A Killer Christmas Party Page 4

  Desi was behind the counter, working alongside her assistant, Andrea, when I came in. She looked like she was going to jump out of her skin wanting to tell me something, but there were other customers ahead of me. When I got to the front of the line, she took my order of a turkey and cheddar on whole wheat, then said, “Don’t go until I talk to you. I have to tell you something.”

  I regarded her with curiosity, but she just handed me my order and moved on to the next customer. Although the BeansTalk was packed with customers, including a book club and some students on laptops, I managed to score a small table near the back. When the line had died down, Desi left Andrea alone at the counter and came over to where I was eating.

  She slid into the chair opposite and leaned over the table to whisper to me. “The police think Will killed Mila. He came in earlier to tell me. He was so shaken up about it.”

  My head moved forward like a turtle’s and my eyes widened so much that they hurt. “What? Why would they think that? Did he even know her?”

  “Yeah. Will dated her in high school for a while. It didn’t even occur to me because I haven’t seen her in years and I was only in middle school when they were together. I was so wrapped up in myself that I didn’t take much interest in the girls my brothers dated.”

  “Did they both date a lot? How many girls did Adam date?” It probably wasn’t the most appropriate thing to ask considering the topic at hand, but I couldn’t help asking the question.

  She laughed. “Not many. Adam was too busy with school and sports. It was Will that was quite the player. He had a different girlfriend every month.”

  I could see that. “So why would they suspect him? High school was twenty years ago.”

  “Apparently they kept up with each other on social media, but they hadn’t seen each other in person since high school—until two nights ago.”

  “The night she was murdered.”

  “Right. And he was the last person to see her … except the person who killed her of course,” she added quickly.

  “Whoa.” I sat back in my chair. I’d thought we’d heard the last of Mila’s death because we had no connection to it, but now Adam’s older brother was suspected of killing her. What were the odds? Of course, with my bad luck for finding bodies and getting entangled in murder investigations, I should have known better.

  “Did he have any idea who could have killed her?” A thought occurred to me. “Why was he meeting her at night anyway? Your mom said he was out half the night.”

  Desi grimaced. “He said it was completely innocent—they met by accident at the pub downtown and shared a few drinks together.”

  “Do you think he’s telling the truth?” I bit into my sandwich, but struggled to swallow it, my appetite suddenly diminished.

  “I don’t know. Things seem pretty rocky between him and Tania.” She stared at my latte. “I need some coffee.” She pushed herself up from her chair and came back a few minutes later with a tall mug of creamy coffee. Sipping it, she said, “Ah, that’s better. After Will came in and told me what was going on, my mind’s been a mess.”

  “No wonder.” My own brain was spinning from the news. It was so loud in there that I could barely hear my own thoughts. “Do you think it was a coincidence that he happened to meet an old flame at the pub? Or did they have plans?”

  “I don’t know, but what difference does it make? He’s still a suspect.” She tapped the top of the mug’s handle with her thumb.

  “It seems like if it were a chance meeting, he wouldn’t have had much of a reason to kill her. If it was something planned, they may have had more of a relationship than he’s letting on and, therefore, more motive.”

  “You don’t seriously think my brother could have killed her, do you?” She narrowed her eyes at me.

  Did I? I didn’t know Will very well, but although I could easily picture him fooling around on his wife, I’d never thought of him as the murderous type. But then again, you never really knew. I’d been surprised in the past.

  I caught the person at the table next to us listening and gave them a look. They had the good grace to blush and get up from their table. “No, I guess not. But if the police do …”

  “We have to figure out what really happened to Mila. We saw her body before anyone else did. Think. Is there anything that struck you as odd about her death?”

  “Uh, other than the fact that someone killed a seemingly nice woman?”

  She glared at me.

  “Ok, ok.” I thought back to seeing her body. The image of her hanging from the Christmas lights would haunt me forever. “Her outfit.”

  “What about it?”

  “She was wearing dress pants and a nice shirt. With heels. Not exactly appropriate for climbing up on the roof. I don’t think she’d planned to be climbing any ladders.”

  “So what was she doing up there so late at night?” Desi pondered.

  “The receptionist said she was a perfectionist and had complained about the lights. She probably went back there after she and Will hung out at the pub.”

  “If that’s true, then whoever it was must have been watching her and waiting for the perfect opportunity to move the ladder out from underneath her.”

  “Yeah. So if it wasn’t Will, it must have been someone from the retirement home, right? If she went inside the building first, someone could have seen her there.”

  “Unless it was …” Desi stopped. “I hate to say it, but what if Tania killed her? If you’re right and there was more to the relationship between Will and Mila, maybe Tania knew.”

  “You just accused our sister-in-law of murder.” My stomach rolled. I didn’t like Tania much, but a murderer?

  “I know,” she said quietly. “But we can’t rule it out and I’m sure the police won’t either.”

  “I hope the girls don’t find out about all of this.” Although my mother-in-law thought that they weren’t affected by their parents’ marital issues, I had a sneaking suspicion that very little got past my nieces. They were curious and intelligent kids who were into everything.

  “I’m sure once my mom finds out, she’ll do everything in her power to keep it from them.”

  “Wait, Will hasn’t told your mom yet?” My hand flew out, jostling the coffee cup and splashing a drop of liquid on the table.

  She shook her head. “He said he didn’t want to worry her with her heart problems. If the police investigation progresses, then he’ll say something.”

  Great. So now I had to keep this huge secret quiet from my mother-in-law—who I saw practically every day. I dabbed at the spilled coffee with a paper napkin.

  “Desi, do you remember what Delilah said when we were outside with her?”

  “No, why? What did she say?”

  “Right before the boys showed up, she made some comment about the police not doing much about the other things that have happened around there. What do you think she meant by that?”

  She stood from the table and collected her cup. “I don’t know, but I think we need to find out. I’ll pick you up tomorrow at eleven and we can stop in at the retirement home to talk to her before we start our shift at the historical homes tour, ok?”

  I hesitated. Did I really want to get into another murder investigation? I caught sight of the determination on Desi’s face. Her brother’s freedom and reputation was at stake.

  “Eleven sounds good. It will be nice to check on Delilah.”

  She nodded.

  A line had formed again and Desi returned to the counter to help fill orders. I watched her work, still trying to process the news that Will was a murder suspect and I had to keep the secret from his mother. I’d come to the café for lunch and a break from work, but suddenly, immersing myself in a pile of work sounded like a breath of fresh air.

  6

  Desi pulled up to the curb outside of my house at ten minutes after eleven and rolled down her window. “Sorry,” she called out to me. “Lina started crying at the same time as Anthony j
umped off the couch and banged his ear against the coffee table. I had to help Tomàs get him cleaned up and both of them calmed down.”

  I stood from where I’d been sitting on the porch steps. “No problem. We should still have plenty of time to check on Delilah before we’re due at the historic homes tour at twelve thirty.”

  I got into the passenger seat of her minivan and buckled up. A glowing orange light on the dashboard caught my eye. “Desi, why is the check engine light lit up?”

  She scoffed. “Oh, it comes on sometimes. We haven’t figured out what’s wrong with it yet, but the car seems to run fine. It’s probably just a loose connection in the dash or something. Don’t worry about it.”

  It did run fine—until we were two miles away from home and two miles away from the retirement home. More lights flashed on the dashboard and the car made an ominous whirring sound.

  Desi maneuvered the car to the shoulder.

  “Should we worry about the check engine light now?” I asked dryly.

  She shot an icy death glare at me. “It’s not funny.”

  “Ok, ok. Do we want to wait for a tow truck to come and get your car, or do we want to walk to the tour? It’s not that far away.” I checked my watch. “I don’t think we’ll have time to see Delilah now, no matter what we do.”

  “I’ll call Tomàs to come and get us and have the car towed to the shop. It’s probably time for a professional to look at it.”

  “Probably,” I agreed.

  She called Tomàs and then hung up after speaking with him. “He’ll be here in about thirty minutes. He has to get both kids into the car first and Lina’s asleep in her crib at the moment so he has to wake her up.”

  I looked outside. “At least we aren’t on a busy street. That’s one good thing.”

  “Yeah, one good thing.” She reclined her seat a bit more. “I really wanted to talk with Delilah though to find out what she was talking about.”

  “Maybe we’ll have time to talk with her afterward. We can walk to Ericksville Heights from whichever home we end up being the tour guides for. It’s not that far away from the houses on the tour. In fact, your mom should find out if they’ll allow the retirement home to be a part of the tour next year. All of those stories Delilah told us about the home’s history were fascinating.”

  “I can mention it to her.” Desi looked out the window. “I can’t believe I let Mom talk us into this. I’m happy to help out the Historical Society and all, but I’m crunched for time with Christmas coming up.”

  “Me too. My sister decided last minute to visit us for Christmas and I don’t have a present for her. We don’t usually exchange gifts, but it feels weird to have everyone else opening presents on Christmas Day and not have anything for her to open.”

  “Well, what does she like? Clothes? Perfume? Jewelry?” Desi asked.

  “None of the above.” I frowned. Becky was impossible to buy for. “Maybe some sort of hiking gear? She loves hiking, but she’s not much for material things.”

  “Maybe a gift card?” Desi asked, tapping her chin.

  “Maybe. Whatever it is, I need to figure it out soon.” Flashing lights appeared from behind us and pulled ahead of our car on the shoulder.

  “At least the tow truck is here,” I said. “Whenever I call them, it takes hours.”

  She smiled smugly at me. “The police department uses this company sometimes, so they know Tomàs.”

  We stepped out of the car and Desi greeted the tow truck driver, signed something on his sheet, and gave him the keys. He loaded up the car and swung it off of the shoulder.

  “She looks so sad,” Desi said, staring at her minivan.

  I patted her on the shoulder. “I’m sure she’ll be fine. But where’s Tomàs? It’s been forty minutes already.”

  As if on cue, Tomàs pulled up in his SUV. Desi hopped into the passenger seat and I wedged myself in between the two car seats. A few minutes later, we were at the staging area for the historic homes tour. The Ericksville Heights Retirement Home was visible a short distance up the hill, the grand dame watching over all the other houses along the bluff.

  “Give me a call when you want me to pick you up,” he said.

  “We will. Thank you!” I said.

  He left and Desi and I made our way toward the small group gathered on the lawn of a three-story home from the early 1900s. The style of this home was similar to that of the retirement home, but thankfully, the Christmas lights that had been hung from this one were unsullied by a body hanging from them.

  “I hope we get to be the guides at some really cool old house,” I said. “After hearing Delilah’s stories about early Ericksville, I’d love to see the inside of some of these.”

  “We did get to see Angela’s house,” Desi reminded me.

  “Yeah, but I was too busy trying to investigate a murder to pay any attention to it.” I looked in the direction of Angela’s house, about a block down the hill. Her house, with its Gothic influences, was spookily beautiful, but the memory of the body we’d found in her storage shed—not so much.

  The leader of the historic homes tour, a woman in her early seventies with tight graying curls, consulted her clipboard, calling off names and handing out assignments.

  “Do you know her?” I asked Desi.

  She nodded. “That’s Tilly. She’s been a member of the Ericksville Historical Society forever. I remember her coming over to the house when I was a little kid.” She smiled. “She brought us chocolate bunnies at Easter one year.”

  I looked at Tilly. What would it be like to live in a town with so many memories? I’d never regretted moving to Adam’s hometown after we were married, but there was a part of me that wondered what it would have been like to have our kids grow up in Coeur D’Alene where my parents had been teachers at the local schools. However, the good thing about moving away from Idaho was that when I returned there to visit my parents, a pleasant wave of nostalgia hit me every time I came back.

  “Desi Torres and Jill Andrews,” she finally called out.

  “We’re here.” Desi stepped forward.

  “Great. It’s nice seeing you again, Desi. You’ve been so busy, we haven’t seen you around much at the Historical Society.” She peered at Desi, but although her words could have indicated she was subtly chiding Desi, she appeared to be sincere. “It’s too bad your mother wasn’t able to join us, but I know how busy she is at the Boathouse during the holidays. I’m really happy you’re here to help.” She beamed at us and handed a sheet of paper to Desi. “Here is your assignment. Thank you for helping make this day a success.” She scurried off down the hill, presumably to the house where she was playing tour guide.

  I rubbed my hands together. “So where do we get to go? This is so exciting.” The row of elegant mansions along the cliff was one of my favorite things about Ericksville. How had I never thought to take advantage of the historic homes tour in the past so I could catch a glimpse of the insides of them?

  Because of the time commitment, I hadn’t been too sure about this when Beth had roped me into helping. She’d wanted to help out herself, but she had an event going on at the Boathouse and couldn’t participate. Although she’d assured me that it would be fun, I’d had my doubts until we were standing on the green lawn of the massive old estate.

  “You’re not going to believe this.” Desi looked up from the sheet of paper she’d been given.

  “What is it? We’re not guides for Angela’s house, are we?” It would shock me if Angela was participating in the tour, as she valued her privacy.

  She handed me the piece of paper wordlessly.

  I skimmed it. “The Dunlop house?”

  “Keep reading.”

  The address of the house meant nothing to me, but my eyes stopped when I reached the owner’s name.

  “Nancy Davenport? There has to be some sort of mistake.”

  “Nope. No mistake. We’re going to be spending the next two hours showing people around Nancy’s house.
”

  7

  We showed up on Nancy’s doorstep a few minutes later, neither of us wanting to ring the bell.

  “You do it,” I whispered to Desi.

  She rolled her eyes and pressed the button. Inside, a set of chimes played an excessively long song to alert the residents that someone was at the door.

  “Who is it?” Nancy called out from behind the door.

  “We’re here for the historic homes tour,” Desi answered.

  Nancy flung open the door with a smile, which slipped off as soon as she saw who was on her porch. “I thought you said you were here for the tour.”

  I sighed. “We are. Desi and I were assigned to be the tour guides for your house.”

  She eyed us, as if trying to decide whether or not we were telling the truth. Her final decision must have been that we weren’t there for nefarious purposes, because she said, “Fine. Come in, come in. Don’t you know better than to stand in the doorway letting the cold air in?”

  I could tell already that this was not going to be as fun as I’d imagined.

  “You have a beautiful house, Nancy,” Desi said. “I didn’t realize you lived up on the bluffs.” She turned her gaze up to the two-story high ceiling in the entry hall and a grand spiral staircase.

  “Yes,” Nancy said tightly. “My family has lived here since Ericksville was settled.”

  “Oh, wow. That’s great. It must be so nice to live somewhere that has so much of your family’s history.” I smiled at her, hoping to melt her icy demeanor.

  She regarded me with suspicion. “It is nice.” She turned abruptly and motioned to the room off of the entry. “Now, if you’re going to be giving tours, let me show you around the place.” She moved quickly from room to room, showing us a parlor full of antiques, including a horsehair sofa and an upright piano and a library filled with old books. We climbed up the winding oak staircase to the second floor.