Dale lay on his back. I rushed toward him and dropped to my knees.
Rupert followed and shone the light on Dale’s face. “You know him? I never saw this guy before.”
“Dale Thackleberry. He manufactures dog clothes.” I grabbed Dale’s hand. It was as cold as the food in a refrigerator. It was probably too late for him.
“Looks like he’s a goner,” said Rupert. “Friend of yours?”
“He’s—” I corrected myself “—he was staying at the inn.”
Trembling, I pulled out my cell phone. Because of the mountains, Wagtail was notorious for dead spots. I hoped this wasn’t one of them.
“I better call from my landline,” said Rupert. He departed immediately.
I tried punching in 911 anyway but couldn’t get a signal.
Overcome with sadness, I hoped he wasn’t dead. I slid my fingers under Dale’s turtleneck in a desperate search for a pulse. His skin felt cold. His pulse had probably stopped quite some time ago.
Trixie had quit barking. She sat down beside Dale as though she knew for sure what I didn’t want to accept.
There was nothing to do but wait.
Dave arrived in a matter of minutes. “This is Dale?”
“Yes.”
“His family reported him missing a few hours ago.”
“They did? No one mentioned that to me. I think he’s been here awhile.” Much like I had, he checked for a pulse. He shook his head and sighed when he didn’t find one. He gently tried to flex Dale’s fingers. He sucked in a deep breath. “It was mighty cold outside. I don’t know if his fingers are stiff from the cold or if rigor mortis has set in. I already called the rescue squad so we wouldn’t waste any time, but it’s way too late for this guy.”
Dave crouched and eyed Dale head to toe.
“What are you doing?” I asked.
“I don’t see any obvious cause of death.”
Dave heaved his body slightly and rolled him away from us. His hands supporting Dale’s back, he said, “Shine the flashlight on him, will you?”
I picked it up and aimed it at Dale’s underside.
“There it is.” Dave ducked his head to examine Dale more closely. “Aw man.” Dave scowled. “At Christmas, too. What’s wrong with people?”
Dale wore a lightweight winter jacket with leather on the collar and wrists. There was no doubting the blood on the back of it, even though the jacket was a dark gray color.
“What do you think happened to him?” I asked.
Dave rolled him back, stood, and reached out for the flashlight. I handed it to him, and he flashed the beam around the interior of the Grinch. “You touch anything in here?”
“Only Dale. I don’t see anything else to touch except the walls of the Grinch.”
Dave nodded. “He’s been stabbed. More than once.”
The rescue squad arrived just then, and Dave motioned for me to leave. I picked up Trixie and stepped outside to make room for them.
Neighbors had begun to wander out to see what was happening. Most had thrown winter coats or jackets over bathrobes. One woman wore curlers in her hair.
Lights flashed as photos were taken inside the Grinch.
The chatter among them was quiet but died down completely when Dale’s body was carried out and loaded into an ambulance for transit to Snowball. From experience, I knew they would send him to the medical examiner in Roanoke for an autopsy.
Holmes ran up to me, breathless. “Everyone is looking for you. We were worried when you didn’t show up at Grandma Rose’s garage. What’s going on?”
“I’m so sorry, Holmes. Someone murdered Dale.”
“Thackleberry?”
“I’m afraid so.”
Maybe it was my imagination, but I thought I saw a tremor run through him.
“Oh no.” Holmes rubbed his forehead. “He was such a terrific guy. They’ll be devastated. He was the backbone of that family.”
“EmmyLou is going to take it very hard. Losing her father! Some Christmas.”
Dave strode over to us. “I’m sorry, Holmes. I hear he was a friend of yours?”
“Almost my grandfather-in-law.”
His hands gloved, Dave held up a wallet. “Looks like he was mugged. There’s not a dollar in his wallet. No credit cards, either. I hope the idiot who took them uses them soon so we can arrest him.”
Mugged and thrown into the Grinch? That didn’t sound right to me.
Holmes sighed. “I hope you don’t mind if I skip elf business tonight. I think I should be with Dave when he tells the Thackleberrys.”
“Of course. I should probably go back to the inn to make some tea for them or something. Maybe we can do double elf duty tomorrow night.”
On the walk back, as soon as we could get signals, Holmes phoned Zelda and I phoned Shelley to let them know what was going on and call off the elf excursion.
The inn was quiet when we entered. EmmyLou and Tiffany lingered by the dying embers of the fire in the Dogwood Room, probably too concerned about Dale to sleep.
Holmes and Dave walked straight to them.
I heard sobs before I made it to the inn kitchen.
Casey emerged from the private kitchen. “What’s going on?”
I explained what had happened and enlisted his help in putting on coffee and tea, and searching for something to serve the family.
I found a glistening raspberry cheesecake and set it on a serving plate. I quickly spread the cook’s fabulous pimiento cheese on bread for sandwiches, cut off the crusts, and piled them on a tray. While ham biscuits were heating and Casey was eating some cold ones, I arranged red velvet cupcakes with luscious cream cheese icing on a larger tray.
When everything was ready, I loaded it all onto a cart with cream, sugar, napkins, dessert plates, and mugs. Taking a deep breath to fortify myself, I pushed it across the lobby and into the Dogwood Room.
Members of the family were still traipsing down the stairs in their sleeping attire.
Norma Jeanne, I noted, wore a flowing silk bathrobe in a shade of pink that verged on nude. It was beautifully tailored and looked like something from a 1940s movie. Her matching slippers bore feather trim on the front and had little kitten heels on them.
Her father, Barry, wrapped in a hunter green bathrobe, hugged her mother, EmmyLou, to him. Maggie, the German shepherd, whined at EmmyLou’s ankles. Tiffany cried. Austin seemed awkwardly uncomfortable, as if he didn’t know what to do. He probably didn’t.
Dale’s mother, Doris, sat quietly in a chair, clutching Muffy. Her head bent forward over the dog.
Linda appeared to be in shock. Her husband Tim asked me if we had anything stronger than coffee to drink.
“Of course.” I finished unloading the cart so people could help themselves.
As I passed the grand staircase, Blake nearly ran into me. He wore a silky short-sleeved top in blue with a loud dragon print and matching shorts. Over it, he had draped a black velvet robe that hung open. But I thought he could probably see better if he took off his sunglasses.
I took a minute to dash upstairs to Oma’s apartment. I didn’t usually wake her for these middle-of-the-night matters, not that they occurred often, but she knew Dale, and I felt she would want to know.
I knocked on her door softly. Gingersnap probably woke her. Oma opened the door, and Gingersnap barreled out, wagging her tail with delight at the midnight excitement.
I explained what had happened.
Oma sagged and retreated into her apartment to sit down. “Not Dale,” she moaned. “Does Dave have any idea who would do such a terrible thing?”
“I doubt it. He’s downstairs with the family now.”
“I will come to help you. Give me a moment to change my clothes.”
I left with Gingersnap, collected the cart, and went straight to our liquor selection. We didn’t often serve liquor at the inn, but some events required it, so we kept a stash on hand. I wasn’t sure what Tim had in mind, but I guessed it wasn’t an after-dinner type drink. I loaded the cart with glasses, brandy, Scotch, and Tennessee whiskey, and rolled it back to the Dogwood Room.
Norma Jeanne clutched Holmes and cried on his chest. Not that I could really blame her. I would have too, under the circumstances.
Tiffany appeared to have given up on Austin and cuddled Twinkletoes in her arms. I was proud of Twinkletoes for understanding that Tiffany needed her. Most cats would have jumped away at the wet teardrops hitting their fur.
Gingersnap always seemed to know when someone needed comforting. She sat next to Linda, who ran her hand over Gingersnap’s soft fur.
Oma had joined the grieving family. She had pulled up a chair next to Doris and clutched her hand. Muffy and Trixie roamed the room together, sniffing things.
I couldn’t imagine their grief.
Vivi finally made an appearance. She strode in, stood in the center of her family, and observed them, her head held high. Not a tear stained her face. Her lips were drawn in a tight line, and I noted that she had taken the time to change into a sweater and trousers.
Dave watched the family, too. I couldn’t help wondering how he saw them. Was he watching for signs of a killer? A cop must see everything in a different light.
He walked over to Vivi. “Mrs. Thackleberry, I am so sorry to intrude on your grief, but I’m afraid I need to ask you some questions.”
She stared at him, cold as ice. “I know who did it. Her name is Birdie Dupuy.”