Yule Log Murder Page 4

  “You’d be right,” said Lucy, who knew it was really just beginning.

  Chapter Four

  After the tech was finished with her, Lucy went straight to the kitchen sink, intending to wash her filthy hands.

  “No!” he barked, stopping her as she reached for the faucet. “This is a crime scene.”

  Lucy knew there was a staff toilet nearby, but guessed that was also considered part of the crime scene. She was pondering her rapidly diminishing list of options, when he handed her an oversized tidy wipe in a packet. “Give it all back to me, the packet, too.”

  “Thanks,” replied Lucy, grateful for the wipe, which left her hands clean and lightly lemon scented. Squaring her shoulders, she started the climb to the great hall. By the time she’d reached the top, she already had thought of two ways to help Elfrida.

  The first involved Rachel, whose husband, Bob, was a lawyer with a busy local practice. Most of Bob’s work involved real estate transfers and wills, but he occasionally took on criminal cases. She hoped this was one of those occasions.

  Ducking her head and stepping into the great hall, Lucy was stunned at the change in atmosphere. The make-believe movie set had been replaced by grim reality: The room was now filled with gilt ballroom chairs, where the cast members sat glumly, waiting to be released by the police investigators. Most were still at least partially in costume, though most of the women had removed their confining head coverings, and eyeglass wearers had put their glasses back on. Almost everyone was staring at a cell phone and Lucy knew word must be spreading fast that something unusual was going on at Pine Point, even if the senders weren’t sure exactly what was happening. Scanning the gathered crowd, Lucy noticed that a feudal sort of ranking had been preserved as Ross and the film’s stars, including Juliette, were gathered on and around the throned dais intended for the nobles in the scene, while the extras and crew had spread themselves throughout the hall. She soon spotted Rachel, who was sitting near the opposite wall, along with Sue and Pam.

  She hurried over to them, where she was greeted with questioning expressions.

  “What’s going on?” asked Pam.

  “Who got hurt?” asked Rachel.

  “When are they going to let us go home?” asked Sue.

  Lucy leaned close, speaking in a low voice. “Bobbi Holden’s dead from a stabbing and the cops have taken Elfrida into custody. . . .”

  “Elfrida!” exclaimed Pam. “She wouldn’t . . .”

  “Shhh,” said Lucy, looking anxiously over her shoulder. “I don’t think I’m supposed to say anything. Elfrida insists she’s innocent, that Bobbi fell on the knife, but they’re taking her to the station to be questioned. . . .”

  “Say no more,” said Rachel, reaching for her phone and calling Bob, who quickly agreed to go to the station and protect Elfrida’s legal rights.

  “What about Elfrida’s kids?” asked Pam, voicing Lucy’s second concern.

  “Phyllis was going to give them supper, but I don’t know if she’s still there.”

  Pam quickly called Phyllis, learning that she had gone home after settling the younger kids in bed and leaving fifteen-year-old Angie in charge. When she learned that Elfrida was detained by the police, she agreed to go right back to the kids for the night, if necessary.

  “Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that,” said Pam, speaking into the phone, but including the others in the conversation.

  “Whatever happens, we’ll cope,” said Sue, who had been a preschool teacher and was still a part owner of Little Prodigies Child Care Center. “The kids come first.”

  “That’s right,” agreed Lucy. Now that the situation seemed to be under control, she was suddenly exhausted, completely drained of energy.

  “Here, sit down,” said Rachel, shoving a chair under her as she began to sag.

  “So you’ve all been here this entire time?” asked Lucy, trying to pull herself together.

  “Yeah,” said Rachel. “Willis followed you and Ross downstairs and came right back up, locking everyone into the hall. He had some guys, estate workers I guess, bring in the chairs and we’ve been waiting. We’re supposed to be able to leave once we give our contact info to the police, but so far nobody’s come to collect it.”

  “They’re shorthanded tonight,” said Lucy, with a yawn. “The chief said the state police were delayed.”

  Lucy had no sooner spoken than she spotted state police detective Lieutenant Horowitz stepping into the hall, dressed as usual in an ill-fitting gray suit, and accompanied by two uniformed troopers. He looked tired, and Lucy guessed he’d had a long day. He paused, allowing a few minutes for the crowd to become aware of their presence. When the room was relatively silent, he cleared his voice.

  Horowitz began by introducing himself, then went on to thank everyone for waiting. “I’m sorry about the delay, but I’m afraid it was unavoidable. As you may or may not know, we have had a suspicious death here at Pine Point.”

  A collective gasp from the crowd was followed by a buzz as people wondered aloud who had died.

  “I am not at liberty to identify the deceased, as the family has not yet been notified.”

  There was a stir among the elite group gathered on the dais, and Lucy noticed Chris Waters take Juliette’s hand. She was clinging to him, obviously deeply shaken, until Ross turned in their direction and she quickly snatched her hand away. Ross glared briefly at Chris, then turned his attention to Lieutenant Horowitz.

  “It’s getting late and there’s no reason for us to detain you good people any longer,” said Horowitz. “We will need to get names and contact information from all of you, but if you will simply form a line here, along the side of the room, the officers will have you out of here as quickly as possible. Thanks for your cooperation.”

  Horowitz left, ducking his head as he went down the stairs, and one of the uniformed officers took his place. “I’m Corporal Terhune, my colleague is Corporal Keller. You can expedite this process by having your ID ready, business cards, library cards, anything with your name printed on it. So let’s get started.”

  The group shuffled across the room to form the requested line, many people leaned against the wall in obvious exhaustion. The line moved quickly, thank goodness, and Lucy and her friends were soon free to go home. She paused at the doorway and took a last look at the ruined set. Juliette was still sitting on the throne, all alone, a shimmering sight in gold brocade, with long blond hair. She was idly spinning a slim gold diadem on her fingers.

  Stepping outside, Lucy walked down the driveway with her friends, losing them one by one as they reached their cars. She’d been late and her car was at the very end of the driveway, and as she walked along, she found she couldn’t forget that image of Juliette.

  It was almost iconic, she thought, remembering how alone Juliette had seemed when her beloved great-grandmother Vivian Van Vorst was dying. Juliette was not the only member of that family, but she had seemed to be the only one untouched by scandal as VV’s children and grandchildren schemed and plotted to inherit the aged matriarch’s vast fortune. In the end, though, Juliette survived a brutal attack in a parking garage and vanquished the greedy relations. She provided loving care for VV and eventually became the well-deserved inheritor of the disputed fortune. But now, it seemed to Lucy as she clicked her key fob and watched her car light up, that Juliette’s life had taken an unfortunate turn. Whatever had the beautiful model and wealthy heiress ever seen in someone like Ross Rocket? What had possessed her to link her fortune to his? That was the question that Lucy was pondering as she checked the interior of the car, reassuring herself that no carjacker lurked inside. That’s when she noticed the box of Christmas presents for Toby’s family, which she’d forgotten to mail. First thing tomorrow, she promised herself, as she made her way through the night to her home on Red Top Hill.

  According to the clock on the dashboard, it was nearly eleven o’clock, but when Lucy rounded the curve and her house came into view, she was surpris
ed to see that every window was illuminated. This was very unusual, as she and Bill were early risers who went to bed by ten, and the girls were usually either out or in their bedrooms, studying.

  Even odder, when she pulled into the driveway, she was met by Libby, the family’s Labrador, who was loose in the yard. Libby jumped up to greet her when she got out of the car, and Lucy happily scratched her behind the ears. “I’m happy to see you, too,” she crooned, “but what are you doing outside this time of night?”

  It was a worrisome development and Lucy held tight to the dog’s collar as she approached the house. She had heard of home invasions and was fearful that something was not right, especially after she noticed a strange car parked some distance from the house. The dark sedan was partly concealed by a bushy fir tree, which seemed suspicious to Lucy. If they had unexpected company, why would a guest park so far from the house?

  She seriously considered calling the police, which was the advice she had passed along from the police chief in numerous articles offering advice to women about staying safe when they sensed a dangerous situation. “If your gut tells you something’s not right, trust your gut and give us a call,” she remembered him saying, but considering the evening’s events at Pine Point she figured the already short-staffed department would be hard-pressed to send an officer so far out of town. And then, when it turned out that Zoe or Sara had let the dog out and forgotten to turn out the lights, she’d feel absolutely ridiculous.

  So Lucy straightened her shoulders, took a deep breath, and, still holding tight to Libby’s collar, mounted the stairs to the porch. The gingham curtain on the glass panel in the kitchen door, which was usually pulled to the side, was tightly drawn tonight and blocked any view of the interior, so she said a quick little prayer and turned the knob. She opened the door and was immediately confronted by a snarling pit bull mix. There was no mistaking that bulldog snout, tiny cropped ears, thick neck, and muscular shoulders.

  Libby was straining against her collar, eager to defend her turf from this intruder, and it was all Lucy could do to hang on to her. Seeing no option except retreat, she stepped back outside and pulled the door closed just as the growling pit bull leaped forward and slammed into it. This time, she decided, she really had to call for help, and was reaching for her phone, when the door opened and she was greeted by the smiling face of her grown son, Toby.

  “Toby!” she exclaimed, throwing herself on him and hugging him for all he was worth. Toby lived in Alaska, with his wife, Molly, and their son, Patrick. Lucy hadn’t seen them in over a year. “What are you doing here?” she asked, noticing her son had started growing a beard, like his father’s.

  “They came for Christmas,” said Bill, stepping into the kitchen. He was followed by Molly and a very sleepy Patrick, as well as Sara and Zoe.

  “They wanted to surprise you,” said Zoe, smiling from ear to ear.

  “They even hid their rental car,” said Sara.

  “Well, I was sure surprised,” admitted Lucy, distributing hugs and kisses. “I guess you brought your dog?”

  “That’s Skittles,” said Molly, who’d cut her hair short in what Lucy thought was a rather unbecoming style. “We couldn’t leave him behind, so we brought him. He’s a bit wound up from being in the crate on the plane.”

  “You don’t mind having an extra dog, do you?” asked Toby. “I’ll put him down in the cellar for the night.”

  “Skittles is my best friend,” Patrick said as Lucy hugged him for the second time.

  “Mind? Of course not,” lied Lucy, who was wondering how they were going to manage two large dogs: Skittles was clearly aggressive, and Libby was determined to defend her home and people. “I’m just so happy to see you all.” And a good thing, she thought, that she’d forgotten to mail that package.

  “Well, now that Grandma’s home, I think it’s time for you to go to bed,” said Molly, speaking to Patrick and giving a nod toward the back stairs, which led from the kitchen to the second-floor bedrooms.

  “Is everybody settled? Where’s everybody sleeping?” asked Lucy.

  “Patrick’s got Toby’s old bedroom, and Molly and Toby have the sleep sofa in the family room,” said Bill. “You weren’t here and that seemed best all ’round.”

  “Poor Patrick’s beat, but he didn’t want to go to bed before you got home,” said Toby, ruffling his son’s hair. “What took you so long?”

  “Lots of retakes,” said Lucy, unwilling to spoil the happy family reunion. “I’ll tuck Patrick in,” she offered, leading her grandson up the stairs.

  Chapter Five

  Next morning, Lucy woke up early, feeling like a little kid on Christmas morning. Her grandson was actually here in the house, not far away in Alaska, and she didn’t have to worry about rogue polar bears or wandering glaciers. Here he was safe and sound, under her protective eye. Except, she realized, as she threw back the covers and wiggled her feet into her slippers, for the dogs. She certainly didn’t trust Skittles for one minute, and even sweet and docile Libby would fight to defend herself and her people.

  The empty bed and the sound of running water indicated that Bill was already up and showering in the upstairs bath, which Lucy knew could mean it would be unavailable for quite some time. She padded quietly downstairs to the kitchen, where she realized Libby was not in her usual place. Checking out the window, she saw the Lab was in her fenced kennel and assumed Bill had taken her out earlier. She then visited the powder room, and when she emerged, she found Patrick seated at the breakfast table in his superhero pajamas.

  “Good morning,” she said, smiling ear to ear and ruffling his bed-head hair. “Did you sleep well?”

  “Yes,” he answered, rubbing his eyes, “but I’m real hungry.”

  Sweeter words had never been uttered, thought Lucy. The boy was hungry and she was a grandma with a well-stocked pantry. “What would you like for breakfast?”

  “I usually have pancakes. I can toast them myself.”

  Frozen pancakes, thought Lucy, the one thing I don’t have. She checked the cupboard for a box of Aunt Jemima, but didn’t have that, either. That meant she’d have to make them from scratch, which she considered a major project, best undertaken on the weekend. “How about French toast?” she suggested, offering simpler options. “Or scrambled eggs?”

  “Eeeuw,” said Patrick, curling his lip. “I only like pancakes, and I watch Scooby-Doo while I eat them.”

  My goodness, thought Lucy, shocked at the idea. When her kids were little, the family ate a well-balanced, nutritious breakfast together at the kitchen table. It was only when the kids started high school and had demanding schedules and picky diets that they began foraging for themselves. “Oh, dear. The TV’s in the family room, and I think your mom and dad are still asleep in there,” she told him.

  “Don’t you have another TV?”

  “No,” said Lucy, unable to resist the temptation to pry into her son’s personal life. “How many do you have?”

  “Four. I watch Scooby on the one in the kitchen.”

  A TV in the kitchen! Lucy was amazed. “Well, kiddo, I think TV’s out, but I guess I can make you some pancakes. Do you like blueberries in them?” she asked, thinking of the wild berries she was hoarding in her freezer that were such a treat.

  “Plain,” said Patrick, in a rather firm voice that Lucy didn’t think was appropriate in one so young, especially when speaking to his grandmother.

  “I think you forgot the magic word,” she said, employing a tactic she had frequently used with her kids.

  “Magic word?” Patrick was puzzled. “What magic word?”

  “Why, please, of course.”

  “So please is the magic word. What does it do?”

  “It makes things happen,” said Lucy, who was beginning to get annoyed despite herself. “If you want plain pancakes, you say, ‘May I please have plain pancakes?’ and then I just might make them for you.”

  “Don’t you have frozen ones? They’re the only
ones I like.”

  “Okay,” said Lucy, becoming aware that Skittles was scratching at the cellar door, demanding to get out. “Okay, let’s start over. Do you want Cheerios or Raisin Bran?”

  “Don’t you have Cocoa Puffs?”

  “No.” Fearful that the dog would start barking and wake the sleepers, Lucy opened the door and Skittles came charging into the kitchen, running straight for the porch door. “It’s Cheerios or Raisin Bran, period.”

  She reached for the leash that was hanging on its usual hook and attempted to attach it to Skittles’ collar, but the dog slunk backward, out of reach. Lucy lunged, making a second try, but the dog reacted with a low, rumbling growl. What to do? She couldn’t let the creature run loose in the yard, it might run off into the woods and get lost. Or worse, it might attack some jogger or tangle with a wild animal, like a deer or coyote, maybe even a black bear.

  “Back you go,” she said, opening the cellar door and instructing the beast in the firmest voice she could manage.

  In response, Skittles lifted his leg and peed on the porch door.

  Disgusted, Lucy opened the door to the family room, and Skittles bounded inside, eager to greet Molly and Toby. Lucy poured some Cheerios in a bowl, added milk, and set it in front of Patrick. Then she peeled off a long strip of paper towels, grabbed the spray cleaner, and got to work on the door.

  Bill, freshly showered and dressed, found her on her hands and knees, scrubbing harder than absolutely necessary. “What happened?”

  “Skittles peed on the door,” said Patrick, giggling and dribbling milk down his chin.

  “Where is he now?”

  “I put him in the family room with Molly and Toby,” admitted Lucy, getting to her feet.

  “Won’t he wake them up?”

  Lucy actually hoped that was the case, but figured that was one thought best kept to herself. “I didn’t know what else to do. He wouldn’t let me take him out on the leash, and he wouldn’t go back downstairs. . . .”