Murder Under the Tree Page 4

  As I cleaned up the mess from baking the cutouts, the phone rang.

  “Hello, Mom. I hope you don't mind, but I sort of invited Frances' mom, Linda, for Christmas dinner.”

  “William, you sort of invited her?”

  “Yes, and I haven't had time to buy her a gift, what with finishing up my school job before Christmas and packing up my things for my new apartment. Do you think you could pick something up and wrap it for me?”

  “Do you want me to write a personal note on it from you also?”

  “Sure, Mom...sounds good. I have another call. See you tomorrow afternoon.”

  I could hear Phil playing his guitar in the lower level. I went downstairs.

  “Phil, that was Will. He needs a gift for his girlfriend's mom, and I need to get out of the house. I'm going to walk downtown. Want to come along?'

  “I just started practising songs for our show.”

  “I'll pick up something small to eat, to hold us over until we go to Elizabeth's Christmas party tonight.”

  “Tonight? I forgot about her party. Suppose I have to go.”

  “Of course you have to go! Elizabeth wants you and your band to bring your instruments. You're the entertainment!”

  Phil suddenly played a dissonant chord. I smiled.

  Bundled up in my black wool coat, wearing a warm hat and mittens, I put on my boots and hurried out of the house. I walked down our driveway to the snow covered street. A blanket of soft white snow crunched under my feet.

  Down the street, I saw a neighbor taking their Christmas tree off of their car roof. They saw me and waved. The rooftops were covered deep in snow after a week of snowfall. Many of the front yards had snowmen standing watch. None with yellow legs. I smiled thinking of Phil. A Dodge Caravan passed by. A black labrador followed, running down the street in the minivan's tracks. Smart dog!

  Light snow danced in the air. At Evergreen Park, kids sledded down the blue and purple tinged hills, squealing with excitement. It looked like I was transported into the middle of a snow globe. The boughs of the fir trees in the park were bent heavy with snow.

  Christmas lights started to come on. The doors to St. Mary's were propped open. School children carried large wreaths into the church. I could hear the choir practicing for the Christmas Eve mass tomorrow night.

  Silent night, holy night

  All is calm, all is bright

  Another holiday, another murder. At least no one got murdered at Thanksgiving dinner! How did I end up, in the season of peace and goodwill toward men, investigating another homicide? All I wanted was to spend a calm and bright Christmas with my family. But that would be tarnished by the investigation that would immediately follow the Christmas festivities.

  By the time I reached Main Street, the lights of the tree covered boulevard flickered to life. Store windows lit the sidewalks. The sound of the ringing bell carried for blocks before I saw the volunteer with the Salvation Army red kettle at the corner of Main Street and Elm. A spicy, sweet smell came from Gupta's New Delhi. I'd stop there after I bought Linda's gift for take-out.

  I crossed the street and walked into Goodman's.

  * * * *

  Around seven o'clock, Phil and I turned on our outdoor Christmas lights and left for Elizabeth's. I carried a couple of bottles of wine, while Phil lugged his guitar case and amp across the street. Hers was the last of the Christmas parties. We met up with Deirdre and Mike on our way. He was wrestling his double-bass through the snow.

  Tiny white lights draped the porch of Elizabeth's home and sparkled in her yew trees on both sides. I followed Deirdre into Elizabeth's warm home and smelled the fragrance of her lush Fraser fir tree. Mistletoe was hanging in the entrance. Phil pointed up at it. I smiled and gave him a quick peck on the cheek. Bruce Springsteen's raspy voice belting out, “Merry Christmas Baby” filled the living room.

  Elizabeth greeted us coming from the kitchen wearing a little, and I mean little, black dress with a voluptuous off-the-shoulder neckline. She carried a decorative metal tray of wine glasses. Also on the tray stood a tall vase filled with hand held masks. I gave Elizabeth a questioning look.

  “Kay, this year it's an Italian themed Christmas party. Take a mask if you'd like.” She laughed. I looked at the other guests in the living room. None had masks. “Would you like a glass of Prosecco?”

  “Italian,” Phil said, dropping his amp to free a hand. “Va bene.”

  I looked at Phil. “Pardon?”

  “Sounds good,” Phil said as he grasped a glass.

  Elizabeth put the tray on the table near the entryway. “I'll take your coats. You boys can set up in the study.” John walked into the living room and she piled our coats onto his arms. He left, heading down the hall towards the bedrooms. Mike headed towards the study to get the equipment ready. “Everyone who's here so far is in the dining room. Choose a mask.” She almost said it as a command. I laughed.

  “I just remembered something,” Elizabeth said. “Mi Scusi.” She went back into the kitchen.

  “You never know with Elizabeth,” Phil said to me in a low voice. “Man, it's warm in here.”

  “Elizabeth wears minimal clothing.”

  Phil loosened his tie and started unbuttoning the top buttons of his shirt. “Phil, what are you doing?”

  “I'm taking off my shirt.”

  “Phil. Stop. Grin and bear it.”

  “That's what I plan to do.” He took off his tie and undid a few buttons on his shirt. “I need to find some ice.” Phil left on his quest, leaving his equipment stacked against the wall.

  “At least it will be an interesting evening,” I said to Deirdre, as we walked towards the dining room.

  Lots of people were in Elizabeth's large dining room. Some I recognized. Probably a number of them were from the college faculty. A fire roared in the fireplace. Candles and garland covered the mantle. Two stocking were on the fireplace with Elizabeth’s and John's names on them. Elizabeth's son must not be coming home for Christmas. I looked over the table filled with all kinds of sweets and mouth-watering appetizers. Chickpea balls, canapé squares with eggplant, ricotta and spinach fritters, roasted red pepper brushetta, shrimp in puff pastry. Elizabeth went all out. Baked brie, ricotta cheesecake with a dark chocolate sauce, marzipan, others I couldn't recognize. Ah, she was missing cutout cookies! I should have brought some along. I smiled. Elizabeth would have loved those among her buffet.

  “Quite a spread,” I said to Deirdre.

  “Elizabeth's been busy much of the week.”

  The band struck a warm-up note, and people started to move in that direction. The study was completely packed by the time I got there, so I leaned against the doorway to the dining room. People started to clap as a woman wearing a sequined, slinky evening gown took the microphone and started to sing along with the band. She looked like a middle-aged lounge singer.

  Nancy Reinhardt. I couldn't believe it.

  Nancy and the band did a few lengthy songs before they announced that they were going to take a brief break to refill their drinks. Phil headed straight over to me with Nancy in tow.

  “Kay, there's someone I want you to meet.” Phil stepped back so that I could see her and she could see me. Her eyes widened. “This is the singer we're hoping will join our band. Dinesh discovered her on karaoke night at Gatsby's. She has a fantastic voice!”

  I held up my hand in a half-hearted wave. “Nancy Reinhardt.”

  All was quiet. A razor-sharp knife would have had trouble cutting through the tension the silence created.

  Phil's smile fell off his face as he looked between the two of us.

  “Hello, Kay.”

  Phil looked a bit more relieved now that we were talking.

  “You have a great singing voice.” I couldn't think of anything else to say.

  Phil smiled.

  “Phil, Nancy and I have already met.”

  “You have? Where?”

  “I met your wife at the retirement home where
I'm the director. Kay performed CPR on our maintenance man when his heart stopped.”

  I could almost see Phil's brain light up in an ah-ha moment. Awkward silence followed.

  “Phil, I think it would be best to tell you that I've thought over your band's proposal and I have decided against it.” She glanced over at me. “I don't think it would be the right fit for me. Sorry.”

  “We're sorry to hear that,” Mike said, who had just arrived with Dinesh to get more wine. They looked sad and confused to have walked in on Nancy declining to join their band.

  “Well, I better be going.” Nancy walked out of the study.

  “I wonder what could have made her change her mind,” Dinesh said. “She was so good.”

  “Don't worry. We'll find another good voice,” Phil said.

  I went back into the living room to look for Deirdre. She was talking to Rebecca and Jeff, our neighbor's from two doors down, who had just walked in the front door. I waved to Rebecca. She made a motion towards Elizabeth and John who were dancing to Otis Redding's rendition of “White Christmas.” I grinned then thought of the last time I heard a different version of this song, at the retirement home watching Les on the ladder.

  Elizabeth gave a little laugh as she danced with John. A laughter that was relaxed, like everything about her.

  “Kay, you'll never guess who I saw leaving the party,” Deirdre said.

  “Nancy Reinhardt?”

  “How did you know?”

  “Tell you later.”

  Phil came into the living room carrying a tall glass of ice and a bottle of wine. He poured wine into our glasses, although his glass was the only one that needed filling. “Sorry, Kay. I didn't realize Nancy was the director of Hawthorne Hills. That must have been awkward.”

  “It's fine. No worries.” I gave him a kiss on his cheek.

  The recorded song that Elizabeth and John were dancing to ended. Elizabeth smiled as she passed us and walked into the dining room. Soon I heard a bell ring. Those of us in the living room followed the sound into the dining room to see what it was about. Mike, Dinesh, and others came into the room from the adjoining study.

  Elizabeth put down the bell and proceeded to make a toast. “Welcome everyone. I'm glad you could make it to our Christmas masquerade party.” She then covered her face with her hand held mask. I noticed a few other people did as well. John reached for Elizabeth and slipped his arm around her waist. “There's lots of food and drink. And dance all night.” She raised her glass up and continued, “I know I've wished you this before...” Deirdre looked at me and started mouthing Elizabeth's words. “...but every year I wish it more. A Merry, Merry Christmas to you all.”

  Deirdre whispered into my ear. “She's right. She did last year...and the year before that...and the year...”

  My attention moved to a distinguished looking man, who must have been in his late sixties, standing off to the side. He wore a casual, navy crewneck sweater and tan cordoroys. His arms folded, he seemed enthralled by Elizabeth's toast. I inched closer and continued watching him. He exuded wealth, his Corum watch gleamed on his wrist. Allen Edmonds peaked from under his trousers. He seemed to be in a trance. His eyes lingered on the picture Elizabeth imparted. An admirer?

  Everyone in turn sang out, “Merry Christmas!”

  As I stood in the doorway of the dining room, watching the man, I heard James Brown's “Please Come Home For Christmas” from the living room. Phil came over, took my hand and led me further into the living room. I cast one more glance over to Elizabeth's gentleman admirer, but he was no longer there. Looking around the room, his blue and tan ensemble was nowhere to be seen. I shrugged, letting Phil lead me. We started dancing.

  “When can we leave?” he whispered discretely, a sweet smile on his face as he nodded to Elizabeth passing through to the kitchen.

  “How about now?”

  Chapter Four

  Wednesday, December 24

  Christmas Eve

  I spent much of the morning in the kitchen preparing Christmas Eve dinner. I decided it would be fun to surprise the family with “A Christmas Carol” themed dinner. I wanted tonight to be a special and relaxing evening for the five of us. Tomorrow I'd have a houseful; it would be mayhem with Phil's relatives descending upon our home. Thank goodness, I had also invited friends as a buffer.

  Phil came into the kitchen and took a bite out of an apple that was on the counter. “Hon, the presents in the bedroom closet, do you want them around the tree? I could bring them down.”

  “That'd be great. Have you bought yours yet?”

  He busied himself washing a few dishes in the sink, pretending not to hear me. I thought so.

  “I may have to run out to get a few last minute items later,” Phil said nonchalantly after a minute.

  Of course he does. Like everything. I wiped my hands on a towel and went into the living room.

  “The tree's beautiful, Kay.”

  “Thanks. Wonder how long Elizabeth's party went on,” I said, thinking about the mystery man who stood enthralled one minute, then seemed to have vanished the next.

  “Well, it looks like all of the cars are gone. When I shoveled this morning, I didn't see any mystery men leaving her house.” He laughed. I laughed too; perhaps Phil had read my mind.

  “I'm sure John chased them all away,” I said.

  “Her one true love.”

  “At least for the time being.”

  Phil chuckled and looked outside. “It's starting to come down again. We're supposed to get another foot by tonight.”

  “I hope the boys make it home safe.”

  Phil put on some Christmas music and I went back into the kitchen. On the menu tonight was roast goose with sage and onion dressing, roasted potatoes, brussel sprouts with chestnuts, applesauce, plum pudding flamed with brandy, Port wine, and a hot potent punch for after-dinner toasts. Next to my cookbook was a dog-eared old copy of Dickens' masterpiece; I had done my research. This would be a dinner that even Scrooge would love.

  Phil walked into the room and started chopping onions for the dressing. I thought it might be nice to have a little conversation while we were preparing dinner. I told Phil about Sarah’s, Martin’s, and Anne's suspicions. He gave the onion he was working on a mighty and poorly-aimed chop, barely missing his fingers.

  “How do you keep getting yourself involved in things like this? Stay out of it, Kay! Stay out of it!”

  “All I'm going to do is go over and talk to them on Friday!”

  “I'm off of school for the next two weeks. All I want is to have a peaceful and relaxing Christmas with you and the family! No talk of murder, peanut allergies, or the retirement home!”

  We worked in the kitchen in silence for a few minutes.

  “Kay, we've come up with an awesome set for New Year's Eve.”

  So Phil decided to go with his usual safe topics: jazz and guitars.

  The phone rang. Phil lunged at the phone. “I'll get it.”

  He took the phone in the other room. I could hear him talking quietly but couldn't figure out what he was saying. Strange how he grabbed the phone and left the room. Did he have a secret? Perhaps a special gift for me tonight? Or did he just want to get away from me? No, must be a present for me.

  He came back into the room a few minutes later. “That was Andy. It's really coming down in the Cities. He's not sure he and Rose will be able to make it.”

  “I wish the snow would let up. I'd hate it if we couldn't all be together...especially tonight.” What was the special surprise gift Phil had for me? He sounded disappointed. Maybe he was having Andy and Rose bring it for him.

  I started peeling the apples. There were a lot of people at the Christmas tea at Hawthorne Hills. Being so rushed, the kitchen staff might have accidentally contaminated the food with peanuts. It would have taken only one careless worker. Perhaps they had been short-handed, and a devasting mistake was made.

  “Phil, I'm going to run over to the retirement h
ome and bring a plate of Christmas cookies to Sarah.”

  “In this snow? What if you get stuck?”

  “Don't worry. I'll be back in an hour. It's Christmas Eve, and I'd like to spread a little cheer.”

  “I'll come along. You can drop me off downtown and I'll walk back. Finish my shopping.”

  Heavy, feathery flakes swirled hypnotically in front of my eyes as I drove the short distance to downtown and then Hawthorne Hills. I welcomed the warmth of the retirement home as I entered the front door with my cookies in hand. I went up to the third floor and rang Sarah's doorbell.

  She answered straight away. “Merry Christmas, Sarah.” I handed her the cookies.

  “Kay, come in. Thank you.” She took the plate in her hands. “They look delicious. I'll put on the tea kettle.”

  “Oh, I can't stay long.”

  “For a few minutes then. My children are coming tomorrow. There's a Christmas dinner here for the families.”

  I sat on the sofa facing her Christmas tree with its lights flashing off and on. If I had to watch those blinking lights all day, I'd go mad.

  “Kind of surprising, considering what just happened.”

  “Les? Well, it is Christmas. Life goes on.”

  “Yes, business is very much as usual. Kind of bothers me.”

  Sarah nodded.

  “Sarah, I've been thinking about Les. The kitchen staff was so busy at the tea. It could have been a simple mistake.”

  “And what if it wasn't? Remember all the others who also had peanut allergies?”

  There was that. “I wonder what Les did on his days off?”

  “I never thought of it. Why?”

  We needed to get a clearer idea of Les' life. “Why would somebody want him dead? Did he live off campus?”

  Sarah looked contemplative. I gave her a moment. Sarah and company were going to have to come up with something more than the coincidence with the peanut allergies if this investigation was going to go anywhere. We needed to establish a clear motive. I went on.