8
The blue-wrapped gift box sat on my counter, next to a festively wrapped Christmas present. No, I hadn’t found a mysterious package sitting outside my front door, though I’d checked to make sure there wasn’t one there. I had yet to deliver Andrew’s gift to the police, and my reason was . . .
Well, I wasn’t really sure why I still had it. A part of me was afraid of what Detective John Buchannan would say when he found out I’d taken the box from Erin. I should have told her to take it back inside Andrew’s Gifts and call the police.
But I hadn’t. And now it was sitting on my counter, all but screaming at me that I’d made a dumb mistake.
On the floor next to me, Misfit’s fuzzy orange backside wiggled as he prepared for launch.
“No,” I told him, holding out an arm to block his path. “You can’t sleep in that one.”
Undeterred, he moved a foot to his right and started wiggling again.
I snatched the box up just as he leapt up onto the counter. “I said, no.” The smaller wrapped gift held his interest for about three seconds before he jumped down and sauntered over to his food dishes. “You’ve already eaten.”
I carried the box into my spare room, where I set it down. Misfit, like every other cat I’ve ever known, loved to sleep in cardboard boxes, whether he fit or not. There was no way I was going to risk having possible evidence turn into a cat bed. Paul, along with the rest of the Pine Hills police department, would kill me.
Once the box was secure, I stepped back out into the hall and closed the door firmly shut. Misfit sat beside the island counter, tail swishing as he watched me. As soon as I returned to the kitchen, he headed for the door. He pawed at it a few times before he started yowling in protest.
“No,” I said, not that he was listening. Misfit paced back and forth a few times, complaining all the while, before he flopped over onto his side and began sticking his paw under the door.
I watched to make sure he couldn’t pop the door open, and then I picked up my phone, considered the empty space where the box had sat, and dialed. It rang twice before Paul answered.
“Hey, Krissy, I was just about to call you.”
“What for?” My chest tightened, immediately thinking the worst. “Did something happen to Jules?”
There was a brief pause. “No, not as far as I’m aware. Am I missing something here?”
I breathed a sigh of relief. “Jules got a gift. We think it might be from the killer.”
Another pause. “Wait, back up. What gift?”
Apparently, Paul hadn’t talked to Buchannan yet, which meant he wouldn’t know anything about the evidence I was currently housing in my spare room. It made me wonder if the detective was keeping things from Paul because he was afraid word would get back to me and I’d start interfering. A stirring of guilt churned in my gut.
“We think the person who killed Andrew Carver left him a gift outside his house. Andrew took it to his store the night he died.” Or, at least, that was my working theory. I had no idea what Buchannan thought. I wasn’t sure I wanted to know. “Jules got one too.”
“What sort of gift?”
“I don’t know. Andrew’s box was empty when his wife found it. And Detective Buchannan showed up and took Jules’s so it could be opened at the police station where it was safe.” It was my turn to hesitate. “You didn’t know any of this?”
Paul sighed through what sounded like him rubbing his hand over his face. “No. But it’s no wonder. I’ve been running all over town and haven’t had a moment’s break since the day started. It’s been crazy. You’d think it was a full moon with how everyone is acting.”
“I take it that means you won’t be stopping by tonight?” As I said it, I glanced toward the door where Misfit was still camped, though he’d stopped the yowling.
“Probably not.”
“What about tomorrow night? Dad and Laura asked if you’d like to come with us to Geraldo’s for dinner.”
“I could make that work,” Paul said. “It sounds really good, actually.”
“Then it’s a date.” I bit my lower lip. Paul wasn’t going to like what I had to say next. “I, um—”
Misfit chose that moment to resume his complaints, cutting me off.
“What is that sound?” Paul asked.
“Misfit.” I turned to the cat. “I’m not opening the door.”
He let out a pitiful meow and flopped back over onto his side. He shoved a paw under the door and then leaned his head back so he could look at me with the most pitiful expression I’d ever seen on a cat.
I was, however, unmoved.
“He sounds . . . unhappy.”
“He is.” There was nothing I could do but explain. “You know how I told you that Andrew Carver received a gift before he was killed?”
“Yeah? Did you get one too?” There was an edge of worry in Paul’s voice.
“No. But I have Andrew’s box. It’s empty and there’s no indication as to what was in it. It’s why I called, actually. I was hoping you could come pick it up.” I winced in anticipation of Paul’s next words.
“Wait. Hold up. You have the gift box that was sent to a murdered man? Something that might very well be evidence?”
“Erin gave it to me! Erin is Andrew’s wife. Or she was.” I frowned. Now wasn’t the time to start rambling. “She was carrying it out of Andrew’s Gifts when I walked by. I promised her I’d give it to the police for her. She didn’t realize it was important and was going to throw it away. As I said, it’s why I called. I’m not trying to hide evidence or mess with the investigation or anything.”
Paul took a deep breath, let it out slowly. “I see. Does John know you have it?”
“No. When I saw him at Phantastic Candies earlier, I didn’t have it yet. I was on my way back to Death by Coffee when I ran into Erin, and by then, Buchannan was dealing with Jules’s box. I swear, it was by pure happenstance that it came into my possession. I know I should have left it with Erin, but I wasn’t thinking straight and . . .”
Paul sighed. “All right. Give me an hour to finish up here and I’ll stop by to pick up the gift box.” And before I could get excited, he added, “I won’t be able to stay.”
“I’ll be here.” My eyes strayed to the wrapped gift still sitting on my counter. “I’m going to stop over at Caitlin’s to drop something off to her, but that should only take a few minutes.”
“Okay. Yeah.” A deep breath. “See you in an hour, Krissy. I’ve got to run.”
“See you then.”
We clicked off.
That could have gone a whole lot worse. I breathed a sigh of relief, and then gathered Caitlin’s gift from the counter. I pulled on my heavy coat, checked to make sure Misfit hadn’t found a way to open the spare room door, and then started the trek across the yard to Caitlin’s house.
As I walked, I noticed there was an old, unfamiliar Buick in her driveway. Apparently, Caitlin had a guest. Family? A friend? Someone special?
A part of me thought it might be better if I turned around and went home. I had yet to meet Caitlin’s family, outside her cousin once, so I was curious about them. Her brother lived out of the country, and I didn’t know anything about her parents at all.
And of her friends, I only knew of Teek, a bandmate of hers. I knew nothing of boyfriends or girlfriends or just friend friends.
I approached Caitlin’s front door, curiosity winning out. I could hear music coming from inside. Loud music; not the kind I’d expect her to be listening to if she had family in. A voice pitched ear-shatteringly high started singing something about there not being presents for Christmas, which was funny, considering I was delivering just that.
I knocked, and then quickly realized there was no way Caitlin could hear me over the music, so I pounded on the door as hard as I could. No answer. Thankfully, the music died down as the song ended and I took the opportunity to knock again. A moment later, the door opened and Caitlin Blevins poked her head outside.
“Uh, hi.” She glanced past me, as if expecting me to have brought friends. When she saw no one, her gaze dropped to what I was carrying. “What’s this?”
“A gift.” I held it out to her. “For you.”
Caitlin raised a single eyebrow. She was wearing all black and her makeup was of dark hues; purples and blues. “I don’t really celebrate.”
“That’s all right.” I handed her the box. “You don’t have to open it on Christmas. It’s nothing, really.” I flashed her a smile that quickly faded. “You didn’t receive another gift, did you? Blue wrapping paper? Was likely sitting outside your door?”
“Uh . . . No? Why?”
“No reason. But if you do get one, don’t open it. Call the po—” I cut off as her guest stepped up behind her.
Long hair. Combat boots. Wallet chain hanging against his left hip. All black clothing.
“Sup,” Black Shirt said, jerking his head back once in a backward nod. The skull earring dangling from his ear swung back and forth with force.
My mouth opened and closed like I was a fish gasping for air. This was the guy who’d been chased out of Andrew’s Gifts before Andrew had been murdered. And here he was, in my next-door neighbor’s house.
“Krissy, this is Jacob. Jacob; my neighbor, Krissy.”
I was greeted with another, “Sup,” and head tilt. “Uh, hi.” My mind was racing, coming up with reasons, realistic and otherwise, why Jacob would be at Caitlin’s.
“He’s in my band,” Caitlin said, providing an answer for me.
“Bass,” he added. “I hold everything together.” He mimed playing.
Caitlin snorted. “Yeah right. You’re lucky to be on beat half the time.”
Jacob’s hand went to his chest. “You wound me,” he said, before turning to me with a grin. “She’s just jealous because she can’t play my bass nearly as good as I can.”
“That’s because it’s left-handed, dweeb.” Caitlin rolled her eyes before she asked me, “Are you okay? You look a little pale.”
“Yeah, I’m fine.” I plastered on a giant, fake smile. “It’s good to meet you, Jacob.” And because I was struggling to come up with something to say that wasn’t “Did you kill Andrew Carver?” I asked, “What are you listening to?”
Jacob glanced behind him, as if checking to make sure the music was still there. It was. The next song had started, but someone had turned it down so it wasn’t deafening any longer. “King Diamond.”
That meant absolutely nothing to me. “It’s . . . interesting.”
Jacob nodded, as if in agreement. “Yeah, it’s cool. It’s an acquired taste for some, but I thought it fit the season.”
I supposed the first song had mentioned Christmas, though the current one was about Halloween.
“Hey, Jacob, can I talk to Caitlin alone for a minute.” I turned the wattage up on my smile, hoping he didn’t note my nervousness. “There’s some neighborhood stuff I’d like to discuss.”
“Yeah, sure.” He flipped his hair back out of his face. “Nice meeting you.”
Jacob turned and walked away, wallet chain smacking him in the leg with every step. Once he was gone, I sagged in relief. He hadn’t appeared to recognize me, but then again, the last time I’d seen him, he’d had his hands full with Andrew.
“What’s going on?” Caitlin asked the moment he was out of earshot.
“How well do you know Jacob?” I asked. Right then, I didn’t know if anything was going on, at least when it came to Jacob.
“Well enough, I guess.” Caitlin considered the gift in her hands and then set it down on a table just inside the door. “Teek was the one who recruited him and has known him the longest.”
A cold gust of wind caused me to shiver, despite my heavy coat. I hugged myself for warmth. “I saw him yesterday.” When Caitlin just stared at me, I added, “At Andrew’s Gifts.”
“And?”
“And now Andrew Carver, the owner, is dead.”
Caitlin mirrored my crossed arms. “And?”
I stepped closer to her and lowered my voice. I couldn’t see Jacob, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t listening. “He was murdered. Do you think there’s a chance Jacob could be involved?”
“With murder?” Caitlin said it loud enough, I knew Jacob had to have heard her over the music.
I shrugged and gave her a “you tell me” look.
Caitlin started to answer, a denial most likely, before she caught herself and frowned. She looked back toward the kitchen, where Jacob strode into view and started slathering something onto a piece of toast.
“Caitlin?” I prodded. “Do you know something?” She stepped forward, all but pushing me out of her doorway. She partially closed the door behind her. When she spoke, air puffed from her mouth.
“Jacob has been acting weird today,” she said. This time, she kept her voice quiet. “Nervous.”
“Like he’s hiding something?”
“I don’t know. He’s a good guy, but he doesn’t just drop in like he did today.”
He’s hiding. I don’t know why I thought that, but now that it had crossed my mind, I couldn’t think anything else. “Could he have killed Andrew?”
“Honestly? I’m not sure. If you’d asked me that yesterday, I’d say there was no way.”
“But now?”
“But now he keeps checking the windows and acting all paranoid, like he’s afraid someone might be looking for him. I thought he was avoiding Boo, but now I’m not so sure.”
“Boo?”
“His girlfriend.” Caitlin made a face. “Or whatever she is. I’ve only met her once and I can’t say I’m a fan.” She peeked back into the house, then lowered her voice some more. “Do the police think Jacob did it?”
I had no idea what the police thought and said as much. “But I did see him at Andrew’s Gifts arguing with the owner.”
“Everyone’s always harassing him—Jacob, I mean—so I’m not surprised, honestly.” Caitlin shivered, eyes drifting toward the sky. “People take one look at someone who looks like us and they expect the worst.”
“Well, Jacob didn’t do himself any favors with how he was acting.” I paused, and then asked, “Who chose the song? The one playing when I got here?” The one that sounded anti-Christmas to me.
“Jacob did. Why?”
“You know when I asked you about whether a present was left for you?” She nodded. “Well, a gift was left for Andrew at his house. I think it’s somehow connected to his death. And that song . . .”
“Is just a song.” Yet Caitlin paled. “I can’t believe Jacob would do anything like that.”
I could almost see the thoughts zooming through her head. Jacob was a friend, a bandmate. She knew him, so therefore, he couldn’t be a killer.
But lots of people have had those same exact thoughts over the years when their best friend, their neighbor, or perhaps their brother or sister, were arrested—and then convicted—for murder.
“Do you know where Jacob was last night?” I asked.
Caitlin shook her head. Her teeth started chattering as she ran her hands up and down her arms to warm them. “He didn’t show up until today, and like I said, I thought he was here because of Boo. Not because I thought he killed someone.”
“He might not have,” I said. “But since he did fight with Andrew yesterday . . .” I shook my head. “It doesn’t look good.”
“What should I do? I don’t want to just kick him out.” Her eyes widened. “Wait. Teek called last night asking about Jacob. He said Jacob was supposed to meet him at his place to go over some music stuff.”
“He didn’t show?”
“If he did, it was late. What time did the—” she mouthed the word “murder” “—take place?”
I thought back, wishing I’d paid better attention to the time. “It was sometime after seven. Maybe eight? At least, that’s around when the police showed up. I’m not sure when he was killed.”
“Teek called close to nine. He was supposed to meet with Jacob at eight.”
Which meant Jacob was missing around the time at which Andrew Carver was murdered.
“Oh, crap.” Caitlin was starting to look panicked. “What if he . . . And if he thinks I suspect . . .”
“Calm down,” I said, resting a hand on her shoulder. “He might not have anything to do with it.” Though things were most definitely not looking good for good old Jacob Black-Shirt.
“But what if he does? I could have a murderer in my house!”
Two cars pulled into Jules’s driveway, briefly drawing my attention. Both Lance and Jules climbed out of their respective vehicles and went inside.
“Paul is going to be here in less than an hour,” I told Caitlin. “If you feel threatened, or if you want me to send him over to talk to Jacob, just text me. Or call. Or yell.” I prayed it wouldn’t come to that.
Caitlin was shivering nonstop now. She might be freezing, yet she didn’t look like she wanted to go back into her house either. “I’ll think about it,” she said, closing her eyes and muttering, “Why me?” And then she pushed open her door.
Jacob was standing just inside.
I somehow managed not to yelp in surprise, though Caitlin jerked back from him like he’d lunged at her.
“Hey, you’re out of jam. I didn’t realize it was your last jar or I wouldn’t have taken it all. Sorry about that.” He took a bite from his strawberry jam-covered slice of toast.
“It’s okay. I’ll get some tomorrow.” Caitlin looked at me, worry lining her face.
“Cool.” Jacob looked from her to me, clearly curious. “Hey, don’t I know you from somewhere?”
I looked down at my bare wrist. “Shoot, look at the time. I’ve got to go. You two have fun.”
Caitlin shot me a dirty look for abandoning her, but what else was I going to do? Stand there in the cold and watch him until Paul showed up?
Jacob waved with his free hand before turning to Caitlin. “Hey, have you heard the Sabaton song, ‘Christmas Truce’ yet? Let me queue it up. It rocks.”
I eased away, feeling guilty for leaving her, but at the same time, Jacob didn’t look like a killer, nor was he acting like one.
But until I found out for sure one way or the other, I was going to treat him like one.