Miz Scarlet and the Holiday Houseguests (A Scarlet Wilson Mystery #3) (4 page)

“Of course it is! I’ve got a
nineteen-year-old murder victim found in the woods little more than
a week before Christmas, no suspects, and half my team is off on
vacation. We’re short-handed here and if we don’t get a break in
the first forty eight hours, it’s possible the killer will get away
with his crime. The only thing that brings the families any
comfort, especially at this time of year, is if we know who the
killer is, and in this case, I’ve got nothing to go on, nothing at
all. Sometimes I hate this job!”

I couldn’t really blame her. It must be
frustrating for the homicide investigator to work with dead people
all the time, to never rush in just in the nick of time and save a
life. Maybe that’s why we bonded as friends. Larry had saved the
Wilson family more than once and we were truly grateful to
her.

“If it’s any consolation, I’d much
rather have someone like you tell me the bad news. At least I’d be
sure you care about catching the killer.”

“Sometimes I think I care too much, Miz
Scarlet,” she admitted, slowly exhaling. The anger seemed to leave
her voice, only to be replaced by sorrow “There’s nothing I can do
to make a killer confess when he’s feeling cocky, especially if
he’s an experience liar. It’s never really like those TV shows,
where the bad guy suddenly has an attack of conscience. People kill
because they believe they can get away with it. If I’m lucky, this
killer is sloppy and he left me some clues that will lead to
evidence I can hand over to the prosecutor.”

“It sounds like you’re expecting this
case to be impossible to solve.” It was true. Larry seemed to be
held down by a bad case of dread; foot-dragging dread, the kind
that makes you do what you have to do with great trepidation and a
sense of futility for the outcome. “What’s different about this
case?”

“I can’t put my finger on it, Scarlet.
I wish I could. I smell trouble coming this way and I keep feeling
like I should run as fast as I can in the opposite
direction.”

“Is that instinct talking or just the
impending visit from the folks?”

“I don’t know. Maybe it’s a bit of
both. I just feel like I just don’t have my eye on the ball in the
batting cage and that automatic ball machine is going to send one
out that smacks me in the temple.”

“That can be painful.”

“Tell me about it. What if I miss a
critical clue? What if I don’t recognize evidence as being
evidence? It’s more than just letting the bad guy get away. He
could kill again.”

Chapter Four --

“
You sound so stressed,” I
told my friend. “You need a break.”

“Did I or did I not just tell you that
half my people are out on vacation?” She sounded exasperated.
“That’s why I’m working overtime.”

“Bur wants your whole family to join us
for Christmas dinner, Larry. I think that’s a good idea. We’ll take
care of all the arrangements, so you don’t have to worry about
anything. You just show up.”

“Damn, I wish you hadn’t offered. I was
going to call my mother and tell her I couldn’t get to Atlanta
because of this case. If you’ve got a room for her, she might just
change her mind and come up here.”

“Edna and Big Larry won’t even have to
socialize, except at the dinner table. I’ll make sure they have
dining companions who can deflect the barbs, should the need
arise.”

“That’s a given, Scarlet.” There was a
long pause, and I knew Larry was mulling it over. “I swear I’m
going to pull my hair out if she starts complaining that Big Larry
is getting the better deal.”

“Tell you what. You let us
worry about making your parents happy. Make me a list of things
your mom and dad like to do for fun. The Googins girls, Bur, and I
will figure out ways to keep them occupied. Edna will be too busy
to be on
your
case
while you’re working your case.”

“Oh, I don’t know. If I take you up on
this offer, I’ll owe you for the rest of my life, Miz Scarlet. I
won’t be able to twist you around my little finger ever again, at
least not until you find yourself mixed up in another big, fat
mess.”

“It’s probably not a good idea to
encourage me,” I pointed out light-heartedly, “given my penchant
for finding trouble. Wouldn’t it be nice, though, to forget about
having to deal with all these family issues?”

“Yes. The only thing that would make
this holiday miracle complete would be a room for Mickey at the
Four Acorns.”

“Is that what you want Santa to give
you this year?” I asked. “She’s more than welcome to stay here with
her grandparents.”

“Hey, I’m not going to push my luck,
Miz Scarlet. Mickey’s got a perfectly good bedroom at home. Let me
call my mother and tell her the good news. And thanks. You have no
idea what a relief it is not to have to worry about them. I really
need to concentrate on this murder.”

“Just remember we’ll expect you for
dinner on Christmas. You’ve got to come up for air
sometime.”

“You might want to have an oxygen tank
standing by for me. I’m having trouble breathing as it is. Later,”
she groaned, hanging up.

With an empathetic sigh, I tucked my
phone back into my pocket and rejoined the Googins girls in the
dining room.

“Well, what did she say?” my mother
wanted to know. “Is Edna going to stay with us?”

“Are they all joining us for Christmas
dinner?” Lacey quizzed me.

“Mmm....”

“Mmm, what?” my mother wondered. “Is
something wrong?”

“In all the time I’ve known Larry, I’ve
never heard her sound so bummed out. She’s absolutely miserable and
I don’t think it’s just the impending visit from her folks.” I
poured myself some decaf as I slumped down in my seat. “She’s
really rattled.”

“Well, time has a way of sorting things
out or bringing them to a head. No doubt we’ll see soon enough,”
Laurel suggested, fiddling with the power knob to her motorized
chair. “How long does it take to drape lights on a tree? That son
of mine is taking forever.”

“Maybe there were a lot of bulbs out,”
I suggested. “They might have had to replace some of them. You know
what a fanatic Bur is about his Christmas lights.”

“It’s nearly seven-thirty. Maybe we
should just go ahead into the living room.”

“I’ll find out what the delay is,
Mom.”

“Would you?”

A quick twenty steps down the hall and
I was at the closed door. I rapped twice, lightly, and called out.
“How much longer?”

A noise made its way through the door.
Was that Bur’s voice I heard? I didn’t really understand the
muffled reply, so I turned the knob and pushed the door open, just
far enough to poke my head in.

The tree was lit with
hundreds of tiny, twinkling white lights interspersed with larger
colored bulbs. There was a blazing fire in the fireplace, and
Huckleberry and January were curled up in front of it, napping. It
looked like a charming Christmas card scene.
Hounds at the holiday.

“Well done,” I started to say, stepping
into the room to admire their efforts. That’s when I heard a soft
sob. My gaze was drawn to the figures on the sofa. Bur had his arm
around the teenager in fatherly fashion, while she clutched her
King Charles Cavalier spaniel in her arms. “Oh....”

With his comforting arm still in place,
my brother turned in my direction. A subtle shake of his head
warned me away. Carefully closing the door behind as I left, I made
my way back to the dining room.

“Jenny’s having a good cry,” I told the
elderly ladies.

“Poor dear,” said Lacey. “She’s still
so young to be without a mother.”

“I remember the first Christmas after
your father died,” said Laurel, looking at me, her eyes misting at
the memory. “You kids were so good to me, even though you were all
missing him, too.”

“It was hard,” I admitted. “Dad was the
one who always put up the tree. We were lost without
him.”

This would be Jenny’s first Christmas
without her mother. She had nursed her through the final grueling
months, until at last Vivian succumbed to the beast called cancer.
Cut adrift by a cruel twist of fate, the devoted daughter had begun
the process of rebuilding her life, trying hard to find her way in
the adult world. That’s why I brought her home to the Four Acorns
Inn. How raw were the heartbreaking memories? Holidays have a way
of reminding us of people we loved and lost. There wasn’t much we
could do for her, except be there for her during those dark, lonely
hours. Only time would help Jenny come to terms with losing her
mother.

Despite eyes that were still
red-rimmed, the teenager put on a brave face for us as she appeared
in the doorway of the dining room to invite the Googins girls and
me to accompany her back to the living room. I noticed my mother
reached out her left hand, entwining her fingers with Jenny’s
briefly in a gesture of solidarity, never saying a word. The
teenager suddenly seemed to brighten up a bit.

“Wait till you see how many lights we
put on the tree. Bur says it’s a record,” she told us.

“I can’t wait!” Lacey took Jenny’s arm
in hers. “Let’s go.”

We made our way down the hallway, the
four of us. As my mother and I followed, I caught her wiping away a
tear. Even now, she still missed my father. Maybe it was good the
Rivera family was going to be with us for Christmas.

“Ladies, are you prepared to be
dazzled?” My brother stood guard at the closed door, waiting until
we were all assembled.

“We are,” Laurel laughed, “and then
some!”

“Bring on the bling!” her cousin
commanded eagerly. Bur swung the door open for the reveal and Lacey
walked in. “Wowie zowie, it’s magnificent!”

“Oh, how lovely!” Laurel gushed,
rolling over the threshold. “You two did a marvelous
job.”

“Wait till you see what we do with the
ornaments,” Jenny’s volunteer helper announced.

It was even more beautiful now that I
was standing directly in front of it. Bur had used large,
retro-style colored bulbs, carefully distributing them across the
branches evenly. He added tiny white fairy lights on top of that. I
watched them twinkle here and there, adding a layer of sparkle that
made the tree appear almost magical. But the icing on the cake was
the set of old-fashioned bubble lights that took me back to the
days when my grandparents were still alive.

“Ornament time,” the sequined sweater
lady announced. Working side by side, Lacey, Jenny, and I got busy.
Each of us took a box of shiny metallic balls and made our way
around the tree, tucking them into the boughs. When it was covered,
we got out the balls with the glittery designs and fancy cut-outs.
After that, we moved onto the one-of-kind ornaments. At last it was
time for the glass icicles.

Over the years, as we phased out the
plastic tinsel on our tree, we had added to the family collection,
and now we had several different kinds. Some were twisted strands
of glass; some were “natural style” and appeared to melting ice.
There were long ones and short ones, fat ones and thin ones. Some
were made of recycled glass; some were leaded crystal. We even had
some colored ones. We carefully set each and every one on the ends
of the branches. Taking a step back, I admired the view as the tree
seemed to shimmer and shine. Lacey put her arms around Jenny and
me.

“Beautiful. And now we need our tree
topper, and Bur to put it on the highest branch.”

“Let me get it out,” I said, reaching
into the plastic bin for our family favorite, the skiing Santa that
had graced just about every Wilson family tree for the last thirty
years. Beat up, head askew, he looked like he’d hit one too many
trees on the way down the ski slope.

“Wait just a moment, Scarlet.” My
mother held out her hand to Bur. He dropped to his knees, reached
under the sofa, and a moment later, he offered up a white box. Her
fingers carefully undid the cardboard flap, and as she reached
inside, we all stood there, riveted. This was an unexpected
surprise. I wasn’t the only one who thought so.

“What do you have there?” Lacey finally
asked, her curiosity getting the better of her.

“Something special for this year’s
tree, a Christmas angel,” was my mother’s reply. She held it up for
us to see.

The tiny rustic figure had a porcelain
head and hands. The cascading hair on top was painted dark brown.
The mouth on the sweet little face was curved in a tender smile.
But it was the cotton denim dress that caught my attention. I
recognized it.

“Isn’t that your old shirt?” I turned
to Jenny. “I thought you tore it when you took that tumble at Black
Ledge River.”

“I did,” admitted the teenager, staring
at the Christmas decoration. Jenny’s gaze turned to the elderly
woman in the wheelchair. “It was my mother’s favorite shirt. But it
disappeared from my laundry basket. Did you....”

“
I did, dear. I hope you’ll
forgive me. I used the damaged sleeves to make the angel’s dress.”
My mother held out the tree topper to the stunned
recipient.