2 Yule Be the Death of Me (14 page)

“Thank you.”
She played along and snagged a muffin. “Hey, did I tell you that Samantha
Charles called me the other day?”

“No. What did
she have to say?” Tristan was happy to have the conversation be about someone
else.

“She told me
that she ran into someone at a fundraising event that has roots in Cayuga
Cove.”

“Anyone we
know?”

“She said his
name was Robert
Rothwell
.” Vivienne slipped the name
in. “He must be related to the family that built the mansion here in town.”

Tristan’s eyes
narrowed. “You don’t say.”

“I’ve never
heard of him. She said his family is old money.” Vivienne continued.

“I’ve heard of
him.” Tristan spoke softly.

“You have?”

He nodded
back. “He was the man I slept with in New York.”

“Are you
kidding me?” She played along as if shocked.

“He bought me
a drink, a real strong one. Started talking about his family and how he knew
about Cayuga Cove and it made me feel not so lonely.”

“What are you
saying, Tristan?”

“I’m saying
that it really wasn’t an alcohol-fueled lapse of judgment like Nathaniel keeps
insisting it was. I knew what I was doing the whole time.”

Vivienne could
feel his shame as he bared his awful secret to her at the kitchen table. “I’m
so sorry to hear about this.

 “The
truth is, I hate all the traveling. I hate the hotels, I hate the rental vans
and dinners alone at chain restaurants.” Tristan went on. “I just want to stay
here at home and be a good husband. I just want to make a normal life here were
we only travel on vacations together.”

“That’s
understandable.” Vivienne sympathized with him. “Have you told him about this?”

“We fought
about it for months.” Tristan revealed. “We don’t have the money in the bank to
make that happen. We’re barely getting by as it is.”

“I had no
idea.”

“We applied at
the bank for a loan to help pay some bills but we got turned down.” Tristan’s
lower lip began to quiver. “The worst part is that I know that Eunice
Kilpatrick heard about it and she couldn’t wait to start spreading the news.”

“Eunice
Kilpatrick knew about this?” Vivienne started to mentally connect some dots.
Santa’s naughty list was starting to look a lot less random. “Are you
positive?”

“Yes, because
this trailer trash woman came marching in here the other day trying to sell
some cheap Hummel knock-offs for some quick Christmas cash.” Tristan recalled.
“I told her they weren’t the real thing and she went ballistic, telling me that
I was going to ruin her grandchildren’s Christmas.”

Vivienne
wished she had brought a pen and paper with her to take notes. She had no
choice but to just keep nodding reassuringly. “How does this connect to
Eunice?”

“Because the
woman went on to explain how the bank’s loan manager was heartless, but a good
Christian teller who worked there told her to come to our shop because we were
flush with cash and always buying antiques.”

“I thought you
said Eunice knew you guys were having money trouble?”

“She did.”
Tristan hit the table with his fist. “She did it because she wants to see us go
out of business.”

“Why does
Eunice have a vendetta against you two?”

Tristan took a
deep breath before speaking. “Right after Halloween some relative of hers died
and left her a supposedly antique pocket watch. She came in and tried to sell
it for some fast cash, but I had to tell her it wasn’t nearly as old as she
thought it was.”

Vivienne
nodded. “So Eunice was on the receiving end of a bad deal?”

“She expected
a couple of thousand dollars at least. I told her it was worth maybe two
hundred at the most.”

“Did she tell
you what she needed the money for?” Vivienne asked.

“No, she was
tight-lipped about her own business as usual.” Tristan looked at Vivienne with
new fear in his eyes. “So, now she’s going out of her way to get everyone all
riled up and mad that we won’t buy their crap with all this supposed money
we’re sitting on. I thought maybe she was the one writing the Bad Santa notes,
but when she got hit by that car I realized it couldn’t be her.”

“She’s in a
coma still.” Vivienne added

 “It’s
probably all planned by that religious-freak brother of hers. He wants to drive
us out of town, and he’s going to do it by making as many people hate us as
possible.”

Vivienne
reached down under the table and pulled up her purse. She rummaged through it
and then pulled out the business card she had found near Miss Octavia’s store
earlier. “Pastor Seamus Kilpatrick?”

“Why are you
mentioning that name in this house?” Nathaniel returned to the kitchen.

“I told her
the whole story.” Tristan added.

“You what?”
Nathaniel smacked his head slightly. “Why would you air our dirty laundry out
like that? Isn’t this letter enough shame for one day?”

“I’m tired of
secrets and lies, Nathaniel. I can’t do it anymore.” Tristan began to break
down.

Nathaniel
rushed over to him. “We’ll sell this place and move somewhere else. Get a fresh
start.”

Tristan shook
his head. “Can’t we do that here?

“I think our
time in Cayuga Cove is over.”

Vivienne
interrupted. “Not yet it isn’t.”

“You’ve got a
plan?” Tristan asked.

“Give me a few
days.” Vivienne asked. “Please.”

Nathaniel
nodded. “Can we help?”

“I’ll let you
know.” She smiled back.

Kathy rubbed
her hands together in the cold air. “I’m still in shock someone would vandalize
a store like this right here in Cayuga Cove.”

Vivienne swept
up some small shards of broken plate glass window into a dustpan. “There is
something bad going on in this town and I’m going to figure out what it is.”

Kathy looked
around the interior of Mother Earth Mercantile. Although the vandal had done
considerable damage to the front display, most of the store remained very much
intact. “I’m just glad it wasn’t as bad as it first looked.”

Vivienne
leaned against her broom. “Thanks to you and all the others who decided to lend
out a helping hand today.” She pointed to where Tony
DiSanto
,
of The Leaning Tower of Pizza and Brian
Amberry
of
Hummingbird Floral were nearly finished boarding up the broken window with some
plywood. Miss Clara had brought in
an
thermal pot of
coffee and some club sandwiches for everyone to eat while they helped clean up
and secure he store. Even though she didn’t have insurance through his office,
Neil Harrison had brought with him some paperwork for Miss Octavia to fill out
that would help with categorizing what had been destroyed should the police
catch the criminal. He worked with her over at the table where she would
conduct readings with her crystal ball and tarot cards with clients.

“I expected a
lot more than this to show up to help, honestly.” Kathy frowned. “I think some
of the Main Street business owners are quite stuck in the past when it comes to
how they treat people.”

Vivienne
really couldn’t argue with her logic. She knew very well what it was like for a
new business to deal with the merchants who had been in town for decades. “We
can’t discount these Bad Santa notes from having a negative effect on the
town’s morale.”

“We are all
potential targets.” Kathy fired back. “None of us are saint material.”

“That’s true.”
Vivienne set the broom against one of the shelves stocked with books. “Let’s
grab a sandwich and some coffee.”

“I thought
you’d never want to take a break.” Kathy followed her.

“Well, you two
girls are sure to stay off that naughty list by helping out here.” Clara noted
as she began to pack up the few remaining sandwiches.

“Is there
still a turkey on wheat left?” Vivienne asked.

Clara looked
into the large plastic tote and rummaged around. “Yes, I saved one for you.”
She pulled it out and handed it to her. “Lettuce with light mayo.”

Vivienne could
feel her mouth water with anticipation. She had really worked up an appetite
helping to clean the store up. “Split it with me?” She asked Kathy.

“Sure.” Kathy
poured herself and Vivienne a cup of hot coffee.

Vivienne
unwrapped the cellophane from the sandwich and placed half on a napkin for
Kathy. “Any thoughts from you on who our Bad Santa might be?” She asked Clara.

Clara
shrugged. “I try not to get too involved with things like that.”

“Every time I
think I start to unravel the mystery, it just gets deeper.” Vivienne conceded.
“I guess my sleuthing skills are not as sharp as I thought they were.”

“Of course
they’re sharp.” Kathy handed Vivienne a cup of black coffee. “You never would
have solved Mona’s murder otherwise.”

Clara closed
the lid on her container and made sure it was sealed tight. “I’m too old to go
poking around town looking to solve murders.”

“So I should
just let things be?” Vivienne took a small bite of her sandwich.

“Heavens no.”
Clara grimaced. “I think you should keep poking around to see what you can stir
up.”

“Just don’t
get caught by Sheriff
Rigsbee
.” Kathy added as she
sipped her coffee. “He’s not too keen on getting help from ordinary citizens.”

“He’s a
stubborn old mule who knows his retirement isn’t too far down the road.” Clara
warned. “So, don’t take his gruff attitude too personal.”

“I try not
to.” Vivienne sipped her coffee.

“So, what have
you found out so far?” Kathy asked.

“Not too much,
but I can tell you that these notes are starting to look much less random than
we all thought.”

Clara’s eyes
widened in surprise. “So, there is a method at work here. It sounds quite
devious.”

“Ladies, we
can’t forget that someone is dead because of these notes.” Vivienne chided
them. “Whoever it is doesn’t seem to care if a life is lost as a result of
their mayhem or not.”

“Which makes
them quite dangerous.” Kathy finished her coffee and looked around the room.
“For all we know, the letter writer could be in this store with us right now.”

“Oh, Kathy.”
Clara picked up the tote in her arms. “I hardly think our killer is that
casual.
”

Kathy put her
hands on her hips. “Well, excuse me Miss
Marple
.”

Vivienne
stepped between them. “Ladies, please. We need to focus on the task at hand.”

“I’m pooped
from helping out here today. I vote we go back to our homes and curl up with a
soft blanket and the television remote.” Kathy stretched her arms in the air.

“I second
that.” Clara added. “Keep me posted on how the investigation is going.”

“You got it.”
Vivienne finished off the last of the sandwich as Clara said her goodbyes to
Miss Octavia and left the store.

“So, do you
need me for anything else?” Kathy asked.

“What do you
think about going with me to check out the old
Rothwell
mansion?”

“It’s closed
on Sundays.” Kathy was quick to reply. “What does that have to do with anything
anyway?”

“I can’t tell
you the exact details.” Vivienne did her best to keep Tristan’s secret. “But
needless to say, one of the
Rothwell
family members
lives in New York and has an interesting connection to someone here in town.”

“You do know
something big.” Kathy gushed.

“Maybe or
maybe not.” Vivienne teased.

“So how do we
get inside?” Kathy asked.

“With the
keys, naturally.” Vivienne winked.

“I don’t have
them.”

“Not you.”
Vivienne pointed to Brian
Amberry
.

“Why would
Brian have the keys to the
Rothwell
mansion?”

“Because he
does all the floral and plant care for the historical society.” Vivienne made
sure to brush off any crumbs from the sandwich from her shirt. “How do I look?”

“Like a woman
about to step once more onto the hot frying pan of life.” Kathy smiled.

“That’s why I
want you to go with me. So you can play lookout while I snoop around.”

Kathy shook
her head. “I think I liked things better when you did all of this without me
and told me the next day.”

Vivienne
rushed over to Brian who was helping Tony pack up the toolbox. “Hi Brian.” She
smiled warmly. “It was so nice of you to volunteer your time today to help Miss
Octavia.”

Brian set the
hammer down in the metal toolbox and smiled back at her. “It’s the least we can
do to help each other out.”

“That is the
spirit of the season, isn’t it?”

“I think it’s
more important than ever we do these things.” Brian agreed. “Given the events
the past few days.”

“I couldn’t
agree with you more.” Vivienne knelt down and handed him a screwdriver from the
floor. “In fact, I was just thinking there was something else you could do for
the town that just might help to bring the cheer back.”

“I’d love to
help.” Brian chirped back.

“Great. Can I
have the keys to the
Rothwell
mansion?”

Brian raised
an eyebrow at her. “Why do you need to get inside?”

“Well, I’ve
been sort of running my own little investigation into the events going on.”
Vivienne lowered her voice.

“I don’t know,
Vivienne.” Brian shoved his hands into his pant pockets. “If anything happens I
could lose them as an account.”

“I promise
I’ll be super careful.”

“How does the
mansion fit into what’s been going on?” Brian asked.

“I’m not
entirely sure about that at the moment.” Vivienne whispered. “But, I’m fairly
certain there might be a clue hidden inside that will put me on the right
track.”

“I want to
help you.” Brian replied. “I really do.”

“I know I’m
asking for a huge favor from you, but in the long run it could help catch the
person who is terrorizing the town.” Vivienne reasoned. “Isn’t that worth a
little risk on your part?”

Brian reached
into his pants pocket and pulled out a set of keys. He carefully removed a
rather large brass key and handed it to her. “If it will help end this
craziness, I’m all for it. The alarm code is 4037.”

“Thanks,
Brian.” Vivienne gave him a little hug. “I promise I’ll be careful not to
disturb anything.”

“Please do.”
Brian pleaded with her. “I’ll need them back by tonight.”

“I only need a
little bit of time.” Vivienne gripped the key in her hand. “Wish me luck.”

*         
*          *

It was well
after three in the afternoon when Vivienne and Kathy parked across the street
of the
Rothwell
mansion that housed the town’s
historical society. The grounds would have looked quite bleak, were it not for
the red ribbons and
  greenery
that Brian had
placed for the holiday season.

As they
hurried to the front door, Vivienne looked up at the large structure and felt a
slight chill. She could almost feel a pair of eyes watching from behind one of
the many large windows that graced the structure.

“Can we go
inside already?” Kathy moaned. “The wind is picking up.”

Vivienne slid
the key into the lock and opened the door. She moved to the alarm box just
inside the doorway and put in the code Brian had given her as Kathy closed the
door behind them.

“Did you ever
notice how big homes like this smell different from our places?” Kathy asked.

Vivienne
inhaled and nodded. The air smelled of old papers and books, wood oil, and just
a hint of musty basement trailing through the floor vents. “It smells lonely to
me.”

“Lonely?”
Kathy asked.

“Yes.”
Vivienne explained. “When a house is filled with a family it doesn’t smell like
this. There’s perfumes and foods and laundry. It smells like life.”

“You’re
right.” Kathy smiled. “I never thought about it like that.”

Vivienne
looked around the entry foyer where a large oak desk was placed near the main
staircase. It was filled with brochures for local businesses and landmarks for
visitors to check out. “I never thought to come inside this place when we were
scouting it for the gingerbread contest.”

Kathy walked
toward the formal receiving parlor past the staircase and stopped at the
archway. “Okay boss, what are we looking for here?”

Vivienne
shrugged as he put her hand on the carved oak banister of the staircase that
led to the second floor. “I’m not sure yet.” She glanced upwards at the paneled
wall at a series of portraits of several
Rothwell
family members. “I was hoping for some information about the family history in
this place.”

Kathy marched
over to the information desk and opened one of the brochures about the
Rothwell
home. “Let’s see if there’s anything like a map of
what’s in this place to help visitors.” She scanned the brochure quickly. “Here
we go. Learn about the
Rothwell
family history as you
tour the splendor of their exquisite summer home.” She turned the brochure
around and frowned. “Okay, that’s so not helpful.”

“I guess we
start down here and work our way up until we find something.” Vivienne pointed
toward the parlor near Kathy. “You take that side and I’ll check over here.”

Kathy folded
the brochure back and set it back on the desk. “So we’re looking for journals,
newspaper stories, anything about the family?”

“That’s a good
start.” Vivienne nodded. “If you find something like that let me know.”

“You got it.”
She stepped into the parlor and whistled. “I’ll say this, the rich sure know
how to live. There must be enough molding in this place alone to build a new
house.”

Vivienne
chuckled as she pushed open a swinging door. “As a confirmed member of the
middle class, I wouldn’t know.”

“Me either.”
Kathy replied as she disappeared into the parlor.

Vivienne found
herself inside the kitchen area of the home and found herself quite
disappointed. She had expected a grand room filled with multiple stoves, rows
of hanging pots and pans, and counter space to prepare meals for an army.
Instead, the room was surprisingly narrow, compared to the more spacious layouts
in modern homes. At most, Vivienne guessed one would be able to cater to a
dinner party of no more than eight to ten people. An old wood-fired stove that
looked to weigh at least a ton, took up most of the floor space near the center
of the room. The behemoth had no dials or controls, it simply warmed up and
cooked food. Back in the day, she imagined it probably was the envy of every
housewife in Cayuga Cove. To the modern eye, it was simply a heavy iron
eyesore.

Yet, there was
something vaguely familiar about it. She stared at the scrollwork detailing,
trying to recall where she had seen something like it before. Had it been in a
magazine? Or had there been a smaller version in Nathaniel and Tristan’s
antique collection?  She reached out and touched the handle to the oven
door. The metal was cold, and it took more effort than she had imagined to yank
the door open to get a peek inside.

She was
surprised to see a single orange flame flickering feebly in the darkness of the
oven. She was about to yell to Kathy to come take a look when her memory of
just where she had seen the oven before returned with a vengeance. It had been
in her vision of Natalie being attacked in the kitchen.