Sixteen

I slept fitfully, dreams and nightmares merged, settling an other-shoe-will-drop feeling over me. Not the best way to start a day. The strongest impression from the images wrecking my sleep was Cassie beaming at me through a thick pane of glass, both of us holding a landline phone to our ear. I couldn’t see what we were wearing so no idea who was the prisoner or the visitor. Yawning, I stumbled out of my room.

Grace joined me in the hallway. “Good morning, Merry.”

“Are you a breakfast girl?” I asked, “Or do you normally skip it.”

“Abraham is a picky eater, so I make sure we have three meals a day this way I know he gets enough to eat.”

“How does blueberries pancakes and bacon sound?” I wanted to keep busy, giving myself less time to obsess over troubling dreams.

“Wonderful. Do you get the morning paper? I love reading small town papers. There are usually more unique news stories in them.”

Or at least they were news worthy here while not so much so in a larger town. “Yes. It’ll be in the newspaper holder at the end of the driveway. Right next to the mailbox.”

“Thanks, I’ll get it.”

Humming a Christmas tune, I went downstairs and whipped up the batter while the griddle warmed up for the bacon and pancakes.

Grace sat at the dining room table and flipped through the newspaper. “This is what I love about small towns, the most pressing news is if the pool will open for the whole summer or just a part of it.”

“It’s the biggest controversy in Season’s Greetings.” Or was. Samuel’s murder ranked higher than it. “Is there anything about S…S…” His name locked in my throat.

“Samuel’s death.” Grace scanned each page, a frown growing deeper with each page. “Nothing. Maybe there was a mention in Saturday or Sunday’s paper.”

A man was murdered, and everyone was going on with their lives without any closure. Like it didn’t matter. What about his daughter? His wife’s feelings? Samuel always feared not mattering to people. It was why he opened businesses and became a friend to everyone and anyone. If there was a party, Samuel was there. Needed a public favor, Samuel volunteered. It was why none of his relationships worked, he wanted to be the hero to the masses even if it meant being the villain to the women who tried loving him. The love of one was never enough for him. All the people he helped, all the ones he gave money and time to now carried on as he was nothing. My heart ached for my Samuel. He wasn’t the best man, and was a lousy husband, but he was a decent enough man who thought too much about money and deserved better than having his death ignored.

“Nothing? Are you sure?” I asked.

“The big story is the lottery winner still hasn’t claimed the twelve million dollars yet.” Grace fixed wide eyes on me. “The winning ticket was won in your town.”

The word ticket bounced around in my head. Could it be? Was that what Cassie was looking for? Or why Bonnie was so desperate to get her hands on the divorce decree? Had she lied, and it wasn’t the insurance agent that questioned the marriage license but someone at the lottery commission? It was twelve million reasons for Bonnie to kill Samuel—she didn’t have to share the money with Samuel or Cassie.

“You haven’t heard any rumors about who it might be?” Grace asked.

“You know how it is before a craft show. All your focus and attention are on preparing items to sell. I don’t get on social media during that time. Don’t want any distractions. Can I see the paper?”

“Sure.” Grace handed it to me. “I wonder why they haven’t stepped forward yet?”

I read the article. My heart beat faster. Four out of the six winning lottery numbers meant something to me—and Samuel. His birthday. His mom’s birthday. The other two numbers didn’t register. Was it Bonnie’s birth month and age? With shaking hands, I placed the paper down and shrugged, trying not to let the thoughts in my head show on my face. Samuel had won the lottery. “They might be getting their affairs in order before they tell anyone. Probably scared unknown relatives will start beating down their door.”

My gut encouraged me not to share my theory. Most of the reason was fear. If it got out, the homicide detective would have one more reason to suspect me. The recent ex-wife wanting a share of the money, especially after all the grief Samuel put me through. The detective didn’t believe me now that I had nothing to do with it, he sure wouldn’t change his mind with this potential truth.

“If I won that amount of money, I’d take Abraham on a Caribbean cruise. He loves the beach. Buy a house near the ocean with a pool and invest most of it for my son’s care. What would you do with that kind of money?” Grace doctored up her coffee with creamer and a lot of sugar.

“Pay for Raleigh’s master’s degree. Go on a cruise with my children. Buy a new RV as I’m not so fond of mine anymore.”

Grace smiled sympathetically. “Can’t say I blame you. What are you going to do with it?”

“I have no choice but to keep it. It’ll look bad if I sold it now. I used most of my savings to buy it. I have to keep it if I want a mobile studio.” And not have to deal with the fact I threw away a lot of money. I couldn’t afford to do that either.

“My boyfriend renovated our RV. Things are slow for him at work right now. I can see if he can come out and fix yours. It shouldn’t take too long to remove the dinette and add in a new one. The police shouldn’t take too long dusting it for fingerprints and whatever else they’d do.”

“I was thinking about converting it into a desk area for my cutting machines. Some proper storage for my vinyl.”

Grace grinned. “That’s a great idea. I’ll talk to him tonight about it.”

“I don’t know.”

“Come on. It’ll be good for you to get the bad mojo out of there. Maybe even Christmas it up a bit to match your business. Think of the awesome photos for your Instagram and Facebook page.”

True. But the cost. One way or another, money always inserted itself into situations. “I can’t afford it right now.” Scotland had volunteered his friend Paul to fix up the RV, but I wasn’t comfortable with that plan. Last night, I had a strong feeling that Paul was interested in me as more than a friend and it was complication I wasn’t up to handling. My life right now was a huge obstacle course and I didn’t want one more item to navigate.

“How about a trade of services? Let Abraham visit with Ebenezer and my boyfriend will fix up the RV. He’s been bugging me about taking a few hours for us as a couple.”

“How will you guys spend time together if he’s working on the RV?”

She grinned and waggled her eyebrows. “Day is for work, night is for fun. If you don’t mind Abraham bunking at your place for the night.”

Smooth. Grace went from me keeping an eye on Abraham during the day and evening to having her son spending the night. Considering what I’d get out of it, it was a good trade. It was hard for Grace to have time alone or private time with her boyfriend. She didn’t want to hurt her son’s feeling by hiring someone to look out for him. This was the perfect solution. He’d be visiting with Ebenezer. Raleigh was coming down Wednesday night after work for Thanksgiving, and Scotland hoped to spend a few hours on Thanksgiving at home. I had thought of bringing Thanksgiving to the kids, but right now I wanted to spend as little time in Morgantown as possible.

“Deal,” I said. “You guys can stay for Thanksgiving.”

“I don’t know.”

“It’s a good excuse to give Abraham. I know Abraham enjoys decorating. Tell him I need some help getting Christmas up and am feeling a little down.”

Grace nodded. “That will work. I hate reminding Abraham that he has different needs than others his age. This way he’s helping you.”

With that settled, we dug into our breakfast.

My cell phone sang “We Wish You a Merry Christmas.” Season’s Living Retirement Community. I jumped up and snagged the phone from the kitchen counter.

“This is Merry.” My heart pounded. The assistant living facility usually called in the morning if my mother had a bad night.

“It’s Holly. Doctor Yielding wanted me to give you a call and let you know your mom is dealing with a heavy case of the Christmas blues. She’d been binge watching Hallmark Christmas movies and is sad she can’t have a tree.”

Last year, it was decided not to have large decorations in my mom’s room. She loved a large Christmas tree but would forget it was Christmas time and demand it be taken down. Only to insist a few hours later it be put back up. It placed an undue burden on the staff. The doctor probably reminded my mother that she couldn’t have a large tree in her room. We were telling her it was because Christmas tree lights overloaded the facility’s power grid. I hated lying to my mom but the truth, her memory was slipping away, turned her combative.

The Christmas tree decal. “I have the perfect solution.” I told Holly about my Christmas décor vinyl decals.

“That’s perfect.” There was a smile in Holly’s voice. “If you have any extras, bring them with you. I know a few other residents who would benefit from some good old Christmas cheer.”

“Absolutely.” I was called Merry Christmas for a reason. Nothing lifted my spirits more than bringing Christmas joy to the masses.

“I hate to end girl time abruptly, but I have a Christmas decorating emergency.”

I took a quick shower and dressed in one of my tamer Christmas outfits: a long sweater decorated with tiny Christmas wreaths along the collar and hem and paired it with jeans and winter boots as it looked like snow was coming our way. I had found my weather predicting ability during the holiday season was more accurate than any weather apps and reports. My body just knew when snow was coming.

I snagged my keys from the kitchen counter. I liked storing my keys as far from the door as possible, believing it stopped people from breaking in. At times, I questioned that reasoning as if someone was in my house to steal the keys, they’d wouldn’t need them to get in. It was one of my false sense of security habits that my children teased me about. Since it gave me peace of mind, I just went with it.

Grace had left, leaving me a note thanking me for my hospitality and a reminder that she’d be back on Wednesday along with her guys. I emailed myself a reminder to ask Paul about getting my RV out of lock down. It would be hard to renovate the RV if it was still residing in the fire station.

There was movement on the right-hand side of the porch, near my one-person wooden swing. Cats liked to perch there at night. Like other areas of Season’s Greetings, stray cats were becoming an issue. I was more worried about it freezing and starving to death than I was at a homeless cat claiming my porch as a resting place.

A figure lunged toward me. It was not cat-sized.

I screeched and lurched backwards, the keys and phone slipped from my fingers and clattered to the wooden porch.

Cassie grabbed my arm. “Where’s the RV?” There was venom in her voice.

Her anger brought out mine, shoving out common sense. “Why was the registration dated for the wrong day?”

Her grip fell from my arm and she stepped back. “What are you talking about?”

“I checked the registration for the RV. It’s not dated for the day I bought it.” I almost mentioned the signature, changing my mind at the last moment. I didn’t need to let Cassie know everything I discovered.

Cassie rubbed her left ring finger and thumb together. “What are you talking about? You watched me date and sign it. Everything was legit. You’re trying to switch the topic on me. I told you I needed to get my ticket. You said I could get it today.”

A ticket consisting of six numbers was my guess. At least I didn’t have to worry about her well-being anymore. She was feisty as ever and dressed quite nicely, if not warmly. Her feet were shoved in sparkly canvas shoes without any socks. I spotted a faint hint of black and red on her left ankle. I squinted. Was it a tattoo?

She glanced down and blushed. She used her right ankle to block her left one.

“The RV was secured by the police,” I fibbed a little.

Her eyes widened and her face paled. “They took it because of Dad’s murder?”

Tears filled my eyes. The truth sounded eviler and bleaker coming from his daughter. I drew in deep breaths and brought my emotions under control. Cassie needed my support.

I took hold of her hands. They were ice cold. “It was vandalized. The police thought it best to have it moved to a safe place.”

Tears welled in her eyes and her mouth and body trembled. She was ready to crumble. “What did they do?”

“Cushions were ripped. Whatever I had in the refrigerator was on the floor. Just trashed.”

Like the culprit was searching for something—a ticket. I was positive my suspicion was correct. Everything added up. Bonnie asking for a trip. All the Go Fund Me requests on Samuel’s Facebook page. Samuel had won the lottery and apparently a lot of people in town knew, except me.

Cassie tucked her hands under her arms and wandered away, looking devastated, hopeless, and scared. She knew her dad won the lottery and counted on finding the ticket. Now, someone else had it. I prayed Samuel had signed it to protect himself and his daughter, making it useless to anyone else.

Except for possibly his wife, who I doubted would share it with the stepdaughter she loathed.

  

The frosted glass doors of Season’s Living parted, and I tugged my utility wagon into the lobby. The pale blue walls added a hint of color, giving the room some warmth and cheer. Plush gray chairs were staged throughout the lobby in conversational groupings. The area was used for open houses and parties for the residents. Most residents stayed in their care units, especially the memory care resident-patients like my mother. The staff had wanted functions that allowed the residents from all the special care units time to mingle together so they hosted special get togethers four times a year.

The wheels of the cart sailed over the honey-colored laminate oak floor. I waved to Holly. “Here to spread Christmas cheer.”

She tapped a pen onto the clipboard at the reception counter. “Merry, you have to sign in. Every time.”

“Alright.” I scribbled my signature down. Right above my name was a barely legible one. William Grayson. My heart dipped. What was he doing here? Heck, I knew what he was doing here—talking to my mother.

I raced down the hall, the cart banging into walls.

“Merry,” Holly called out to me.

I ignored her. I reached the end of the hall and smacked the button that opened the main doors to the memory care unit. There were four apartments down this corridor, my mother’s place was at the end of the hall on the left side. At the very end of the hallway was a window with a locked bar keeping it secured so a resident couldn’t slip out. Every staff member in the unit had a key to unlock the window if there was an emergency. Everything was built with safety and comfort for the residents.

I punched in the code to unlock my mom’s apartment door, violently twisting the knob and throwing the door open. It banged against the wall.

Grayson spun, hand on the butt of his weapon.

“You want to shoot me?” I stalked toward him, scanning the room for my mother. Masking tape marked off the floor around my mother’s kitchenette. “Arresting me isn’t enough for you?”

“You broke in here.” His arm dangled by his side.

“I belong here.” I jabbed a finger toward the detective. “You don’t.”

My mother was huddled in a corner of her living room, squished between the couch and the wall. A nurse sat on the couch, trying to coax my mom to sit next to her. The detective was lucky my mom was my main priority because the other instinct rolling through me was to punch him in the jaw.

Tears flowed down my mother’s cheeks, dipping into the deep lines on face. “I did it. He said I did it.”

Rage roared through me. What had the horrible man accuse my mom of? He was worse than a Grinch. Worse than Scrooge. He was like a parent who took away Christmas from a child and made them watch their siblings enjoy the holiday. I kissed the top of her head, running my hand over her white hair. “I don’t care what he said or told you. Mom, you did nothing wrong. He’s an awful man. A liar.”

“Watch what you’re saying, Ms. Winters.” The warning in Grayson’s words came through as clear as ringing Salvation Army bells.

I didn’t care. No one messed with my babies. No one messed with my mom. I knelt beside her, drawing her trembling form into my arms. “You’re the one who should watch themselves. How dare you come here? You have no right.” I’d contact everyone I could think of and tell them how a detective treated my mother. The mayor. The newspaper. Television. Brett. Twitter.

“The nurse allowed me in.” The man was too pleased with himself, increasing my ire.

“He said he had some questions about your divorce.” The nurse wrung her hands. “There was a little confusion about it.”

She was new. I looked at her nametag. Evelyn Graham. She was around my age, mid-forties, and had dyed bright red hair falling in a tangled mess of faux curls to her shoulders and was makeup free. I couldn’t recall seeing her around Season’s Greetings, although we were a small town, it wasn’t so small everyone knew each other.

“He tricked you. He wanted to question my mother about me, and you gave him the opportunity to do so.”

“I was doing what I felt was right.”

“Strangers are not to visit my mother. It’s in her chart.” Why did they pair this nurse with my mother?

“He’s a police officer,” Evelyn whispered, looking at the ground. “Why wouldn’t I trust him?”

My anger toward the nurse ebbed away. She was right. We were raised to trust law enforcement. Heck, I usually trusted those with a badge. My son always adored police officers and the job they did—protect and serve—it was why he became one. The person who was in the wrong was the detective for lying to the nurse and bullying my ailing mother.

“Nurse Graham, can you please get Doctor Yielding and call the local police. I want this detective removed from this facility. He has no right to interrogate my mother.”

“Your mother,” Grayson’s voice rose, “admitted to seeing Samuel Waters Thursday afternoon, she is likely the last one to have seen him alive.”

“He came here?” I leaned away from my mother, checking her eyes for clarity.

My mother nodded though her brows were scrunched together. Her gaze roamed around the room. She was trying to place herself, figure out where she was—and when. What Grayson didn’t understand was that Thursday to my mother might not have been the Thursday that just passed. Time had no meaning to my mother anymore.

“He said he had happy news for you. Your life was going to change.” My mother stroked my cheek, a shaky smile developing. “You’d get everything you ever asked from him whether you changed your mind about him or not.”

Grayson sneered. “What was Mr. Waters’ net worth?”

I ignored him. What the detective didn’t want to understand was the only thing I had wanted from Samuel was a divorce. “I think it’s time you left, Detective.”

“It’s important to retrace the final moments of Samuel Waters. It will help determine who might have information about motives and give us some viable suspects. I’d have thought you’d want that Merry Winters.”

If I wasn’t mistaken, he drew out my last name. Why? There was a reason for everything he said and did. Like visiting my mom. Grayson talked to someone else who sent him to my mother. But who? Everyone in town liked my mother and even me. Some residents found my Christmas love a little over the top and my usual normal cheerfulness hard to take, but no one disliked me enough to hurt my mother.

I aimed my foot to nudge Evelyn’s and missed, kicking her ankle instead. She sucked in a pained breath and speed-limped out of the room.

“This situation doesn’t involve my mother. I want you to stop harassing her.”

“Harass?” A bitter laugh erupted from him. “So, that’s the way you want to play this. You want to claim this situation, investigating Samuel’s murder, is improper police behavior. It’s my job to find the truth when someone is killed. Murdered. Someone is guilty. And no one,” his gaze settled on my mother, “is off the hook.”

I enclosed my arms around her and glared at him. “You’re threatening my mother.”

“I’m not the one trying to get away with something,” Grayson said. “Someone in this room is.”

A breath hitched in my mom’s throat then more sobs shook out.

I tightened my hold on her and glared at Grayson. Why was he tormenting an eighty-seven-year-old woman? “My mother did not see Samuel on Thursday. He was instructed not to visit her.”

“Why was that?” Grayson asked.

“Because he upset her,” I said.

“That’s true, Detective,” Doctor Yielding entered the apartment and the conversation. She pulled my abandoned utility cart into the room. “We were instructed not to allow Samuel Waters to see Gloria Winters as he was a source of agitation. His visits upset her. Almost as much as yours.”

The detective had the good graces to blush. He pulled out a pen and a small notebook from his pocket. A bit of relief flowed through me. He hadn’t been taking notes when he talked to my mother, or at least not when I arrived. “When was Samuel banned from seeing Mrs. Winters?”

“About three months ago, if my recollection is correct,” Doctor Yielding said, “though I’d need to check Mrs. Winters records to confirm. I do know it was within a day or two of Merry making that request that she filed for divorce.”

“Why was that?” Grayson asked.

I answered the question. “He was a jerk to my mom.”

“That’s interesting because Mrs. Gloria Winters told me she saw him on Thursday. November fifteenth. She was quite insistent on the date being correct. I asked her numerous times if she was certain. She said yes.”

“Of course, she agreed with you. She knew that was the answer you wanted, and it stopped you from asking again.” My body felt heated. I fidgeted as a flashflood of emotions rushed through me. I knew it was anger and not the onset of hot flashes. The detective’s questioning convinced my mother of her rightness. If asked a question multiple times, my mother responded with the same answer. She never liked her memory questioned, even more so now when it was slipping away from her day by day.

“It was an important detail to the case.” Grayson snapped the book closed. “Samuel Waters is dead. You don’t seem to care about that.”

I took some deep breaths, hoping to settle my anger. “I do care. I care that his daughter is basically an orphan. I care that Bonnie Waters is now a widow. She and Samuel were married a week before he died. It must be heartbreaking for her. I’m also saddened for Samuel as he likely had finally found his true soulmate and he died right after.”

“Why do you keep changing the truth? There is a distinction between died and was killed. Samuel was murdered. Someone ended his life. It wasn’t natural,” Grayson said.

My mother wailed, a sound from the soul. Heart breaking. If terror and hopelessness had a sound, it was like the one coming from my mother. Her body quaked. Eyes were cloudy as if she was far away. Some other time or place. She was leaving the here and now. Leaving me. Going to a place in her mind where she felt safe.

I grabbed onto my mom, desperate to hold her together. Terror and rage pulsed through me. I had never disliked a person as much as I did Detective Grayson.

Doctor Yielding knelt beside my mother, checking her pulse. “Detective, I insist you leave.”

“Leave my mother alone,” my voice cracked. “I’ll answer anything you want. Just leave her alone. She doesn’t understand what you’re asking. She has dementia. She doesn’t know when November fifteenth was, you could’ve asked if she saw him on October thirty-first, or November sixteenth and she’d have said yes.”

For the first time since I encountered Detective Grayson in my mother’s room, he looked unsure of himself.

“If you’d done all your homework, Detective Grayson,” the doctor’s voice was colder than the North Pole during a massive blizzard, “you’d know this assistant living facility specializes in memory loss issues. Gloria resides in our memory care unit.”

“Is that true?” Instead of the rage that was usually in my mom’s voice when her diagnosis was mentioned in front of her, there was hope.

I gazed into her widened eyes.

“So, I might not have seen him just a few days ago? I might not have killed him?”

Shock rendered me speechless and immobile. Frozen. Detective Grayson wasn’t trying to prove I killed Samuel, he had a new suspect. My mother.