The Mystery Before Christmas

Chapter 3

“So did Gracie get her tree?” Cass asked me later that afternoon while we worked our volunteer shift at the Foxtail Lake Animal Shelter.

“She did. Tom and I ganged up on her yesterday afternoon and talked her into just getting a tree from the lot. It’s fresh and well-shaped. I think it will be just fine for the living room, and Paisley and I selected one for the attic as well.”

“Have you decorated them yet?” He tossed a ball to a group of labs, who all took off after it.

“Not yet,” I smiled as the dogs playfully piled onto each other while trying to be the one to bring the ball Cass had tossed back to him. “Paisley and I are going to decorate the tree in the attic this week, but Gracie wants to wait and decorate the downstairs tree on Saturday. She really wants all of us to do it together, but I had my volunteer shifts today and Friday, and Tom has some sort of event going on over at the lodge tomorrow and Thursday, so we put the tree in the stand and filled it with water, but it is still totally bare. If you don’t mind getting bossed around by Gracie for a few hours, we could probably use some help on Saturday if you’re free. Gracie insisted on getting the tallest tree in the lot. Of course, I have no idea how we are going to decorate those top branches.”

He accepted the ball from a black lab and then tossed it again. “I’d love to come by and help. I am planning to work for a while on Saturday in the hope of getting caught up on my paperwork, but I can probably be done by one or two unless there is a break in Buford’s murder case.”

A sheltie had wandered over, and I bent over to scratch him behind the ears. “So, are you formally calling Buford’s death a murder?”

“Only between you and me. I don’t have enough evidence one way or the other to state as much conclusively, and the mayor doesn’t want me using the ‘M’ word unless I absolutely have to.”

Kneeling down on the tile floor, I picked up a small terrier that had wandered over for some attention and cuddled him to my chest. “But you think there is something to find?”

Cass nodded. “My gut tells me, yes. I spoke to the coroner. He said that it is likely that the blow to the head that Buford seems to have suffered before his death could have been enough to cause him to pass out. He didn’t think it was hard enough to kill him, and he has listed the official cause of death as hypothermia. We did discuss a scenario where Buford was rendered unconscious due to the blow and then froze to death, and the coroner thinks that scenario is very possible. Buford did have alcohol in his system as well, but in the coroner’s opinion, he hadn’t ingested enough to render him unconscious, although I suppose one could argue that it was the alcohol that impaired his judgment and caused him to be out in the storm in the first place. The mayor is really invested in the idea that the man simply wandered out into the storm while intoxicated, passed out, and froze to death, but I’m less certain of that.”

“So if someone did hit Buford, and if that blow to the head is what led to his death, any idea who might be responsible?”

Cass shook his head slowly. “No idea at all. I’ve been talking to folks who knew Buford, hoping that a motive will appear, but so far all I really know for certain is that a whole lot of people had a beef with the guy, but no one was mad enough to kill him.”

“Tom mentioned Ford Fisher. He said he has been acting oddly. Secretive. Evasive. He’s been staying home and not interacting with anyone.”

Cass narrowed his gaze. “A couple of the guys from over at the bar said something similar. I really can’t see Ford killing Buford, but I suppose I ought to stop by and check on him. He is getting on in years, and I worry about his health.”

I smiled. “Seems like you worry about everyone in this town for one reason or another.”

Cass shrugged. “It’s my job to serve and protect. Part of that service includes a healthy dose of worry. Speaking of which, I know that Paisley has been worrying about her grandmother since her mother died. Pamela Keller mentioned it when I stopped by the school to give my talk on winter safety.”

Pamela Keller was Paisley’s teacher.

“Paisley is understandably having a difficult time. She is sad that her mother didn’t get the miracle they hoped for and worried that her grandmother might be next. Gracie and I have been doing what we can to help out with rides and meals and whatnot. I’m not sure what will happen in the long run. Paisley’s grandmother is getting on in years, and unlike Gracie, who is as healthy as a horse, Ethel has been dealing with a few health issues of her own.”

Cass tossed several balls in quick succession, and the entire group of dogs went after them once again.

“I feel for both Paisley and her grandmother. If there is anything I can do, just let me know. Is someone taking care of her shoveling and plowing?”

I nodded. “A group from the church has been coming by and keeping the walks and drive clear. I think the community as a whole is doing what they can. Hopefully, it will be enough. According to Gracie, Paisley has an aunt who lives in New Jersey who is willing to take her if Ethel decides she can’t manage a ten-year-old on her own, but Gracie also said that Paisley doesn’t know this aunt and really wants to stay here in a familiar environment where she has friends she can lean on for support.”

“I suppose that if Paisley does have to move, she’ll make new friends.”

I bowed my head. “I guess, but the death of her mother has been hard enough to deal with. She needs time to grieve and to heal. She needs to be in a familiar environment where she feels safe. At least for now.”

“I agree.” Cass gathered up the balls that had been dropped at his feet and tossed them again. “And hopefully with everyone’s help, Ethel will feel she is able to manage.” Cass looked at his watch. “I guess we should begin to wrap this up. I promised Naomi I’d take care of the nighttime routine since Hancock is back in town, and the two had made plans.”

Naomi Potter owned the shelter, and Hancock was Naomi’s sort-of boyfriend. Actually, when Naomi had mentioned him to me, she’d referred to him as her lover.

“So, what is this guy’s deal anyway?” I asked. “I know Naomi said he is in Naval Intelligence, but he seems to pop in and out without notice, and he never really says where he’s been or how long he might stay.”

Cass shrugged. “I don’t know any more than anyone else does. The guy just showed up in town one day, met Naomi, and they hit it off, so in spite of the fact he comes and goes like a thief in the night, they’ve settled into a relationship of sorts. He obviously is not at liberty to say where he has been or where he might be headed next, so those of us who know him, simply don’t ask.”

I supposed that if Naomi was okay with the arrangement, I was as well, but the whole thing still seemed really odd to me. “I’ll take care of the dogs and cats, and you can take care of the rest of the crew,” I suggested, remembering the hard time Naomi’s llama, Harry, gave me the last time we helped out.

“Sounds like a plan,” Cass agreed. “I’ll start with the horses.” In addition to the dogs, cats, puppies, and kittens always in residence, Naomi currently had a pen full of mules, a couple of cows, two horses, and Harry, who, as I understood it, was here to stay. “Two of the dogs need medication, so I’ll take care of that as well,” he offered.

“Yeah, that might be best,” I agreed.

Cass and I had helped out with the feeding and tucking in of the animals on several occasions, so I was familiar with the routine, but I wasn’t all that skilled at administering medication. Other than the meds, and the ornery llama, it was pretty easy since Naomi always left instructions for each animal in terms of the type and amount of food to be presented at each meal pinned to the board in her office. We just needed to distribute the food, check everyone’s water supply, clean up any messes we came across, and make sure everyone was tucked in and locked up for the night.

Once that was done, Cass and I usually grabbed a pizza or burger together. Tonight, we opted for pizza. Cass’s dog, Milo, was with us as he was most days, but since he was an official police dog, he was allowed to lay quietly under the table while we ate. The restaurant Cass chose was one of my favorites. It had a genuine Italian feel to it, and if you weren’t in the mood for pizza, they served pasta dishes as well. Like most of the other businesses in Foxtail Lake, Luigi’s was all decked out for the holiday.

“Did you hear that Secret Santa struck again?” the waitress, whose nametag read Giovanna, asked Cass when she came over to take our order.

“I hadn’t heard. Who was the lucky recipient this time?” Cass asked.

“Grover Wood. You know how he lost his contracting business a while back when he couldn’t continue to do heavy labor after his snowmobile accident.”

“Yeah,” he replied. “I had heard that. I hope he had savings to see him through.”

“He had some, but not enough,” Giovanna answered. “In fact, from what I’ve heard, he was on the verge of losing his house and had even been looking for a place to move to when he found out that Secret Santa had made all his back payments and even paid his mortgage three months ahead.”

I realized this meant that someone at the bank probably knew who Secret Santa was. The odds were that Secret Santa had written a check, which could have been mailed in, or he’d made the payments in person. Perhaps a chat with our friendly bank manager was in order.

“Grover is about as happy as I’ve ever seen anyone,” Giovanna continued. “I don’t know who is doing these good deeds, but I sure am thankful. Grover is a good guy. He didn’t deserve to lose his home.”

“It does seem as if Secret Santa knows just what to give those most in need,” Cass agreed.

“He’s been a godsend, that’s for sure. Everyone is talking about the gifts and the people they’ve helped. Some are referring to the Secret Santa phenomenon as The Foxtail Lake Miracle.”

“I guess Foxtail Lake was due for some good karma,” I said. “I know Tracy’s death was hard on everyone.”

“It really was,” Giovanna agreed.

“Any idea who Secret Santa might be?” I figured I had to ask.

She vigorously shook her head. “No idea.” She looked directly at me. “And even if I did know, I’d never tell.”

I had a feeling that protecting the identity of Secret Santa had become a popular trend.

“Seems like your crusade to identify Secret Santa isn’t going to make you any friends,” Cass pointed out after Giovanna took our order and left.

“I was just thinking the same thing.” I’d chatted with him about the series of articles Dex wanted to do leading up to the big reveal and how this could be good for both the newspaper and for me while we’d been playing with the dogs. “I really want to be the one to do the series. Dex is going to do it with or without me, so my refusal to reveal Secret Santa isn’t going to keep his identity a secret. And the story idea was mine in the first place. I should be the one to see it through. But I do realize that by outing Secret Santa, I could be damaging my popularity in the community, which is also important to me.”

“It does seem as if you are in a tough spot. Any idea what you are going to do?”

I groaned as I leaned back in the booth. “Not really. I suppose I’ll just do the first article, which is about the gift recipients, while I continue to look for the man, or woman as it may be, behind the whole thing. And then, once I figure out who Secret Santa really is, I’ll decide what to do. Maybe Secret Santa wants to be found. Maybe Secret Santa is actually after the publicity and will be happy to do the interview.”

“Then why all the secrecy?” Cass asked.

“I suppose it could be possible that Secret Santa just wants to build hype.” Even as I said this, I knew that it most likely wasn’t the case, but it certainly would make things easier for me if Secret Santa did want me to out him at some point before my deadline rolled around. “I don’t suppose you’ve heard anything?”

Cass paused, looking me in the eye. “I do hear things from time to time, but I’m not sure I want Secret Santa to be unmasked any more than the rest of the town does.”

I slowly exhaled. “I get it. I do. But I could use some help. Dex really wants this series for the Post. It’s a big deal for him. It’s a big deal for the newspaper. It’s even a big deal for me.”

Cass laid his hand over mine. “I know. And it is pretty awesome that the Post is interested in running the articles. I’m sure Dex is over the moon at the opportunity to put the Foxtail News on the map.”

“So you’ll help me?”

He nodded. “Yes. I’ll help you, but keep in mind that finding out what really happened to Buford has to be my priority.”

“I know, and I respect that. If you need to toss around ideas relating to Buford’s death, I’m more than happy to help you with that as well. It seems to me that the real challenge here is going to be to investigate the case while keeping Mayor White off your back.”

I didn’t know Mayor White well. He hadn’t been mayor when I’d lived in Foxtail Lake before, but in the two months since I’d been back, I’d definitely decided that the guy was not someone I respected. It seemed to me that he cared a lot more about keeping up appearances than he did about getting to the truth. I understood that Foxtail Lake was popular with the tourists from the valley due to its small-town appeal and that a murder in the idyllic small town put a damper on the image he was trying to project, but to manipulate the facts relating to a murder just to keep up appearances was downright unethical in my book.

“He has been pretty vocal about the fact that he doesn’t want to stir things up now that everything is starting to settle down following Tracy’s murder,” Cass agreed.

“Personally, I wish the guy would realize that finding justice for Buford if he was murdered is more important than keeping up the illusion that our little town is above such ugliness, but I guess in his mind, keeping his citizens happy is what is going to get him reelected.”

“And I suppose to a point, he is not wrong in that assumption.” Cass took a sip of his beer. “Let’s not ruin our meal with talk about politics. How is Gracie doing with her co-chair responsibilities?”

“Okay,” I answered. “The committee that Gracie is co-chairing with Hope Mansfield is handling all the holiday events for the town. The tree lighting is Friday, followed by the opening of the little Santa’s Village on Saturday. The Santa’s Village will run all month, and the big Christmas in the Mountains event will take place on Main Street the following weekend. It’s sort of a big deal, but I guess you know all this since they have done it for years, and you have lived here forever.”

“It is a big deal and a lot of work.”

“It is. I sense that Gracie is excited about the holiday this year and happy to be involved, but I also get the feeling that now that it is here, she is beginning to feel the pressure of being one of the chairpersons. I plan to help her as much as I can. I think she has the events for this weekend covered, but I suspect she’ll need help with the event on Main Street two weekends from now.”

“Gracie is one of the most organized and energetic seniors I’ve ever met. I’m sure she’ll do fine, and Hope tends to help chair most of the events in town, so she knows exactly what to do. Since the tree lighting is this Friday, are you still planning on volunteering at the shelter?”

I nodded. “Actually, I am. The tree lighting is at six, so I’m going to go straight over there from the shelter. Maybe we can go together and then grab dinner after.”

“I’d like that. Assuming things go smoothly at the tree lighting and I don’t have any arrests to process.”

I raised a brow. “Do you generally have arrests to process after the tree lighting?”

“Not normally, but there was one year when some college kids from out of town decided to show up blaring their own music. This angered those who were trying to enjoy a holiday moment, causing a rumble of sorts between the locals and the valley kids. And then there was another year when two of the guys from the lodge got into a fistfight over the correct words to one of the carols sung by the group.”

“You’re kidding,” I chucked.

“Dead serious. Folks around these parts take their carols seriously even if they don’t always know the words as well as they think they do. Most folks won’t haul off and punch the person next to them if they mess up the words, but it has happened.”

“Okay. I’ll try to be sure I sing the appropriate words if I am going to join in. If I don’t know the words, I’ll keep quiet. The last thing I want is to spend the weekend in jail for brawling in the street.”