Candy threw me a stern look before leaving the room.

  “I had a quick peek at the scene,” Simmonds said. “I’ve been told some of what you had to say. First, Mr. Grosse, I’d like you to accompany these people to your washroom. They’ll take samples off your hands, and they will want the clothes you’re wearing as evidence.”

  “I didn’t—”

  “We can talk later. Do it now, please.”

  Mark stood up. He gave Vicky a long look and then walked past us and out the door into the TV room. One of the new arrivals followed, along with the uniformed officer.

  “Vicky, Merry,” Simmonds asked. “Did either of you touch the body?”

  “Definitely not,” I said.

  “No,” Vicky said.

  “Did your dogs?”

  “Sandbanks was in the house the entire time,” Vicky said. “Mattie tried to get near, but we stopped him.”

  Simmonds pulled out a chair and sat down. “Okay. Can you tell me what happened here tonight? First of all, Officer Williams tells me you knew the dead man, Merry.”

  “I wouldn’t say I knew him. I met him one time only, and then for no more than five minutes at the most. His name’s Jim Cole. I don’t know anything else about him, not even where he lives.”

  Vicky nodded. “Same. I was with Merry when we ran into him on the street. That’s the only time I’ve ever seen him.”

  “Cole. People tell me this place is called Cole House. Same family?”

  “He’s a distant relative of the previous owner,” Vicky said.

  “Can you tell me about this encounter you had with him on the street?”

  This time Vicky and I didn’t need to look at each other to know what we were thinking. I’d have to tell Detective Simmonds Jim Cole had made threats toward us. Toward Vicky and Mark. Witnesses would come forward, possibly including my own mother, to say the encounter between him and us had been tense.

  I thought about the way those uniformed officers who’d been first on the scene tonight had been eyeing Mark. Mark with blood on his hands, stains on his white shirt.

  I assured myself he’d soon be in the clear. Jim Cole, creeping around in the dark for his own twisted purposes, must have tripped over a loose rock or a chunk of broken statuary. He’d fallen and hit his head. That was all.

  But—if he hadn’t fallen, if Mark hadn’t killed Jim Cole—which he hadn’t—then someone else had.

  And that someone had slipped quietly away before the alarm could be raised.

  “Mark and I bought this house from the estate of the late Emmeline Cole,” Vicky said. “Jim Cole claims he should have inherited from her because they were cousins. That has nothing whatsoever to do with us. If he can prove his claim, and he wants possession of the house, then he can pay us what we paid for it, and have it. It’s up to the lawyers to sort it all out.”

  “It would appear, at first glance, he wasn’t content to leave it entirely up to the lawyers,” Simmonds said. “Do you have any idea as to what he might have been doing here tonight?”

  “I do not know. I didn’t even know he was here until Mark found him. He didn’t ring the doorbell or call ahead to say he was coming.”

  A spark of interest flared in Simmonds’s eyes at Vicky’s wording. “When Mark found him? Not you and Mark, or you and Merry and Mark?”

  Vicky winced. “Mark went out by himself to have a look around after he got home from work.”

  “Why would he do that?”

  The uniformed officer’s radio cracked to life. Among all the static, I caught one word: Anderson.

  “Some guy’s here wanting to see Ms. Wilkinson,” the cop said.

  “Alan Anderson. I know him. Admit him to the property, but tell him to wait outside for a few minutes. Vicky, please answer the question.”

  “Okay.” As succinctly as possible, leaving out all the fear and the drama, Vicky told the detective what happened tonight. She and I heard unexplained noises and searched inside the house but could find nothing that might have caused them. Mark arrived home and went outside to see if anything had been disturbed while Vicky and I once again did the same in the house.

  Her voice dropped off as Mark came into the kitchen. His hands were scrubbed pink, and he’d changed into jeans and a T-shirt.

  “Take a seat,” Simmonds said. “Vicky was telling me what went down here tonight. You thought someone was on your property and that someone had been deliberately attempting to frighten her and Merry.”

  “I thought nothing,” he said. “I just wanted to check the place out.”

  “You’re not from around here, Detective,” I said. “So you might not be aware this has always been a prime spot for local teenagers to break onto the property and party. You can tell by the state of the place, inside and out, it’s been unoccupied for a long time. Kids like that. A place where they can be away from older people watching what they’re getting up to, where they can try and scare younger kids. Pretend to be ghost hunting and such. We were worried that even though people are obviously living here again, some troublemakers were still at it.”

  Simmonds’s piercing green eyes moved to me. Mattie had, ever so stealthily, wiggled himself across the floor, as slowly and steadily as his bulk would allow. He now sat at her side, alert and delighted.

  If Simmonds decided to wrestle me to the ground, clap me in handcuffs, and drag me off to spend the rest of my life in prison, Mattie would assist in holding me down.

  Traitor.

  “How long were you outside before Vicky and Merry joined you?” she asked Mark.

  “I can’t say for sure. Couple of minutes.”

  It was at least ten minutes. More like fifteen or twenty. I said nothing and neither did Vicky.

  “Walk me though what happened in those couple of minutes you were outside alone.”

  “I had a flashlight. I wanted to be sure no one was lurking. I took one of my chef’s knives, just in case. I did not use it.”

  “A knife was found at the scene. Was that yours?”

  “Yes.” Mark nodded toward the wooden knife block on the far counter. “As you can see, one is missing. And only one.”

  “It’s been bagged and taken away for analysis,” Simmonds said. “Please continue.”

  “Like Merry said, kids think this is the local haunted house.” Mark said. “They treated it—they used to treat it—like it’s something at Disney World. I didn’t see anyone tonight. I didn’t hear anything. We’re close to town but isolated here at the end of the street, at the end of a long driveway, the house surrounded by all these trees. I turned right when I came out of the house, going north, and I walked around the property. I made no attempt to be quiet about it. I took my time, checking under bushes, looking for sagging eaves troughs, branches sturdy enough to support a person growing too close to the windows, or a spot where someone might have snapped twigs or branches trying to get near the house.”

  “Did you see anything like that?”

  “No. Not at the northern side or around the back. It hasn’t rained for several days, so the ground is hard. Meaning nothing to see in the way of footprints. When I got to the southern side of the house, I spotted something on the ground near the fountain, and I hurried straight toward it, without searching anymore. I couldn’t quite make it out in the dark, but it looked big. I hoped it wasn’t a deer or a dog who’d come here after being injured. When I got closer and shone my light directly on it, I realized it was a person. My first thought was a drunk who’d collapsed under a tree. He was lying face down, and I leaned over him and gave him a nudge with my foot. Then I saw that the back of his head was bashed in. The blood. I turned him over, thinking I should give CPR or something. I realized right away it was too late.” He lifted his clean hands. “That would be how I got the blood on me. Then I phoned Vicky and told her to call 911. That’s it. That’s all I can say.”

  “Mark was with the body when you and Merry reached him?” Simmonds asked Vicky.

  She nodded.

  The detective stood up. Mattie also got to his feet. “Thank you,” she said. “That will be all for now. I need to get back outside and check out the scene in more detail. Before I go, one more question. How worried, Mark, were you about legal problems Jim Cole might cause you?”

  He looked directly into her face. “Not at all worried. The late Miss Cole’s lawyer assured me Jim didn’t have a case, and even if he did have some nebulous rights of inheritance, we’d paid for this house and taken possession. All fair and square.”

  “He might not have graciously accepted that. You believed someone could be trying to break into your house. To deliberately frighten your fiancée. Did you take steps to stop him?”

  Mark took a step forward. His body bristled with tension, and his fists were clenched at his sides. The uniformed cop who’d been leaning against the wall, not paying a lot of attention, straightened. Diane Simmonds simply raised one eyebrow. Mark took a breath, forcing himself to relax. “I did not. It all happened the way I told you. I was checking the property, my property, before turning in. I heard nothing, I saw nothing until I almost tripped over him. I tried to help, which is how I got his blood on me. I hope you’re not going to use that against me.”

  “I’ll be in touch,” Simmonds said. “In the meantime, we need full access to this house and the property. You’ll have to spend the night elsewhere.”

  Mark bristled. “We will not. I can’t knock on a friend’s door and ask for refuge at this time of night. The idea’s ridiculous. Besides, nothing happened in the house. The man died outside.”

  “So it would appear,” she said. “But initial appearances are not always correct. You yourselves told me you suspected someone might have been in the house tonight.”

  “I—”

  “We’ll find someplace to stay,” Vicky said. “No problem. Right, honey?”

  “Okay,” Mark said.

  “Matterhorn, you go with Merry,” Detective Simmonds said. “You can meet Alan Anderson outside.”

  Chapter Ten

  Mark muttered and cursed as he and Vicky were escorted out of their own house without even being allowed to get their toothbrushes, pajamas, or a change of clothes. Sandbanks was roused from sleep, and he and I, along with Mattie, left the house with my friends.

  Alan stood in the driveway, watching the activity. More cruisers had arrived, along with a couple of vans I knew to be forensic vehicles. The sirens had been switched off, but blue and red lights continued to illuminate the night, and more powerful lights were being carried around the side of the house.

  Alan turned when he heard our footsteps on the stairs. His eyes briefly passed over Mark and Vicky and settled on me. I gave him a tight smile and a nod, to say everything was fine. For now. Mattie hurried to greet him, and Alan leaned over to give the big dog a hearty slap on the side. Dog duties over, he gathered me into a hug and kissed the top of my head.

  “All okay?” he asked Mark when he’d released me.

  “No,” Mark grumbled.

  “Okay for now,” Vicky said. “We’ve been kicked out of our house, and we need a lift. We can’t even take our cars.”

  “Happy to help. I parked on the street. Merry?”

  “Mattie and I walked over. Do you want to come to my place?” I asked Vicky as we started walking down the long driveway. I had one bed and one couch. Hard to fit in four adults and three dogs, but for one night I figured we could try it. Unlikely any of us would be getting much sleep tonight—other than Mattie and Sandbanks. Dogs can always sleep as soon as the immediate danger has passed.

  Must be nice.

  “We’ll go to the inn,” Mark said. “They’re probably not full midweek at this time of year.”

  Alan used his truck for transporting materials to make furniture and delivering the finished product to his customers. It was a big vehicle, which is what we needed tonight. Ranger, Alan’s overly active Jack Russell, stood on the front passenger seat, scratching at the window in his enthusiasm to greet us.

  We all clambered into the truck. Mark had to heft Sandbanks up and shove him into the back seat. I encouraged Mattie to follow while Ranger hopped between the front seats, and the three dogs greeted one another with great joy, falling all over themselves in their eagerness to sniff nether regions and catch up on one another’s news.

  Mark made a quick phone call while Vicky and I stuffed ourselves into the back seats of the truck, tails slapping our faces. We wiggled around so Mattie sat between us, Sandbanks was on Vicky’s lap, and Ranger bounded from one side of the vehicle to the other, trying to see everything everywhere. And all at once. It was a battle to get seat belts fastened, but finally we succeeded.

  Mark twisted around as Alan started the truck. “They’ve got a room for us at the inn. Looking on the bright side, I can sleep in tomorrow, as I don’t have to drive to work.”

  “Anything I can help with?” Alan said. “Although I have absolutely no idea what’s going on except there’s a heck of a lot of activity happening at your place.”

  He pulled into the street. Lights were on in neighboring houses, occupants attracted by the colorful flashing lights and sirens. People stood at windows, looking out, and some had gathered on their front steps or lawn to enjoy the action.

  “Not how I wanted to get to know the neighbors,” Vicky said. “I was thinking more along the lines of inviting them over for tea and scones.”

  Mark answered Alan. “Some guy wandered onto our property, laid himself down, and died. The cops think I had something to do with it. Vic, from now on we keep that gate shut and locked at night.”

  Vicky and I exchanged a look over the heads of the dogs. Obviously, that was not what had happened, and closing the gate wouldn’t stop a determined intruder such as Jim Cole. If Mark wanted to play tonight’s events down, that might work for the rest of the night, but he’d have to face more police questioning in the morning. I thought about what I’d seen. Jim Cole had blood on the back of his head, and some of that blood had gotten onto Mark’s hands and shirt. As would have happened to anyone who found an apparently unconscious person and tried to help them. I hadn’t seen the body before Mark turned it over. Was it possible the man tripped and fell, and hit the back of his head on a rock or stone? Unlikely, if he landed face down, as Mark had said. In that case the injury would have been to the back of his head. Unless Jim Cole had sustained some degree of consciousness and managed to roll himself over before passing out. But wasn’t it highly unlikely someone in danger would roll themselves onto their front?

  Mattie attempted to jump to his feet. I got a mouthful of tail before settling him down again.

  Alan asked Mark if he’d caught last night’s hockey game, and Mark launched into a recitation of the disappointing mistakes and general faults of his favorite team. Vicky sat quietly, stroking Sandbanks’s ears, gazing out the window as we drove out of town and hit the highway.

  A few minutes later, Alan slowed and turned into the driveway of the Yuletide Inn. Lights shone above the welcoming entrance and from some of the rooms. The enormous planters on either side of the front doors were decorated for Easter with plaster bunnies and pink and blue eggs the size of footballs. White fairy lights were strung between trees and wound through hedges in the gardens on the other side of the driveway. The formal gardens at the inn were one of the highlights of Rudolph, and part of the reason the inn could charge as much for a night’s stay as it did. The hotel restaurant, where Mark was the head chef, was another highlight of Rudolph and another reason for the rates.

  “That reminds me,” I said. “The hospital fundraising committee’s spring garden event is on Saturday. My mother has invited us, Vicky. Meaning, it’s a command performance, for me anyway. Are you able to come? Tour of the gardens under the guidance of the head gardener and then lunch.”

  “Must I?”

  “I’m sure it won’t be too bad.”

  “Not if I’m cooking for it,” Mark said. “And I am. Cream of asparagus soup, choice of spring lamb with mint sauce or ratatouille for a vegetarian option. Accompanied by a salad of baby greens and hothouse heirloom cherry tomatoes. Followed by a fruit tart and vanilla cupcakes decorated to look like flowers.”

  “Can I come?” Alan said.

  “I’ll steal you a tart,” I said.

  Alan pulled up to the front steps. All was quiet. Inside the hotel, a young man stood behind the reception desk, but no one else was around. It was after midnight, and the kitchen and bar were closed for the night.

  Mark lifted Sandbanks off Vicky’s lap and placed him on the ground. Vicky climbed out of the truck, and I also got out after shoving Ranger off my lap and struggling to stop him jumping out of the truck.

  I gave Vicky a hug. “You take care. Anything happens in the night, call us.”

  “Thanks.” The smile she gave me was feeble, and I could see the worry in her eyes. The fallout from tonight’s events was still to come, and both of us knew it might not be simple or easy.

  * * *

  Friday morning, I opened Mrs. Claus’s Treasures at the regular time of nine thirty. Alan and Ranger had spent the night at my place. We hadn’t heard from Vicky or from the police, which I decided was a good thing.

  As we’d curled up on the couch, with mugs of hot chocolate and dogs snoozing at our feet, I told Alan in detail all that had happened. As is his way, he sipped his drink, said nothing until I finished, and took in every word.

  “You think this Jim Cole was trying to frighten Vicky and Matt? And it was him at the house on those other occasions?” he asked.

  “I can’t think who else it would have been. He confronted Vicky on the street. He was found on the property when he had absolutely no reason to be there. No doubt about that.”

  “There’s something you’re not saying, Merry, and I think I know what it is. Mark went outside to search, and you and Vicky did the same inside. You’re not telling me how much time passed while you were separated, so I’m guessing it was sufficient for him to, shall we say, confront Jim Cole.”