Hoppy Holiday Homicide

Chapter Eighteen

We found Mr. Gable at the sleigh same as he’d been before.

“Welcome back,” he called as Nan, Charles, the animals, and I approached on foot, having parked just around the corner.

“Have you been busy?” Charles asked with a friendly smile.

“Things are slowing down now. Far fewer visitors coming into town, but we still have a lot of ticked-off vendors who want to have a word with the person in charge before they head on home.”

Charles shifted seamlessly into the role of ace attorney. “Was the festival insured?”

“Of course we were. And thankfully we should have enough to cover all the fee reimbursements, but I still don't know what the future holds for us. Whether the festival is done for good or it will continue on in a different place.” The weight of this uncertainty hung heavily over his shoulders. Mr. Gable appeared to fold into himself as he considered the options, both of which were far less than ideal.

“But the Holiday Spectacular has always been in Glendale.” Nan also didn’t want to accept that things would likely be changing, and I completely understood where she was coming from.

Traditions were special because you could rely on them being the same each year, and I hated to think that my favorite part of Christmas could be going away for good.

Mr. Gable frowned as he noted the dejected look on Nan’s face. “It has been, but we were chosen to represent the entire Blueberry Bay region when things were first starting up. It could just as easily be moved to Dewdrop Springs or Misty Harbor.”

“Well, it shouldn’t be,” Nan clucked, eliciting a smile from Mr. Gable for the first time since tragedy had struck earlier that day.

“Where’s E.B.?” I asked. Might I find some time to talk with the rabbit in private about my suspicions?

“Burrowed deep in the hay to stay warm, that sweet girl.”

Upon hearing this, Paisley raced over to the nativity and began to dig furiously.

I set Octo-Cat down on the seat of the sleigh, and he remained quiet, wanting to hear what would happen next just as much as I did. I still didn’t know whether it would be Mr. Gable or E.B. to give me the final intel I needed, but either way, I knew we’d find the culprit soon.

“Can we gather the committee?” I asked him now.

“I suppose we could. Why? Have you figured out something that could help us?”

“I think I may have a lead,” I responded with a poorly concealed smile. “But I'd really rather share with the entire committee if possible.”

Mr. Gable regarded me wearily. “Most of them are still around, but at least one is otherwise occupied.”

“Oh?” Charles asked, stepping closer as his interest grew.

Nan also watched Mr. Gable with wide eyes and shivering shoulders. The day was becoming colder as more and more snow fell, and we were all more than ready to go home.

We were so close now, though. I could practically taste it.

“Yes.” Mr. Gable rubbed his hands together and blew out an icy puff of air. “Officer Bouchard is wrapped up in the homicide investigation, so I don't think he'll be able to put that aside for an impromptu meeting.”

“He was on the committee?” I asked. Why was I only just now learning this? “That’s strange, because he didn't recognize Zelda when we first discovered the bodies. And wasn't it Fred who was the last-minute addition rather than Zelda?”

Mr. Gable nodded as he turned this over in his memory. “I suppose he wouldn't. You see, Officer Bouchard only came to the meetings that pertained directly to safety and security. It's possible he either didn't pay attention to the finer details of areas that didn't concern him or that he knew about Zelda but was unable to connect the face with the name.”

I nodded along, still finding it strange—especially considering Officer Bouchard served as chief detective whenever Glendale needed someone to slip into the role.

“Was it the same for any of the other committee members as well?” I asked, knowing we were mere moments from a big revelation.

“Yes, we had a couple who only contributed to certain areas just like the good officer Bouchard. Most of us were involved in all the planning meetings, though.”

Nan went to join Octo-Cat on the sleigh. I worried that the cold had seeped into her bones. Even though she was in better shape than me, she was also quite old, and we’d been outside for much of the day in this frigid weather.

Charles whipped out his phone and opened the notes app. “Would you be able to give us a list of your members to help me figure out which were only partially involved, like Officer Bouchard?”

I watched as Nan settled in with Octo-Cat on her lap, glad they would keep each other warm now.

When I turned back to the men, I asked, “Mr. Gable, could you please also tell us which of the full-time members missed that last meeting, the one where Fred was added as a second judge?”

“Oh, sure that's easy. Just a second. I'll help you there, son.” Mr. Gable and Charles worked out the list while I checked on the animals.

Paisley had cuddled her small, mostly black body against E.B. in the hay and was grooming her cheeks. The bunny trembled—probably afraid for her life—but I knew Paisley would never harm. She just didn’t have it in her.

Octo-Cat watched the snow fall from his place on Nan’s lap, following individual flakes as they floated down from the sky.

“It really is a pretty day,” he said. “All the snow makes the sun shine brighter. It would be nice to take a nap if it weren't so wet—or there weren’t so many murders happening around town, too.”

I simpered at him and stroked his back. He always had a way of bringing things into perspective, that cat of mine.

“Angie, we've got it,” Charles called me back to his side.

"Here's the full list. As you see, there are fifteen committee members in all that served this year. The ones with the stars only involve themselves in specific areas of the planning.” He pointed to the names Officer Bouchard and Janice Delacroix.

“The ones with the question mark were involved in full-scale planning but missed the final meeting.” He then pointed to Bill Randone and Harvey Milton on his digital list.

“Milton!” I almost choked on the name. “Is that Nan's friend, Mr. Milton?”

“What?” Nan cried, hopping down from the sleigh and coming to join us, Octo-Cat still curled comfortably in her arms. “What bout Harvey?”

“He was on the committee, but he missed our last meeting so he didn’t know about the last-minute judging changeup,” Mr. Gable summarized. “And you know, Dorothy, I don't think I ever would have pictured you two as a couple. That Cupid works in mysterious ways.”

“Can you tell us more about Janice and Bill? I don't know those two,” I asked, shaking off the reference to my grandmother's love life, especially seeing as it concerned Harvey Milton.

Charles stared at his phone while Mr. Gable met my gaze. “Janice is our go-to marketing gal. She manages social media, the website, our newsletter. Doesn't really come to the meetings, but we send her everything by email. I don't know how carefully she reads over the materials we send her way, but she has access to the full information if she wants it.”

“And Bill?” Charles mumbled, not bothering to glance up from his phone.

“Bill usually came with Harvey. They both had a long trek from Caraway Island, having to catch the ferry there and back.”

Something tightened in my chest. “Caraway Island?” I asked as if I'd never heard of the place before.

Mr. Gable nodded. “Yes, and they both missed the last meeting due to something unplanned. I think Bill had to work late and Harvey didn't want to take the trip over on his own. Something like that.”

“Nan, did you know Mr. Milton was on the committee?”

“Of course I knew,” she responded, but her face crumpled a bit as I asked Mr. Gable my next question.

Now my heart began to gallop in my chest. We were so, so close. “Did you take a picture of Bill today?” I asked.

He thought about this. “Actually, no. I don't think I saw him at all until after we were shutting things down.”

If I’d have been a cartoon, a giant lightbulb would have flashed over my head at this reveal. Bill Randone, that was the name of our guilty party. We had it. We had it at last. Now we just had to get him.

Somehow. Someway.

“Is he still here?” I asked, my words slurring together as I worked to get them out of my mouth as quickly as possible. “Is he helping to shut things down and send people over toward the park?”

“Last I knew, he was stationed over on Third Street.”

“Let's go,” I said, breaking into an immediate run.

Nan pulled right up at my side and matched my pace. At some point, she must have given Octo-Cat to Charles, because he ran a few paces behind carrying both the cat and the dog as he puffed along.

Mr. Gable hadn't joined us in the pursuit, probably because he didn't want to leave E.B. on her own.

“I just can't believe all of that,” Nan said. “I trust Mr. Gable, but I also know Harvey didn't do this because he was with me the whole time. Do you think he knew about Bill?”

“There's a chance,” I said between huffs. Running was still not a strong point for me, and somehow I’d managed to do it twice in one day now.

We ran another block before rounding the corner onto Third Street. And while I'd never seen Bill Randone a day in my life, I spotted him immediately because there he stood with Harvey Milton as the two carried on an animated discussion.

Suddenly they both glanced up and spotted us racing toward them. Randone immediately took off in the other direction at a sprint.

I grabbed my phone, still running, and dialed Officer Bouchard to let him know what we’d discovered and that his primary suspect was now on the run.

Nan pulled ahead, closing the rest of the distance to Mr. Milton faster than I could ever hope to move.

Then slapped him right across the face.