| |
Sunday began with my personal alarm in the form of Miriam tapping my face, her not-so-subtle signal that I was in danger of sleeping past her breakfast hour. I looked forward to getting to church and hearing what Pastor Steve had to say, so I skipped breakfast, took a quick shower, and filled a to-go cup with coffee that I sipped on the drive.
The pastor continued with his sermon series on preparing our hearts for the holidays, and as luck would have it, I was sitting in the choir loft with my fellow soprano, Shareta, when he spoke on forgiveness.
“You know, friends, we don’t forgive others just because they deserve it. We forgive others because of how much Jesus has already forgiven us.”
I could practically feel Shareta’s eyes on me, so I reached over and patted her hand. No better place than church to say, “We’re good, my friend.” And the grateful expression on her face was worth it.
After church, I declined Michele’s offer to join her family for lunch at a local buffet. I’d eaten so much the past week that I planned to get a power walk in at the park. But first, I had some jewelry to finish in preparation for the week ahead.
Once I got home from church, I checked on Miriam, had a grilled cheese sandwich to silence my by-then-growling stomach, and set out my jewelry-making supplies. I tried not to work on Sundays, but so close to Christmas, Sunday seemed to be one of the few days of the week when I could avoid interruptions. I was deep into experimenting with an elaborate new Christmas design when my phone rang.
I’m not answering you.
I wired another bead.
Who am I kidding? I had to know who it was.
I picked up the phone, clicked on my voicemails, and listened to a message from Caitlyn. “Hey, Emma. It’s Caitlyn here. Listen, I’m at the office, and I know it’s Sunday afternoon, but I’d be grateful if you could bring that glass up here and help me fix Miranda’s diploma. Her parents are stopping by after a while to claim her things, and if I could have that, it would really help a lot. Okay? Let me know if you can come by.”
Good grief. That sure wasn’t on my list of things to do that afternoon. I debated ignoring the call and kept working. Then a hedge trimmer next door cranked up so loudly that I couldn’t focus on my jewelry anymore. Maybe it was a sign. Sighing, I reached for the phone and called Caitlyn back.
She picked up immediately. “Oh, good, you are there.”
“Yeah, just wanted to let you know that I’m bringing that glass up, and since it’s the weekend and the building isn’t usually open, I wanted to be sure you’re looking for me.”
While I drove downtown, I remembered that she wasn’t supposed to be at the office alone anyway. Maybe she wasn’t too concerned about being harmed. And it might be the perfect time to tell her about my concern for her safety. It wouldn’t hurt for her to be more cautious.
I knocked on the door but didn’t get an answer, so I knocked louder. “Caitlyn! Caitlyn, it’s me!”
A tall figure appeared from beneath the stairs and walked over to the door. When I saw a familiar paint-splattered denim jacket, I was surprised but glad I didn’t have to bang on the door any longer.
“Tyler, I’m glad to see you. Caitlyn just called and—”
Then I saw the knife in his hand, and a chill ran down my spine. “Um, you know, I left something in my car and—”
I spun around, but Tyler grabbed my sweater then jerked my purse from my hand and threw it to the floor.
“Shut up.” Tyler jabbed the weapon near my face. “I’m sick of you nosing around. Get up to Caitlyn’s office. Now.”
My heart beat so fast on the way upstairs that I feared I would have a heart attack before I got there. At the doorjamb, I heard Caitlyn sniffling inside. Thank you, Lord. At least Caitlyn’s okay.
“I want that folder.” Tyler pointed his knife at Caitlyn’s left-hand desk drawer. “I know it’s in there.”
“Wait a minute.” I looked between the two of them. “Aren’t you two a couple?”
“Ha!” Tyler scoffed. “No offense”—he nodded at Caitlyn—“but I dated her just long enough to get the information I needed before I head out of this two-bit town.”
Caitlyn looked shell-shocked. “I’ve already told you. I don’t have the registration forms anymore. Here, I’ll show you.”
She dove into the drawer, removed an armload of folders, and plopped them onto the desk, wilting as though the effort had exhausted her.
Offering a weak smile, she spoke to Tyler like he was a dim eight-year-old. “See, the labels are right here.”
I stared at the edge of Tyler’s jacket and its colorful splashes of dried paint. A small spot of something white and fuzzy caught my eye.
Caitlyn rambled on, “Spring Banquet. Summer Sidewalk Sales. Fall Festival. But no Christmas Bazaar folder. The police took that one and haven’t returned it.” She flapped an arm around inside the deep and now-empty desk drawer. “That’s it. Nothing else.”
Tyler turned his attention to me, and something in his eyes scared the living daylights out of me. “You know.” He stepped closer. “You figured it out, didn’t you?”
I didn’t until I got close enough to see that the “fuzz” was feathers from Miranda’s dress.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Tyler. Why don’t you have a seat, and let’s get to the bottom of this? We’ll take care of whatever’s bothering you.”
“No!” He held his knife against Caitlyn’s cheek.
She gasped while I determined not to look as scared as I felt.
“I need my application for next year’s bazaar, and I need it now.”
Tyler was right. I had indeed figured things out—if a little late. The tiny white feathers stuck to a dab of dried paint had been there the whole time, seen at who knew how many places around town, so that white “paint” on his jacket wasn’t paint at all. I stared at the spot in horrified fascination.
“What?”
I shook my head.
“You know, back before the Christmas bazaar, Miranda insisted my work wasn’t fit to be in the show. She was certainly entitled to her opinion.” Tyler’s eyes seemed to focus on something far away. “And did I hold a grudge? No, I didn’t.”
You’re sure holding one now, buddy.
“So I went to that rinky-dink show just to say hello to everyone and support the home team, you know?”
Since I needed to stall him, I summoned my courage. “That’s not true. You went there looking to show up Miranda.”
He glared at me. “And what makes you think that?”
“When you saw Savannah at the bazaar, you told her about getting excluded from the show.”
“How do you know that?”
“She told me. How else? And I’m betting you didn’t stop by the bazaar just to shop, did you?”
He sneered. “Everything would have been just fine. I already knew enough about Miss Perfect to put her in her place long before next year’s show, but no, she asked to meet privately with me in the kitchen. ‘I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to be here this year,’ she said. ‘I’ve heard that you’re unhappy about not being in the show, and I won’t have you ruining my event.’”
My heart continued to pound, and Caitlyn’s pale face told me she was frightened too.
“Then when I saw her acting so high and mighty to Gerald and all those Humane Society volunteers, something just snapped, you know?”
Speaking of snapped... I looked past Tyler, who was still wielding his knife, and at Caitlyn’s messy desk. The piles of paper and folders remained stacked there along with what I recognized as Miranda’s old diploma still under broken glass.
“She humiliated me.” He mimicked a female voice. “‘Work on some better paintings for next year’s show, and we’ll be glad to consider your art again.’” Tyler’s eyes widened, and his voice grew louder. “As if she had the final say about what is and isn’t good art!”
I needed to distract him. “How did you manage to get her away from everyone? That was a pretty bold move.”
“You think?” Tyler scoffed. “When she kicked the Humane Society out, she brushed past me, and I told her to watch out, that some of the new paint on my jacket might get on her precious little feathers.” He glanced down and grinned. “But it turned out to be the other way around.”
Absentmindedly, he gazed at the spot of white. He seemed almost proud of it. “But I’d had enough of her and told her so. Then she whirled around and bumped into me, so I had no choice but to defend myself. So I pushed back.”
“Are you saying her death was an accident?” I wasn’t sure I believed that.
“Of course it was! She slipped in some water that had spilled on the tile floor and banged her head on the corner of that steel table. When I saw she wasn’t breathing, I panicked. I picked up the lanyard Gerald had left there and wrapped it around her neck so that it would look like someone had strangled her. Then I got out of there and—”
Caitlyn might have been speechless up to that point, but she couldn’t let that comment go by. “Her body was found in Santa’s bag, you lying cheat.”
You go, girl.
Tyler frowned. “That was just dumb luck. I’d cleaned up the tile and realized I could haul her body off in that bag and hide it in the sleigh. I’d stepped into the supply room for more paper towels when some volunteer schmucks came through the kitchen to take the sleigh backstage, so I slipped through the storage door and snuck out behind the stage. Then I spent the afternoon at the bazaar, just like any other guest. But I didn’t kill her. She slipped and fell. That’s all.”
Tyler’s hand twitched, his knife quivering. Is he nervous?
“Now find my new application!” Tyler commanded. “I don’t want any evidence that I ever had a cross word with Miranda. I know that letter’s in here somewhere.”
I had to think fast and peered up at Tyler. “You know, Caitlyn told me the other day what a mess this desk was after the vandalism. I’ll bet it’s still here and hidden under all this stuff.”
Caitlyn shook her head. “I don’t think I missed any—”
I cut her off. “Let’s make sure.” I let my eyes bore into her, hopefully conveying the message that she’d better agree with me—and fast.
Tyler lowered his knife, and Caitlyn and I flipped through folder after folder. Tyler walked over to the street side of the room and looked out a window. The folders had gotten mixed up, because as I flipped through a file of businesses that were owed money from the Christmas bazaar, I found Tyler Montgomery’s brand-new application—and its menacing message.
“What are you reading?” He marched over and reached for my folder, but I’d already flipped over a few pages.
“I’m sorry, but I can’t believe how much they got charged for those bags. I order bags for the Foothills Gallery, and this price is ridiculous. Do you know that—”
“Shut up and keep looking.”
Tyler headed to the other side of Caitlyn, reached for a folder, and started flipping through it.
Once he was preoccupied with his own search, I returned to my reading and sucked in a breath. The note stapled to the top of his new application couldn’t be clearer: “Don’t make the same mistake next year, or you’ll definitely regret it.”
Not exactly subtle, are you? But at least I knew what he was looking for and why.
I had a tin of pepper spray on my key ring, but the purse and my car keys were downstairs. Then I spotted something that might be my saving grace—if Tyler didn’t catch on to me first.
Caitlyn shuffled one stack of folders aside and began looking into another, so I pretended to do the same thing. Under one of the piles was that broken glass containing Miranda’s diploma from the college that didn’t exist. I grabbed a file folder and pretended to examine some papers inside. “Man, you guys sure have a ton of paper around here, don’t you?”
Caitlyn looked confused, but Tyler appeared agitated.
“Um, Tyler, I think I may have found what you’re looking for.” Dear God, please let this work. “Come see if this is it.”
I held up the frame, and Tyler crossed the space in a flash. As he neared, I slammed the diploma as hard as I could into the side of his face, and tiny shards of glass rained down on him. He howled as his hands flew to his eyes, and he dropped his knife. Seizing the moment, Caitlyn snatched the stapler off her desk and landed a well-placed blow to the other side of his head.
Caitlyn kicked the knife aside, and I grabbed the scissors, the next weapon I saw, but by that time, Tyler was on the run. “You two have lost your minds!”
As he ran down the stairs, I used the desk phone to call 911. “We need the police at the Happy Hometown office. Tyler Montgomery just threatened to kill me and Caitlyn Hill, and he’s running out of the building now. Our address is—”
A shrill whistle sounded from the hallway, and I heard shouts of “Police! Put your hands up.”
Caitlyn and I headed out of the office and got there in time to see two officers cuffing Tyler. Detective Shelton stood to the side and tipped his head at us.
Tyler brushed stray bits of glass from his hair and ear, and a small trickle of blood wound its way down to his shoulder on the side where Caitlyn had stapled him.
Detective Shelton asked if either of us needed medical attention, and while definitely shaken, we assured him that we were fine.
“How did you know to come up here?”
The detective blinked then frowned. “We do this little thing called investigating, and when citizens don’t get in our way by trying to help, we often manage to nail the bad guy and keep him from hurting anyone else.”
So much for catching up on jewelry. My Sunday afternoon was spent on yet another round of giving statements and yet another round of cleaning up the Happy Hometown office, which I hoped I’d seen the last of for a while.
Finally, I got to go home, and the jewelry could wait until Monday.
I hugged Miriam then headed to the park for my walk. Unlike the other days that week, I basked in the knowledge that there was no one I needed to be looking out for.