Hoppy Holiday Homicide

Chapter Nineteen

I don't think I'd ever seen my Nan quite as angry as she was that day.

“You knew,” she spat, her normally warm and friendly eyes saturated with a shocking coldness. “This whole time you knew and were probably even feeding information back to your friend.”

Mr. Milton cleared his throat. Something I now realized he did whenever he felt nervous. “I didn't know for sure, but I suspected.”

“Oh, you suspected,” Nan repeated sarcastically. “So what were you? Warning him just now?”

“No!” Mr. Milton finally raised his voice to join in the fight. “I was confronting him with my suspicions.”

“And giving him a chance to run.” I jumped right into the fray as well. “Why wouldn't you have gone straight to the police?"

Picking up on our emotions, Paisley began to bark and growl and kick out her back legs like a chicken scratching at pebbles. “Bad man! Bad, bad man! No treats for you!”

Charles and Octo-Cat watched silently as the three women—two human and one dog—ganged up on a very guilty looking Harvey Milton.

“I don't agree with what he did, but I do agree with why he did it.” This statement drew gasps from all of us, even Charles and Octo-Cat, who had chosen to mostly stay out of the confrontation.

“What?” Nan and I exploded in unison.

Mr. Milton shook his head. This time he didn't clear his throat, clearly feeling conviction in the words he was about to speak. “Caraway Island needs the Holiday Spectacular far more than Glendale ever did. The whole thing is a tourism goldmine, and our city is struggling. Due to the isolation, few ever manage to venture over. Each year it gets worse. Businesses are closing, and our community is becoming more and more cut off from the rest of the area. We need something… A magic bullet, if you will.”

He winced. “Okay, maybe not the best choice of words.”

I laughed bitterly. “The fact that you would say such a thing—even accidentally—just goes to show what a horrible person you actually are. It’s like you think it's okay that your friend killed two people to try to bring more money into your city.”

“Of course it's not okay,” Mr. Milton responded, his gaze narrowing at me, “but we tried everything else and nothing worked.”

“Everything short of murder,” Nan mumbled and crossed her arms over her chest defensively.

Mr. Milton continued, keeping his eyes fixed on me. “When the planning started up for this year, Bill and I pushed for moving the festival to Caraway Island, but Gable and the others were quick to shoot us down. Bill said that Glendale wouldn't have a snowball’s chance in hell of keeping the festival once a well-respected outsider got murdered on their watch. Naturally, Caraway would come to the rescue and agree to host going forward.”

“And Bill told you all of this after the fact, I’m assuming.” I tapped my foot in irritation. “Was this before or after your friend killed two innocent people? Oh, and the cops are already after him by the way. I spoke to my good friend Officer Bouchard while my grandmother was busy beating you up.”

I thought I heard Charles chuckle under his breath, but it was hard to tell over the sound of Paisley's harried barking.

“Obviously, it was after. I already told you I had nothing to do with the murders.”

“What about Fred Hapley?” I asked. “You mentioned shooting a well-respected outsider. But Fred wasn’t either of those things. I'm sure most people tried to avoid his insurance sales pitch whenever they saw him coming.”

Mr. Milton cleared his throat several times but remained every bit as angry as he had before resorting to this maneuver. “What about Fred Hapley? He got in the way. That's all. Bill missed the last meeting, so he didn't know the guy would be there. Luckily, he had a gun on him in case the icicle failed to do its job with the woman. The icicle worked, but he still found a use for the gun, anyway.”

“Luckily?” Nan and I cried once again in perfect sync.

Nan reared back and slapped him across the other cheek. “I can't believe I ever considered you a friend,” she said with disgust.

“If that's all, I'll just be going on my way,” Mr. Milton said with one last look toward Nan as a giant frown took over his face. “It's really too bad. I liked you, Dorothy. I thought we had started something special. I can see now your affections are fickle.”

“I don't date criminals,” she hissed through gritted teeth.

“Believe what you want. I don't have to answer you anyway.”

“No, but you do have to answer to him,” Charles countered, drawing all our attention to the officer approaching from behind. It was the same cop we had run across earlier, the one who had questioned Mags and insisted on remaining in full control at the station.

Several paces back, Dad followed.

“Where's Mags?” I asked when he stopped at my side.

“Your mother took her home and sent me to find out what was going on here.”

We watched side-by-side as the out-of-town officer slapped a pair of cuffs on Harvey Milton. Whether or not he planned any of it, he'd still been an accomplice by keeping his neighbor’s secret.

As happy as I was to see Milton carted away, something still wasn’t right. “What about the other guy?”

“Yes, what about Bill Randone?” Nan demanded.

“Bouchard's got him,” came the answer. “That's right, you'll see your buddy soon enough at the station.”

Milton drew on his right to remain silent, leaving the rest of us gaping until the officer escorted him from our view.

“Well, that's one way to celebrate Christmas Eve,” Nan remarked with a shrug as we all burst into relieved laughter.

“I think I prefer the more traditional methods of celebration.” Charles wrapped his arms around me and kissed my forehead protectively.

Octo-Cat got squished in between us but didn't utter a single meow in protest. “I knew it the whole time,” he said instead.

“You did, did you?” I asked with another chuckle.

“The cat always knows,” he explained, winking up at me.

Seeing as it was Christmas, I decided to let that one go. “You did good,” I told him, backing out of Charles’s embrace so he could breathe easily once more.

“You, too, Paisley. Good dog.” I bent down and picked her up, and after having accepted a few pets and kisses from me, she vaulted into Nan's arms, completely unconcerned for her own safety.

“Whoa there,” Nan cried, praising the wriggling little ball of fur.

“I'm sorry about your new boyfriend,” my dad offered with a frown.

“Me, too,” she said. “Luckily we weren't quite to that point yet, though.”

“Think you'll ever forgive him?" Charles asked.

“Heck no,” my grandmother shouted, then hacked a giant loogie onto the snow, drawing shocked laughter from all of us.

“Even though he swears he wasn't involved in the murders, he still warned his friend rather than turning him in. As far as I'm concerned, that's just as bad. I'd never be able to trust him again. Not after that stunt."

“You know what? Forget about Mr. Milton,” I said. “He's not important.”

“Actually, I do owe him one thing.” Nan glanced from the street toward the sky, then met my eyes head-on. “I hadn't quite realized how lonely I let myself become since your grandfather passed. Of course, I have you and Paisley and…”

“And enough friends to fill a football stadium,” Dad pointed out with a smile.

“That, too,” she admitted her smile matching his, “but it's not quite the same as having a partner.”

Charles pulled me into his side as we beamed at Nan and the touching news she’d just shared with us.

“So you think you're ready to date again?” I asked, my heart swelling with excitement for her.

“I think I'm getting there,” she said with a sly grin. “One step at a time.”