“I didn’t want to be part of anything like that. It was never part of the deal. I tried to get a flight out of here, but everything was booked, and then the airports closed, so I was stuck.”
“She told you she killed Dale?” asked Dave.
“No. She denied it, but the timing was too coincidental. I figured they fought over selling Thackleberry and she flipped out and stabbed him.”
“Or maybe you did,” said Dave.
Steve raised his hands in protest. “I had nothing to do with that. I’ve never killed anyone. Honest.”
“Why did you tell me about the Thackleberry fabric?” I asked.
“See? Now I am guilty of that. I wanted to drive down the value of Thackleberry so I wouldn’t have to pay so much for it. I thought it would make Dale more eager to sell if he thought the business was failing.”
“So it wasn’t true?” I asked.
“No. And I admit my guilt about that. It was harmless business strategy. But I did not murder either of them.”
“What happened last night?” asked Dave.
“She showed up drunk. It was late and she was acting weird. Like she was disoriented. She had a drink, and I thought she’d probably just sleep it off, you know? The next thing I knew, she was dead. I swear I didn’t kill her. She just died.”
“And you threw her out the window?” I asked.
“She was already dead. I couldn’t exactly roll her out through the lobby on a bellman’s cart, could I?”
“If you were innocent, why didn’t you call 911?”
“I knew if our plan came out everyone would think I murdered Dale and Vivienne. It just looked bad, even though I didn’t do anything. So I slid her out the window, but when I went outside, throngs of people were coming back from the church. I waited until three in the morning, when everything was quiet, and dragged her to that Christkindl booth.”
Dave arrested him on the spot. He clicked handcuffs on Steve, who continued to protest and insist he was innocent.
People stared as they walked through the lobby.
I left, relieved that it was over. I had seen him around town so many times but never suspected that he could be the murderer. Still, his protests rang in my head, leaving me with a smidgen of doubt.
I raced home, thinking I was running late, but when I walked into the inn, I found Oma, Mr. Huckle, and Doris having cocktails in the Dogwood Room with EmmyLou, Barry, and Maggie.
I sat down and told them what had happened with Steve Oathaut. The Thackleberrys were stunned.
“I knew that Stevie Oathaut was trouble.” Doris shook her finger. “It is in his eyes. Snake eyes!”
“I can’t believe that Vivienne planned everything.” EmmyLou seemed at a loss. “I was so stupid. I played right into her hands suggesting we come here for Christmas. She must have been secretly pleased that everything was working out for her. I hate to say it, but she planned her own demise. She got what she deserved.”
“Did you say Tim offered to sell Thackleberry to Steve?” asked Barry.
“Apparently so.”
Doris scowled. “We have to watch him. He has no power to do that. I didn’t sign anything. Did you, EmmyLou?”
“No. I would never sell the business.”
“Did you find Birdie?” asked Oma.
My heart fell. “I was hoping she might be here. Where could she have gone?”
Barry said wryly, “I would be in a bar. Are there any bars open on Christmas Night? I might join her.”
“Barry!” EmmyLou scolded him. “Maybe she went to a place that was special to her and Dad. Someplace where she could remember him? I took Maggie for a walk down to the lake. It was so peaceful with Canadian geese swimming around. I felt like Dad was there with me.”
“Perhaps she will meet us at The Blue Boar,” said Oma. “You’d better get dressed, Holly.”
I knew Oma was right, but I felt restless. Aunt Birdie was stubborn and obnoxious, but she was still family. My family. I followed Oma’s advice and walked up to my apartment to change clothes. The Blue Boar was the fanciest restaurant in town. Oma had made reservations far in advance for this Christmas dinner.
I should have gone for something festive, but I reached for the black dress that I called my Audrey Hepburn dress. The sleeveless top was fitted, and the skirt flared with one big inverted pleat in the front. A necklace of rhinestones provided a bit of fun bling. I added a chunky black-and-white bracelet and gold earrings, and slid my feet into open-toed black shoes that made me think of Vivienne. Just like her, I would be walking in the cold in dressy shoes that wouldn’t keep my feet warm.
I tried to pull myself out of my funk. Aunt Birdie would be fine. Actually, I was a little surprised that I cared so much. Even though she was a pill and had pulled some stunts on me that I didn’t appreciate one bit, she had grown on me.
Trixie whimpered as though she understood that something wasn’t quite right. I slid a black velvet holiday collar over her head, and she pranced in circles until I laughed.
We joined the others, and the first thing I noticed in the lobby was Norma Jeanne staring wistfully at Holmes. I guess that was to be expected. The holiday that should have been one of her best ever had turned sour in every way possible. But she was talking with Tiffany and Blake!
Aunt Birdie was still a no-show.
I probably shouldn’t have stared so hard at Norma Jeanne and her cousins. I tried to appear to mingle and sidled toward them, ostensibly in search of something in the desk near the front door. I opened a drawer but positioned myself to hear them better.
“I still think it’s that Birdie woman,” said Tiffany. “It’s just a matter of time before they find the knife that killed Grampy and match her DNA to it.”
“I’d like to think you’re right, Tiffie, but I’m not sure that we can count on Deputy Dufus.” For once Blake wasn’t insulting his sister. “We’re out in the boonies! Don’t you think they overlook the crimes of locals? They’re liable to hide the evidence or lose it accidentally-on-purpose to protect their friends.”
I recognized Tiffany’s voice. “I hope it was that horrible Steve Oathaut. We need to put this behind us and band together so we can go home and start fixing the problems with Thackleberry. I can’t believe he started that rumor about our fabric. It doesn’t get lower than that!”
“What if it was Holmes’s Grandma Rose?” asked Norma Jeanne.
I had to stifle my gasp.
“That old lady? Face it, Norma Jeanne. It’s over with Holmes, and you brought it all on yourself.” Blake sounded matter-of-fact. “We need to save what we can and move forward.”
“That’s right,” added Tiffany. “And there’s no evidence pointing toward Holmes’s grandmother.”
“What if she was having an affair with Gramps, too?” asked Norma Jeanne.
One of them snorted and laughed. Blake?
Holmes sidled up to me and grinned. Evidently he hadn’t overheard their discussion about Rose.
I was painfully aware that the tables had turned and they were probably listening to the two of us now. Before he could bring up the murders, I hastily said, “Hungry? I’m looking forward to dinner.”
We mingled with the others, but I couldn’t help noticing that Norma Jeanne kept a close eye on Holmes.
Leaving the inn in the capable hands of Casey, who had celebrated the holiday earlier with his family, we walked the short distance to The Blue Boar, located next door to the inn.
When we arrived and took seats, I wound up sitting next to Holmes. I looked around for Aunt Birdie, but she wasn’t there. Oma was seated nearby. I walked over to her and asked in a low voice, “No word from Aunt Birdie yet?”
Oma took my hand into hers. “I wish Birdie could see how concerned you are. Maybe she will still come.”
Rose leaned toward me. “Norma Jeanne, Tim, and Blake are too depressed to join us tonight. Maybe Birdie is feeling the impact of Dale’s death and wants to be alone. This has been a tragic holiday for all of them.”
I returned to my seat. Rose was right, of course. If I had lost a loved one, I probably wouldn’t be up to celebrating, either.
But plenty of their family members were sociable. Tiffany sat between Linda and Doris, chattering as though she were feeling upbeat.
EmmyLou seemed pensive. She held her hands as if in prayer but slid her fingers against one another somewhat nervously while gazing out the window.
Maggie, Gingersnap, Muffy, and Trixie roamed the room, visiting with one another and getting attention from everyone.
All things considered, spirits were high as we devoured a rich shrimp bisque. If I hadn’t known other dishes were coming, I would have wanted more.
Holmes nudged me and hissed, “You were there. Do you think it was this Steve Oathaut fellow?”
My eyes met his. “He’s a crook, but I don’t know if he killed them. I’d feel better if we had some DNA or the murder weapon or something.”
“They’re probably checking his room for a sleeping pill bottle.”
“Doris takes prescription sleeping pills,” I whispered.
“One of the Thackleberrys could have swiped some. I can’t imagine it was Doris. Really, can you see her jabbing her own son with a knife?”
“Can she stand without her cane?”
He shook his head. “I don’t think so.”
I was gazing at the sweet old lady at the exact moment that Trixie sneaked close to the hiking stick that was propped by her chair. To my complete horror, Trixie sniffed the bottom of it and pawed at it, knocking it to the ground.
Muffy barked and jumped off Doris’s lap. She growled and seized the wrist loop attached to the stick. Trixie gripped the bottom of the stick in her teeth and pulled ferociously. Trixie weighed more than little Muffy, which gave her the upper hand.
A waiter happened by with a tray, didn’t see the dogs, tripped over the stick, and went flying. Dishes crashed to the floor. Shards and food flew everywhere.
I jumped up as Gingersnap and Maggie rushed to join the excitement. The dogs were going to step on shards if we didn’t stop them.
Holmes was right behind me when I picked up Trixie, who refused to relinquish her grip on the hiking stick. He nabbed Muffy, who continued to growl. But as we lifted them, the walking stick suddenly opened.