25
Misfit glared at me from the corner of my living room, tail swishing, ears pinned back. He was wearing a red and green sweater, which was the cause of his consternation. Every so often, he would use his back foot to try to push the sweater off, but it was nice and safely snug.
“It’s just for today,” I told him. “Try to have some fun.”
Christmas music played from my TV, which showed a crackling fireplace. I didn’t have one of my own, so I’d improvised. Too bad I couldn’t feel the heat from it. Or smell it. The cinnamon-scented candles I had lit weren’t cutting it.
I hummed along to the music as I set out the pies I’d purchased. My guests were due to arrive anytime now, and I wanted everything to be perfect. Paul had left me snoring soundly in bed late last night so he could take care of his dogs, but promised to be back for my little Christmas Eve dinner.
My phone rang and I snatched it up. “Hi, Rita! Merry Christmas Eve!”
“Well, hello there, dear. You sound jovial today.”
“I guess I am.” And I swear Paul’s visit last night had nothing to do with it. I noted Rita sounded far better than she had as of late, and said, “You sound happy.”
“Oh, I am. You won’t believe what arrived on my doorstep late last evening.”
My mind instantly flashed on blue-wrapped gifts. “Please tell me it wasn’t a present.”
“It was!” Rita didn’t squeal, but I could hear the joy in her voice. “It’s from Johan.”
I sagged against the counter. “That’s great.”
There was a pause. “Now, I know you didn’t like him all that much, and I know he left on rather bad terms, but you don’t have to sound so upset.”
“I’m not upset,” I told her. “I’m relieved. I was worried the gift was from . . . you know?”
A beat, and then, “You thought it was from the killer? Lordy Lou, I didn’t even think of that. No, this was from Johan, sent through the mail, but there’s no return address.” A pause. “I heard they caught the killer?”
“They arrested someone,” I said. “But I’m not sure they got the right guy.”
“Oh? And why do you say that?”
I considered it a moment before speaking. “I keep thinking about Doris and how she’s been hounding everyone, including people involved with Andrew. And then there’s Lee and Agnes Komph and their issues with the Carvers.” Romantic and otherwise.
“Doris is all talk,” Rita said. I could imagine her waving a hand in front of her face, as if dismissing my concerns about the stern older woman. “She will nag your ear off, but when push comes to shove, she simply isn’t capable of murder.”
That’s three—Dad, Erin, and now Rita—who’d said the same thing. “You don’t think so?”
“I don’t. That tongue of hers is sharp enough to kill, but she usually just uses it to lash her flock into shape. She could talk just about anyone off a cliff, though often it’s because you just want to get away from her.”
And while I’d love for Doris and her bad attitude to be the culprit, I tended to agree with Rita’s assessment. “Maybe Jacob really is the guy,” I said, not sure I believed it.
“I suppose we’ll see, now, won’t we? Oh! I’ve got to run, dear. I just wanted to let you know about Johan’s gift. He’s still out there.” I could hear the smile in her voice. “I’ll talk to you soon. Have a wonderful Christmas.”
And she was gone.
I went back to working in the kitchen, forcing my mind back to happy holidays instead of deadly killers. Today was going to be about my family. About Paul. About Dad and Laura. I’d been tempted to invite everyone at Death by Coffee, as well as all my friends, but realized that sometimes smaller is better. I wanted today to be cozy and relaxing. Add too many people and I’d be tearing my hair out trying to please everyone.
I was soon back to humming as I checked the dinner I’d planned. I’m an admittedly bad cook, yet everything appeared as if it was going to turn out okay. Nothing had burned.
Yet.
A knock at the door had me awkwardly pirouetting around my island counter to answer. I expected it to be one of my guests—Dad, Laura, or Paul—but instead, I found Caitlin Blevins on my doorstep.
“Caitlin?” I asked, stepping aside. “Come in. It’s freezing.”
“I don’t want to keep you,” she said, though she entered anyway. “I just . . .” She frowned, and then thrust out a hand. “Here.”
I took a small, wrapped package from her. “What’s this?” I couldn’t keep the pleasure out of my voice.
“Not much. But since you got me something, I guess I thought I should do the same.”
“You really didn’t have to do that.”
She shrugged, face turning red. “You’ve been kind to me. I should be the same to you.”
“Caitlin, you’ve saved me from a killer.” At the cost of her old guitar. “You don’t have to buy me anything.”
Another shrug. “I know. But still . . .”
I clutched the package to my chest. “I’ll open it on Christmas. Thank you.”
She smiled, looking embarrassed. “You’re welcome.” Her entire demeanor changed. “And I guess I had another reason for coming over.”
It wasn’t hard to figure out. “It’s about Jacob, isn’t it?”
“Yeah.” She scuffed a boot on the floor. “I don’t get it. Boo called me of all people. She said the police picked him up at her place and that they think he killed that man.” She ran her fingers through her hair before letting her arm drop. “It doesn’t make sense.”
No, it didn’t. “What time did Jacob leave your house that night. Do you remember?”
“Yeah. Let me think.” She paced over to the counter. “Smells good in here.”
“Thank you.”
In the living room, Misfit backed deeper into the corner, head ducked, like he thought he might be able to back his way out of his sweater. With a huff, he gave up and flopped over onto his side.
“I think it was around midnight,” Caitlin said, pacing back over to me.
“Not before?”
She shook her head.
“You’re positive?” I asked. “Think hard. You didn’t fall asleep or leave him unattended for an hour or two or anything like that, right?”
“I’m sure. We listened to music for a while and then started fooling around with some of our own stuff, making improvements and alterations, looking for the right sound. I was nervous after your visit, but Jacob was still acting like Jacob, so I eventually got over worrying about him.”
“Boo never stopped by?”
“No. Why would she?”
It was my turn to start pacing. “The police think Jacob was lurking outside Death by Coffee that night.”
“After he left my house?”
“Before. And someone else placed him downtown earlier that night. At like seven or eight.”
“That can’t be right,” Caitlin said. “He was with me.”
Headlights lit up the front of my house. Caitlin took in the decorations, the TV fireplace, the cooking food, the music.
“You’re having guests,” she said, putting it together. She backed toward the door. “I’m sorry. I’ll go.”
The thought of her going back to her empty house didn’t sit right with me. Everyone should have a happy holiday. “You don’t have to go. You can stay if you’d like. It’s just Paul and my dad and his girlfriend. They’d love to have you.”
“No, that’s okay. But thank you.”
I walked Caitlin to the door and opened it just as Dad and Laura approached. Dad was wearing a ridiculous heavily padded Santa outfit, while Laura was dressed as Mrs. Claus.
“What in the world are you two wearing?” I asked through a laugh.
“It’s a Christmas party, isn’t it?” Dad asked, giving me a kiss on the cheek. His fake beard tickled. “Are you joining us?” he asked Caitlin.
“No.” She was smiling as she said it. “You guys have fun.”
“If you change your mind, you can always come over,” I said. “None of us would mind.”
“I’ll think about it. Promise.” And then Caitlin hurried across the yard, to her house.
“It looks like it might snow,” Laura said as I stepped aside to let her and Dad in.
“It definitely feels it.” The cold blast of air that followed them inside had my teeth chattering. “You do know that it’s just us and Paul, right? No one else is dressing up.”
“Oh, I know,” Dad said. He spotted Misfit and walked over to scratch him behind the ears. Misfit leaned into it, and then turned as if asking Dad to remove the sweater. When he didn’t, Misfit huffed and sauntered over to Laura. “But we wanted to get into the spirit of the season.”
He then let loose a hearty “Ho, ho, ho!” that had Misfit shooting him a kitty-glare before he beat it to the safety of the bedroom.
My phone rang. A look at the screen and my heart sank. Paul. I answered with a tentative, “Hey.”
“Hi, Krissy.” Paul sounded unhappy, which, in turn, made me unhappy. “I thought I’d be able to get there on time, but Susie’s running late. The pain meds they gave her knocked her flat and she fell asleep. She’s going to be here soon, and then I’ll head on over.”
“There’s no rush,” I said, relieved. As a cop, Paul often got called away, causing us to miss dates or quiet evenings alone together. An hour or so late was nothing. “We’ll be here.”
“I’m really sorry about this,” he said. “If you need to eat before I get there, go ahead. I can warm mine up. And I’ll make it up to you.” A pause. “Susie’s keeping the dogs overnight, so . . .”
Heat washed across my face. I turned my back on Dad before he could see it. “I’m going to hold you to that.” After Mr. and Mrs. Claus left, of course.
“Paul’s not coming?” Laura asked when I hung up.
“He is. He’s just going to be late. Dogsitter problems.” I explained about Susie and her recent fall.
“Ah. I thought there might be a break in the case,” Dad said. “I heard someone was arrested?”
Laura rolled her eyes, but her smile was good-natured. “I’m going to find Misfit. I have something for him.” She pulled a bag of treats from her purse, and then went in search of the orange fluffball.
Dad waited until she was gone before turning back to me with a “Well?” expression on his face.
“Someone was picked up, but I think they might have the wrong guy.” Before Dad could pepper me with questions about the murder, I pivoted, “How’s Laura doing? She seems okay now.”
“She’s good,” Dad said, glancing toward the hallway where she’d gone. “Everything’s great now.”
“It wasn’t before?”
Dad scratched his chin beneath his fake beard. “She was stressed and it really got to her. She was worried you wouldn’t understand.”
“Wait. I wouldn’t understand? Understand what?”
Dad took me by the elbow and led me into the kitchen, which because of my open floorplan, wasn’t private, but it put us out of line of sight of the doorways down the hall.
“We’re moving in together.” When I just stared at him, he said. “Permanently.”
More staring. When he didn’t add to it, I asked, “So? I thought you two have been living together for a while now.”
“Yeah. But this will be more . . . official?” The last word came out as a question.
And then it hit me. “You’re getting married?” It was all I could do to keep from screaming it. I was bombarded by emotions and had to brace against the counter to keep from falling. I mean, this was great. And I was pretty sure Mom would approve. I couldn’t understand how Laura would think that I might not be thrilled by the news.
“No,” Dad said, bursting my joy bubble. “Not married.”
My brow furrowed. “I thought you said you were going to make it official.”
Dad pulled his beard from his face. “Is it hot in here, or what?” He let it snap back.
“Dad,” I said. “What’s going on?”
He sighed. “We’re going to live as a couple,” he said. “But not get married.”
“Why not? Is it me? If you’re worried I might not approve—”
“No, it’s not you.” He pulled me into a brief hug. “Never you. But Laura and I discussed it and we both realized that we don’t want to go through the hassle again. We’re not young. We’re perfectly happy as we are. Why change things?”
I had no answer for that. “I’m happy for you.” And I meant it with all my heart.
“I know you are, Buttercup. Laura was just worried. She wants you to approve so badly, but didn’t know how to tell you.”
“She needn’t have worried,” I said. “I like her. A lot. She’s good for you.”
Dad started blinking rapidly.
Oh no, please don’t cry. If he lost it, I was going to lose it too and then we’d both be blubbering.
Thankfully, Laura returned then. “Kitty’s happy,” she announced. She set the remaining treats on the counter. “What did I miss?”
For an answer, I hugged her. “You’re family, no matter what you decide to do.”
The next ten minutes was spent with hugs and laughs and reassurances. Everything was going to be okay, and I was over the moon that Dad and Laura were going to stick together until the end.
Laura strode over to her purse to grab a tissue. She picked it up, causing the strap to hang down around her waist as she searched for one. My breath caught as images flashed through my mind.
Of Jacob, standing there, wallet chain dangling against his left leg. Of a shadowy shape, standing in the dark, a glimmer on their leg.
But my brain put it on their right leg.
Garrison had demonstrated what she’d seen that night outside of Death by Coffee by placing her hand around her right leg. Jacob’s chain always hung on the left. Was I overanalyzing it? Or was it an important detail?
Another flash. This one of someone of similar size, but completely different in personality and just about everything else. Of a metal strap hanging as they clutched at a handbag.
“I’ve got to go.” Without thinking I grabbed my coat and keys. “Tell Paul I’ll be back.” I needed to confirm what I thought I knew.
“You’re leaving?” Laura asked at the same time Dad said, “I’m coming with you.”
I didn’t know how to explain, nor did I think I had time to. It seems silly, but I kept thinking that if I didn’t do something right this instant, then Jacob would miss spending Christmas with his family. I couldn’t allow that to happen, not when I thought I knew what happened.
“Okay,” I said to Dad, before turning to Laura. “Could you wait for Paul? I know it’s a lot to ask—”
She must have seen something in my face because she cut me off. “It’s no problem. Go. I’ll keep an eye on the food.”
“Thank you.” I gave her a quick hug, and then I pulled on my coat and was out the door with Santa Claus right behind me.