Eighteen

With Edward discretely using the police as background props for the movie, the rest of us were being sent home as the indoor part of the scene was rescheduled for tomorrow. The only one pleased was Olivia who now had time to ensure the food brought in was safe for the people with allergies. The crew was a little irritated as they now had to go into town and pay for a meal since originally dinner was being supplied by Luna. The cafeteria was closed tonight.

Now that Olivia had extra time, she no longer needed—or wanted—my help. I slipped out the kitchen doors and headed for the stairs. I’d go back upstairs and finish packing Marie’s belongings before Katrina found a way back into the house and took something. The front door opened, and a weary looking Chief Quinn walked in followed by an irate Sheriff Rhodes.

“I’m shutting this production down now,” Rhodes said.

I paused on the stairs, interested in the conversation. The sheriff was shutting everything down. Had he learned more about Marie’s death? What would he think about the information Paul was copying? I glanced up the stairs and wondered if I could warn Paul before he came down with the items.

“Then all potential suspects leave. Sounds like a great plan, Sheriff.”

The sheriff grabbed Quinn’s arm and spun her around. “You already managed to do that. You ran off my best suspect, asking questions about an investigation that is not yours. It happened in my jurisdiction.’

Quinn glared at the hand latched onto her arm. “Maybe not.”

I drew in a sharp breath then slapped my hand over my mouth.

Two heads turned in my direction. I quickly swiveled to appear like I was coming down the stairs rather than going up. “Is something wrong?” I fixed a confused expression on my face, hoping they bought it.

The sheriff was more interested in the chief’s last statement than my presence. “What did you mean by that?” He reached for her arm again.

Quinn side-stepped away. “I let you get away with that once, Sheriff, don’t test your luck.”

“I’m not the one testing it. Someone should take a good hard look at your cousin.” The sheriff crossed his arms and a sneer worked its way across his lips. “There’s a lot of history between him and Luna. Also heard he had an argument with Marie the day she died.”

“Don’t slander my cousin.” Quinn clenched her jaw.

The hairs on my neck bristled. I heard the warning in her tone. What was it about? Edward’s words played in my head, one of the possibilities. Was Vernon the other candidate for the baby’s father?

“I’m just sharing some tidbits from my investigation into Marie’s death. A professional courtesy even though you inserted yourself into it.” The sheriff pulled out a pen and paper and scribbled on it. He folded the note and handed it over. “I’m sure those crew members wouldn’t mind repeating what they told me. Since you don’t believe me.”

“I have my reasons for my decision,” Quinn said.

“I’m sure you do.”

Paul came down the stairs with a large box in his arms.

“Thanks for grabbing those items I need for the last few craft projects. We have to get right on them to complete them for the craft bazaar scene,” I said in an overly bright voice. “Ms. Carmichael will have a fit if they’re not done.”

Eyeing me oddly, Paul nodded and walked down the stairs, excusing himself around the sheriff who tried peering into the box. “I hope it’s an easy craft because I’m not a fast learner.”

“That’s why we’re doing it now.” I linked my arm through his and practically dragged him out of the house.

Paul followed along, not asking any of the questions I saw in his gaze. I made my way through the cast members and extras who were heading into town. Some were walking and others were taking golf carts. There was still some light in the sky but in an hour or two it would be gone. Hopefully the police found Katrina before nightfall. I hated thinking about her running around in the dark—especially if she was Marie’s killer. Would she hurt someone else?

I tried blocking a shiver working its way up my spine.

“Are you okay?” Paul slowed down.

“We’ll talk in the RV.” I continued hauling him toward our destination.

My RV stood out from all the other trailers in the living quarters area. Not just because it had wheels, but the large Christmas decal that stretched from rear tire to front tire. I couldn’t help pondering if making the RV so unique was such a good idea considering how often I found myself in trouble. Or rather inserting myself into trouble.

Again, a shiver worked its way through me and this time I couldn’t stop it. Instead of the issue I was facing now, my mind conjured up the most recent Christmas past and everything that had gone wrong. Murders. My mom’s failing health. Loneliness.

Paul halted. “Tell me what’s going on.”

“Debating whether customizing the outside of the RV was such a good idea.”

I tilted my head to the side and studied it. It was Santa’s sleigh and a team of nine reindeer flying over a row of houses, each with a different color string lights and wreath on it. Bright and I had come up with the design together.

Christmas had always been my thing. Ever since I was a little girl, I loved the feeling surrounding the holiday. The love. The wonder. The hope. The anticipation. Last Christmas, fear, grief, and melancholy had stolen the holiday from me. Loss had hit me hard, not just the people who had died but all the small things that made up the holiday were changing. Traditions were fading as my adult children began their separate lives away from me. My mother’s health issues showed me that love couldn’t conquer all.

Maybe the goal shouldn’t be conquering everything but coming to term and accepting the new way of life. Find new traditions. A new way of doing Christmas. I started over before. I could do it again. I just wasn’t looking forward to starting over again without my mother. But it was coming, and I could no longer pretend it wasn’t a reality I’d ever face.

“Merry?” Paul placed a gentle hand on my shoulder.

“All this talk of adoption has me wondering if I should find my birth parents.”

“It’s not…” he trailed off.

“No. Luna said the baby was a month old. I was days old when I was left.” A bitterness crept inside me. Almost hatred. I hadn’t really thought of my past much, but who left a days old baby out in the cold? In a stocking. Had my parents hoped I wouldn’t survive? Or had they placed me on the church steps on Christmas Eve, knowing the Christmas Eve service was letting out soon and I’d be saved.

“You’re good at piecing together information. I’m sure you can find out.”

“Do I want to?” I voiced aloud my biggest dilemma. “Do I want to know why? What if it just some selfish reason?”

Paul guided me into the RV. “You just have to figure out which is worse…knowing or not knowing.”

“I’m not sure.” I opened the door and was greeted by Ebenezer’s disgruntled whistles. “Did you go back and search Marie’s room?”

“The security guard wasn’t having any of that. We were lucky enough Luna relented and let us copy her notes.”

“Whatever is in Marie’s room will now be fought over. The sheriff and chief were arguing over who had jurisdiction over the case. The sheriff wants the production shut down and the chief disagrees.”

“Can’t say I blame her. If the murderer is someone from the cast or crew, which is likely, they’ll be able to leave and take evidence with them.”

“Evidence could get ruined or contaminated with all these people walking around.” I opened the bedroom door and Ebenezer tore out, running for the living room. “What did you find out today at the coroner’s office?”

“The full autopsy isn’t back yet, so they don’t know what type of sleep aid or how long it was in her system.”

“I’m surprised the coroner told you anything.” I stared into my craft cabinet. What could we make that was easy and I had enough supplies to fill a booth?

“Professional courtesy. Law enforcement agencies will sometimes share with others in the field like first responders.”

“Maybe you can get the sheriff or the chief to share with you.”

Paul snorted. “I highly doubt it. So, what’s your plan? I have a feeling the sheriff or chief will stop by and see what we made.”

“I agree and for no other reason than to see what you were carrying out.” I took out a clear fillable ornament. Easy project for the booth as the rest of the clear ornaments I had remained blank as this was a customizable project for the customer. “I’ll make a floating photo ornament. This ornament opens in half and I’ll stick a photo in it. It’ll be the example for the photo and the other ones will be left blank for the customer to add a photo.”

“Where will we get a picture? Who carries around a photo to a Christmas bazaar?”

I refrained from rolling my eyes. “I’ll take one on my phone and print it out on my photo printer. People might not carry physical photographs with them, but they do on their phone. They can send it to the printer and then it’ll be turned into an ornament. Not that we’ll actually have to make them I just need the sample ornament done and then set up the space as a custom ornament booth.”

“Great. Let’s take a picture of us.” Paul wrapped an arm around me and pressed his cheek against mine.

For a moment I froze, the gesture seeming too intimate for our stage of friendship, or rather the fact Paul had been honest at wanting more. He respected my decision on keeping our friendship at just a friendship, yet the close proximity gave me thoughts of what more we could have. Something I wasn’t ready for. At the moment, my life was complicated enough.

I forced the thoughts out of my head and smiled, raising my arm up and snapping a couple of photos on the iPhone. After scrolling through them, I picked the best image and sent it to the printer.

As I watched the photo print, my memory flashed onto Luna’s study or rather the framed photographs. I had been amazed at the close resemblance between the young aunt and nephew picture to Luna and Garrison. What if the resemblance was close because those were real family photographs?

“I think Luna and Garrison are related.” That would explain the private conversations between Garrison and Luna, though others on the set were interpreting it differently.

“Why would they hide that?”

Good question. “Luna is a complicated woman.”

“Complicated?” Paul’s eyebrows quirked up. “Don’t you mean selfish?”

“That too.” Olivia’s comments raced through my head. Was that what she meant by knowing Luna wouldn’t turn into the mothering type? Was Garrison Luna’s son? “How could no one else know?”

“Know what?” Paul frowned.

I took in a deep breath and told him the theory my mind conjured up. “Why hasn’t anyone connected Luna to the baby or Garrison before? What if he’s her son?” I told Paul about my conversation with Olivia.

“Maybe he doesn’t want anyone knowing.”

“Or she doesn’t. Why?” I paced around the room.

“Has to be hard keeping one child after you got rid of one.”

The harshness of the statement had me cringing. “She’s been the queen of Christmas for decades. Portrayed herself as sweetness and light. As being the spirit of Christmas.” With each word, I heard my anger growing. “She’s a fake. I can’t believe someone hadn’t found out the truth about her.”

“Someone did,” Paul said. “That’s why Marie was here. Find the daughter so the ugliness wasn’t released.”

“Why would that stop—” The daughter. “The daughter is the one who sent the letter. She wanted Luna to acknowledge her. The people who would know about what happened to the baby were the daughter, the father…”

“How would the daughter know?”

“My parents told me the situation about how I was up for adoption. It’s likely her parents did as well. And she might have tracked Luna down through genealogy research. DNA tests are popular. She might have taken one and was linked to Luna.” I stopped pacing and fought back a smile. This was too serious for happiness. But I was excited answers were finally coming to me rather than more questions.

“Luna doesn’t seem the type to take one of those.”

“Garrison might have,” I said.

“How are you going find out?”

For once I’d go easy route. “Ask him. The possible daughters are Chef Olivia, Katrina, Sharon, Desiree Young, and me. We know I didn’t send the letter and I’m not her daughter.”

“You’re sure? Luna might be lying about how old the baby was. I don’t trust that woman.” Paul sat on the couch and pulled out the notes he copied from the box.

“There was no reason for her to lie.”

“Marie never crossed your name off the list or Desiree Young. There has to be a reason.”

“Maybe she hadn’t finished researching us.” I plopped down beside him and leaned into his shoulder, getting a good look at the document. Desiree’s name was first with an underline underneath it. When I created a list, I always underlined the title at the bottom, the topic. Marie had underlined Desiree, and only Desiree, because that was the name of the birth mother who now went by the stage name of Luna Carmichael. It made sense. That was why no one had ever found out this information about Luna before. I jumped up. “That’s why no one knew Desiree. The name is underlined. Luna is Desiree. Luna Carmichael is her stage name.”

“That makes sense. Information like that wasn’t as easy to dig up decades ago as it is now.”

“Probably also the reason no one has connected Garrison and Luna. But why keep it hidden?”

“There are two people who could answer that,” Paul said.

Luna and Garrison. I had a strong feeling Garrison was the most likely of the two. “What do you say about heading into Carol Lake and eating dinner at the diner?”