Murder at Mistletoe Manor: A Mystery Novella Read online

  “Do you have any other evidence against Christopher for me?” Deputy Franklin asked Klarinda.

  “Besides him hurrying out of here, and trying to hide that he intended to leave… I don’t know. Let me think,” she said.

  “Do you realize,” said the deputy, “that you haven’t actually explained how any of the murders were committed?”

  Klarinda turned to Deputy Franklin. “Most of them weren’t very complex. I can’t imagine that tipping over an armoire on someone or drowning two drunken people is that difficult. Also, there’s something Benji said that resonated with me.”

  “What’s that?” asked Benji, perking up a little from hearing her name mentioned.

  “Well,” said Klarinda, “you were talking about statistics. Which got me to thinking.”

  “Go on,” said the deputy.

  “The odds of having this many accidents in one place within twenty-four hours or so has got to be about one in a million.”

  “Or one in a billion,” said Benji.

  “And,” Klarinda continued, “if we’re looking at statistics, most violent crimes are committed by men. Most murders are committed by men. And most serial killers are men. We’re talking the vast majority. It’s not even close.”

  “Oh, really?” asked Deputy Franklin.

  “Well, yes. Really,” said Klarinda. “I took a criminal justice class once in college, and I got an A plus.”

  Benji and the deputy both snickered at Klarinda’s proclamation, and then simultaneously clamped their mouths shut and glared at one another.

  “I hate to make sweeping generalizations, but what I’m saying happens to be true,” Klarinda added.

  “None of this helps with the leash, which is our only real piece of evidence.”

  “Maybe Christopher tied Pumpernickel in there, knowing it would be a way to lure Lannie in there. The floor was probably so soggy by that point that all he had to do was to give it a couple of kicks before it caved in. Especially with that full tub of water resting on it. Lannie would have been kneeling down there to unfasten Pumpernickel and would have been situated exactly under the tub. And that’s when the floor gave way.”

  “How did he get the timing right? There was only a few seconds when Lannie would have been right there, setting her dog free,” said the deputy.

  “Maybe he was listening for her? Or maybe he was really lucky. Or maybe his target was actually Pumpernickel?” Klarinda suggested.

  “Maybe,” scoffed Deputy Franklin. “Maybe, maybe, maybe,” he added.

  “Are you going to do any of the detective work, or is it all up to me?” Klarinda snapped.

  “This isn’t detective work! It’s a guessing game. I’m ashamed to even be a part of this debacle,” said the deputy.

  “How can you say that?” asked Klarinda. “I’ve basically solved your crime for you. You just need to fill in the missing pieces.”

  “You acted like you had this case buttoned up,” said Deputy Franklin. “You’ve got our officers risking their lives to track down someone who you claim is guilty of five murders. Do you realize how serious of an accusation that is? I’m still not convinced that there have even been any crimes committed here.”

  “Back to Christopher Murdock,” said Klarinda. “Have they caught him yet?”

  “Let me check,” he said. “I’ll be right back.” And then he stepped out the front door of the inn. “Give me a minute,” he said, closing the front door after him.

  Chapter 20

  “Klarinda, are you sure you’re right about all of this?” asked Myrtle.

  She, Pierre, and Klarinda had closed themselves off in the parlor, leaving Benji handcuffed to the stairs.

  “Christopher has unquestionably been sneaking around. He took his duffle bag down to his car, using the side door off the kitchen, instead of going out the front door. He knew he was checking out early, and he went out of his way to hide it,” said Klarinda.

  “You’re sure about that?” asked Myrtle.

  “Yes,” said Klarinda. “I saw the tracks in the snow and his duffle bag sitting on the passenger seat of his car. Then he came back in, pretending it hadn’t happened, but the couch was all wet where he’d been lying, which makes sense, since there must have been snow caked all over his jeans.”

  “But why go through the whole inn and out the kitchen door when he could more easily sneak right out the front door?” asked Myrtle.

  “Good question!” said Klarinda.

  “The odds of him being seen by one of us were greater if he went through the kitchen than out the front door,” Pierre agreed.

  “I’ll admit that it doesn’t make a whole lot of sense,” said Klarinda.

  “Unless there was something in the kitchen he wanted,” Myrtle suggested.

  Pierre caught his breath, and nodded.

  “What is it?” asked Klarinda.

  “That could explain what happened to the two bags of potato chips that were in the kitchen. They’re both gone.”

  “If he stole the chips, that would make more sense why he was in the kitchen and sneaking out that door,” said Myrtle.

  “So he is guilty… of stealing… chips,” said Klarinda. Suddenly, she thought of the pile of cash. Ten thousand dollars in neatly stacked bills. Would someone who could so easily part with ten thousand dollars be driving an old car, asking how to redeem plane tickets, and stealing chips? It seemed unlikely. Although maybe if he were a real cheapskate... She swallowed. “I’m getting confused,” she admitted.

  “Either way,” said Myrtle, “it’s a good thing they went after him. There are plenty of unanswered questions.”

  “It was shady of him to rush out like that,” said Pierre.

  “Or maybe he’s innocent, and he felt like his life depended on getting out of here. I mean, it would be a reasonable assumption for someone to make,” said Klarinda.

  “Your theory about him could still be right,” said Myrtle.

  “I don’t know anymore,” Klarinda admitted. She buried her face in her hands, before coming back up for air a moment later. “It all made so much sense to me, but now I’m having doubts. I’m exhausted. It doesn’t help that these police don’t seem to know what they’re doing or care very much about the outcome.”

  Just then the pocket doors flew open. “You’ll be happy to hear that Christopher Murdock’s escape journey has been halted,” Deputy Franklin announced.

  “Are you serious?” asked Klarinda.

  “I’m very, very serious,” said the deputy. “You don’t know me very well, but if you did, you’d know I never joke around. Ever.”

  “Fun,” muttered Klarinda.

  The front door of the inn flew open again and Officer Travis Wells came running in. “I got here as soon as I could,” he said. “I wasn’t sure if I should go here or there, or what! So I came here since I was just down the road. What a wild night!” He turned to Klarinda, his face flushed with excitement, “I just heard on the scanner, Sheriff Carter is real pleased with you, Miss Snow!”

  “So you caught Christopher? I guess now you can get to the bottom of things,” Myrtle said to the officers.

  “Do you want us to all come down to the police station?” Pierre suggested. “Our evening is ruined anyway, and I wouldn’t mind a change of scenery.”

  “There won’t be any need for that,” said the deputy. “Christopher Murdock’s car got crushed beneath an avalanche, just north of town. It’s anyone’s guess whether they’ll be able to dig him out of his car in time to save him.”

  “As I see it,” said Travis Wells, nodding enthusiastically, “it’s a win-win. A wanted, dead or alive, kind of situation.”

  Deputy Franklin nodded succinctly, turning his handsome face on Klarinda. “Good job,” he said, rather sullenly.

  “Um, yeah. I’m not so sure about that,” she admitted.

  “Don’t get all humble on me,” said the deputy. “Just take the compliment and let it go. Well, I think our work here is done
for tonight.”

  “One question for you, Officer Wells, before you go,” said Klarinda. “You saw Christopher Murdock when you were here earlier, even if you didn’t interview him, right?”

  “Uhh… I’m not sure if I actually saw him or not.”

  “You had to have seen him. When you came in for the cookies?”

  “Oh, yeah. The sick guy. So that’s who’s trapped in the avalanche?”

  “Yes. Same guy. When you saw him, did he seem familiar to you? Did you ever work with him here, maybe back when you were a lawn boy?”

  “I never seen him before in my life,” said Travis Wells.

  “You’re sure about that?” asked Klarinda. “Did you get a good look at him?”

  “That guy who was always holding his stomach and running to the restroom? Yeah, I saw him. But he wasn’t anyone I knew.”

  Klarinda nodded, silently.

  “Any more questions?” asked Officer Wells.

  “No,” said Klarinda.

  “Then we’re outtie,” Travis Wells declared, putting his hat back on.

  “Could you please remember to unhandcuff Benji before you leave?” Myrtle said to the policemen.

  “She wasn’t there when I just came in. Not that I saw, anyway,” said Deputy Franklin. He opened the parlor doors a little wider, peeked out, and shook his head. “Nope. Not there.”

  “Okie dokie. See you later,” said Officer Wells.

  “Where the heck is she?” exclaimed Myrtle. “You police officers had better stick around and help us find her!”

  “I’m ready for some dinner,” muttered Travis Wells.

  “Of course she set herself free,” said Deputy Franklin, walking across the hall and picking up the handcuffs and a paperclip that was lying on the floor beside them. “You left her with access to tools. What difference does it make now, anyhow? She’s probably around here someplace. If not, that’s her prerogative. I’ve got to tell you all: I’m beat, and my shift is over. I’ll check back with you in the morning.”

  With that, both officers stepped back out into the cold night, got into their vehicles, and drove away.

  Chapter 21

  “Now what are we going to do?” Myrtle said to Klarinda and Pierre.

  “I think step one is finding Benji,” said Klarinda.

  “It’s possible she simply set herself free and is around here somewhere, not up to any trouble. Maybe finishing that bowl of ice cream,” said Pierre.

  “Good point,” said Klarinda. “Benji!” she called. “Want to finish our game of Skip-bo?”

  There was no response. Not even the creaking of a floorboard.

  “We found a new jar of sprinkles for your ice cream,” Myrtle tried a few seconds later.

  The three of them stood frozen, waiting for several silent seconds for a response.

  “We’re getting our menus reprinted because you told us to,” yelled Klarinda.

  There was still no response.

  “If that didn’t get her attention, nothing will,” Pierre said.

  “Yep. This is what I was afraid of,” said Klarinda. “I totally screwed up, and Christopher Murdock is trapped beneath an avalanche because of me.”

  “He very well may be guilty,” said Myrtle.

  “Of being in the wrong place at the wrong time,” said Klarinda.

  “There’s nothing we can do to help him right now,” said Pierre. “Right now, we need to find Benji.”

  “I think we should all stick together,” said Myrtle.

  “We’ll be faster if we’re all looking at once,” said Pierre.

  “We need to get the police back here,” said Klarinda. “Whether they like it or not. This is their job, not ours.”

  “They haven’t been much help so far,” said Myrtle.

  “I think they’ve done more harm than good,” Pierre agreed.

  “Fine. Let’s split up, but please, you two, be careful. You’re the only family I have,” said Klarinda.

  “We will be. You be careful, too,” said Myrtle.

  “Meet you both right back here in five minutes?” said Pierre.

  Myrtle and Klarinda nodded. Then Pierre headed down the basement stairs, and Myrtle set off for the kitchen, leaving Klarinda to head upstairs.

  Chapter 22

  Klarinda had grabbed an old, sharp-tipped umbrella from the stand by the front door, and with each bedskirt she lifted, she had the umbrella poised and ready to impale Benji. But she’d made her way through each room without incident. Now she stood back in the orange room, taking one last look around it.

  Benji’s backpack and the guest towel and bloody leash were right where Klarinda had last seen them. She walked over to the backpack and poured out its contents.

  Rust colored clothing, along with leftover remnants of the backpack’s former life, piled onto the floor. Pens. A few pencils. Some ponytail holders and a tube of lip balm. A stack of small, square sticky notes with a dog-eared corner, that may have been insignificant, but immediately took Klarinda’s mind straight to the note affixed to the stack of cash she’d received.

  There were no keys, no cash, no phone. No wallet. Nothing to identify Benji or connect her with the world.

  “Who are you, Benji?” Klarinda whispered. “Why are you involved in all of this?” She picked up the pens, examining them for business names or some other hint, but they were all generic. The pencils were plain, yellow, and stubby. Klarinda pushed her hair back from her face, frustrated.

  “Are you okay up there?” called Myrtle.

  “Yes! Coming,” said Klarinda.

  She left Benji’s possessions in a pile and went back down the stairs. She was relieved to see both Pierre and Myrtle safely back at the front desk.

  “Any sign of her?” she asked them.

  They both shook their heads. “We should probably check our apartments,” said Pierre.

  “I think I’m going to drive around and look for her,” said Klarinda. She reached under the counter, behind the stack of phone books no one ever used, expecting her hand to close around the keys for her truck. But instead, her fingers scraped against the back of the smooth wood veneer of the shelf. She pulled the phonebooks out, revealing a vacant gap of space behind them. Her keys, and the mysterious envelope of cash they’d been resting on, were gone.

  “Oh, no,” she said.

  “What’s the matter?” asked Myrtle.

  Without bothering to put even a coat on, Klarinda threw open the front door and ran out to the porch of the inn. The space in front of the garage door had been haphazardly shoveled out, and there were fresh tracks from her truck going through them.

  Klarinda turned and ran back inside. “She’s gone,” she announced.

  “Gone?” Myrtle repeated.

  “She stole my truck. She’s escaped from here!”

  “And we can’t even go after her,” Myrtle realized, “since the plow truck isn’t drivable.”

  “We could try venturing out in my golf cart,” Pierre suggested.

  “I appreciate the offer, but we are not going to go barreling down the icy mountain in your golf cart,” Klarinda said. “My truck has been stolen, and as much as they aren’t going to want to hear from us again, we need to call the police. Here we go again,” she said, reaching for the inn’s telephone, at the exact same instant it began to ring.

  “Hello?” said Klarinda.

  “Hello. This is Deputy Franklin. Klarinda Snow?”

  “Yes, this is she, Deputy Franklin. I was just picking up the phone to call you.”

  “Let me guess,” he said. “You’re calling to report a stolen vehicle?”

  “That’s right,” she said. “Have you found my truck?”

  “Found it? Well, that’s one way to put it. I’m currently watching it disappear into the river.”

  “Disappear into the river? With Benji inside it?”

  “She attempted to escape on foot after she jumped out of it. It crashed through the guardrail on Old Mill Road. Tha
t’s where we apprehended her. She’s currently in the custody of the Windy Pines police department, being interrogated by Sheriff Carter. Your truck, however, is a lost cause.”

  “How did you know to go after her in the first place?”

  “We didn’t. I only wanted to pull her over after I saw her weaving all over the road, very slowly, with her headlights turned off. When I turned my siren on, she went speeding off, and then eventually jumped from the vehicle.”

  “I guess she wasn’t lying when she said she didn’t have her driver’s license,” said Klarinda.

  “I guess not,” the deputy agreed.

  “I don’t know what to say,” said Klarinda.

  “I’m sure you’re wondering how Christopher Murdock is doing,” said the deputy.

  Klarinda swallowed. “Is he going to be okay?”

  “He’s going to be fine. He’s been dug out of the avalanche. There’s not a scratch on him. Also, he’s got two bags of salt and vinegar potato chips that he says he’d like to return to you.”

  “Great,” Klarinda whispered. “You can tell him he can keep them,” she added.

  “I’ll keep you posted on Benji,” said the deputy, “but for now, I need to go.”

  “Thank you,” said Klarinda, hanging up the phone.

  Chapter 23

  Klarinda was in Mexico, relaxing on the beach while waiting for the restoration company to complete the repairs on Mistletoe Manor when the letter from Myrtle arrived.

  Dear Klarinda,

  I’m glad you’re getting some much deserved rest and relaxation. The inn is looking great! They just tiled the upstairs bathroom floor this morning. It looks better than I’ve ever seen it look! It’s all really coming together nicely. You’re going to be so happy when you get home, and I can tell that you’ll be very comfortable there again, even after everything that happened.

  Now, for some bad news. It’s about Benji. It turns out, her name wasn’t Benji at all. Her name was Adaline Burtz. She was Avery Burtz’s older sister. (Avery is that girl from Mount Hemlock Academy who took her own life.) You’re probably wondering why I’m talking about her in the past tense. Well, she also took her own life. It happened last night, when she was in a holding cell up in the county jail. I’m afraid I don’t know any more details than that. I hate to even tell you this when you’re on vacation, but I thought you’d want to know. I hope it doesn’t ruin the rest of your time away.