Simmonds grinned at me. “Precisely. I have to say, Merry, I’m glad to hear you didn’t recognize it. That cellar was set up as a counterfeiting operation.”

  “Counterfeiting? As in money?”

  “As in money.”

  Chapter Ten

  “That would explain why they were being so private and even secretive,” Dad said. “If they were intending to use the house as a place to run a criminal operation.”

  Simmonds shrugged. “Bad idea. All they managed to do was to create interest on the street. Never mind Mrs. D’Angelo and her network; any reasonable neighbors in a town as close-knit as Rudolph would soon start to wonder why they never saw the residents.”

  “Did Mrs. D’Angelo tell you she overheard Raquel and a man talking about Lou?” I said. “Whoever Lou is, they needed to sort things out, whatever that means, with him or her.”

  “She did. But I don’t have any idea who Lou is.” Simmonds drained the last of her coffee and gathered up her bag.

  “If you can tell us,” I said. “How did Raquel die?”

  The detective tossed the bag over her shoulder. “Autopsy hasn’t been done yet, but I don’t need any official verdict. She was stabbed. One thrust direct to the heart. No defensive wounds on her hands or arms, so she likely didn’t see it coming. Evidence indicates she was stabbed in the dining room and then shoved down the cellar stairs, presumably in an attempt to delay the discovery of the body.”

  “Can you estimate the time?” Dad said.

  “The autopsy will be more specific, but as an educated guess, likely late Saturday afternoon.”

  I let out a long breath. Poor Mrs. D’Angelo, trapped in a house for two and a half days with a dead body. Thank heavens the killer didn’t dump Raquel into the pantry.

  “Why did they leave Mabel alive, do you think?” Dad asked. “It sounded to Mabel as though they were arguing about killing her.”

  “I can’t say, Noel. Mabel was obviously focused on her own situation. They might well have been arguing about something completely different. At a guess, Raquel Torrone didn’t tell her killer she had a neighbor tied up in the pantry. He, if it was the person she was arguing with earlier, killed her and left.”

  “If they were counterfeiting, did you find funny money?” Dad asked.

  “Some, yes. Several bags of it. At first glance, not terribly good-quality stuff, as befits the small-scale operation they seemed to have.” She turned to go and then swung back. “I want to follow up with a few more questions about Raquel with your daughter, Eve. I’d like to pay a call on her later. Is she planning to be around?”

  “She should be,” Dad said.

  “Highly unlikely this death has anything to do with Raquel’s past here in Rudolph,” Simmonds said, “but if Eve can give me some further insights into the woman, even as she was years ago, it might help.”

  We watched the detective walk out of the cafeteria. Two uniforms were coming in, and they exchanged nods as they passed.

  “One good thing in this,” I said.

  “It has nothing to do with us,” Dad said.

  “Yup. If Raquel was involved in a counterfeiting ring, clearly she had a falling-out with one of her confederates and they killed her. Looks like they abandoned the operation and fled back from whence they came.”

  “No reason for you to get involved, honeybunch.”

  “For which I’m grateful. I’ll be busy enough over the next two weeks.”

  * * *

  But not too busy to meet Eve and Vicky for an after-work-drink. The store closed at six today, and after telling Mattie I wouldn’t be too long, I locked up and ran across the street to A Touch of Holly, where I found Vicky and Eve settled at a tall table by the window in the comfy wood-lined bar. A fire burned cheerfully in the gas fireplace, and tiny white lights interwoven with lengths of holly lined glass cabinets packed full of bottles and glassware. Small vases of freshly cut holly graced every table, and a larger arrangement sat at both ends of the bar.

  I noticed a couple of men eyeing the table. No surprise there; they were two lovely young women. Vicky, tall and lean with her short dramatic hair, sharp cheekbones, and large eyes. Eve, tiny, fine boned, and blond, pretty enough to have a good chance at making it in Hollywood.

  I slipped onto an empty stool. Vicky and Eve had their drinks already, and a glass of white wine waited for me. The men turned back to their conversation.

  “Cheers.” I lifted the glass.

  “Cheers.”

  “Good day?” my sister asked.

  “Good as in productive and profitable. Not so good in that I’m absolutely beat.”

  She sighed dramatically. “It must be soooo hard, running a business at your advanced age.”

  I stuck my tongue out at her, and she laughed. Some things never change between sisters.

  “Hey there, kiddo,” Vicky said. “Don’t forget Merry and I are the same age.”

  “I know,” Eve said. “You just seem so much younger.”

  I rolled my eyes.

  “What’s happening with the book?” Eve asked. “Merry told me you’ve written a cookbook and it’s going to be published. How fabulous is that!”

  “It’s mostly out of my control now,” Vicky said. “And you know how I hate not being in control.”

  “You can say that again,” I said.

  “You know how I hate not being in control,” Vicky said again. “The book’s finished and handed in to the publisher. It’s now in edits, and the editor and I are having a few disagreements.”

  “Serious disagreements?” Eve asked.

  “No,” I said. “All totally normal. But the person who hates not to be in control is having trouble dealing with it. I keep telling her the job of an editor is to make a good book better. And this one is great.”

  “Can’t back out now,” Vicky said. “The advance has been paid, and already spent.”

  “Did you get a good advance?” Eve asked.

  “My agent said it was very good for a first book by an unknown author in a crowded market. Publication is scheduled for next October, in time for the holiday season. I can’t believe I have to wait almost a whole year to find out what the world thinks of it.”

  “They’ll love it.” I wasn’t just saying that to be polite. I’d done my part by tasting as much as I could of the recipes as Vicky developed them. As well as taking on that important role, I’d been the one who initially put Vicky in touch with an agent and a publisher, so I had a keen interest in the book’s success.

  “They’re keeping my title,” Vicky said. “I’m happy about that. Holiday Favorites From America’s Christmas Town.”

  “Next year’s gifts,” Eve said. “For everyone I know.” She lifted her glass in a toast. “To its success.”

  We clicked glasses.

  “Did Detective Simmonds pay a call on you earlier?” I asked Eve.

  “She did. She had questions about Raquel, but I didn’t have a lot to tell her.”

  “Spill,” Vicky said.

  “Not much to spill. Not recent news anyway. She was a handful back in school. We were friends for a while, when we were in tenth grade. She was so pretty I was flattered to be in her group.” My sister was no slouch in the looks department either. The two of them together must have really turned heads in our small-town high school. “Mom and Dad didn’t like her right from the start, but they were smart enough not to try to order me not to hang around with her. I decided soon enough all on my own Raquel was trouble.”

  “In what way?” Vicky said.

  “Mouthing off to the teachers. ‘Accidently’ tripping other girls or ‘accidently’ spilling her drink down their front when they were wearing a new outfit. She ‘accidently’ dropped her entire tray of lunch—hot soup and all—onto the head of a girl who’d gotten the cheerleading spot Raquel was after.” Every time Eve said accidently, she made air quotes. “Kids started asking me why I was being friends with her, so I stopped hanging around with her. Raquel was pretty and mildly popular, but the cheerleader was even more popular, and she was dating the captain of the football team, so after the lunch stunt, the in-crowd turned against Raquel. I read the signs on the wall and dropped her. Makes me sound like a sheep, I know—”

  “We’re all sheep in high school,” Vicky said. “Nothing was more important in life than maintaining the goodwill of the in-crowd.”

  I smiled at my friend. In Vicky’s case, that wasn’t true. She could have been one of the most popular girls in our year. Instead, she hung around with me.

  “Raquel-wise, things began escalating after that. Several times kids’ lockers were broken into and stuff stolen. Raquel was accused, but no one could prove it.”

  “Did she do it?” I asked.

  “She pretty much admitted it, and dared the victims to do something about it. She knew to focus on the new kids or those who didn’t have influential friends, plus she had a way of tossing all that blond hair and fluttering the lashes over those blue eyes that had the adults thinking she had to be totally innocent.”

  “How did her parents react to all this?” I asked.

  “I can’t say. They had two other kids, both boys, who seemed to be okay. Funny how I haven’t given her a thought in years, and now it’s all coming back. The brothers were quite a bit older than Raquel. Anyway, she didn’t graduate. Quit school in the middle of senior year. I heard she had a major blowup with her parents and left town. I never heard from or of her again, until this week.”

  “She left town, what, thirteen years ago?” I asked.

  “Yeah. Our senior year. Detective Simmonds told me her family moved away not long after she left. I didn’t know that. No reason I should.” Eve sipped her drink. “Sad, really. I wonder what she got up to in the intervening years that someone killed her.”

  “Counterfeiting, it would appear,” I said.

  “What!” Vicky and Eve chorused.

  “The basement of that house was full of counterfeiting equipment. Simmonds said they found fake money too.”

  “Is counterfeiting still a thing?” Eve asked. “I would have thought with almost everyone using phones or cards these days for just about everything, certainly anything over a couple of bucks, counterfeit money wouldn’t be worth so much. I can’t remember the last time I paid cash for anything more expensive than a latte.”

  “It’s still a thing,” Vicky said. “At the bakery we get a lot of cash, including the occasional fifty or even hundred-dollar bill. My staff know how to check for fakes, but the technology is changing all the time, trying to keep one step ahead of detection.”

  “Might still be a lucrative venture in the world of money laundering,” I said. “I’m proud to say I know absolutely nothing about money laundering.”

  “That likely doesn’t much matter,” Vicky said. “Sounds to me as though this Raquel whatever was a pretty low-level operative.”

  “Low level in high school,” I said. “Doesn’t mean she stayed that way. Although Simmonds did say the fake money wasn’t of very good quality.”

  “Not our problem,” Vicky said. “On to more important things. Eve, your mom told me you auditioned for a big role in season three of that superhot historical series. Have you heard?”

  Eve held up both hands and crossed her fingers. “I was called for a second round of auditions before Thanksgiving, so I have my hopes up. Unlikely I’ll hear anything over the holidays. I’ll relax and forget about it and enjoy Christmas with my family.”

  I laughed out loud. Like there was the slightest possibility of that happening.

  Chapter Eleven

  Mrs. D’Angelo was released from the hospital on Wednesday morning. I was at work, but George Mann informed me he’d pick her up and get her settled at home. Iris, Mrs. D’Angelo’s sister, was scheduled to arrive shortly thereafter.

  I heard nothing more from the police, and I was confident the investigation had moved on to the underworld of New York City.

  “Kyle,” Jackie informed me as we prepared to throw open the doors for another day of (hopefully) retail frenzy, “is simply devastated.”

  “Devastated,” I said, not paying much attention. Some degree of drama was always circling around Jackie and Kyle. She made sure of that. “About what? Do you think we should move the nutcracker solders to the front of the display? They seem a bit lost there in the shadows.”

  “About Raquel Torrone, of course.”

  That stopped me in my tracks. Nutcracker soldiers forgotten, I said, “What does Kyle know about it?”

  “Imagine, her back in town after all these years, only to end up dead. Of all things.”

  “Did you know her?”

  “By reputation only. She wasn’t in my year. But no one could fail to notice all that blond hair she was always tossing about.” Jackie tossed her own head in imitation. “Or the Don’t mess with me looks she gave anyone smaller or weaker than her.”

  “Was Kyle friends with her?”

  “Oh yes, Merry. They dated for a long time. Couple of months at least. Broke his heart, it did, when she left town without a word in the middle of their senior year.”

  “Did he know where she went?”

  “No. He didn’t even know she was leaving. He went around to her house after a few days, asked her parents why she wasn’t at school. Why she wasn’t returning his calls. Her mom told him she’d quit school and gone to New York City. Then she shut the door in his face. Kyle didn’t think her parents liked him much.”

  That didn’t come as a surprise to me. “Were you friends with Kyle then?”

  “No. We hooked up a few years after we left school.” She grinned at me. “Funny how that works out sometimes, isn’t it, Merry? Same as you and Alan.”

  I didn’t respond to that. “How did he hear about her death?”

  “The police put out her picture. They’re asking anyone who’d seen her around recently to get in touch. I sort of thought she didn’t look too good. Like the years have been hard on her. But, well, I suppose no one looks good in a mug shot.”

  “I guess not.”

  “Can’t say I’m surprised Raquel had a mug shot. That must be hideously embarrassing to her family.”

  “I’m sure embarrassment is not at the top of their emotional load right now, Jackie,” I said.

  “Whatever. Anyway, Kyle’s, like, really upset. He says they had some good times together, he and Raquel. He was super serious about her. He was planning to propose to her at the end of the year when they graduated. My luck that didn’t happen, right?”

  “If you want to put it like that.”

  “How about if I take the afternoon off, Merry? With pay, I mean. I need to be with Kyle. In his bereavement.”

  “It’s Christmas season, Jackie, and Melissa isn’t scheduled to come in today. You can comfort Kyle in the depths of his grief after your shift.”

  She pouted, but she wasn’t all that upset at me turning her down. She’d known the day off—with pay—was never going to happen.

  “Did Kyle mention if he’d seen Raquel over the last couple of weeks? Now she was back in town?”

  “No. He says it came as a heck of a shock to him to hear about it. He’s wondering why she didn’t look him up, give him a call. Suggest they go out for a drink or something. Maybe she didn’t have time. Just as well that didn’t happen. She might not have understood that Kyle has moved on. That he’s with me now.”

  The first of the day’s customers came in, putting an end to that line of conversation. We were steadily busy all day, but as I greeted customers, helped them select gifts, accepted payment, and wrapped their purchases, I couldn’t get one thought out of my mind.

  Raquel had dumped Kyle without a word, leaving him figurately on bended knee. That had to have been a huge blow to his teenage pride. When she breezed back into town and didn’t so much as bother to call him, might that have stirred up old resentments? Had Kyle seen Raquel and her highly distinguishable blond hair driving through Rudolph? Had he followed her to the house on Broad Street, where he confronted her? Had she laughed at him; had she mocked his teenage longings? Had he struck out in anger and killed her? Simmonds said Raquel had not seen the attack coming. She’d done nothing to defend herself. That had to mean, didn’t it, she was killed by someone she trusted? Or at least someone whom she had no reason to fear?

  I peeked at Jackie, smiling flirtatiously at an older gentleman trying to decide on a gift for his wife. Had Jackie had reason to think Kyle would get back with Raquel and thus dump her?

  Had Jackie been the one to follow Raquel to Broad Street, and taken steps to ensure that didn’t happen?

  Absolute nonsense, I told myself. I had not the slightest reason to think anything of the sort had happened, regarding either Jackie or Kyle.

  Raquel had a criminal background, and she was engaged in criminal activity at the time of her death. I need not look at my own circle of acquaintances for her killer.

  * * *

  My own circle of acquaintances expanded later that day.

  George Mann came into the store shortly after Jackie got back from her afternoon break. He brought a friend with him, a man about his age, although better dressed and better groomed.

  The shop was momentarily reasonably quiet, a few customers browsing, no one in need of my attention. Jackie gave George a friendly wave as she headed for the linens cabinet to straighten the display rumpled by enthusiastic shoppers.

  “Merry,” George said. “Meet Bob Gravel, the man I was telling you about.”

  “Pleased to meet you,” I said, although for the moment I couldn’t remember George telling me about a friend of his.

  “Go ahead, Bob. Don’t be shy. Tell Merry what you told me.”

  Bob thrust out his hand, and I shook it. He didn’t look all that shy. He had a neat silver goatee, thick gray hair, heavy black-rimmed eyeglasses. He wore a knee-length camel hair coat, a bright-red woolen scarf around his neck, and immaculate brown leather boots. “I don’t know that we need to involve you in my troubles, young lady,” he said. “But George here insisted.”