By “he” I knew Cindy meant his clients would be taking all the risk. Not that Kevin had many clients.

  I studied her face. Everyone thinks they’re a good judge of character, but I’ve learned the hard way I’m not. Cindy might be thoroughly involved in Kevin’s schemes, but I didn’t think so. She looked totally delighted at the idea of helping the great Aline Steiner manage her finances. I could almost see her calculating how to invite my parents to her house for dinner to talk it over. If she knew the business was not only failing but had already failed, she wouldn’t be so eager to get Mom involved.

  “Your husband’s doing well, then?” I said. “That’s good to know. Are you involved in the running of his business?”

  “Oh no. Not me. I simply don’t have a head for finance and investments and all that. When I was growing up, my mother had to watch every single penny. She taught me never to go into debt and never, ever risk as much as a cent. Since I finished college and left home, she’s been able to put a bit of money aside for the occasional treat or a vacation, but she still won’t consider taking her savings out of her bank account. The interest rates she gets are simply shocking. I suggested Kevin help manage her money, but he said he doesn’t want to mix family and finances.”

  Wise of Kevin, I thought. The first Mrs. Cole didn’t sound like she was anyone’s fool.

  Cindy, however, might be. I briefly considered telling her she might want to have a closer look at what her husband was up to, but my attention was distracted by a face peering in the window. Trish Dawson. I wondered how long she’d been standing there watching me. Or was she watching Cindy?

  She realized I’d seen her, gave me a little wave, and pulled away from the window.

  A moment later, I was handing Cindy her shopping bag when the bells tinkled, and Trish came in. She headed directly for us, hand outstretched. “Cindy. How absolutely wonderful to run into you like this. I was hoping we’d get a chance to meet at last.”

  Cindy blinked. “Uh. Hi. I’m sorry. Do I …?

  “Patricia Dawson Cole. Everyone calls me Trish. I recognize you from the wedding picture your father, my darling Jim, so prominently displayed in our living room. Such a gorgeous bride you were. I’m so sorry we weren’t at your wedding, but … things happen, don’t they? Can’t do everything. It’s so awful that we’ve never met. And to finally meet like this, under these horrible circumstances.” She lowered her eyes and dipped her head.

  “Trish? You’re my father’s second wife?”

  Trish’s head lifted and a big smile appeared. “That’s me! The very one. Jim and I were having our little difficulties, and we were going through a temporary separation when you came back into his life. He told me all about it, of course. How absolutely delighted he was that you and he could be a family again. After the way your mother kept you separated when you were growing up.”

  “My mother did nothing of the sort.” Cindy’s voice, previously wary, turned instantly to pure ice. “If my father wanted to be a dad to me, he could have been. I never sent him any wedding pictures. I sent him an invitation, though. He said he was busy. He gave us cash as a gift. And not much of it.”

  That set Trish aback, but she quickly recovered. “All water under the bridge, dear girl. I don’t have any children of my own, and now a grown stepdaughter has come into my life. I’m so delighted.” She enveloped Cindy in a hug. Cindy’s back straightened, and her arms flapped in the air.

  Trish’s expression was not one of joyful reunion. More like calculating, I thought. She caught me looking at her and gave me a stiff smile before finally releasing Cindy.

  Cindy stepped back, taking herself out of the way of any more demonstrations of unnecessary familiarity.

  “I’ll be in town,” Trish said, “until the police release your father’s body. You and I need to discuss his last wishes and make final arrangements.”

  “We do, do we?” Cindy said.

  “Yes. I asked the detective in charge of the case when that might be, but she wouldn’t say. I’m staying at the Caroler’s Motel. No place for family, is it, particularly if we’re going to be waiting for a long time? Do you and your husband have room at your house, dear? I’m dying to meet him.”

  “No,” Cindy said. “We do not.” She was making no attempt to be friendly. In this, I was on Cindy’s side. Trish was coming on rather strong, and I suspected she had an ulterior motive for all this gushing stepmotherly friendliness.

  The store was busy, and Jackie was helping customers. She’d caught the tension in the air, even if Trish hadn’t, and was keeping one eye on us while showing an elderly couple the toy display. I’d like to think Jackie was preparing herself to intervene if such became necessary, but it was more likely she was hoping to catch some good gossip she could spread later.

  If Trish had never met Cindy, and she’d never seen a picture of her either, she must have been asking around. Maybe she found Cindy’s address and waited outside the house to follow her into town.

  “The detective couldn’t say or wouldn’t say? I don’t mean to be rude,” Cindy said rudely, “but you are not my father’s next of kin. I am. All decisions pertaining to his last wishes will be up to me and me alone. You’re divorced, right?”

  Trish had the grace to look slightly abashed. “That’s true, on the surface.”

  “The surface,” Cindy said, “is all I care about. All the law cares about, I dare say.”

  “What can I say, my darling girl? Your father and I made a terrible mistake, but we were determined to put things right and get back together where we belonged.”

  “Be that as it may,” Cindy said, “my dad didn’t have a will. That means he died intestate. And that means, because he was not married at the time of his death, that I, as his only child, will inherit everything he had. No one else.”

  Anger flashed across Trish’s face. So that was what was behind the grieving stepmother act. Trish was after a cut of Jim Cole’s estate.

  “Not,” Cindy said, “that there seems to be anything at all to inherit. Do the words flat broke mean anything to you? If not, try drowning in debt.” She lifted her shopping bag. “Thanks for this, Merry. Tell your mom to call me sometime, and we can arrange our lunch date.”

  She walked out of the store.

  Trish took a deep breath before turning a sad smile on me. “The poor girl. Such a tragedy the way her mother set her against her father.”

  I said nothing.

  “You don’t suppose what she said was true, do you? About nothing to inherit? Jim being”—she actually shuddered— “broke?”

  “None of my business. As long as we’re talking money, I trust you’ve made arrangements to pay Vicky Casey for the damage you caused at her bakery the other day.”

  “It’s up to Louise to take care of it.”

  “I doubt that very much. You’ve been forbidden from going to the bakery, and I suggest you consider that limitation to apply to these premises also.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “It means, get lost.”

  Trish stared at me through narrow dark eyes. “Don’t make an enemy out of me, young woman.”

  “Not wanting to. Just politely asking you to leave.”

  She hesitated, and then she turned on her heel and did as I’d requested.

  I let out a long breath and gripped the edge of the counter. Jackie put a set of Santa and Mrs. Claus dolls down while her customers continued to browse. “Wow, Merry, I didn’t know you had it in you. You ordered someone to leave the store without her even breaking anything. Who was that person, anyway?”

  “No one I hope to ever see again. She’s Jim Cole’s ex-wife. She’s here to see what she can get from his estate.” I thought about the expression on her face when Cindy told her there was nothing to inherit. Trish had, I thought, been genuinely surprised.

  A woman burst through the doors, startling me out of my memories of Trish’s behavior. The new arrival wore a pale pink skirt suit. A matching purse swung on her arm, and a string of pearls was around her neck. “Oh, my heavens! This is the most perfect store I’ve ever seen. Show me everything. Simply everything!”

  I slapped my professional smile on and went to work.

  The woman bought, and she bought heavily. She wanted dishes and linens for Easter dinner. Might as well get Christmas ones while she was here. That set of necklace and earrings would be perfect for her mother’s birthday. The birthday wasn’t until next February, but it never hurt to get things ahead of time, did it? As her son-in-law was so incredibly difficult to buy for, she’d get him one of those hand-carved charcuterie boards for Christmas. Her granddaughter was only eleven months old, but as she was clearly so far ahead of other children her age, she would be able to use the train set by Christmas time. Books would make good gifts for the other grandchildren. And as long as she was getting the holiday dishes for herself, another full set would be perfect for her friend Aggie. Poor Aggie didn’t often have family to visit, so she didn’t go to a lot of trouble. Perhaps the new dishes would inspire her to make an effort.

  And …

  On and on it went. At last, my head spinning, I was ringing up the purchases. The cash register was spitting out a receipt so long it threatened to trail along the floor, and Jackie was packing it all up.

  “Can we help you get this to your car?” I asked when the woman in pink was digging through her gigantic purse in search of the card with which to pay the substantial bill—substantial enough that I could close the shop for the rest of the month if I so desired.

  She stopped digging and eyed the stacks of boxes. She hesitated. I started to get a bad feeling about this. “I’m not so sure. My enthusiasm might have gotten the better of me. My husband will have something to say when he sees all this, but one doesn’t get to Christmas Town every day.” She sighed. “Do you happen to know if Santa Claus is around?”

  “He keeps a low profile at this time of year,” I said. “He’ll be here in July for his summer vacation and again over the holiday season of course.”

  “Not until July?” Her expression dipped in such disappointment, I was afraid she was going to change her mind and decide not to take any of the goods. “I don’t know if we’ll be able to come back then. My husband likes to golf in the Hamptons in the summer months.”

  At that moment the door opened, and none other than my own father came in. It was a warm spring day, but he was dressed in one of his beloved ugly Christmas sweaters, this one featuring Rudolph’s face and antlers, with a flashing red bulb as the nose. He wore red woolen pants and high black boots. His blue eyes sparkled, his gray hair was a bushy mess, and his beard needed a trimming. He patted his generous stomach and said, “Ho ho ho” to the woman.

  She gasped.

  Jackie gasped.

  The other customers gasped.

  I might have gasped myself. I know my father isn’t Santa Claus, but sometimes, I do wonder.

  “Looks like I’m in time to give you a hand, madam,” he said. “Jackie, get the cart out of the storage room, will you?”

  Jackie ran through the curtain into the back.

  “Santa Claus?” the big spender asked as she handed me her credit card.

  My dad winked at her. “That would be telling. Thank you, Jackie. I hope your car’s not far, madam. I’m not as young as I once was, and I don’t have any of my enthusiastic little helpers with me today.”

  The woman signed the credit receipt while Jackie stacked boxes onto the cart. When it was fully loaded, my dad maneuvered it out the door. Jackie walked beside it, her hand on the top, keeping it all steady. The woman, still gaping, followed.

  A frenzy of shopping began.

  There’s nothing like watching people shop to get other people shopping, and Jackie and I were on the hop for the rest of the day. My dad did not come back.

  When we’d finally waved the last of the customers, weighed down by their shopping bags, out the door, we turned the lock and flipped the sign to “Closed.” Jackie leaned against the wall and said to me, “How did your dad—”

  “Jackie, some things in life are better left unknown.”

  I took Mattie for a quick stretch in the alley and then spent some time on the store accounts. So much had been bought today, my shelves were decimated. I needed to get rush orders placed.

  A good problem to have.

  Finally, I switched out the lights, and Mattie and I walked home. Easter Weekend was coming up, and town would be busy. I was taking the entire day off on Saturday for Vicky’s wedding, but Jackie and Melissa should be able to handle it. Sunday the store would be closed, and Alan and I were due at my parents for Easter dinner in the evening. Alan suggested we spend the night after the wedding at his place. We could enjoy the spring woods before dinner the next evening, and I was looking forward to that very much. Thinking of Vicky’s wedding reminded me I hadn’t decided what to wear yet. I was unofficially the maid of honor, but considering how small and casual the event was, I wouldn’t need the equivalent of a big-sleeved, puffy pink dress. Perish the thought. It would be nice to get something new. Something springlike and cheerful.

  I considered asking Vicky to accompany me, but decided not to. She had, as she said, more than enough on her plate right now. I’d ask Mom. Her taste tended toward the flamboyant, but I should be able to control her. I hoped so, anyway.

  Mattie woofed quietly at a small, fluffy dog walking toward us. The other dog growled and lunged at Mattie, all teeth and aggression. Mattie simply looked bemused. The owner gave me an embarrassed shrug and said, “She’s still in training. Sorry.” They carried on.

  The incident reminded me of Trish and Louise facing each other down at Victoria’s Bake Shoppe, except in their case, both of them had been the small dog, eager to bring it on. Neither of them had been Mattie, wanting nothing more than to get home for dinner.

  As we passed the town park, a man stepped out from behind a tree into the circle of light cast by the streetlight above. I was so startled, I gave a small gasp, and I stumbled. Mattie sniffed the man’s shoes. The pink and blue lights of the town’s holiday tree glimmered in the distance. No one was out walking, but cars passed slowly by, people heading home for dinner and a night in.

  “Good evening,” Kevin Farrar said.

  “Goodness. You startled me,” I said.

  “Did I?” Notably he didn’t apologize, as anyone would if such had not been their intention. “I’d have thought you‘d be safe enough wandering the streets on your own at night, with a dog that size.”

  Mattie caught something in Kevin’s voice, and he growled, the sound low in his throat. I didn’t have to be a dog to catch it too.

  “You’re right,” I said. “He’s a good guard dog.”

  Kevin looked at Mattie. “So I see. He might lick an attacker to death.”

  “Nice talking to you.” I pulled on the leash. “Come on Mattie. We’re almost home.”

  At the magic word, Mattie forgot about imminent danger and started to walk away. I was about to follow when Kevin said, “I hear you’ve been asking about me.”

  “What?” I quickly went over my activities. I hadn’t been asking around—not at all. I’d done research on the internet, but I found nothing that wasn’t publicly available to anyone with the bare modicum of computer skills. I stopped walking and turned to face him. “You hear wrong.”

  “I’m a businessman. I’ve been working hard to make contacts all over this part of the state. I have feelers out to the neighboring town.”

  “You mean Muddle Harbor? I—” When Vicky and I had been in the café earlier, one of the visiting men mentioned investment opportunities in Rudolph. Jack Benedict implied shady things sometimes went on in Rudolph. I’d dismissed that comment out of hand as nothing but town rivalry. It was entirely possible Jack or someone else from Muddle Harbor was considering investing with Kevin. Had they told him we’d been in the café asking questions?

  Had Kevin Farrar’s guilty conscience immediately jumped to the conclusion that we’d been specifically asking about him?

  “Why would that be a problem for you, Kevin?” I asked. “Your wife told me you own an investment company. I might have money to invest. I know people who do have money to invest.”

  He relaxed fractionally. “I wouldn’t like to think you’ve been poking your pretty little nose into things that don’t concern you, that’s all.”

  Seeing we were no longer heading toward home, Mattie had come to sit next to me. He might not be an attack dog, but his bulk was still an enormous comfort to have at my side. Another car drove by. It was, I thought, extremely unlikely Kevin Farrar would attack me here, on the sidewalk, in the early evening. Nevertheless, I kept a firm hold of Mattie’s leash with one hand, and put my hand on the phone in my pocket with the other. “Exactly what sort of things are you talking about?”

  “My father-in-law died on your friends’ property. Your friend, the chef, is still under suspicion. From what I hear, anyway.”

  “Sounds to me as though you don’t hear much. The cops have moved on to other suspects.”

  Kevin blinked. “What sort of other suspects?”

  “How about you, Kev? People believed Jim Cole was a wealthy man. Be nice to get an unexpected infusion of cash into this business of yours, wouldn’t it?”

  I braced myself for him to lash out, but if anything, he relaxed fractionally. He even grinned at me. “Would have been nice, yeah. Too bad that didn’t happen. Guy was a waste of space, but I thought if it made Cindy happy to have her father back in her life, I’d go along with it. Turns out it didn’t make her happy. Not at all. He wouldn’t have hung around for long. Not once he realized she had nothing to give him. If you’re thinking I killed him for his money, think again. I’ll admit I asked him to invest in my business, but I didn’t like his conditions. So I did some digging. I still have contacts in the banking world, and it didn’t take much effort to discover the guy didn’t have two nickels to rub together. Although he was still pretending he did. He couldn’t have kept that up for much longer.”