Hoppy Holiday Homicide

Chapter Nine

Mr. Milton returned with two orders of latkes about fifteen minutes after he first departed.

Nan accepted hers by giving him a quick peck on the cheek.

I shook my head and said, “No thanks,” still clutching Octo-Cat tight.

Paisley had already jumped down to dance at Nan’s feet.

Honestly, there was so much fear in my stomach already that I didn't have much room for anything else.

They made quick work of their snack while I racked my brain trying to figure out how best to proceed. “I'm going to go find Mr. Gable,” I announced before heading decisively to the right, leaving them both behind.

“Mommy! Mommy! I'm coming, too!” Paisley cried, frolicking after Octo-Cat and me in her silly reindeer costume.

We found Mr. Gable in the same place I left him earlier that morning—at the main entry to the festival dressed up as a jacketless Santa while guiding visitors into his sleigh for the perfect photo op.

His bunny sidekick E.B. sat nearby in the nativity scene half covered in hay and looking hilariously out of place as a life-size bunny nestled among miniature plastic shepherds, wisemen, cows, camels, and angels.

Mr. Gable finished with the family of four he was photographing, wished them a Merry Christmas, and then turned toward me, concern furrowing his brow.

“Why, Angie… Why do you look so out of breath? Are you coming from the latest reindeer game?” He chuckled in that soft, happy way that old men had, but not quite vibrant or boisterous enough to match his role as Santa.

Once again I was reminded that I needed to make some effort to get into better shape, especially since my seventy-year-old Nan could run circles around me—and often did.

“Mr. Gable, have the police been in touch with you?” I drew out my phone and looked at the time displayed on its screen. Surprisingly, little more than half an hour had passed since I’d told officer Bouchard about my discovery of the two corpses in the ice sculpture garden and even less time than that since Mags was taken.

Mr. Gable’s cheeks turned red to match mine. Now he looked more like Santa, which made me happy somehow. “Why would the police have been in touch? What happened?”

As much as I didn’t want to be the one to tell him, it looked like I had no choice. I caught him up on the discovery of the bodies and that we already knew at least one was a judge his committee had hired. I also told him how Mags had been kidnapped shortly after and hauled away in a speeding cargo van.

He stared at me for a moment, eyes wide and unblinking. “All that happened this morning? Right here at our Holiday Spectacular?” His voice cracked on that last syllable.

“Afraid so,” I answered with a frown. “Officer Bouchard is taking care of things at the crime scene. He’s already called for backup and I'm trying to figure out who took Mags and how I can get her back.”

That was one problem with living in a small town. We didn't really have enough cops to handle the double homicide, let alone a kidnapping on top of that. That's why my work as a private investigator was so important. Officer Bouchard had let me partner with him on investigations more than once for this very reason.

“What should we do?” Mr. Gable asked, his face turning from red to white to red again, a flashing display of his anxiety.

“We've been planning the Spectacular all year. Vendors have come from all over Blueberry Bay. Folks travel from out of town to be here. Hundreds more are on their way right now. Do we close everything down and call it a loss, or do we try to keep going despite the crimes that were committed here this morning?”

I shook my head, wishing I had an answer. “Seems like a lose-lose, no matter what you do. I wouldn't want to be in your position.”

He sighed heavily and ran both hands through his thick white hair. “Ugh. This was not a responsibility I thought I'd ever have as chairman of the committee. But even if I’m the head, we are a team. I think I need to let the others weigh in before I make a definitive decision. Wouldn’t you say?”

I set Octo-Cat down on the front seat of the sleigh and then joined him on the bench.

Paisley pranced below, too short to hop up for herself. So I bent over and gave her a lift. She immediately licked my face, happy to be reunited after our fifteen-second separation.

“That sounds like a good plan to me,” I said, largely because I had no other ideas to offer. “I'll stay here to greet people and take their pictures while you go talk with the others.”

“Oh, wonderful, wonderful,” he said, pushing the sleek digital camera into my hands. “Would you mind watching E.B. too? She’ll probably just sleep through everything. I have her leash tied to that back camel’s leg there, so she shouldn't give you any trouble.”

“Of course we’ll keep an eye on her. No problem at all,” I assured him.

“Bunny-sitting duty? Gag me,” Octo-Cat moaned beside me.

Mr. Gable smiled quickly, but the slight look of happiness disappeared from his face in an instant, and he rushed off muttering something to himself.

I glanced toward the nearest parking lot but couldn't see any new festivalgoers arriving. That meant I had a small bit of privacy and could talk to the animals again.

“I thought we were going to find Mags,” Paisley whined.

“That is what she said we were going to do,” Octo-Cat added. “But you know how fickle humans can be. Angela, how long are we going to be stationed here, away from the action?”

I wished I knew. There were a lot of things I wished I knew right about then, and only one new creature I could ask for information.

I slipped down from the sleigh’s bench seat and tiptoed toward the nativity display, careful not to disturb the rabbit. From last I remembered meeting her, she was a very nervous sort and I needed to see if she knew anything that could help me. If I frightened her, though, chances were she wouldn’t talk to me at all.

I needed to play this exactly right.

For Mags.