Wednesday, December 23: the day after the murder
7 a.m.
I lay awake in bed and watched the sun come up the next morning. I’d barely slept the whole night. When I did close my eyes all I could see was Virgil in the snow. Or that stupid gnome leering at me with its broken hat. The one time I did fall asleep, I had a nightmare that there was a Christmas gnome in my bedroom and it was coming to get me. Like something out of a Stephen King novel.
Grandpa and I had stayed up pretty late talking after Ethan and I had gotten home. I could tell he was itching to be part of the investigation, but of course he couldn’t be. Officially, anyway. But more than that, he was concerned about me and advised me to stay out of the area. I appreciated his concern, but it wasn’t an option. I was still the feeder in charge. And of course this happened to be a morning Adele couldn’t do, because she was working one of her other jobs, so I was back on duty even though Sea Spray Lane was pretty much the last place I ever wanted to go again.
I dragged myself out of bed and threw on a sweatshirt and some fleecy leggings. JJ got up with me, hoping for an early breakfast. I was happy to oblige if it meant stalling for a bit before I had to leave. I thought of texting Jonathan, but he was already doing tonight’s run. And I wasn’t one to push my responsibilities onto other people, so I abandoned the idea as soon as it arrived. Instead, I set about making coffee because Ethan wasn’t up yet. Or else he’d gone out for a run to shake off last night’s fiasco.
I put JJ’s food out and was standing at the counter watching the coffee drip into the pot when Grandpa came into the kitchen. “Doll! What are you doing up?” he asked.
I glanced at the clock. “I’m usually up by now. Besides, I have to go feed the cats.”
He frowned, his bushy white eyebrows knotting together. “Okay. I’ll go with you.”
I looked at him gratefully. “You will?”
“Course I will. I know you’re just as stubborn as me and will go anyway, so I may as well come to keep an eye on you.”
That made me feel much better. It would also give me a chance to talk to Grandpa about what happened. I poured us both some coffee into travel mugs and we bundled up, then headed out. I had a feeling Grandpa not only wanted to be supportive of me, but also to get his eyes on the crime scene. Both were fine with me.
I was even more than willing to let Grandpa drive. I sipped my coffee and stared out the window. Finally, he broke the silence.
“So what do you think happened to Virgil Proust?”
I took another sip and kept my gaze out the window. “Someone killed him.”
“And your gut says…”
“I don’t know,” I said. “Do I want it to be a random, horrible crime? No. But that means someone he knew killed him, and you can’t really ignore the timing with everything going on out here.”
Grandpa acknowledged my assessment with a nod as he turned onto Sea Spray Lane. But he didn’t have a chance to respond. The dread had already been mounting in my chest as we got closer but my heart sank even further when it registered that there was a cop car in front of the Barneses’ place. I had a moment of sheer panic that someone else was dead until I got a little closer and saw Edie standing outside, her arms wrapped around herself as she talked to the cop. Her husband, Trey, stood next to her looking concerned, hands shoved deep into the pockets of his North Face parka.
The rush of relief was overwhelming. I didn’t much like them, but I was really glad they weren’t dead. “What now?” I muttered.
Grandpa slowed down and I knew he was totally going to stop to see what was going on. I thought about encouraging him to drive past and try to stay out of it, although odds of that working out were about zero to none. It was more likely that he would take on the role of Chief Mancini—stop the car, be polite, and see what was going on and if we could help. Edie might throw a snowball at me anyway, but at least I could say we tried.
Grandpa pulled the truck over and rolled down the window. I took the lead, leaning past him to call out. “Hi there. Everything okay, Edie?”
Three heads swiveled around to look at us. The cop looked curious. Thankfully it wasn’t McDonald from last night, or the one who had almost arrested Avery. Trey looked confused. Edie looked angry. Her eyes narrowed to slits when she looked past Grandpa and recognized me.
“I should say not,” she said, her voice shrill with tension. “Ever since your friends came to town, they’ve brought nothing but trouble to all of us. Murders and burglaries! And now we’ve had a theft too! A family heirloom has been stolen!”
“Now hold on just a minute, ma’am,” Grandpa said, shoving the truck into PARK. I recognized his uber-polite tone as the one he used right before he lost his temper.
I placed a hand on his arm and squeezed, a silent request to let me speak. “I’m sorry to hear you’ve had something stolen, Edie, but I can assure you it has nothing to do with me or my friends,” I said coolly. “Besides, since most people have been chased away by the very warm welcome they’ve received from some of the neighbors here, I’m pretty much the only one at this point. So I hope you’re not suggesting I stole anything.” I stared her down. I could see Grandpa Leo smiling in my peripheral vision.
That shut her up. She actually stammered a bit when she responded. “Of course not. I just—we are devastated about our antique Christmas sleigh being stolen, that’s all. It belonged to my father.” She wiped a nonexistent tear away to heighten the drama. “And we’ve never, ever had such problems around here before. I mean, the Wilkies’ light-up reindeers were stolen the other day too!” She gestured to the house across the street. “And it’s completely ruining Christmas.”
No mention of Virgil and how his death might put a bit more of a damper on the mood. Odd, given her relationship with the Prousts. I resisted the urge to tell her to revisit How the Grinch Stole Christmas for a reminder about the meaning of the season. “I’m sorry to hear that, Edie. I hope you find your sleigh soon.”
I could tell she was trying to decide if I was being sincere. Finally she gave up on me and turned to Grandpa. “You look familiar. Do I know you?”
“Leo Mancini. Former police chief of Daybreak Harbor,” he said, sticking his hand out the window to shake hers.
Edie gaped at him, the recognition dawning. So did the cop, who had been watching this exchange with a smirk. He immediately stood at attention, looking like he was about to salute Grandpa.
“Sir. It’s an honor to meet you,” he said. “I’ve heard a lot about you. Officer Kevin Handy.”
“As you were, Officer Handy,” Grandpa said with an amused smile. “This is my granddaughter, Maddie. She’s helping out with the neighborhood cat colony.”
Handy frowned. “The what?”
Oh, come on, I wanted to say. Another one playing dumb. There was no way the entire force of what, five people, hadn’t been briefed on this, likely multiple times. “The feral cat colony. Don’t tell me you haven’t heard of it. It’s been the biggest news in this town since probably before I was born. Unless you count the multi-colored Christmas-lights scandal.” I couldn’t help myself. Sarcasm was, after all, a big part of my nature.
Edie huffed out an indignant breath but said nothing.
“White lights are classier,” Trey said matter-of-factly, clearly missing his wife’s cue to stay quiet. They were the first words I’d heard him utter.
I arched my eyebrows at him. He had the grace to look down at his boots and scuff his feet into the snow.
Handy, meanwhile, was still mulling over my comment. I feared he wasn’t that bright. “Christmas-lights scandal?” he asked. “When was that?”
Grandpa took pity on him and jumped in. “How long have you been with the force, Officer?”
“Almost two years, sir.”
Grandpa nodded. “I hear you boys just caught a big case.”
“’Fraid so, sir.”
“Well, always happy to help in an unofficial capacity,” Grandpa said.
Edie looked like she was about to stomp her foot to bring the attention back to herself. “Maybe you can help them figure out how to investigate the burglaries,” she said to Grandpa. “Because it’s been going on for weeks and nothing’s happened!”
Grandpa cocked his head. “Well, on my force murders trumped anything, but you’re saying houses have been broken into as well?”
“Not that we know of,” Trey said. “Just stuff outside.”
“Ah. Then it’s a simple theft,” Grandpa said. “Burglaries are, by definition, about entering a building.”
Edie didn’t look particularly grateful for the clarification.
Grandpa, clearly enjoying himself, glanced at me. “What do you think, doll? Should we get feeding?”
I nodded. “Yes, we should go.”
“Do you, uh, need any help, sir?” Officer Handy asked.
I thought about making Officer Handy escort us into the woods. Maybe carrying the food. But I knew Grandpa wouldn’t let me.
“No, thank you,” Grandpa said. “Except maybe to make sure your force is treating my granddaughter and her friends with respect when they come out here. They’re doing a community service helping these cats, and they’ve been given nothing but a hard time.”
Officer Handy’s face turned red. “I’m sorry about that, sir. And, ma’am,” he added, peering in at me.
But Grandpa was on a roll. “I understand someone also vandalized one of the shelters that a bunch of school kids built for the cat food,” he said, with a glance at Edie and Trey. “No one reported it because, well, frankly they thought it wouldn’t be treated seriously. But I think any kind of theft or vandalism is serious, don’t you agree, Officer?”
Out of the corner of my eye, I watched Trey’s face redden as he stared studiously at the ground.
Handy nodded so vigorously I feared his hat would fly off. “Absolutely, sir. Would you like me to take a report on that now?” He fumbled for his pen and notebook, dropping both before he got himself together.
I could see Edie getting madder by the minute.
“No, Officer, we’ll let it go this time,” Grandpa said. “But like I said. I’d really like a promise from you that your force will be looking out for everyone in this neighborhood, even the visitors.”
“Of course, sir. You have my word.”
“Thank you, Officer,” Grandpa said. “I’ll be sure to put in a good word with Chief Dunn.” Chief Dunn was Turtle Point’s chief—Handy’s boss.
“Thank you, sir.”
I bit the inside of my cheek to keep from laughing, then turned to Edie and Trey with my best solemn look. “I’m very sorry for your loss,” I said gravely. “I hope it’s just a kid playing a prank and you get your property back soon.”
Grandpa lifted his hand in a wave and we drove slowly down past the Prousts’ house, where all that was left of last night’s events was some yellow crime-scene tape strung across the lawn. I could feel the little group’s eyes on us as we parked in front of the Hacketts’ and unloaded our supplies. It wasn’t until we were in the woods out of earshot that I turned to Grandpa with a big grin.
“I should’ve brought you out here from the start,” I said. “That was awesome.”
He waved me off. “Poor kid. He has no clue. But I was being serious. I am going to call Dunn. There was a murder out here, and I want that police force watching over all of you volunteers as much as they are their constituency.”
“Thanks, Grandpa.” As we got to work, my thoughts drifted back to Edie and Trey. Who would come back overnight after all that chaos and steal a giant Christmas sleigh? I’d seen Edie and Trey’s sleigh. It was huge. I’m sure it was easy enough to pull away, but it seemed like a bold move right after a man was murdered. Whoever had done it had to be pretty set on their objective.
But what was the objective?
And why had Trey looked so guilty when Grandpa mentioned the vandalized cat shelter? I thought about Adele’s assessment of him the other day. He was certainly strong enough. But what would he have to gain from it?