Heritage of Darkness (29 page)

“Oh, I know,” the first woman was saying. “I wish they hadn’t

changed the rules last year and let Gold Medalists compete for

Best of Show, too. They really should just let those old rosemalers fade away so new talent can be recognized.”

Chloe wanted to reach through the pine boughs and whack

Violet and her friend with a straw goat. “Old rosemalers” indeed!

Those early medal winners had struggled to learn an art when

there was little support and little instruction available, and helped fuel a new revival in the process. Women like Sigrid, and Mom—

Shit.
Mom
. Chloe dared a sideways glance. Mom stood rigid, gaze fixed on the carpet, cheeks bright red, mouth a tight hard

line. When Chloe reached toward her, Mom walked away.

After days of cold darkness both figurative and real, Chloe felt

a welcome flush of hot anger rising inside. “Pardon me,” she mur-

mured to an older couple, causing the gentleman such a start that

wine sloshed over the lip of the glass he held. Chloe made her way around the tree. Then she was upon them: Violet Sorensen and a

younger woman Chloe didn’t recognize.

244

Chloe stabbed a finger toward Violet’s nose. “You are entitled

to your opinions,” she hissed. “But don’t you
ever
diss my mother in a public place again.”

Violet’s eyes went wide. Her cheeks flamed. She held a glass of

something alcoholic, and it shook enough to rattle the ice cubes.

“Chloe, I—I—”

“And shame on you for insulting your own mother, too. You’re

at a party, for God’s sake!” Chloe glared from Violet to her friend.

“Shame on you both.”

“No, I—that is—I didn’t mean—”

“Save it, Violet,” Chloe snapped. “The damage is done.”



When Roelke got back to Emil’s farmhouse he found the old

carver just where he’d expected: sitting in his favorite chair with a carving knife in his hand. “You’re back earlier than I expected,”

Emil said. “Did you go to the party at Tom and Adelle’s place with your girlfriend?”

Roelke hung his coat on the old coat tree, hiding a wince. He

knew Chloe didn’t like the word “girlfriend” any more than she

liked “boyfriend.”

He also knew he’d disappointed Chloe by not attending the

Christmas party with her, but he hoped to make it up to her with

his Christmas gift … a gift he needed Emil’s help with. “I’m not big on parties. You didn’t go?” It had occurred to Roelke only after

turning down Chloe’s invite that Emil might not even be home.

245

“I’m not much on parties either. What do you think of this?”

Emil showed Roelke his latest project. “Howard’s daughter is get-

ting married. I’m making a set of wedding spoons.”

“Amazing,” Roelke said sincerely as he plunked down into an

overstuffed chair. “Actually, I stopped by Howard Hoff ’s place earlier and saw a practice board he did in one of your classes. I didn’t realize he was a carver.”

“Oh,
ja
,” Emil said. “He’s taken a lot of carving classes. My brother used to teach figure carving, and Howard took that class a couple of times.”

A lot of classes? Roelke thought. Figure carving classes? Inter-

esting. Very interesting.

“Did you finish the design for your project?” Emil asked.

His project. Right. Roelke handed Emil his small wooden plate

with a socket in the middle. “What do you think of this? I didn’t

want to start carving until you’d seen it.”

Emil studied the design Roelke had carefully penciled onto the

wood. “It would have been easier to pick something with straight

edges,” he observed.

Roelke wasn’t sure if that was a condemnation or a passing

observation. “I know,” he admitted. “But I figured I should chal-

lenge myself while I’m here.” Once at home in Palmyra, he would

not have access to expert advice.

Emil extended his arm, contemplating the plate. “You got a

good design here. A good balance of positive and negative space.”

Roelke blew out a breath he hadn’t known he was holding. “I

was inspired by that trunk you showed us in the storage area. But I don’t know if the design is too complex for a beginner.”

246

“That doesn’t matter if it’s what you want to do. Remember,

your design is nothing more than lines and triangles. You know

how to carve those.”

Lines and triangles, Roelke thought. He could manage that.

“You go ahead and start,” Emil told him.

Roelke began sharpening his knife. Emil returned to his carv-

ing. Only the occasional metallic
ping
of the iron stove heating up broke the silence. Finally Emil said, “Are the cops gonna find that Petra Lekstrom’s killer? Everybody is upset.”

“The local cops can’t tell me much,” Roelke allowed, “but I

think they’re making progress.”

“It’s terrible,” Emil muttered. “Very sad.”

Roelke wished he had more tangible proof of progress. “Chloe

and I are following a few leads too.”

Emil’s hands stilled. “Sometimes I think there is a darkness in

Decorah.”

Roelke shot a sideways glance at Emil. What the hell did that

mean? The carver was staring at the front window, head slightly

tipped as if listening to something beyond the frosted glass. The

veiled threat left on the note inside the message tube popped into Roelke’s head:
These are the days of Thor. Beware the power of darkness.

“Emil, do you know something about the murder?” he asked.

“Something you haven’t told anyone?”

“I’m not the one to ask.”

“Who
should
I ask?”

“Maybe you should talk to Edwina Ree. You know Edwina?”

247

Roelke switched mental gears, trying to keep up. “Um … no, I

haven’t met her. Chloe has, though. She interviewed Ms. Ree about

Christmas customs.

Emil got back to work. “That old lady, she knows a lot.”

“Do you think Edwina had something to do with Petra’s mur-

der?”

Emil gave him a
Don’t be ridiculous
look.

“Do you think she knows who did?” Roelke persisted, trying to

understand. “If so, you need to talk to the police. Or at least tell me.”

“All I’m saying is, that old lady, she knows more about what

happens in Decorah than anybody. If you’re stuck, you should talk

to her. Sometimes she knows things.”

Roelke tried to remember what Chloe had said about Edwina

Ree. She was quite elderly and evidently housebound by the latest

snowfall. And … she’d said something ominous about darkness.

Roelke didn’t realized he’d spoken the last word aloud until

Emil nodded and said, “
Ja
, darkness. Especially at this time of year.”

Right. According to Ms. Ree, this season of ice and darkness

had long been feared. Although no way did Roelke believe that

some band of howling demons had killed Petra Lekstrom.

So … who
did
kill her? His hand clenched on his knife.

“Hey, what you doing?” Emil barked. “You be careful with that.

You got to honor the wood, not hack at it.”

Roelke forced his fingers to relax. “Sorry. I’m just frustrated.”

Emil looked Roelke in the eye. “You’ll find your answers. You

go at it cut by cut, piece by piece. Right now, though, you got to 248

decide if you want to think about that Petra Lekstrom or carve.

You can’t do both.”

“I want to carve,” Roelke said. He needed a break.

The two men worked in a companionable silence broken only

by the occasional gust of wind pushing against the house. When

the first section of his design emerged from the wood, Roelke felt a flush of pleasure unlike any he could remember.

At 9:30 Emil put his knife away. “I’m turning in. You close the

damper and switch the lights off when you come up, OK?”

“Right,” Roelke said. “Good night.” He stared at his plate as

Emil’s footsteps faded up the stairs. I really should just leave police work to the local guys, he thought. Forget about investigating a

murder. Concentrate just on carving while here in Decorah.

Except that the piece he was carving was intended for Chloe,

and thinking of her reminded him that someone had set a fire in

her classroom and locked her inside, and thinking of
that
made it hard to breath. His knee began to jiggle up and down. He probably

should have gone to the party. Chloe wasn’t the most practical

person in the world. Her safety—and the safety of anyone else in

Marit’s circle of pals—was more important than anything else.

Roelke’s hand clenched on the knife again. He hadn’t known

Petra Lekstrom, and a whole bunch of experienced Iowa cops were

investigating her death. But someone had almost harmed Chloe.

Maybe someone was trying to harm Marit and her friends, too.

He set his jaw and sent a silent message through the winter

night: I’m coming after you.



249

After telling off Violet for speaking about Gold Medalist with such contempt, Chloe turned her back and marched away. As well as

anyone could march through a crowded living room, anyway.

Needing a quiet moment or two, she headed toward the bedroom

where guests had piled their coats.

“Chloe! Chloe, dear!” Sigrid was beckoning from across the

room.

Lovely, Chloe thought. Just who she did
not
want to see while Violet’s nastiness echoed in her ears.

Sigrid had been chatting with a petite woman with Asian fea-

tures. “Chloe, this is Peggy Nelson.” Sigrid beamed. “Peggy, this is Marit’s daughter.”

Chloe liked to think of herself as beyond stereotypical expecta-

tions, but she found herself stammering as helplessly as Violet had two minutes earlier. “You—you’re—that is, I’m glad to, um, meet

you.”

“You look surprised.” Peggy smiled with the kind delight of a

repeated joke. “My full name is Peggy Villanueva Nelson. I met my

husband, a good Iowa boy, in the Philippines during World War

II.”

Chloe scraped up a bit of composure. “It’s a pleasure to meet

you. I know my mom has really been looking forward to spending

time with some of her dear friends. I hope you’ve been well. Mom

would be terribly upset to hear any more bad news.”

“Quite well, thank you—oh, please excuse me.” Peggy pressed

Chloe’s hand lightly before joining another group of friends.

Sigrid had cocked her head to study Chloe. “Are you alright?

You look … I don’t know … flustered.”

250

“Just tired,” Chloe said. “I’m going to head back.” The hell with

her promise not to walk home alone.

“It’s been a busy week,” Sigrid agreed sympathetically. “Just be

sure to say good-bye to Adelle before you leave.”

Adelle still presided over the evening from her easy chair. Tom

perched nearby, dividing his attention between friends and his

wife. Adelle’s face was drawn but her eyes lit with pleasure when

Chloe sat down beside her. “It’s been a lovely evening,” Chloe said.

“Hasn’t it?” Adelle patted Chloe’s hand.

One more awkward question to ask. “Adelle, someone left a lit-

tle carved goat on Sigrid’s front porch this morning. I wondered

if …?”

“No, honey.” Adelle shook her head. “That carved goat

didn’t … come from me.” She paused to catch her breath. “But I
do
have something for you … Tom, do you remember which one I

want?”

“Of course.” Tom poked through a tin basin brimming with

heart-shaped baskets woven from red and white felt. Each was

larger than the usual baskets made to hold bits of candy. He pulled one free and handed it to Chloe.

The soft nest held something hard and lumpy. Chloe peeked

inside and caught her breath. “Oh, Adelle!” She lifted free one of Adelle’s carved Christmas
nisser
. The elf was on sitting cross-legged, holding a bowl of milk for a kitten. Both the
nisse
and the kitten seemed ready to blink their eyes and come alive.

“Do you … like it?” Adelle asked.

“I adore it!” Chloe exclaimed. “This cat looks just like my sweet

little Olympia.”

Tom gave his wife a
You done good
smile.

251

“And the wood itself is gorgeous. Is it maple?” Chloe held the

carving high, admiring it from all angles. Adelle had chosen a pale wood with red, black, and brown lines wandering through the

grain. “I was just telling someone the other day that maples are

among my favorite trees.”

“Mine too,” Adelle said.

Chloe felt tears threaten. She gave Adelle and Tom each a kiss

on the cheek, thanked them humbly for their kindness, and

slipped away before she lost her composure altogether.

She made her way to the spare room and excavated her parka

from the mound of outerwear on the bed. Then she took a

moment to admire her gift again. Adelle truly was an amazing

carver … beginning with her choice of material. The dark-and-

light variations in the wood suggested marble.

But that’s more than just the grain, Chloe thought, holding her

carving closer to a lamp. That’s …

Her shoulders sagged when she realized what she was seeing.

Oh,
God
. She sank onto the bed, staring at the
nisse
and kitten, feeling sick. Then she scanned the room. Half a dozen more of

Adelle’s carvings were on display, each carved from a gorgeous

piece of wood.

Why didn’t I notice that when I was here before? Chloe berated