Emily. Leave the investigation to the experts.”

  “Right.” It wasn’t exactly a promise. We disconnected, and I checked again. Brent hadn’t called.

  Wondering if the stainless steel insulated bottle that Whitney gave Leo that night ended up in my garbage, I walked down one of the square’s diagonal paths and up the other. Deciding it was more likely that Paige had discarded Travis’s water bottle, I took side paths and admired every sculpture. I stayed away from the yellow police tape and investigators’ tent on the corner where Frosty the Donut had been.

  Close to the police station, I considered going in and asking for Brent or Misty, but I knew they would call me when they were ready. I crossed the street to avoid the investigators’ tent. None of the fire trucks were parked outside the fire station, and the huge spruce glowed with its strings of lights and its big gold star. Windows near the tops of the rolled-down garage doors showed the tops of trucks. I caught a glimpse of the feathery angel at the top of the tree inside.

  Around the corner, singing and laughter spilled from the Fireplug Pub. Maybe if Dep hadn’t been with me, I would have joined the crowd in the pub while I waited for Brent to tell me it was safe to go home. Instead, I crossed Wisconsin Street. Deputy Donut was still only dimly lit inside. I walked up the driveway and tried the back door. It was locked.

  Dep poked her head up. “Mew?”

  I agreed. “We could wait in here, but let’s keep going toward home. We can tour the neighborhood, looking at Christmas decorations, until Brent calls.”

  I returned to the parking lot. Dep scrunched herself into her cozy nest inside my coat.

  As Olivia had said she would, I walked south through the parking lots instead of along the street. Not because I was afraid that Ronald might return, I told Dep, but for something different to do.

  She didn’t answer.

  The backs of the stores to the south of Deputy Donut were also cheerful with lights, evergreens, wreaths, and garlands. The parking lots ended. I turned west, and then south again at the next street. I took my time, enjoying the season—the snow, the lights, the decorated trees and shrubs, the inflated Santas clinging to chimneys, the tang of woodsmoke. I thought I could also detect the aroma of freshly baked cookies. In one house where drapes had not been drawn, little kids sang along to a piano being played by a teenager. At my street, I turned west again. I was only a few blocks from home, and I still hadn’t heard from Brent or Misty.

  I found a way to delay. The woman who had turned out not to be Paige’s snow angel, the woman I again thought of as the pruning shears lady, was brushing snow off her walks with a broom. I stopped and said hello. Dep wiggled her head out of her carrier and also greeted the woman.

  She rested her broom against her hedge, took off a glove, and rubbed Dep’s chin. Looking from Dep’s upturned face to mine, she said, “I might know who could have taken in your houseguest during the worst of that blizzard. The man across the street knows just about everything that goes on around here. He didn’t look outside early Thursday morning during the blizzard, but he reminded me that there’s a spindly—that’s what he said, ‘a spindly’—white-haired woman in the next block, closer to your house. Some people get us confused.” Grinning, she shook her head. “Not him, he’s too observant. ‘Spindly!’ I hadn’t thought of her when I talked to that handsome detective and to you, but I know which house is hers. I walked up there to find her address.” She pulled a slip of paper from her coat pocket. “I wrote it down for you. Here.”

  Thanking her, I glanced at the number and shoved the paper into my own pocket. “Have you been out here waiting for me?”

  She shook her head. “No, but I was keeping an eye out in case you came along. I went on to your place and rang the doorbell, but no one answered, so I came back here to sweep the snow and watch for you.”

  “When were you at my house?” I hadn’t meant my question to sound sharp.

  “About a half hour ago, give or take.”

  “Maybe my houseguest doesn’t like to answer the door.” That was probably it. Paige wouldn’t be thrilled about talking to someone she didn’t know, and she might not have mistaken the pruning shears lady for the real snow angel, if the real snow angel existed. Also, Paige definitely didn’t want to talk to people who had been on the tour with her and Travis. Or maybe she’d been sleeping.

  The pruning shears lady had a different guess. “Maybe she went to the tree-decorating and lighting party at the fire station. I used to go to that. But after all those years, I can imagine it and don’t have to walk all that way. I could drive, I suppose, but you can’t count on that in this weather, and besides, I always used to walk. Seems like I should continue to, if I wanted to go at all, that is.”

  “Have you been to the Ice and Lights Festival?”

  “No, and I hope to before they take it down or it melts. It’s supposed to stay about this temperature until after Christmas. Which could mean more snow.”

  I wondered if she would think I was too pushy if I offered to drive her to the festival, but before I could say anything, my phone rang. Brent.

  Still thinking that taking her to the festival might be a good idea and fun besides, I told her goodbye and started up the street.

  “I’ll be at your place in five minutes,” Brent said.

  “Perfect. I’m on foot about five minutes away.” Actually, I was closer, but I was including a couple of minutes to talk to the woman I hoped would turn out to be the snow angel.

  It took less time than that. The house was dark inside, and no one came to the door. There was, I noticed, a wreath on the dark blue door.

  I dawdled along the last block and arrived at my front walk as Brent’s personal SUV pulled up beside it. No one was in the passenger seat.

  Brent got out, came around the car, pulled me close in a quick hug, and told me, “Misty can’t make it, but I have her key, so if you wouldn’t mind, you can help me settle Paige in at Misty’s.”

  “Sure.” I led the way up onto the porch. Unlike the night before, Paige hadn’t turned on the porch light or the Christmas tree lights. The house was completely dark.

  I turned the key in the lock. It opened too easily. I turned toward Brent. “The dead bolt wasn’t locked.” He looked as troubled as I felt. I opened the door and called out, “Paige?”

 

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