Yule Be Dead Read online

  It was nearly midnight by the time Katie and Margo arrived back at the apartment. Not surprisingly, the parking lot was all but deserted. Erikka’s car remained in the parking lot even though the pizzeria was closed. Andy’s truck was gone. Had the two of them left together?

  “Is anything wrong?” Margo asked.

  “No, of course not. I’m just making sure everything looks all right before we get out of the car. Safety first!”

  Katie waited until Margo was in the bathroom getting ready for bed before calling Andy’s cell phone. She listened as the ringing continued. Five. Six times.

  He didn’t answer.

  Nine

  The next morning, Margo again slept in. Katie supposed that was her regular habit—go to bed and get up whenever she felt like it. Must be nice. Katie was up, had the cats fed, and had left a note for Margo on the kitchen table. She was ready to go walking with Sasha and Sadie by seven o’clock. She picked up her phone to call Andy, but there came a knock at the door.

  Maybe it’s him. Maybe he wants to make up and explain where he was last night.

  Katie hurried to the door. It was Sasha. The girl looked darling in a pink track suit with her hair pulled up in a ponytail.

  “Sadie said to tell you she’s sorry, but she’d forgotten a project that’s due on Monday. Ready to go?” Sasha asked.

  “I’m ready.”

  “Dad’s teaching one of his woodcarving classes this morning, and he let me ride to the Square with him. I hope I’m not here too early.”

  “You’re right on time.”

  As Katie and Sasha headed out to the Square, Katie noticed that Erikka’s car was still in the parking lot but that Andy’s truck wasn’t. Not that the fact that Andy’s vehicle wasn’t in the parking lot this early on Saturday morning was unusual, but that combined with the fact that Erikka’s car was there was worrisome.

  “Last night was so much fun,” Sasha said.

  “Yes, it was. Thank you and your family for having Margo and me over for dinner.”

  “Sophie really wants to work at the tea shop. When do you think you’ll be taking it over?”

  “I haven’t yet decided that I will,” Katie said. “It’s a big decision—there’s Artisans Alley to consider, the Merchants Association, and financing.”

  “But you do want it, don’t you?”

  Katie hesitated before confiding, “I do.”

  Sasha beamed. “Then you’ll find a way. I believe in you.”

  “How are things going with Adam?” Katie asked, eager to change the subject.

  “Okay, I guess.”

  “You know, lots of guys are going to like you all your life, Sasha. Besides beautiful, you’re sweet, funny, and thoughtful.”

  They walked around the Square talking about boys and the upcoming holidays. Sasha mentioned that the Davenports were going to spend a few days with their grandparents soon.

  “All of you?” Katie asked, surprised that Ray would join them.

  “Yeah. We have such a good time together. I wish you could come, too.”

  “Me, too.” She gave Sasha a one-armed hug.

  As soon as they reached Wood U, Sasha said, “I’m pooped. I’m going to stop here.”

  “Okay. I’ll see you later.”

  The parking lot wouldn’t begin to fill with shoppers for at least another hour, so Katie decided to walk another lap. She was surprised Sasha had tired so quickly until she realized the girl hadn’t been eating enough. Sasha wasn’t merely tired, she was weak. Katie hoped Sophie could get through to her younger sister.

  When Katie entered Artisans Alley, she went in search of Vance and found him in the vendors’ lounge making a pot of coffee.

  “Hey, Vance. Would you do me a favor?” she asked.

  “Of course.” He grinned. “Provided it’s not illegal or immoral.”

  “Well, there goes that.” She laughed. “Seriously, would you mind telling all the vendors when they come in to stay put for a brief meeting before we officially open?”

  “No problem. Do you have news about the tea shop you’d like to share?”

  “Nothing that exciting. It’s about Arthur Henderson. Rose told me he tried to steal a carving from Joan yesterday. I thought we could address how to best handle the matter.” She sighed. “I hate to ban him outright. He’s old, and he might truly be simply forgetting to pay for things . . .”

  “But we can’t afford to let him keep doing it,” Vance supplied.

  “Right. So if you’ll corral the vendors, I’ll be back in a few minutes to talk with them.”

  As soon as Katie was settled in her office wearing her Dickens costume and sipping a water—she wasn’t quite ready for coffee yet—she called the funeral home in Batavia that Nick had helped her find.

  “Good morning. Thomason Funeral Home,” a softly distinguished feminine voice answered.

  “Hi. My name is Katie Bonner. I’d like to order flowers for Vonne Barnett’s memorial service. Um . . . I can’t seem to recall if Francine is Vonne’s stepmom or her biological mom . . .”

  “It makes no difference, dear. I’ll see that the flowers go to Ms. Barnett.”

  “But—”

  The receptionist cut her off, asking what type of arrangement Katie would like and how much she wanted to spend. Katie completed the order without finding out what she wanted to know. So much for that idea.

  She took a peppermint from the jar on her desk, unwrapped the candy, and crunched it between her molars. She tried Andy’s number, but still he didn’t answer.

  Katie walked back over to the vendors’ lounge, pleased to see that almost everyone was there.

  “Thank you for agreeing to meet with me this morning,” she said. “I’m guessing you’re all as concerned about theft—not only by Arthur Henderson, but by others—during this, our busiest time of the year. I understand that yesterday, Arthur took a carving from Joan’s booth.”

  She met Joan’s eyes, and Joan nodded.

  “It was returned to me, though,” she said, “by Vance. When he saw Arthur putting the piece in his pocket, he was quick to get it back from him.”

  “He kicked up quite a fuss,” Vance said. “Said he wasn’t stealing anything and that he was putting it in his pocket to keep his hands free while he shopped.”

  “And that’s what I wanted to talk with all of you about,” Katie said. “If you’ll recall, when we had that sticky-fingered teenager last spring, the investigating officer said that the shoplifter must be outside Artisans Alley with the item before we can actually accuse him or her of theft.”

  “That girl got away with one of my blown-glass swans,” Ed Wilson said.

  “And some of my lace,” Ida added.

  “I lost a couple of pieces of jewelry,” Rose said glumly.

  “And she was never caught,” Vance said. “So, how can we be sure to catch Arthur Henderson outside the store?”

  “I say that when the man comes into the store, we waylay him just outside the door,” Ed said. “And we’ll make him empty his pockets.”

  “That’s not a bad idea,” Katie agreed. “I think Ed has a good point. We certainly want to make sure our vendors don’t lose any of their merchandise to Arthur or to anyone else.”

  Ed gave a self-congratulatory grin.

  “But we need to expound on it,” Katie continued, making Ed’s grin dim a watt or two. “When anyone in Artisans Alley sees a potential shoplifting, or believes he or she is the victim of a shoplifter, call me or the person manning the cash desk to give us a description of the suspect.”

  Katie looked around the room, satisfied with the nodding heads. “At that time, we’ll get someone to shadow the shoplifter—and someone to stand outside the main entrance. The person shadowing the suspect will let us know if the item is put down elsewhere so that the person outside doesn’t cause any undue commotion or embarrassment.”

  “What if the person doesn’t put the stuff down?” Ida demanded.

  “Then the shadower will follow the suspect outside, and together, that vendor and the person on the door will confront the shoplifter. When the item is found in the shoplifter’s possession, we’ll call the police.”

  “Sounds like a good plan,” Vance said.

  “Is there anything else anyone would like to discuss while we’re all here?” Katie asked.

  “Yes,” Godfrey said. “What are we going to do about those bratty ballerinas?”

  Katie remembered the chewing gum art someone—supposedly the ballerinas, but that hadn’t been proven—left in Godfrey’s booth. “Are they causing trouble?”

  “They’re menaces! That’s what they are!” Godfrey’s face reddened. “They mess around my booth all the time.”

  “And they twirl until they get dizzy and run into things,” Rose said.

  “Yes. They knocked into me at Rhonda’s booth on Thursday.” Katie looked at Rhonda, who gave her a wan smile.

  “They’re awfully sweet, though,” Rhonda said. “I think they’re simply excited about their upcoming performance and the holidays.” She glanced at Godfrey. “They’re just little girls.”

  “We’ll keep an eye on them, too,” Katie said quickly, before Godfrey could go off on a rant. “If they’re caught making any mischief, let me know, and I’ll talk with the dance studio owner to see if she can rein them in a bit. Anything else?”

  No one spoke. Katie clapped her hands. “Let’s have a great sales day!” she called, which was received with hoots and applause. She smiled, but it was short-lived.

  When Katie returned to her office, she tried Andy’s number once again. He still didn’t answer. She realized he should’ve been at work by now, and she started to get worried. Maybe something bad had happened the previous night.

  She got up, grabbed her jacket, and—still wearing the Dickens costume—sprinted to the pizzeria. She was both relieved and irritated to see that Andy and one other member of his staff was there working.

  “Good morning, Sunshine!” Andy called out to her. “Let me get these cinnamon rolls in the oven, and we’ll talk. I’m trying out a couple of new flavors—cinnamon pumpkin and apple cinnamon. I’m eager to see what you think.”

  Katie stood in the front of the shop feeling like an idiot as Andy finished arranging the cinnamon rolls on a large baking sheet. He slid the rolls into the oven, washed his hands, and came to greet her.

  He started to give her a kiss, but she turned her face away.

  “Let’s talk in my office,” Andy said. “Jeremy, keep an eye on the rolls, and if I’m not back when the timer goes off, get them out immediately.”

  “Sure thing!”

  Andy walked Katie back to his office and closed the door.

  She whirled to face him. “I’ve been trying to call you.”

  “I had to get the cinnamon rolls made.”

  “Last night, too?”

  “I was busy.” His face was devoid of emotion, and Katie wondered if he was a poker player.

  “Did Erikka work all night? I see that her car hasn’t left the parking lot since yesterday.”

  “It wouldn’t start last night. I gave her a ride home.”

  “I see.” Katie pressed her lips together.

  “It wasn’t like that.”

  “So, how was it? Did you merely drop her off and go straight home?”

  He blew out a breath.

  Katie tried to get around him. She desperately wanted to get out of the office and out of the pizzeria before she made a fool of herself.

  Andy blocked her way. “I went inside and Erikka and I talked for a while . . . and we shared a bottle of wine . . . which is why I was late getting to the pizzeria this morning to start the cinnamon rolls. In fact, the apple cinnamon rolls were her idea. The cinnamon pumpkin was mine. I know how much you enjoy pumpkin.”

  Katie’s hands clenched into fists. “Did you spend the night with her?”

  “No. We talked until after midnight . . . that’s all.”

  “Get out of my way,” Katie said tightly. “I need to get back to work.”

  “Why are you so angry with me? You had dinner at Ray Davenport’s house.”

  “With his family and Margo . . . who is having lunch with Ray today. I even planned to see if you were free to have dinner with Margo and me after the tree-lighting ceremony, but—hey—you’ve probably made plans with Erikka already.” She hurried around him, not wanting him to see the tears burning in her eyes.

  “You’re being unfair.”

  Even though she knew what Andy said was true, Katie just kept going.

  * * *

  • • •

  When Katie walked back into Artisans Alley, the place was swamped. She was glad—she was desperate for a distraction. She stepped behind cash desk three and called out that she could help the next person in line.

  A young woman with long curly brown hair and caramel-colored eyes came to the counter. Katie recalled that the woman had worked off and on at Afternoon Tea for its previous owners.

  “Janine—hey, it’s great to see you!” she said. “You haven’t been at the tea shop lately.”

  Janine leaned over so she could speak quietly. “That’s because Ms. Barnett let me go. She said she couldn’t afford to keep me there. I’m working at a grocery store in Greece now, but I miss the tea shop.”

  Katie also lowered her voice. “Did you hear that Francine is selling the place?”

  Janine nodded. “There’s no way I could afford it, though. I don’t have much of a credit history yet, and no bank would loan me the amount of money it would take to assume ownership of Afternoon Tea based on my salary.”

  “Would you mind giving me your phone number please?” Katie asked. “I’d like to talk with you about it when we both have more time.”

  “Sure.” Janine wrote her name and number on a slip of paper and handed it to Katie.

  Margo breezed up to the cash desk beside Katie, greeted Janine, and began wrapping her purchases. “If I’m going to be a fixture here at Artisans Alley, I should make myself useful, shouldn’t I?”

  Katie forced a smile. She knew Margo was just trying to be nice, but her presence could still grate on Katie’s nerves.

  Only a few more days, Katie told herself. Only a few more days.

  * * *

  • • •

  When the rush died down, Katie went back to her office, and Margo returned to Chad’s Pad. Katie was reviewing the agenda for the next Merchants Association meeting when Ray Davenport poked his head into her office.

  “Got a second?” he asked.

  “Sure. Come on in.”

  He came inside, closed the door, and sank into the chair at the side of her desk.

  “Thank you again for dinner last night.”

  He waved away her gratitude with a large right hand. “Yeah, yeah. Just remember you owe me one.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind, but I’ll have to take you guys out to dinner. My apartment isn’t big enough to accommodate the whole Davenport clan.”

  “I don’t mean for dinner.”

  “Oh, you mean for walking with Sasha? That was my pleasure.”

  “No, that’s not what I mean, either,” he said. “You seemed sad or out of sorts last night, and I thought—” He looked over his shoulder to make sure they wouldn’t be interrupted. “I thought maybe you could use a break.”

  She frowned.

  “From Margo,” he added.

  “No. It’s fine.” She smiled. “But I appreciate your looking out for me.”

  “Anytime.”

  “You know, I was wondering . . . did Vonne have alcohol in her system when she died?” Katie asked.

  Ray turned down the corners of his mouth. “I don’t know. But I can find out. Why?”

  Katie told him about Carl, the bartender at The Pelican’s Roost. “Apparently, he has a habit of serving pretty, underage girls. When Margo called him on it, he told her not to be like that ‘other old chick’ who died in the car wreck. Carl seemed to think the old chick was ‘drunk as a skunk’ but also intimated that she either had blackmailed him or was threatening to. Even though Vonne wasn’t that old, I got the feeling it was her he was talking about.”

  “Old might just be some peculiarity in the way Carl speaks. Although, lately, Vonne had been looking older than her years.”

  “I think her drinking and whatever was driving her to drink was the cause of that,” Katie said.

  “I’ll see what I can do about having a deputy talk to Carl,” Ray said. “If a vice cop catches him selling to minors, he’s going to be in big trouble. If he was talking about Vonne, then he might tell them everything he knows about her—maybe something, maybe nothing—in order to get a lesser charge.”

  There came a knock at the door. It was Sasha and Margo.

  “We’re ready,” Sasha said.

  “Care to join us?” Ray asked. “I’ll have two beautiful women on my arm—might as well have three.”

  Katie laughed. “But you only have two arms.”

  “I’ll let you have mine,” Sasha offered.

  “As wonderful as the offer is, I’ve got a lot of work to catch up on. Maybe next time.”

  She was still smiling as the trio headed off for lunch. Despite the way her day had started, it was getting better . . . at least, a little.

  * * *

  • • •

  Margo and the Davenports hadn’t been gone long before there was a knock at Katie’s door.

  “Come on in!” she called, half expecting it to be Margo, Sasha, or Ray, either having forgotten something or trying to cajole her into going with them again. Had the latter been the case, she’d have gone this time.

  Instead, her visitor was Francine Barnett.