“She left the station a short while ago, and she has been cautioned not to leave Rudolph.”

  “Meaning you still consider her to be a suspect. That’s ridiculous.”

  “I consider not only her to be a suspect, Merry.”

  I shifted uncomfortably under the force of those penetrating green eyes. I took a sip of wine, taking care not to gulp it down too fast, or have too much.

  “Thank you for your time. I’ll be in touch. In the meantime, if you think of anything you might have forgotten to tell me, you can contact me at any time. I believe you have my number?”

  “I do.”

  Simmonds headed for the door. Mattie stuck his nose out of the kitchen to see if it was safe to come out.

  “Before you go,” I said. “I learned some things about the state of Paula’s marriage you might be interested in. If you don’t know already, that is.”

  She turned. “What might that be?”

  “Town rumor—”

  “Meaning Mabel D’Angelo and her vast network.”

  “Uh. Yes. Anyway, the Monahan marriage was not on what you’d call solid ground. The neighbors report that Kevin and Paula could often be heard arguing. Kevin, supposedly, left her on Wednesday. Permanently. He was not only planning to seek a divorce but going to try to get custody of their son, Eddie.” I smiled at the detective. I then killed the smile, realizing it must look exactly like Mattie when he thought he’d performed a particularly clever trick.

  “Thank you for that information,” Simmonds said. “In return, I’ll tell you I spoke to Mr. Monahan on my way here. He admits he left the family home after a minor dispute, but he said nothing about a divorce.”

  “He wouldn’t, would he? Not after hearing his wife died. Was murdered.”

  “He’s in Rochester, staying with his brother. He and his brother were ice fishing most of the day, and he didn’t get my call until they’d returned to the city.”

  Ice fishing. I can’t think of anything I’d rather not do. “I hope you don’t buy that. Who goes fishing in the middle of the afternoon? The fish are asleep. That’s what my dad tells me, anyway. Besides, his brother is his alibi? Not a very good one.”

  “I’ll make a detective of you yet, Merry. You may not be aware, but fishing, whether in ice or open water, is sometimes a euphemism for drinking beer while engaging in manly talk. Kevin Monahan and his brother arrived at the cabin belonging to a friend of the brother first thing Thursday morning. According to Kevin, not only his brother but the owner of the cabin and one other man were there the entire time he was. I’ve asked the local police to pay a visit to the friend, and I’ll see what he has to say. But it’s unlikely Kevin told me he was there, if he wasn’t. It’s not an isolated area, and other people were likely out fishing who might have seen him and his group. Kevin and his brother left the cabin shortly after five today because the brother has work tomorrow. He’s an independent contractor.”

  That was it for that theory.

  “Is someone looking after their son, Eddie?”

  “The boy was spending time at the home of a school friend when his mother died. He stayed there overnight, and his father is on his way to collect him.

  “Now, if you have no more suggestions as to how I should do my job, I’ll be on my way.” She put her hand on the doorknob and hesitated. Then she turned around and faced me. “I’m not entirely happy with your statement, Merry, but for now I’ll accept it on face value.”

  “Thank you. I think.”

  “I don’t want you getting involved in this case. You’re too close to the people concerned.”

  “I don’t see why you say that. I scarcely know the theater group. Other than Jackie, I mean. And my mom.”

  “Precisely.”

  Chapter Eight

  My plans for an early night with a good book came to naught. My mind was too restless to allow me to concentrate on my reading or to sleep easily, and I tossed and turned all night. Detective Simmonds couldn’t possibly think I was covering for Jackie? Or, even worse, for my mom? Simmonds hadn’t suggested I myself had taken advantage of the empty store and killed the woman, but might she be thinking it?

  Surely not. Simmonds knew me well. We were, I sometimes thought, almost friends. Then again, she was a cop first and foremost. I suppose being a detective means you have a suspicious mind. Must make life difficult, particularly in a small town where you know so many people from your child’s school, amateur sports teams or social clubs, just being out and about and involved in the community.

  Then again, I have a suspicious mind too, I thought, as I lay in bed running over the list of people who might have wanted Paula dead. The list was far too short. I didn’t know anything about her life outside the theater company. I didn’t even know much about her life inside the theater company, other than the few interactions I’d witnessed.

  I must have eventually drifted off to sleep as I was awakened when it was still dark by the ringing of my phone. I fumbled on the night table for it, finally found it, glanced at the display, and was instantly awake. “Jackie, what’s happening? Are you okay?”

  “Yeah, Merry, I’m fine. Why wouldn’t I be?”

  “Because it’s …” I checked the clock, “… quarter to six in the morning, and you were arrested yesterday for murder.”

  “I wasn’t arrested, Merry. I was brought in for questioning as an interested party who might have been witness to events. I was assisting the police with their inquiries.”

  “Uh … okay.”

  “Tom Casey, Vicky’s dad, came down to the police station. He said Vicky sent him because she thought I might need a lawyer. Wasn’t that nice of her?”

  “Very nice. What did Tom Casey tell you is going to happen now?”

  “He said if I hear from the police again, I’m to call him right away and not speak to them until he arrives. Isn’t that nice? Detective Simmonds told me I’m not to leave Rudolph without telling her where I’m going. I guess that’s in case they need any more evidence from me. I’m staying at Kyle’s until they catch the killer. He told Detective Simmonds I need round-the-clock protection in case the real killer thinks I can identify him. She said they don’t have the budget for that. Mr. Casey said it wasn’t necessary, but Kyle insisted if the police wouldn’t protect me, he would. Kyle’s such a darling, so thoughtful, don’t you agree, Merry?”

  Darling has never been a word I’d use for Kyle Lambert, but if it made Jackie happy to think so, so be it.

  Jackie could be self-absorbed, a bit of a scatterbrain sometimes (okay, a lot of a scatterbrain much of the time) but she wasn’t an idiot. She must have realized by the direction of Simmonds’s questions she was considered to be a heck of a lot more than a potential witness, and Tom Casey would have told her what was what. But if it suited her to ignore all that and believe otherwise, I wasn’t going to correct her. I might have a word with Kyle, though. Kyle, on the other hand, was an idiot. But even he (especially he) was capable of manipulating a situation to his advantage. And what more of an advantage to him than to be seen by Jackie as her protector, saving her from the shortcomings of the police budget? “I’m glad you’re okay. Why are you calling?”

  “Do you need me to go into work? I’m scheduled for opening today. Detective Simmonds said the store will be closed until further notice, but I thought she might have told you something different.”

  “I haven’t heard otherwise.”

  “Kyle says if I can’t go to work because of an ongoing police investigation at your place of business, that’s not my fault and I should still be paid for the full day.”

  I stifled a groan. Kyle—that idiot—made it sound as though the police were investigating my business practices or something. I hoped he wasn’t going around town making it sound like that.

  Then again, by now everyone knew what had happened anyway.

  “You’ll get paid,” I said. Although I’d not have any income while the store was closed to customers.

  “Great! Okay, Merry. Let me know when you need me back. I should warn you that my availability will be even less over the next couple of weeks now that I’m playing Mrs. Cratchit.”

  “Is that official? You have the part?”

  “Yup.” I could hear the pleasure in her voice. “Desmond called me last night. Isn’t that great! I know I’m going to be fabulous in the role.”

  “Jackie, perhaps you shouldn’t go around town being so excited about it. A woman died, don’t forget.”

  She sighed. “Yeah, Merry. I haven’t forgotten. You’re right. I guess I just don’t want to think of it that way. I can be happy to have the part without being happy at how it came about, can’t I?”

  “I suppose. I wouldn’t let Detective Simmonds know you’re happy, that’s all.”

  “Mr. Casey told me to stop talking when she asked me about that.”

  “I’m glad to hear it.”

  “Anyway, as I’m not coming into work today, I need to see Irene about getting some changes made to the costume. I—”

  “Can you sing, Jackie?”

  “Sing? Yeah, kinda. I mean, how good a singer was Paula? Mrs. Cratchit is more of a talkie-singie role anyway. Do you think your mom will want to provide me with some private coaching? That’ll be exciting. I bet I could learn to sing with a good teacher. I’ll give her a call later. Oh, before I go, one other thing. You know Kyle’s the photographer of record for the Rudolph Gazette, right?”

  I knew Kyle took pictures the paper sometimes printed because they couldn’t afford a staff photographer. Kyle got paid peanuts, but he was okay with that because he was, Russ had told me while putting air quotes around the words, building his portfolio. “Yes,” I said.

  “He’ll be around the scene of the crime a lot today. In case the cops make a dramatic arrest or have a shoot-out with the suspect so he can be there as it happens.”

  “Jackie, the killer isn’t going to come back to Mrs. Claus’s. The police are taking forensic evidence, not setting a trap.”

  “You never know, Merry. You never know. Your mom and Paula didn’t get on too well, did they?”

  I hung up before I could tell her I’d dock her an hour’s pay every time she so much as thought something like that.

  As long as I was thoroughly awake, I stumbled out of bed and headed into the kitchen to put the coffee on. Yawning and stretching even more than I did, Mattie followed me. While the coffee was brewing, we went downstairs and I let him into the yard so he could have his morning sniff around the property to investigate overnight activity. A light snow had fallen, just a dusting, but it was a harbinger of things to come. It was bitterly cold, and I soon called to Mattie to come in. I gave him his breakfast and put bread in the toaster for mine. While I sipped my coffee and nibbled on thickly buttered toast, and Mattie checked the corners of the kitchen to see if he’d possibly overlooked a morsel, I opened my laptop to check for updates.

  Nothing new either in the Gazette’s online page or the police’s official account. Nothing on Twitter but speculation and gossip. A lot of speculation and gossip. Some of it pretty far out there. I’d been told Paula was not a popular teacher, so I was pleased to see that the Twitter comments from her past and present students were polite and respectful. Some were perhaps over-the-top weepy and “grief-stricken,” but that’s normal enough these days when people freely express their emotions in public and, most importantly, want to be seen doing so.

  I decided to get an early start on the day by doing what office work I could from home. I have access to most of my accounts from the laptop, so I was able to check on the status of items ordered but not yet delivered. Just over two weeks until Christmas. I fervently hoped I’d have a store in which to display and sell the goods.

  The winter sun was beginning to creep into the kitchen when Alan called. He’s an early riser—the better to get into his workshop—but he knows I am not.

  “Is everything okay?” I asked.

  “Fine. Here anyway. I figured you’d be up early. You can’t sleep when you have something on your mind, and what happened yesterday has to be on your mind. Am I right?”

  “As you always are. I’ve been distracting myself by going over the orders I’m waiting for. I’m going to assume I can throw open the door of Mrs. Claus’s to eager shoppers soon, and the Christmas season will progress as planned. I have you down for ten train sets, and I need them as soon as possible. They’ve been moving well. Also some of the angels and more of those necklaces, and several charcuterie boards in varying sizes. The boards can wait another week or so. They’re popular with people who dash in at the last minute desperate for ideas for something to take to a dinner party with people they don’t know well, or the family Christmas with relatives they only see once a year, if that.”

  “I’m on schedule. Ahead of schedule, in fact. As you’re not going into work today, why don’t you come around and pick up what I have? Save me a trip into town?”

  “I can do that, but first I’d like to go to the store and see what’s happening, if anything. I’ll try and track down Diane Simmonds and beg her to let me know when I can reopen.”

  “Come for lunch. Bring Mattie. Dress warmly. You dress warmly. Not Mattie.” He hung up.

  I felt myself smiling. Alan was a man of few words. But what words he did use were always the right ones.

  I returned my attention to my accounts.

  * * *

  At nine o’clock I was ready to head out. Mattie was also ready to head out, standing by the door, expression hopeful, tail and tongue wagging. But he was to be disappointed. I gave him a rub on the head and said, “I’ll be back for you later.”

  I shoved him aside, which is never easy, and squeezed through the crack I’d made in the door. I didn’t know what the day had in store for me, so I decided not to bring Mattie. Alan’s place is about ten miles out of town; I’d have to come back for the car anyway, and I’d get the dog then.

  Wendy, who lives in the other half of the second floor of Mrs. D’Angelo’s house, was locking her own door when I came out, her daughter, Tina, in her arms. Tina was bundled up in so many clothes about all I could see was her pert nose. The little girl struggled to free herself and said, “Mattie?”

  Wendy had told me Mattie was the first word Tina said. Even before Mama and Dadda. Wendy’s husband, Steve, had pretended to be offended at that.

  Or maybe he hadn’t been pretending.

  “I heard what happened,” Wendy said. “I’m so sorry. You don’t need trouble this close to Christmas.”

  “I don’t need trouble anytime.” We walked together to the stairs.

  “Mattie!” Tina called as she passed my door.

  “Is the play going to go ahead, do you know?” Wendy asked. “I hate to sound mercenary, but you can be sure Her Honor and the rest of the council are being precisely that.” Wendy was a clerk at town hall. “The town’s invested a lot in this play, and we know many people are coming here specifically to see it.”

  “What sort of investment? Money?”

  Wendy laughed. “Are you kidding? No money, but they’ve been promoting it as an important part of the Christmas festivities. Now the Santa Claus parade is over, it’s the centerpiece of the advertising campaign for the rest of the season. A lot of hopes are riding on this production, Merry. Last year’s play was a huge flop. The hotels were still full Christmas week, but booking inquiries were down over the year before. Some people think that’s because of the play. At least one hotel reported a cancellation specifically because the guests heard the play was no good so they decided to go elsewhere.”

  Wendy kept the stroller at the bottom of the stairs. She stuffed her squirming daughter into it and struggled to do up the straps. “You walking into town?”

  “Yes. I need to check on the store, even if I’m not allowed inside yet.”

  “We’ll come part of the way with you. We’re going to my mom’s for a late breakfast and holiday planning, then heading out to get started on our Christmas shopping.” She saw the look on my face. “I’ll save all the shopping I’d planned to do at Mrs. Claus’s for next week.”

  “Thanks. Closed on a Saturday in December. It doesn’t bear thinking about.”

  “Let’s walk really, really fast. I’m late as it is. My mom’s a stickler for punctuality. I cannot afford to be waylaid by Mrs. D.”

  I chuckled. We walked really, really fast, Wendy pushing the stroller ahead of her.

  Cries of, “Merry! Wendy! If you have a moment … Wendy, is it true Sue-Anne’s going to step into the role of Mrs. Cratchit?”

  “I cannot imagine where she heard that one,” Wendy said once we were out of danger.

  “You don’t think Sue-Anne has visions of stardom dancing in her head?”

  “Not on the stage, no. I’ve heard a big time Broadway director is planning to attend opening night.”

  “That must be the person Desmond was talking about. Someone from his days in the city, he said.”

  “He’s bringing people, and they’ve booked three rooms at the Yuletide. Sue-Anne will want to make a fuss over him. I think she’s planning an after-party on opening night.”

  “The town can’t afford to contribute to the play, but they can throw a party to impress some outsiders? How do my dad and Ralph feel about that?” Ralph Dickerson was the town’s budget chief.

  “It’s unlikely they know yet. Unless they hear from unofficial sources.” She gave me a wink and began to slow her pace. “This is our turn. You take care, Merry.”

  “You too.” I waved my entire hand at Tina. “Bye! Bye!”

  She gave me an enormous grin and enthusiastically waved five stubby fingers in return.

  I carried on into town.

  Margie Thatcher was standing at the window of the Nook when I passed. The look she gave me would have put Santa’s reindeer off their food. For once I gave her some slack, because I was equally unhappy with the goings-on in the street. Yellow police tape was still strewn across the entrance to Mrs. Claus’s. That would have a dampening effect on the mood of shoppers at this end of Jingle Bell Lane.