Trouble Under the Tree (A Nina Quinn Mystery) (13 page)

“No,” Riley said, pointing. “Her.”

I gasped. Fairlane lay on the floor near the
closet door. A pair of striped tights was wrapped tightly around
her neck.

Unfortunately for Mr. Cabrera, she was most
definitely dead.

Chapter Thirteen

A few hours later, I checked the clock and
glanced out the window again. The porch light, lamppost, and
various decorations illuminated the snow and little else. Still no
sign of Kevin. I hadn’t seen him since shortly after Fairlane’s
body had been discovered.

Mr. Cabrera had been taken to the hospital
because of a cut on his head, and the doctors wanted to keep him
overnight for observation in case he suffered a concussion.
Otherwise, he was just fine, thank goodness. Last I heard, he had
company. Brickhouse had fought her way through the storm to be by
his side.

Snow continued to fall, and I was feeling a
bit betrayed by the meteorologists. There was no way all this snow
would be gone by the weekend. There had to be ten inches outside
already. A veritable blizzard by Cincinnati standards. The city—and
outlying areas—would be closed for days. Riley’s high school had
already called off classes for tomorrow, which was supposed to be
his last day before Christmas break. He was going to be
thrilled.

Currently, he was up in his room playing
video games. Maria was in my room, tucked into my bed, snoring on
my pillows. Once the clock struck nine, she couldn’t stop yawning
and turned in. Nate had been stranded downtown and had luckily
scored a hotel room within walking distance of his office.

Soft Christmas carols played from overhead
speakers as I put a pot of coffee on and took my package from Bobby
into the living room. Gracie slept in front of the hearth and
lifted a sleepy head when I came in, but didn’t bark or piddle, so
I figured my night was looking up.

Flames crackled in the fireplace as I sat on
the sofa. I drew an afghan over my lap and stared at the envelope
Bobby had sent. I had wanted a little privacy when opening it. A
very young, girly part of me wanted a long sappy love letter. After
all, it had been weeks since I had seen him, and we’d had startling
little communication in that time. He was busy with his mom—I
understood that—but I was beginning to feel like he’d forgotten
about me.

I carefully tore the perforated strip along
the top of the bubble envelope, took a deep breath and reached
inside. A gurgle of anticipation grew in my stomach. My fingertips
felt a bit of plastic inside the envelope, and I pulled.

And stared at what came out.

It was an Almond Joy. Or used to be, at
least.

Somewhere along the package’s journey, the
Almond Joy had melted, pooling on one side of its wrapper, where it
hardened once again. One side of the candy bar was a hard round
blob, the other side flopped with emptiness.

I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.

The first present I ever got from Bobby was a
case of Almond Joys, after I’d had a bit of a sugar-crash in his
former office and he’d given me a candy bar to stave off a compete
meltdown.

This candy bar, as misshapen as it was, was a
reminder of how we’d began. It was his way of letting me know he
was thinking of me.
Awww
.

I billowed the envelope and looked inside for
a note, but there was nothing else inside the package. Tipping it
upside down, I shook it, just in case I missed something
obvious.

Nothing.

No note, no professions of love, no ooey
gooey “I miss you.”

Just the Frankenbar. Which no longer looked
as endearing.

He was writer, for goodness’ sake. How hard
could it be to come up with a few lovey-dovey lines? I put the
candy bar back into the envelope and put it on the coffee table,
not sure what to make of my feelings.

Wasn’t absence supposed to make the heart
grow fonder?

I was still thinking about that as I wandered
back into the kitchen and poured a cup of coffee. After stirring in
liberal amounts of cream and sugar, I sipped contentedly. I washed
some dishes, put the tree skirt into the dryer, foraged for a snack
(popcorn), and glanced out my kitchen window at Bobby’s house
across the street. Part of me wished he’d suddenly appear.

Kit’s truck wasn’t in the driveway, and I
figured he was spending the night at Ana’s—which was something of a
regular occurrence lately. So much for house-sitting.

I munched on a piece of popcorn and told
myself to stay strong. Support Bobby as best I could. That’s what
mattered right now—not stupid love notes.

My cell phone chirped an alert for a text
message, and I almost didn’t recognize the noise. Riley had placed
the SIM card in my dead cell phone into my old cell phone. I was
glad to have a working cell, but my old phone was practically
vintage. It had an antenna and everything. I tore myself away from
staring at Bobby’s place and checked the text message. It was from
Ana, and the subject line was “Ha ha ha!”

I could only imagine. I opened the file, a
photo, and started laughing.

It was a shot of a snowy lit-up Santa and
nine reindeer atop a house.

My mother’s house.

I texted Ana.

Me:
Are you out in this storm?

Her:
maybe

Me:
Crazy.

Her: w
orth it 2 see Santa

Me:
Don’t let my mom see you.

Her:
not stupid don’t have death
wish

I didn’t mention how stupid it was to venture
out on a night like tonight to get a glimpse of my mother’s Santa.
Smiling, I left the conversation at that and slipped my phone in my
robe’s pocket.

Peeking out the side door, I watched as crime
scene techs stamped all over Fairlane’s yard. Big lights had been
set up, illuminating half the road, and police cars and tech vans
lined the street. The coroner’s vehicle had already come and
gone.

I wanted desperately to forget about Fairlee
and Fairlane. To forget that crime could happen so close to home.
Forget that evil existed. Fairlane lived just a few houses away—and
someone had broken in and killed her.

I shuddered, turned away from the window, and
went to refill my coffee.

It was going to be a long night.

I heard footsteps on the stairs and a second
later Riley came into the kitchen, looking more and more like his
dad everyday. The mop of unruly hair, the shape of his eyes. “No
sign of dad yet?”

“Not yet,” I said, leaning against the
sink.

He poured himself a cup of milk, then grabbed
a package of Oreos. “It’ll probably be a late night. You think Mr.
Cabrera will be released soon?”

I shook my head. “He’s spending the night at
the hospital.”

Riley’s face scrunched. “Then where’s Dad
gonna sleep?”

Oh, jeez. I’d forgotten Kevin was going to
spend the night at Mr. Cabrera’s. For cryin’ out loud. I sighed.
“He can stay here.” I had no idea
where
. Maria was in my
bed—and I was not sharing with her—she kicked and thrashed when she
slept. I was on the couch. Riley only had a twin bed...

Riley smirked—again, looking a lot like his
dad. “You’re a softie.”

“Don’t remind me.”

He went back upstairs, taking the whole
package of cookies with him, the little devil.

I tried watching a movie for a while, but
couldn’t get into it. Also tried reading, but after reading the
same page three times and having no idea what it said, I put the
book down. Instead, I gathered up my sketch book and supplies and
nestled into the couch. I penciled in a garden, done all in shades
of purples. Lavender, tulips, aster, sweet pea, irises, lupine,
violets, monkey-flowers, violets, vinca. I drew, I colored, I
shaded. The artist in me was in heaven.

A little after midnight, I heard a tap on the
backdoor. I set my things aside and went to let Kevin in. He kicked
off his shoes and hung up his coat.

I felt a pang at the familiarity and pushed
it aside.

He looked bone tired. “Coffee?” I asked. “Or
will it keep you up all night?”

He smirked. “Too late for that.”

I poured him a cup, and he settled in on the
couch, staring at the flames leaping in the grate. Gracie,
thankfully, kept on sleeping.

“Did you find out anything?” I asked. I
tucked myself on the other end of the couch and drew my feet up
onto the cushions. Once upon a time, he would have moved my feet
into his lap and given them a massage.

But that was a long time ago.

Dragging a hand down his face, he stretched
out his legs. “Looks like the killer came in the backdoor. There
were puddles on the kitchen floor, leading into the bedroom where
Fairlane was found.”

“Forced entry?”

He shook his head. “Door could have been
unlocked, though.”

Or, Fairlane could have known her killer.

“Any footprints outside were covered with
snow, so we don’t know which direction he came from.”

“Prints?” I asked.

“Still being processed.”

“So you’ve got nothing,” I said.

“Pretty much. Coroner places time of death
about an hour before we found her.”

“The two murders have to be connected,
right?” A log shifted, creating sparks, then settled.

“We’re working on that assumption, yes.”

“Who’re your suspects?”

He sipped his coffee. “Can’t tell you that,
Nina.”

Damn him. “Did you check with Drunk Dave’s
wife at least? He said she had a temper.”

“And an alibi.”

“Even for Lele’s murder?”

He nodded. “The day of Lele’s murder, Drunk
Dave’s wife, Olive, was in a packed bingo hall. Dozens of people
can vouch for her.”

“And today?”

“She and Dave were at the hospital all
afternoon.
Supposedly
he fell down the stairs right after he
got home from Christmastowne. Broke his leg, needed some
stitches.”

“Supposedly?”

“My gut is she pushed him, but he denies
it.”

“Well, if she found out he was cheating, I
can’t really blame her. I mean, there were times when I wanted to
shove you down the stairs, too.”

He glanced at me, flames flickering in his
green eyes. There was a sadness there I’d never really seen before.
He said softly, “Are you ever going to forgive me, Nina?”

I swallowed hard. How had this conversation
turned to us all of a sudden? I adjusted the blanket on my lap.
“Maybe.”

At one time, I would have said, “No way.” But
I was learning that sometimes people made mistakes. Big ones. And
didn’t deserve to pay for them the rest of their lives.

He sipped his coffee. “It’s a start.”

We sat in silence for a few moments,
listening to Gracie snortle in her sleep. Finally, I said, “If
you’d asked me earlier who was likely to be killed today, my answer
wouldn’t have been Fairlane.”

“You think about these things often?” he
asked, lifting an eyebrow. His lips quirking in amusement.

“More than you want to know. Anyway, I would
have said Benny. Especially after what Jenny witnessed in Santa’s
Cottage this morning.” I sipped my cooled coffee. “But that was
before I realized how much she needs him alive.”

I thought about Benny and Jenny’s shared
office and the pictures hanging there.

How clear her adoration of him had been.

How clear his adoration of himself had
been.

Her future was tied to him. His money. His
last name. Could she walk away from that? Would she?

I doubted it.

“What’s next in the investigation?” I
asked.

He pushed a hand through his hair, sending it
sticking up in every direction. “We start digging deeper into
Christmastowne.”

“Have you checked bank statements yet? If
Fairlane and Lele were blackmailing people, there would be evidence
of money coming in.”

“We’re checking, Nina.”

I sighed at the red tape of it all. He
probably needed warrants.

“You’ll check Jenny and Benny’s accounts,
too?”

“I know how to do my job.”

“Just making sure,” I said.

His lip twitched. “I’ll question Benny and
Jenny again tomorrow, then all the employees, down to every last
elf. Someone there is our killer. The motive is just a little fuzzy
right now.”

Why were the sisters killed? Was it because
of their criminal past? Had it caught up to them? Or was it because
of their current criminal activity—the thefts of the toys? The
blackmail? We knew Fairlane, at least, wasn’t above using it to get
what she wanted.

But had she been killed for it?

Chapter Fourteen

I woke up with a start at six in the morning
to find Gracie snuggled next to me on the couch. And heaven help
me, I didn’t mind. She was a good little dog. For someone else.

I’d been dreaming. Weird dreams. Of foot
massages and dead poinsettias, of twisted metal and burned
gingerbread.

Really, I had to cut back on the coffee
before bed.

Rubbing my eyes disturbed Gracie, and she
popped up and tucked her tail between her legs.

“Don’t you dare,” I said to her. I grabbed my
robe and the dog and booked it to the side door. I slid the locks
and pulled the door open to find a foot of snow on the other side.
Shoot.

“Stay,” I said, setting Gracie down in the
mud room. I pulled on my boots and ventured out into the cold.
Riley’s snow shovel leaned against the house, and I made quick work
of a four by four patch of yard for Gracie.

But when I opened the door, Gracie was gone,
and a puddle was on the floor.

Maria really had to go home.

I cleaned up Gracie’s mess, cleaned myself up
a bit in the downstairs bathroom, and put on a pot of coffee. I
brought my laptop into the kitchen, plugged it in, and sat at the
counter, Googling.