The Mystery Before Christmas Read online

  “Are you? You certainly have the financial wherewithal to have purchased what I estimate is more than a hundred and fifty thousand dollars’ worth of gifts so far if you count the new heating system I just found out Secret Santa had installed at the senior center and the new x-ray machine purchased for the clinic.”

  “That is substantial,” Martin looked impressed. “But I’m afraid we can’t take credit for these incredible gifts presented to the community, or for the gifts presented to individual residents of the community. Have you spoken to Carolyn Worthington?”

  “I have, and it isn’t her.”

  “It seems that an x-ray machine for the clinic is a pretty specific gift. Chances are that Doctor Nolan knows who is behind the gift. Maybe you should speak to him,” Dean suggested.

  I nodded. “Thank you. That is a good idea. I’ll do that. Can you think of anyone else who might be Secret Santa, assuming that you are telling the truth, and it isn’t the two of you?”

  Dean raised a brow. “You think we would lie?”

  “If keeping your secret was important enough, then yes, I think you might.”

  Martin laughed. “The woman just met us, and she already has us figured out.” He looked at me. “And yes. If we were Secret Santa and we didn’t want anyone to know, we would lie about it. But we aren’t Secret Santa, so I’m going to suggest you move on.”

  “If it were me trying to identify Secret Santa, I think I would ask myself why now,” Martin commented.

  “What do you mean?” I asked, furrowing my brow.

  “Everyone you have mentioned as a possible Secret Santa has lived in the area for a number of years, and everyone on your list has had the means to be Secret Santa for quite some time. If Secret Santa is someone who has lived in the area and had the means to buy gifts for members of the community for years and years, why now? Why not last year or the year before that?”

  “So you think that Secret Santa might be someone new to the area?” I asked. It did seem that Martin had made a good point.

  “Or someone who has recently come into wealth and felt moved to share it,” Martin answered.

  “What about Mary Anderson?” I asked. “I understand she won the lottery.”

  “She did,” Cass jumped in. “But she won her money more than five years ago, and she has lived in Foxtail Lake for a lot longer than that.”

  “We found out that Buford Norris inherited a bunch of money,” I said. “Of course, while the Secret Santa gifts began before he died, there have been a lot of gifts delivered since he passed, so I guess it can’t be him. As far as you know, has anyone else in the community recently inherited a big chunk of money?”

  “Justice Bodine,” Dean and Martin said at the same time.

  “Who is Justice Bodine?” I asked.

  “Justice is the heir to the Bodine Lumber fortune,” Cass said. “His family has been logging in the area for generations. Layton Bodine passed away over the summer, and Justice inherited everything.” Cass paused. “Justice has the means to have purchased the gifts, but to me, he doesn’t seem to have the right personality. In fact, I don’t think he has even been home since he received his inheritance. At the biweekly poker game a few weeks ago, the guys were talking about the fact that he took off for Paris months ago and no one has seen him since.”

  “Yeah, I guess that’s true,” Dean admitted.

  Martin shrugged. “Sorry that we couldn’t be more help.”

  “It’s fine. I really appreciate you taking the time to speak to me at all. Would you be willing to give me some personal information and maybe a few anecdotes for my column next week? It would really help me out.”

  Both men agreed to my request, so at least our trip out to their estate wasn’t a total waste. Cass had told me from the beginning he didn’t think the brothers were Secret Santa. I guess he was right, but if it wasn’t them, I was getting pretty low on suspects. I still needed to contact Mary Anderson, which I would do tomorrow, but after Martin’s comment about the timing of the whole thing, I was beginning to have my doubts on that front as well.

  “Do you know which Secret Santa gift was the first?” I asked Cass as he drove toward the restaurant where we planned to have dinner.

  “Actually, I’m not sure. I think it might have been Billy Prescott’s wheelchair or perhaps the down payment on the diner. I suppose you can check with Billy’s mother and with Connie and compare dates if it is important.”

  “I’m not sure it is important, but it might be. I can’t get Martin’s comment about why now out of my head. I wonder if Secret Santa didn’t start with a specific gift for a specific purpose, and then once that gift was given, he caught the bug and kept going.”

  “I guess knowing the order which the gifts were given might be a good piece of information to have. You’ve spoken to most of the recipients. I’m sure if you give them a call, they will provide you with the dates you’re after.”

  “I wonder if there have been any Secret Santa gifts that never made it to my list. The list I have has been created as folks have mentioned instances of gift giving to me, but I really have no way to know if I have them all. Is there anyone in town who would be the most apt to know all the local news? Maybe someone who enjoys gossip, and is in a position to know what is going on?”

  “Nora Nottaway. She is usually in the know if something is going on.”

  Of course, Nora had been sick, so I wasn’t sure she’d been spending as much time at the general store as she normally did, but I supposed it wouldn’t hurt to stop by and say hi. The real challenge would be to act naturally in spite of what I knew. Keeping secrets, I knew from experience, wasn’t always as easy as it might seem.

  Chapter 16

  Thursday

  No one was more shocked than I was when Cass officially brought Ford Fisher in for questioning concerning Buford Norris’s murder. We’d talked about the fact that Ford had been withdrawn since Buford’s death, but Cass had seemed certain that Ford was not the killer he was looking for, assuming there even was a killer. Unfortunately, even the coroner couldn’t say for certain what had caused the blow to Buford’s head or even if the blow was the stimulus that caused him to pass out and freeze to death. The last I’d heard, it had been deemed equally likely that Buford had died as the result of an accident as it was that he’d been murdered.

  “I know I was the one to say that some of the guys at the lodge suspected that something was up with Ford due to his odd behavior, but I really never believed he would kill one of his best friends.” Tom shook his head in disbelief as he, Aunt Gracie, and I discussed the situation over breakfast.

  “So far, all I heard is that Cass brought him in for questioning,” I pointed out. “That doesn’t mean that he plans to arrest him. When I spoke to Cass about it before, he didn’t think Ford was guilty.”

  “Maybe he found new evidence,” Gracie said.

  “Perhaps or maybe he just stumbled across some information he needed to follow up on,” I countered.

  “If it was as simple as that, why not just go to his house and chat with him?” Tom asked. “Why bring him into the station? That act alone makes him look guilty of something.”

  “That’s true,” I admitted. “I haven’t spoken to Cass. I only know about the situation at all because I spoke to Hope, who’d found out from Rafe, that Ford had been brought in.”

  Rafe Conway was one of Cass’s assistant deputies.

  “I know that Cass planned to have a discussion with a man named Rupert Wooly yesterday. Maybe Rupert had new information that cast suspicion on Ford,” I suggested.

  “Rupert and Ford are friends of sorts,” Tom acknowledged. “I suppose if Ford is somehow involved in whatever is going on with Buford, Rupert might know about it. Unlike a lot of the guys, who live in the area full-time, Rupert tends to be a drifter who moves in and out of town on a whim, but when he is in town, he does tend to hang out with the gang from the bar.”

  “Was he in town when Buford die
d?” I asked.

  Tom nodded slowly. “I seem to recall he was. I think he left shortly after. I wasn’t even aware he was back.”

  “Somehow, Cass knew,” I informed the others. “He asked Naomi to track him down.”

  “Yup,” Tom picked up his coffee mug. “That makes sense. For some reason unbeknownst to me, Rupert and Naomi are close. If anyone would know where to find the old coot, it would be her.”

  “Maybe you can stop in and talk to Cass later,” Gracie suggested. “Find out what is going on. I have to admit to being curious.”

  “I’ll stop by Cass’s office after my appointment with Mary Anderson.”

  “Are you still trying to track down Secret Santa?” Tom asked.

  I nodded. “Trying, but not having much success, I’m afraid. Honestly, Mary is my last Secret Santa suspect, and even I have to admit that she is a weak lead.”

  “And what if it turns out Mary is not Secret Santa?” Gracie asked.

  I nibbled on my lower lip. “I do have one other idea. I guess you heard that the clinic got a new x-ray machine. Now, that is a costly gift. If Mary doesn’t admit to being Secret Santa, I think I’m going to stop by and talk to Doctor Nolan. An x-ray machine isn’t the sort of thing one just orders from an online catalog. I feel like Doctor Nolan had to have been in on the decision as to which machine to get.”

  “I agree,” Gracie said. “It does seem that the machine is one gift the recipient would have to have been in on from the beginning.”

  I glanced at the clock. “I’d better head upstairs and get ready.” I picked up my plate and utensils and stood up. “Do you need me to bring anything back from town?”

  “If you wouldn’t mind running by the market for potatoes, that would be wonderful,” Gracie said.

  I set my dishes in the sink. “I’d be happy to. How many do you need?”

  “Just get ten pounds. I’m making chowder for dinner, but I’m sure I’ll use the rest in the next couple of weeks with the holiday and all.”

  I went back to the table and gathered up my coffee mug and napkin. “Anything else?”

  “No. That is all I can think of. Will you be home for dinner tonight?”

  “I will. Paisley is coming over after school. I’ll see if she wants to stay for chowder as well.”

  “I spoke to Ethel yesterday when I dropped Paisley off at home after her piano lesson. She mentioned that both she and Paisley are doing better. I guess they’ve settled into a routine that seems to work for both of them.”

  “That’s wonderful,” I grinned. “I will admit that I’ve been worried about the situation.”

  “Ethel thanked me for helping out. She said that Paisley really adores you, and she thinks that having you to talk to is really helping her through this difficult time.”

  I set my mug in the sink. “You know I’m happy to help out. Paisley is a great kid. I really enjoy spending time with her. In fact, in many ways, I feel like her being here and wanting piano lessons is what encouraged me to move on from my own loss. I guess I owe her quite a lot.”

  “I think the two of you were meant to help each other during this difficult time in both your lives.”

  I had to agree with that. It did my heart good that I’d been able to help Paisley, but I knew in my heart that she had helped me as well.

  After I showered and dressed, I checked my phone for messages. Surprisingly, there was one from Martin Simpson letting me know that he had been able to confirm that Justice Bodine was still in Europe, so I shouldn’t go to all the effort of trying to track him down. Aw, not only was it sweet of him to take the time to track Bodine down but to take the time to track me down as well.

  There was also a message from Cass letting me know that he’d spoken to both Naomi and Haviland about Barkley and that Barkley was going to spend some time with Haviland to determine if the two were compatible. I thought about the seemingly lonely man and the even lonelier dog and prayed that it would work out for both of them.

  As long as I was at it, I flipped over to my email app. Most of what I had was junk, but there was an email from a woman I’d known in New York, who wanted to speak to me about a job offer. There had been a time when I’d considered returning to New York and looking for a job, but I was happy here. I knew in my heart that Foxtail Lake was where I was destined to build a life. I hit return and let my friend know that, while I was honored she’d thought of me, I’d decided not to return to the East Coast.

  After checking my mail, I tossed my phone on the bed and started getting ready for the day ahead of me. My first interview would be with Mrs. Anderson. After that, I hoped to chat with Cass and then… I really had no idea. If Mary didn’t turn out to be Secret Santa, I supposed I’d need to widen my search parameters. I just wished I had a better idea of exactly how to do that.

  Chapter 17

  Mary Anderson lived a relatively normal life in spite of her success in the lottery. She lived in the same nice but modest house she’d lived in before she’d won millions of dollars, and other than the new SUV in the front drive, there was nothing about her home or her person to suggest she was a wealthy woman. I’d done some research and found out that since she’d won her millions, she hadn’t done as many lottery winners did and made a bunch of impulse purchases, nor had she engaged in expensive travel or spa treatments. In my mind, this made her a good prospect for Secret Santa. If she hadn’t spent her winnings on herself maybe, she’d spent the money, or at least part of it, on others.

  “Thank you so much for agreeing to speak to me,” I said after she ushered me into her home.

  “I’m happy to help out if I can. I think the world of your aunt. She is always there to pitch in with a project or lend a helping hand to a neighbor in need.”

  “She is pretty great,” I had to admit.

  She motioned for me to take a seat. “So you mentioned on the phone that you are doing an article for the newspaper on Secret Santa.”

  I nodded. “That is correct. It is a series, actually. Last week, I wrote about some of the gift recipients, and this week, I am focusing on potential residents who might turn out to be the mysterious Secret Santa.”

  She grinned. “I will admit the Secret Santa idea has been great fun. The gifts and the mystery behind the gifts have been the talk of the town for weeks now. Honestly, I wish I would have thought of such a creative idea. I feel like Secret Santa has not only benefited those he has bestowed gifts upon, but his presence has been a blessing to the community as a whole.”

  “And what exactly do you mean by that?”

  “Secret Santa has reminded us that there is still good and magic in the world, even if at times, things occur to make it seem otherwise.”

  I had to admit that was true. “The mood of the town as a whole does seem to have been lifted by the gifts.”

  “So am I to understand that your goal is to reveal the identity of Secret Santa?” Mary asked.

  “That does seem to be the question of the day.”

  She puckered her lips. “Personally, I wouldn’t. I think that the idea that Secret Santa could actually be anyone is part of the wonder of the whole thing. As I mentioned earlier, I wasn’t the one to think of the idea, but as I also mentioned, there is a part of me who wishes I was. Secret Santa has created a sense of goodwill in the town that I feel has been missing for a while. I don’t plan to steal Secret Santa’s thunder by piggybacking on what he is doing, but I do plan to up my own giving this year.”

  “I guess the feeling of joy the man has spread is somewhat infectious.”

  “Personally, the Secret Santa gifts have reminded me of the innocence of childhood belief. The happy feelings associated with that belief make me want to reach out and hug everyone.”

  I had to chuckle at that. “Yes, I guess I understand that. And I do get what you are saying. I think the wonderful feeling created by doing something for others can be contagious. As you have, I’ve noticed an elevation in the mood of the community as a whole
since the gifts began arriving.”

  “And therein lies the true magic of a selfless gift.”

  I leaned forward a bit. “Do you think that revealing Secret Santa’s identity will destroy the atmosphere of goodwill that has been created by the gift giving?”

  “I think it might.”

  Yeah, I was afraid of that. I really wanted a full-time job at the newspaper, but at what cost? I supposed this was something I needed to take a serious look at before I turned in my second article on Monday.

  After I left Mary’s, I realized I had some time to kill before my appointment with Donny Dingman, the only one of the original gift recipients I hadn’t spoken to yet, so I decided to stop by the library and chat with Hope. Hope was a decade older than I was, but she was a person I’d connected with on an intimate level from the moment I’d met her as a teenager. I felt like we really understood each other. I considered us close friends and knew that I could talk to her about pretty much anything.

  “So, what have you heard about Ford being taken in for questioning?” Hope asked the minute I walked in through the front door of the library.

  “Nothing. I plan to go by and chat with Cass later, but I’ve been doing Secret Santa interviews this morning. Do you know if he was released or arrested after he was questioned?”

  “I’m not sure. There has been a lot of gossip going around this morning, but no one seems to know anything for certain. I’ve texted both Cass and Rafe, but neither has texted me back. I know Ford has been acting oddly. Definitely out of character. But he wouldn’t kill anyone, especially not Buford. The men had been friends for a long time.”

  “Yeah. Tom, Gracie, and I had the same discussion over breakfast.”

  Hope plopped her elbows on the counter in front of her. “I just don’t understand this whole thing. Nothing has made a lick of sense since the minute I found out that Buford was dead. I’d talked to him that day… the day he died. He was happy and in a good mood. He’d been working on a project he was really excited about, and he mentioned his plan to head over to the bar for a drink to relax with the guys. Knowing Buford, I can see how it is possible he had one drink too many and ended up in a scuffle. I heard he fought with Dennis Felton, and if it turns out that he scuffled with Ford as well, I won’t be surprised. Buford could be a mean drunk if he overdid it, but I absolutely cannot believe that anyone from Foxtail Lake would hit him over the head and leave him to freeze to death in a snowstorm. There has to be something else going on.”