Death of a Dapper Snowman (13 page)
I kept going, ignoring him. He’d been rude enough at the veterinarian’s office without the benefit of alcohol, and I had no desire to talk to him in whatever state of debauchery this was.
Even as I walked away, though, part of me wanted to turn back. Even with the scruffy beard, there was no denying his attractiveness. Feeling the heat of his eyes on my body did something to me—it made me walk with an exaggerated swing to my hips.
To my surprise, I was smiling when I got back to the table by the fireplace. I though the night on the town would be a chore, but I was having fun.
Jessica grinned up at me and gestured to a young woman who’d joined us at our table. “Stormy, this is Harper. Have you two met?”
I looked at the pretty blonde carefully. We hadn’t been introduced, and I didn’t know her name, but I did know her face. I’d gotten a good look at Harper the day before, when she’d fixed her makeup in front of the one-way mirror at Ruby’s.
The fantasy that had been running in my head, about getting even more of Logan’s attention, completely vanished.
When I’d seen Harper checking her makeup in Ruby’s secret mirror, she’d been standing next to Mr. Jenkins, the man who’d been arrested the night before at my neighbor’s house. The murderer. This blonde was friends with the murderer, and now she was sitting at
my
table with
my
friend.
Harper smiled up
at me and reached out to shake my hand. “Nice to meet you,” she said cheerfully. “Gorgeous day today, wasn’t it?”
I shook her hand, which was icy cool, and slowly pulled out a chair to take a seat. Harper seemed awfully cheerful for someone whose friend—
or lover
—was in police custody.
“Do you know who I am?” I asked her.
“You’re Jessica's friend,” she said, still smiling sweetly.
“My name is Stormy Day. I’m Finnegan Day’s daughter.”
Her nostrils flared for an instant, but her expression remained cheerful.
“I don’t know many of the locals,” she said. “Is your father a local celebrity?”
“He’s a police officer.” I studied her face for more signs of a reaction, but she kept up the cheerfulness, making me doubt what I thought I saw the day before.
Jessica said to her, “Don’t worry. Stormy’s not a stick-in-the-mud just because her dad’s a cop. In fact, she’s the one you want to get in trouble with, because she can talk her way out of anything.”
Harper flicked watchful eyes back and forth between us. “Is that so? What kind of trouble?”
I gave Jessica a shut-up-if-you-want-to-keep-getting-free-drinks look. She took the hint and mimed zipping her lips shut.
Harper turned to me said, “That must have been intimidating for all the guys you dated, I imagine. Probably made the really bad ones steer clear, though. Lucky you. Jessica said you two were friends back in high school, right? What was it like to grow up in a small town like this?”
“Really fun,” Jessica interjected. “Why this silly girl here ever left town is a mystery to me, but at least she’s back now.” She reached over and squeezed my forearm. “I’m never letting her leave again. If she so much as talks about leaving Misty Falls for a day trip, I’ll handcuff myself to her if I need to!”
Right then, our snowy-haired waitress appeared with the two ciders I ordered, plus a third one for the newcomer. “I took a wild guess,” she said.
We accepted all three of the drinks and thanked her. I glanced over to the bar and saw that Logan was watching sports on the overhead TV, and had switched to bottled water.
The girls started chatting away. Jessica told the new girl about the pranks we used to play during our senior year in high school. I nodded along with the conversation, denying nothing, and sipped my hot cider while my mind raced with suspicious thoughts.
This Harper girl seemed jumpy. Whenever someone walked in the door of the pub, she didn’t just glance up casually to see who it was, like the other people in the pub did. She would stop talking and freeze, like a prey animal looking out for the big, bad wolf.
Was she watching the door for the cops, or for someone else? What was her story?
“Where did you say you were from?” I asked.
“Here and there. Nowhere interesting.” She leaned in and settled her chin on her palm, pretending to be at ease, but leaning to one side if I moved my head enough to block her view of the entrance.
“And what brought you here? Work? What kind of background do you have?”
Jessica reached across the table and flicked my arm. “What’s next, Stormy? Asking the poor girl what her five-year plan is? Gosh. Lighten up. This isn’t a job interview.” Jessica explained to Harper, “Stormy owns that cute little gift shop downtown. She just got one employee trained up and she’s looking for someone else to work part-time so she has more time to…”
Jessica trailed off and turned to look at me, frowning. “Stormy, what exactly will you do on your days off? Besides hang out with me more, of course. Do you have any hobbies?”
I crossed my arms, unhappy with the way the conversation had turned.
“Fine,” I admitted. “I’m a recovering workaholic. To be perfectly honest, I don’t know what I’ll do. Maybe I’ll take some arts and crafts classes at the community center. Or try yoga. Or… maybe meditation.”
Jessica started laughing and leaned forward, dropping her wavy red hair around her face like a modesty curtain. She kept laughing until she was wiping the corners of her eyes.
Finally, she looked up at me and said, “I might be down to the last twenty dollars in my bank account, but I’d gladly pay the drop-in fee for both of us, just to see you in a meditation class. Stormy Day, I bet you couldn’t sit still doing absolutely nothing for a whole five minutes, let alone an hour.”
“I could if I wanted to.”
“Do you want to?”
I frowned at my cider. “Not really,” I admitted.
They both laughed, then Jessica and Harper began talking about various exercise classes they’d tried.
I was starting to warm up to Harper, and wondered if my suspicion of her was just part of some reluctance to make new friends. Making friends was hard. You had to put yourself out there, and Harper was so young, and pretty.
She did keep watching the door, though, so I stayed curious.
During a lull in the conversation, I reached into my purse and pulled out the green masquerade mask I’d purchased the day before at the costume shop.
“Look at this crazy thing,” I said. “When will I ever get a chance to wear it?”
“New Year’s Eve,” Jessica said. “You’ll be my date, of course. They throw a great party here at the Fox and Hound. We should buy our tickets now, the three of us, before it’s sold out.”
“I’ll think about it.” I turned to keep my eyes on the new girl, Harper. “How about you? Any plans for the holidays?”
She shrugged.
I held up the mask to my eyes and said, “Have you been to the costume rental shop lately? They have a lovely selection of these masks.”
She scrunched her forehead. “The costume shop?”
“Have you been in there?” I asked.
“I don’t think so, but it sounds familiar. Do you mean the one that’s owned by that man who was just arrested?” She tilted her head and looked at me steadily, like she was trying to convince me she had nothing to hide.
“That’s the one,” I said. “Do you know the owner? Mr. Jenkins? He’s a tall fellow.”
“Is that his name? I heard from someone that he was arrested in connection to a murder.”
“What else did you hear?” I leaned in, curious.
She shrugged, but maintained rock-steady eye contact with me. “I just heard that some poor old man here in town was stabbed to death and buried in a snowbank.”
I pulled my costume mask down slowly.
Oh, she was good.
I had almost believed her, almost believed that she didn’t know anything about the murder, but she went too far. Everyone in town knew by now that Mr. Michaels had been found inside a snowman, and that was the sort of macabre detail even the most scatterbrained person wouldn’t forget.
Jessica leaned in across the table and said in a hushed tone, “Actually, he was strangled, and buried inside a snowman.”
“How dreadful,” Harper said, her pale blue eyes wide and innocent. “Do you get a lot of murders here in Misty Falls? Maybe this isn’t such a good place for me to settle down.” She leaned back and rubbed her stomach.
“You’re pregnant!” Jessica gushed. “No wonder you haven’t touched your cider.”
“I’m just not a fan of mulled drinks,” the girl said as she pushed the glass mug across the table. “Being pregnant is not part of my plan. Not that I’d be against having a baby, if I could find the right man who could provide. A good man will look after his kid, if given the chance.” Her mood suddenly changed to sadness. She blinked repeatedly and rubbed the corner of her eye with her knuckle.
I kept a skeptical eye on her, refusing to be swayed by such an obviously fake display of emotions.
Jessica reached across the table and squeezed the girl’s hand. “Don’t you worry about a thing. You’ve got us now. We girls have to stick together. Right, Stormy?”
“Totally,” I said while nodding.
We’ll stick together right up until you’re hauled off to prison for whatever part you had to do with the murder of Mr. Michaels.
We smiled at each other, while I carried on the conversation inside my head.
I’m onto you, Harper, if that is your real name.
The next morning
after my night out with the girls, I woke up to more unwanted eyebrow licking.
“Jeffrey, you’re giving me a bad reputation around town. My new tenant was at the Fox and Hound last night, and he kept yelling ‘Hey, Cat Lady!’ whenever I walked by.”
I rolled onto my back, and Jeffrey settled on my chest, his chin hovering over my chin.
“Why are you in my room?” I asked him. “Don’t you want to sleep on Dad’s bed with Pam? She’s your real owner. Not me. I’m only here because I’m too chicken to return to my duplex and see the look on my tenant’s face when he figures out I’m his landlady.”
Jeffrey began to purr, a loud rumble that expressed his loyal devotion to me, the amazing person who had fed him twice as much canned food as he was supposed to get for each meal.
“You do love me,” I said.
His purr got even louder, as if to say that yes, he did. And also that it was time for breakfast. Now, please.
I got out of bed and went into the adjoining bathroom for a shower. Jeffrey sat on the counter and howled at me, deeply concerned that I was getting wet. I had to leave the shower curtain partly open so he could see that I was okay.
After the terrifying (according to Jeffrey) shower, I got dressed in some of the new casual clothes I’d picked up the day before: brown cords and an emerald green blouse.
Pam was back at the house, banging pans around in the kitchen. I stood in front of the mirror and I tried to style my hair with her in mind. Unfortunately, short of putting on a wig, there wasn’t any way I could make my pixie cut look longer than it was. I did comb the top forward so it didn’t stick up.
She was wrong to compare me to a woodchuck. Worn up and spiky, my hair looked more like that of a porcupine.
I found her in the kitchen, making enough french toast to feed four or five of us.
“Good morning,” I said to Pam, then leaned down and said the same to Jeffrey as I put some food out on his plate.
“You’re spoiling the cat,” she said.
“He’s still growing, Pam. I would hold back on the canned food if he was getting chubby, but he’s perfect. Lots of good muscle. Right, Jeffrey?”
She kept frying french toast at the stove, her back to me.
“I didn’t mean with the food,” she snapped. “I mean the way you talk to her.”
“Not
her
. Him.”
“Whatever. I heard you in the guest room, carrying on with
him
. If you talk to the cat like he’s a person, there’s not going to be any room in your life for a real man.” She sighed. “It’s bad enough you went and practically shaved your head.”
I turned to Jeffrey, who had gobbled his wet food and had moved on to the bowl of dry kibble Pam had set out for him.
