Chili Con Corpses (15 page)

Willy shook his head. “You don’t need to get so worked up about this, Professor. You just gotta tailor your gift to the girl. Tell me something. When you two are alone, what do you do together?”

James shrugged. “Mostly we’ve been working on investigating Parker’s death, but Murphy did come over for Thanksgiving. We played board games and … it was really fun.” His cheeks grew pink as he related their banal activities.

Willy nodded. “If you ask me, folks should spend more time sittin’ across a table from one another. In my family, it was always Chinese checkers and Parcheesi. What did you play with Murphy?”

“Monopoly and Scrabble, but we never finished the Scrabble game.”

“That’s it!” Bennett declared. “There’s a cool Collector’s Edition of Scrabble. Get her that and say you want to finish the game. It would be kinda like wrapping up the next date.”

“He’s right on with that one,” Willy agreed, and he and Bennett exchanged high-fives. “Add a bottle of wine to that and you’re gonna work yourself some magic with that woman.”

“Why did I think the women I know would have all the answers?” James said to his friends. “Two of the three wise men are apparently sitting right here with me. Where’d you guys park your camels?”

“I haven’t heard such flattery since I created my Sweet as Sin custard,” Willy laughed. “Vanilla custard with ribbons of chocolate and caramel, topped with a shell of chocolate fudge and a generous coating of toffee chips. It’ll bore holes in your teeth just lookin’ at it!”

“Willy, you sure know how to make a man feel what he’s missin’,” Bennett said morosely.

“Cheer up, my friend!” Willy clapped him on the back. “At least you’re not outside running around in the dark like that pair.” He pointed out the front window at a couple dressed in matching jogging suits.

“They’re crazy. It’s damned cold out tonight,” Bennett observed.

James said good night and hustled out to the Bronco, trying to prevent the frosty air from permeating his down coat and wool scarf. As he drove out of town, he noticed that the joggers had turned around and were now running back toward Custard Cottage. There was a man and a woman. The man seemed to be running effortlessly, while the woman was clearly struggling as she pumped her arms vigorously and her breath burst out of her mouth in white clouds, reminding James of a dragon exhaling smoke.

He stopped at a red light and stared at the runners, as something about the pair was familiar. Just then, the twosome ran beneath a streetlamp and James recognized the brown baseball caps embroidered with the Sheriff’s Department logo. Lucy’s chestnut hair glowed for a brief moment as she ran through the pool of light, striving to keep pace with Sullie. Suddenly, she looked right at James and though her steps never faltered, her expression was clearly pained.

In a flash, the light turned green and James drove past her, but her blue and wounded eyes haunted him all the way home. Did she look miserable because she was running, or was something deeper troubling her? James would have liked to believe that it wasn’t his business, that he no longer cared about how Lucy Hanover felt, but he couldn’t deceive himself. It was likely that he would always care. Even though she had hurt him, he still wanted her to be happy.

James dressed in a cheery red sweater and freshly ironed black pants before heading over to Murphy’s house for their Christmas Eve celebration. He was nervous. He had seen Murphy several times over the last few weeks as they tried to discover more and more about how Parker spent her free time. Aside from going to the movies and restaurants with Colin, Parker and Dwight also volunteered at several area animal shelters during their off hours. Murphy got Kinsley’s permission to snoop around Parker’s house, but they found nothing out of sorts in her modest home.

In fact, everything about the young woman’s home was warm and inviting. Even empty, it had a comfortable aura about it and it was pleasantly cluttered with books, animal art, photographs, and the usual mundane objects of day-to-day living. There were no incriminating videotapes, threatening notes, or the slightest indication of the violence that would creep along and steal the young woman’s life.

It was obvious that Parker had loved her family and her patients. There were almost as many photographs of cats, dogs, and birds posing with their owners as there were of the Willis clan. As James flipped through piles of photo albums, Murphy went through Parker’s bank statements. Again, there was no strange or suspicious activity. Parker had a job she loved, a nice, good-looking boyfriend, plenty of money, and her closets seemed to be completely free of skeletons.

James was impressed by the level of artistry displayed in the dozens of scrapbooks he found. Paging through the most recent album, he noticed a photo labeled
Gary and Kinsley on Broadway
. It showed Kinsley and a short man standing next to her. The man held up a pair of play tickets and was gazing at the camera with a look of satisfaction on his face. Kinsley, who was at least four inches taller than her boyfriend, beamed excitedly. Behind the couple, a poster of
The Phantom of the Opera
lit by a frame of bright bulbs made it clear which show the couple was scheduled to see.

“Here’s Kinsley’s boyfriend in New York.” James showed Murphy the photograph. “It’s like you said when you got home from Kansas. Not the kind of guy you’d expect to see Kinsley with.”

“He sure is short, too,” Murphy commented. “He’s wearing a mighty smug expression in that photo. I couldn’t really get a read on him at the funeral. Everyone was totally subdued.” She flipped the page. “He looks much friendlier in this picture.”

Peering over her shoulder, James stared at a snapshot of the couple skating at Rockefeller Center. It looked as though Gary had just fallen down and was grinning as he sat on the ice. Behind him, Kinsley was doubled over, her mouth open mid-laugh. Another photo showed the pair in business suits seated on the edge of a marble bench. In the background, a large sign read
Solmes Investments
. Gary’s face was turned slightly toward the sign and his eyes looked veiled and unreadable. Kinsley seemed to be smiling automatically for the camera, and James noticed that the couple’s bodies were turned away from one another.

“Looks like the beginning of the end here,” James observed and then finished looking through the book. “Colin and Parker are the only pair of lovebirds left in this album. Here they are throwing a lobster dinner for the volunteers at the local food bank.”

“Guess Gary must have had a great personality,” Murphy stated unkindly and then sighed in disappointment. “There’s nothing in this house to report to McClellan.”

Murphy had been in contact with Sergeant McClellan. She had shared her belief that the killer had worn makeup and a wig and defended her theory that the false Mr. Sneed may have had some experience in the theater. She and James had stopped by every costume store within one hundred miles, looking for a similar beard and wig ensemble, but never found a match. Simultaneously, McClellan searched for a clue among the local theater companies, but his pursuit led him nowhere. Then, two weeks before Christmas, a local boy went missing and McClellan’s priority shifted from seeking justice for a dead young woman to recovering the eight-year-old while he still lived.

Late in the afternoon of Christmas Eve, James found the Collector’s Edition Scrabble game at the Barnes & Noble in Harrisonburg and carefully wrapped it using the holiday paper he had bought to support the middle school’s fundraiser. Rolling a bottle of 2003 Cakebread Cabernet Sauvignon in sheets of red and green tissue paper, James gathered Murphy’s gifts and pulled on his coat.

“No need to rush on back home,” Jackson said by way of good night. James noticed that his father had donned a button-down and a coordinating sweater vest along with an ancient clip-on bow tie.

“Did you get Milla a gift?” James wondered.

Jackson scowled. “I made her one and that’s all you need to know about it. Now git. I wanna have a shot of Cutty before she gets here. Give me some courage.” He widened his eyes in an exaggerated gesture of amazement. “Lord Almighty, but that woman can talk!”

James smiled, knowing full well that his father enjoyed Milla’s company and had been pacing around the house all week as if the days couldn’t pass by quickly enough until she would return, bearing trays of food and filling the house with boundless energy and enthusiasm. Ever since Thanksgiving, Jackson had spent a great deal of time back in the shed, and James wondered if he had discovered a new subject to paint. He thought about the art books he had purchased for his father for Christmas and whether Jackson would be disappointed in the giant book on Van Gogh or the coffee-table tome stuffed with colorful plates illustrating a myriad of twentieth-century paintings.

“Can’t worry about that now,” James muttered to himself as he headed off to Murphy’s.

Murphy actually lived in an apartment directly above the offices of
The Star
. She had placed electric candles in her front windows and had hung pre-lit wreaths from the top of each frame. Soft light emanated from her apartment and as James walked up the back stairs, the aroma of roasting meat greeted his nostrils.

An antique set of sleigh bells hung down the front of Murphy’s apartment door. James knocked lightly and as she opened the door, the bells rattled merrily. Murphy wore a long, off-white turtleneck sweater that clung to her trim hips and a pair of black velvet leggings. James had to smile as he took note of her slipper socks, which were red and white striped and seemed completely incongruous with the rest of her polished look.

She followed his eyes to her feet. “My apartment floors are so cold,” she said by way of explanation and then led him into the kitchen. “I thought I’d open a bottle of wine. Do you prefer white or red?”

James offered her the tissue-wrapped package in his right hand. “How about this one?”

“I like a man bearing gifts,” she grinned and tore open the tissue. “Yum! I can’t wait to try this.” She handed him a corkscrew. “Will you do the honors? I’ve got to check on the roast beast.”

As James opened the wine and poured two glasses, Murphy chatted about the trials of Christmas shopping for her large and widely dispersed family. The tales of her siblings made James wish that he had had a brother or sister. Now that the Henry family had shrunk from three to two, he realized how empty the house seemed, especially during holidays such as Thanksgiving and Christmas. He was grateful to Murphy for postponing her trip home so that she could spend Christmas Eve with him. As she removed the roast from the oven, he told her as much.

“Trust me, I’ll see plenty of my crazy family tomorrow. It would take all the spiked eggnog in Virginia to calm that group down.” Digging through one of her cabinets, she pulled out a hand mixer and began whipping together a bowl of boiled potatoes, butter, sour cream, and milk. “I’m happy you’re here, too,” she added over the whir of the beaters. “And it’s so nice that Milla is over at your place. Do you think she and your pop are going to get hot and heavy?”

James felt his face grow warm. “I don’t think so. I’m just happy that they enjoy each other’s company.”

Murphy stopped the beater and dumped the potatoes into a large ceramic bowl. She put her hand on her hip. “We enjoy each other’s company, too.” She plunked a wooden serving spoon into the steaming white mass and sprinkled pepper over the top. “Does that mean we can never get hot and heavy?”

Without waiting for an answer, she moved into the great room and set the bowl down on the table, where a plate of asparagus drizzled in hollandaise and a basket of crescents already waited. James felt his throat go dry as he mulled over her comment, staring at the candlelit table and listening to the moving strains of Chopin tripping out of a pair of hidden speakers.

As Murphy carried the roast beef to the table, she elbowed him playfully in the side. “Don’t go all analytical on me, Professor. Can’t a girl tease a guy anymore?”

Taking a gulp of wine, James relaxed. “Do you want me to carve the meat?”

“Slice away!” Murphy handed him a knife and went back to the kitchen in order to grab the bottle of wine and the butter dish.

The meat was covered in a fragrant herb crust and was very warm. James had trouble directing the knife into making a straight slice. He had thoroughly butchered two pieces by the time Murphy sat down across from him.

“You’re supposed to let it sit a bit before you cut it,” she explained why he was having difficulty, “but I’m too hungry to wait. Just rip some off of there and let’s eat.”

Over dinner, James told Murphy about the additional guests invited to Lindy’s New Year’s Eve party. They exchanged theories as to what McClellan was planning and then discussed the varied resolutions that their friends had made for the coming year.

“What’s your resolution?” Murphy asked.

“I haven’t thought about it too much,” he answered. “Maybe to keep my blood pressure low so I don’t die at forty. You?”

Murphy swirled the wine around in her glass. “I’ll get back to you on that one. This cab is delicious, by the way. Thank you.” She pushed her plate away and clasped her hands together. “Are you ready for
your
presents?” She jumped up and refilled their glasses with the remainder of the wine. “We can have dessert later. Come on!”

James wiped his mouth with his napkin and followed her over to the sofa. She had placed a small Christmas tree in the far corner of the room and a pile of expertly wrapped gifts lay beneath the twinkling white lights. Murphy pulled out two small boxes and handed them to James.