5 Merry Market Murder (24 page)

He clasped my hand and the towel between both of his hands. He was putting pressure right over the cut, but I could tell the bleeding hadn’t slowed much. I still needed to get out of there. I eyed the ornament on the table. I’d been correct; it was in the shape of an adult female elf. It was made of a piece of wood and cleverly carved to show the elf’s curvy features and pretty face. It wasn’t Mamma Maria’s face, but it was still familiar.

“You’re a wood carver?” I asked, my voice cracking.

Denny’s hard, focused gaze moved from our hands to my eyes. “I guess.”

“You make a lot of Christmas ornaments?”

He kept hold of my injured hand as he pulled another stool a little closer. He sat and looked at me again.

“About that . . .” he began.

I swallowed hard.

A
clunk
sounded from the direction of the old tractor. I hoped more than I’d ever hoped for anything that it was Sam.

But it wasn’t.

“Denny!” Billie said as she came into view. “I’ve been calling . . . oh, hi, Becca. You okay?” She hurried toward the table.

It might not have been Sam, but I was still happy to see her. At least there’d be a witness when Denny bludgeoned me with the ax.

It didn’t take but another second, though, to realize that the trap I’d unintentionally walked into was now more deadly because Billie had joined us.

Like her brothers, Billie was dressed for the occasion. As at the parade, she was again dressed as an elf, her short, green dress tight around her thin but curvy frame. No matter how old she was, she still looked great. I looked at her pretty face and her short, brown hair—and I realized that she looked almost exactly like the carved ornament on the table. I would have bet a thousand jars of jalapeño-mint jelly that she used to have long, blonde hair.

Even though I’d pondered the idea of the killer changing her looks or her hair, now wasn’t the moment to be proud of my investigative or deductive skills. No matter what, I’d still walked into a trap. But there still might be a way out of it.

“I’m okay.” I laughed. “Denny’s taking good care of me. I should probably just get home and get cleaned up better. I’ll replace the towel.”

“Oh, don’t be silly,” Billie the elf said. “You can clean up here. I’ll take you into the house.”

“It’s . . .” I began.

“Denny, what’s this?” Billie said as she reached for the ornament on the table.

“It’s just another ornament for someone’s tree,” Denny said, but when his eyes landed on mine this time, I was sure he was telling me not to tell Billie about the other ornaments he’d made for me. It was such a simple glance, but I suddenly knew so much more. I put the pieces together in my head, or at least what I thought were the pieces.

Denny had been making the ornaments to lead me to Reggie’s killer. Billie and Reggie had had the affair. That act of infidelity led to their father’s stress-induced death, and Brenton leaving his family, Reggie and Evelyn divorcing, and in some way to Brenton and Stephanie’s divorce, too, but that must have been some sort of aftershock. And, finally, that affair had somehow, some way, led to Billie killing Reggie. I could have been completely wrong, but I suspected I was close to the facts, just not the exact reasons behind them. Now wasn’t the time to ask clarifying questions.

“It looks like me,” Billie said. “I don’t understand.”

“Aw, Old Girl, I thought it would be a nice surprise.” Denny shrugged.

Old Girl. It was a horrible nickname, but one that didn’t seem to bother Billie. Somehow it must have become a term of endearment. And, her e-mail address.

And, Old Girl, Billie, was upset. She looked at Denny and then at me. She knew the reasons behind everything, of course, but she didn’t know what I suspected and she didn’t have all the facts. She didn’t know about the ornaments I’d secretly received. I smiled weakly. But, unfortunately, she wasn’t stupid.

“That day we saw you with the metallic tree ornament—where’d that come from?” Billie said to me.

“A friend,” I said. Okay, so maybe she knew a little about the ornaments.

Billie’s eyebrows came together and she blinked. She knew something was up, but she still didn’t have all the pieces. “Denny?”

“Let’s get Becca into the house, sis. Let’s get her cleaned up before she bleeds all over the place,” Denny said as his grip tightened on my arm and he pulled me off the stool.

“No. Wait.” Billie moved to the other side of the table as if to form a barricade. She wouldn’t have been able to manage blocking both of us if Denny hadn’t left the ax right where she could grab it.

“Stop,” she said when she had the ax in hand.

“Billie, come on, you’re overacting to something,” Denny said. “What’s the problem, Old Girl?”

But she didn’t buy into his act.

“No, something’s going on and I want to know what it is,” she said.

Denny sighed. He knew his sister, and I could tell he knew that stalling wasn’t going to work much longer. He pulled me around the table, but Billie and the ax stopped us.

In the next instant, Denny threw me around his sister and toward the old tractor. “Run, Becca!” he said.

I stumbled but regained my footing and managed a quick glance back at the brother and sister before I hurried through the rest of the barn. Billie had the ax raised, but it looked like Denny might be able to fend her off. No matter what happened, I knew I needed to get out of there and get some help.

It seemed to take forever to step over and around all the junk but I finally made it outside—and right into a rare South Carolina blinding snowstorm.

I was so surprised that I froze in place for a second. I knew in which direction the house and other barn were located, but I could only see the outline of the house. The barn was hidden by a whiteout.

“Help!” I yelled.

I needed to keep moving, but the new layer of snow not only made everything blindingly white, it made for slick footing.

If I could just get to my truck, I could at least lock myself inside it. But I realized that wasn’t the best plan when it came to getting away from an angry woman with an ax. And, I was leaving a bright-red trail of blood.

“Help!” I said again, but it felt like I’d been put into a vacuum. It seemed like my voice didn’t travel much farther than my own nose.

I wrapped my hand more tightly with the bottom of my jacket and hoped the bloody trail wouldn’t continue to form as I made a quick decision and ran into the space between the barn and the house and toward the trees.

I slipped and slid, but somehow I moved forward. When I came upon a tree, I hurried around it, hopefully hiding myself from the ax-wielding elf. If I kept going deeper into the copse, I’d hopefully find someone who was cutting down their tree and would have an ax I could borrow.

There’d been other vehicles out front. There were people here somewhere.

But I didn’t even make it to the next tree before I heard Billie.

“Becca!”

How did I hear her when I could barely hear myself?

I froze in place again as huge snowflakes stung my warm face and got trapped by my eyelashes. I couldn’t run. I wouldn’t win.

But I could hide.

The pine tree next to me was huge, too huge, I thought, for any normal home. It belonged in a place like Rockefeller Center or perhaps the White House. Its lowest branches were close to the ground. I dove under and hoped for the best.

And I came upon the most wonderful surprise. It wasn’t an ax, but it was something that might help. I’d seen something similar in Reggie Stuckey’s garage and I thought I might have found a useful weapon.

I wasn’t far from the barn, so I wasn’t far from whatever outlet was needed to power the mechanism. It had a cord extending out from under the branches that was covered with snow once it was in the open, and I hoped it was plugged in. I couldn’t sit up because of the branches, so I lay on my back with my head up against the trunk. And waited, though not for long.

“Becca, I know you’re in there. The snow isn’t falling fast enough to hide your footprints. And you’re still bleeding. Come out,” Billie said.

I remained silent.

“Fine. I’ll come in then.”

Billie started chopping at the low branches with the ax, causing my headroom to shrink and bits and pieces of tree to fall down on me. I tried to remain steady and keep my eyes clear, but it was difficult not to panic.

It took her only a few more seconds to create an opening where I could see her legs, but I didn’t think she’d spotted me quite yet. I pulled my knees up and got ready.

Another three chops later, most of her was exposed.

Right before I thought she’d lean over and finally know without question that I was there, I aimed with my bloody hand, and fired.

And much to my relief and satisfaction, it worked.

Billie might have seen my footprints and blood, but the snow had completely covered the cord attached to the flocking gun that had been left under the huge tree. She had no idea I’d found a weapon. I hadn’t been sure myself, but I’d been hopeful.

As I pulled the trigger, Billie’s face quickly became covered in white. I didn’t know if the substance stuck, stung, or if it just got in her way, but she dropped the ax, threw her hands up to her eyes, and screamed.

Once she went down to her knees, I couldn’t help myself. I said with complete satisfaction, “Yeah, you’ve been flocked.” And then I scurried out from under the tree, grabbed the ax she’d dropped, and slipped and slid back to the barn.

I found Denny still in the barn. As I hurried around the tractor, he was coming to. He said Billie had hit him, but fortunately had only used the side of the ax blade to knock him out. I helped him up and then we made sure Billie couldn’t do any more damage to anyone.

The snow subsided about three minutes after we tied the elf’s hands behind her back, and suddenly there were people everywhere. Ned and the other customers had been in the other barn, waiting out the quickly passing storm with hot cider and an assortment of candies and cookies. They had no idea what had gone on in and behind the other barn.

Sam’s cruiser appeared from the oak forest and sped toward me when he noticed I might be injured.

Sam handcuffed Billie and put her in the backseat of his cruiser. He deposited me in the front seat, insisting that he take me to someplace where someone could look at my hand. We’d retrieve my truck later. He might have someone make sure Billie’s eyes were okay, but he made no promises.

He called in and requested that other officers get to the Ridgeway Farm quickly because he had an injured party he was going to take care of. I insisted on getting the whole story from Denny before we left.

It was what I’d finally concluded, but bigger. Yes, Billie and Reggie had had an affair and that was the reason Evelyn quit politics and she and Reggie divorced. Brenton, the youngest Ridgeway sibling, was devastated when the stress of learning of the affair killed their father, or so he concluded. Brenton’s father’s love of his home state of South Carolina ran deep, so deep that his respect for its political leaders couldn’t be rattled. He wanted the parties involved in the affair to come forward, tell the world what they’d done, and confess, come clean like any honest citizen would do. Instead, everyone—except the youngest sibling, Brenton—insisted on keeping the truth hidden and secret. Mr. Ridgeway was devastated by what his daughter had done to another family and to a rising political career. When his father died, Brenton thought that it was the stress that killed him, but no one could ever be sure. Brenton became so angry at his siblings that he left them and hoped to never have close contact with them again.

Of course, Brenton was a great guy, but his loner ways were the result of choices he’d made, choices that were all about being alone and not being a part of the family that he was born into, a family that had disappointed him deeply. He wasn’t just a private person; it turned out that he was a lonely, somewhat tortured private person. It wasn’t discussed, but I suspected that those personal choices had played a big role in the failure of his marriage to Stephanie Frugit; the tragedy of this broke my heart.

After he and I had spoken and when Sam had gone in search of him again, Brenton hadn’t left town, hadn’t disappeared; he’d only gone to talk to Stephanie. Though he couldn’t sustain a marriage, and though they hadn’t remained close at all, she knew about his past. He could talk to her if he really needed to, and he suddenly felt like he needed to. He needed to talk through his suspicions regarding who he thought had murdered Reggie Stuckey. Even though he’d felt betrayed by and had left his family, it hadn’t been easy for him to accept that one or all of them might have been involved in murder. He felt like Stephanie was really the only one who would understand. It didn’t even occur to him that Sam might look for him again.

No one brought up the fact that it seemed Brenton was gone from his home overnight. I didn’t know if he’d spent the night at Stephanie’s house. If the police knew, I didn’t push them, or Sam specifically, for the answer. It was none of my business, and I felt no need to overstep that boundary. I hoped a little, though, that a spark might have somehow been reignited between Brenton and Stephanie. I blamed it on the spirit of the season. Happy endings make good Christmas stories.

Billie and Reggie had been seeing each other again, but Reggie had tried to stop the re-acquaintance; this upset Billie. She told the police that originally she was only going to mess with him by calling him, disguising her voice, and pretending to be a representative from Bailey’s inviting him to sell trees at the market. She thought she would make her ruse even bigger if she called the Bailey’s owners telling them she represented Reggie. She would tell them that he wanted to sell his trees at the market. She expected to be told that the Ridgeways had the exclusive contract and that no one else was welcome, making Reggie look even worse when he showed up at the market with his truck full of trees. She was surprised when Mel told her he’d send her a contract just in case it worked out. She was so caught off guard that she gave him a made-up fax number. Then she doctored the Ridgeway contract and faxed it to Reggie. She hoped to put him in an inconvenient and uncomfortable situation; this was easily accomplished by his mere appearance at Bailey’s. Billie claimed that she hadn’t intended to kill Reggie. She claimed to become so angry with him, and that the stake was “right there. It just happened.”

When he was greeted by Allison in the Bailey’s lot, it didn’t take long for Reggie to suspect that the mixup had somehow been caused by Billie. After the initial conversation, and without anyone noticing apparently, he called her to his truck and confronted her. She claimed that his accusations and continued insistence that they weren’t going to ever be together again angered her enough to “just react” with the spike. She said it wasn’t premeditated, and it might not have been, but we all hoped she’d never leave jail.

Billie had never gotten over the affair that had ruined so many lives. Over the years, Denny had watched her closely with the hope that she’d move on. Billie wouldn’t tell anyone how she and Reggie had recently reconnected, but Denny blamed himself. He’d finally let down his guard, finally quit checking her whereabouts all the time, quit looking at her computer.

I shared with him the old adage—where there’s a will, there’s a way. If Billie wanted to get in touch with Reggie, she was going to find a way, even if it took her almost thirty years to do it.

Denny had known who’d killed Reggie, or he had suspected it. But his family was already broken, and he didn’t want to be the one to turn in his sister. He’d lost a brother. If he was going to lose his sister, he didn’t want it to be because of him. His loyalty was strange and misguided, but the idea of leaving ornament clues for me, for the person he knew was dating a police officer, was at least creative. The police didn’t like his reasoning, but I hoped he wouldn’t end up in too much trouble.

Later, all the ornaments and their messages made sense, sort of. The messages would have been difficult to interpret no matter what, but the last elf, if it had been delivered, might have brought everything together. Denny had stolen the eggs from Jeannine and the corn husks from Barry. He said he hadn’t been sneaky about his crimes, but it seemed that most everyone trusts the guy who looks a little like Santa, particularly during the month of December. He did purchase the onion from Bo, though. As they were completing the transaction, the small copy of the state seal fell from his pocket to the ground. He counted on Bo not noticing or caring. In fact, Bo had noticed, but he just hadn’t remembered the specifics of the moment until later when he heard the whole story. Denny had also stolen the fish ornament off Wanda’s tree. He’d seen Billie and me beside the tree, and he hoped that our shared few moments of conversation would make me think of Billie when I saw a fish ornament again. His plan hadn’t worked. He admitted it had been a desperate and poorly thought out attempt.

Billie had had long, blonde hair when she was younger, when the affair started. Actually, we did have proof of how she’d looked back then, but we hadn’t noticed it. In the file full of Ridgeway articles we found in Reggie’s desk were pictures from as far back as the late eighties. There was one small article, with one small picture of Reggie and Billie together at a tree farmers’ event. They were young, happy, and in love; there wasn’t any other way to describe the two people in the picture. I was still baffled that the affair hadn’t been bigger news, or at least big enough for a reporter or two to dig up the dirty details. I’d never understand how covering those sorts of stories had changed so much over the years.

Since Sam and I still hadn’t figured out what Denny was trying to tell us with the ornaments, he’d made one final gift, a well-crafted one this time. One that he hoped would clearly tell us that we needed to suspect Billie. He’d planned on leaving a note with it in my truck on the day we came to cut down our tree, though he still hadn’t figured out what to say in the note. We didn’t get that ornament.

And, we never did get a tree.

But, we had a pretty poinsettia plant.

“They were just thieves?” I said as I took the cup of hot chocolate from Sam.

He sat next to me on the couch. “Yep. Joel and Patricia Archer had worked for Reggie years earlier, but just by helping with the trees. This year, they also decided to steal some ornaments. They’ve stolen a lot of things. I think we’re going to find lots of criminal behavior as we take a closer look. They’re scam artists, but they aren’t big-time as far as we can tell. They took advantage of Reggie’s death to jump in and earn his money. I think they were trying to figure out how to steal the truck.”

“They wouldn’t have gotten far,” I said.

“Probably not. Oh, Patricia’s the one who faxed the contract back to Allison.”

“Why didn’t she tell you that when we talked to her?”

“After she faxed it, she put it in her jacket pocket, just in case there might be something written into it that she could somehow use against Reggie. And, she never told her husband what Reggie had asked her to do. It seems that Reggie was perfectly aware that Joel and Patricia weren’t completely above board, so he had told them to stay out of the garage, and away from his papers, messy though they were. She wanted to keep the contract to herself, just in case. Apparently, even Joel and Patricia didn’t trust Joel and Patricia.”

“Why did Reggie hire them again?”

Sam shrugged. “Hard to know, but I think he must have been an okay guy. Maybe he wanted to give them a second chance.”

It was Christmas morning, and Hobbit and I were both at Sam’s; we’d been under his watchful eye since my hand had, in fact, needed to be stitched. He still needed to be available for work and his house was closer to the police station, so he’d insisted we stay there. Hobbit and I were both fine with it. We’d spend the afternoon with my family, but the morning was just for us.

“Oh, and you’ll be happy to know that Batman will be well taken care of. Evelyn—Evie—gave Reggie’s house and the farm to Gellie.”

“Wow! That’s quite a gift.”

“Evelyn didn’t want it. Gellie will leave it for her daughters and their families. A good idea, don’t you think?”

“I do. Sam, how’d you get Evelyn to finally tell you everything?” I asked.

Sam had told me that his last visit with Evelyn had been productive almost to the point of too much information, but he hadn’t shared his pressure techniques with me. She told him everything that had happened all those years ago and all the players involved. She shared details of how she found out about the affair, and she told him that she’d suspected Billie had killed Reggie all along, but she, of course, didn’t have any evidence.

Sam took a sip of his coffee and glanced at me over the brim with his amazing eyes. They were particularly stunning this morning and I found it difficult not to just stare into them. He finally said, “I suspected the Ridgeways were somehow involved, though I wasn’t sure how. I knew Evie had taken a liking to you. I told her you were on your way to confront them and she spilled everything.”

“Oh, that was such a good idea,” I said appreciatively.

“It would have been better if Evelyn had come forward with the information sooner, but even after all these years, I think she was ashamed about her husband having an affair. I think your parents were correct; I think the marriage breaking up was more about Evelyn’s ego being bruised than about Reggie’s infidelity.”

“Ouch.”

“I also wish I’d reached to you tell you to stay away from them until I got there. I didn’t plan on your phone not working in those trees. I’m sorry about that.”

“No problem. I’m fine.” I didn’t want him to feel bad about what happened, but I knew he would for a while. “Hey, look, it’s snowing again.”

It was snowing lightly. With Hobbit at our feet, we sat comfortably on Sam’s couch. He’d lit a fire in the fireplace, covered my legs with a quilt, and served me all the bacon, eggs, and hot chocolate I could consume. And the poinsettia was beautiful. We looked out the large picture window next to the plant and watched the snow fall on the neighborhood and the orange truck parked out front.

“I’ve got something for you,” he said as he reached to a drawer in the coffee table.

“I thought we weren’t going to exchange gifts until we went to my parents’ house.”

“This is just a little something.”

He pulled a small box out of the drawer. It was wrapped with a simple bow, and it scared me speechless.

Sam laughed. “Becca, what’s in here will hopefully show you how much I care about you, but I’m not buying you a ring until you’re good and ready. Just open it.”