The Mystery Before Christmas

Chapter 18

Donnie Dingman didn’t know any more about the person behind his Secret Santa gift than anyone else I’d spoken to, so I decided to take a chance and stop by the clinic. I wasn’t confident that Doctor Nolan would know any more about the identity of Secret Santa than any of the other gift recipients did, but I figured that it couldn’t hurt to stop by and speak to him about it.

“Sure, I know who purchased the x-ray machine.”

“You do?” I really wasn’t expecting that answer.

He nodded as his eyes danced with merriment. “Sure. The machine that was purchased is a very expensive and very specialized piece of equipment. I was the one who picked it out.”

“So you know who Secret Santa is?”

He chuckled. “Yes, I guess I do.”

“Who is it?” I held my breath as I waited for an answer.

“Secret Santa is a very good and giving individual who wishes to remain anonymous. I, for one, have no intention of spilling the beans, and if you want my opinion, you shouldn’t either, even if you do manage to figure it out, which quite frankly, I don’t think you will.”

It seemed that keeping Secret Santa’s identity a secret was a sentiment shared by pretty much everyone in town other than Dex.

“Look, I get that you are a reporter,” Doctor Nolan continued. “And I get that it is a reporter’s job to uncover and report the truth, even if that truth will hurt an exceptionally awesome person in the end. But this is a small town, where relationships matter. I don’t think it is going to do you, or the newspaper any good to reveal a harmless secret no one really wants to be revealed.”

“So it is your opinion that members of the community will be angry if Secret Santa’s identity is revealed.”

“And how. In my opinion, if you plan to continue to live here in Foxtail Lake beyond the holiday, you might want to reconsider your plan to ruin everyone’s fun.”

I groaned and leaned back against the counter. “Yeah. I’ve come to that conclusion as well. Of course, it will probably mean that I’ll be fired from a job I don’t even technically have yet.”

Doctor Nolan put a hand on my shoulder. “Dex is not an unreasonable guy. I’ve known him for a long time, and while I can see him totally being seduced by the chance to be reprinted in the Post, I think that once he has a chance to really think about things, he’ll come around to our way of thinking.”

“You think?”

He nodded. “I do. I’ve read the material you’ve published so far. It’s good. Really good. Dex knows that. He won’t throw away a reporter with potential over a single act of consciousness.”

“You know if I don’t do the story, he’ll just assign it to Brock.”

“I suppose that’s true, but between you and me, I don’t think Brock has the creativity to figure the whole thing out.”

Creativity to figure the whole thing out. That, I realized, was a clue in and of itself.

After I left the clinic, I headed over to the sheriff’s office. I knew Cass would be busy, but I hoped I was catching him at a good time, and he’d have a few minutes to catch me up. I was sure now that word had gotten out that he’d brought Ford in for questioning, half the people in town would be curious about the rest of the story. I was equally certain that he wouldn’t have time to return everyone’s call, but Cass and I had a special relationship, and I hoped he’d speak to me.

“I spoke to Rupert yesterday,” Cass began after he’d indicated I should take a seat in the chair across from his desk. “He told me that Buford and Ford had exchanged fisticuffs during the afternoon of the day Buford died.”

“Fisticuffs?” I asked.

“His phrasing. Anyway, he told me that he had no idea what the men were arguing about, but at one point, they were really going at it. Eventually, some of the other men who were hanging around broke it up, and after a bit of discussion, they sent Buford home to sleep it off. According to Rupert, Ford left on foot shortly after Buford left on foot. As far as I can tell, Buford never made it home.”

“So do you think Ford followed Buford and the men continued their sparring match, resulting in Buford passing out in the snow?”

“I believe that is a possibility, which is why I wanted to call Ford in and have an official record of my discussion with the man.”

“And?”

“And at first he blurted out that he was indeed responsible for Buford’s death. He had me in a panic for a minute since I really didn’t want to have to arrest the guy for murder, but then he elaborated.”

“What did he say?”

“He confirmed that he and Buford had a disagreement over a favor Buford had asked of him that he was having second thoughts about agreeing to do. He shared that both he and Buford had been drinking, and the argument escalated to the point where punches were exchanged. He’d been stressing over the fact that one of the blows he’d delivered might have been the one that led Buford to pass out. He swears that the man was alive and conscious when he left the bar, but he also said it occurred to him that Buford could have had a delayed reaction and that he, in fact, had been the one to kill his best friend.”

“Wow. Poor Ford. No wonder he has been so depressed. I assume that you aren’t convinced that Buford died after having a delayed response to one of the blows delivered by Ford.”

“I hope not, but I’m not a doctor or a coroner. I guess I’ll have to wait to see what the coroner comes back with. If it is possible that Buford passed out due to a blow delivered by Ford, things are going to get complicated. At this point, I am holding Ford until I can have a discussion with the sheriff and the DA.”

“I wonder why Ford didn’t come to you and explain what happened at the time of Buford’s death.”

“I suppose he was scared. It’s understandable that he would be.”

“Yeah, I guess. So what are you going to do now?”

“As I already mentioned, I need to have a discussion with the sheriff and the DA to see what they want to do. I also plan to continue to look into things. If the blow to the head led to Buford’s death, I’m not sure any sort of blow delivered with Ford’s fists could have done that much damage. In my mind, Buford could have come across someone else between the time he left the bar and the time he fell down unconscious in the snow.”

“Someone who hit him with a heavy object which, caused him to pass out.”

“Exactly.”

“Buford must have been in a real mood to have fought with Dennis and Ford on the day of his death. I wonder what was going on. At the beginning of this investigation, you told me that while Buford had been drinking, he hadn’t really been all that drunk. If it wasn’t the alcohol that turned him violent, what did?”

“I don’t know. I guess he might have just been having a bad day. It happens.”

“I spoke to Hope earlier, and she told me that she had spoken to Buford before he went to the bar. She said he was in a good mood, and that all he planned to do was throw back a beer with his friends. Something must have happened that changed his mood after he left the library.”

Cass narrowed his gaze. “I hadn’t heard that Hope had spoken to Buford on the day he died. I guess I’ll stop by the library and have a chat with her. Maybe she can fill in some of the blanks. I’d really like to figure this out before the DA decides to prosecute Ford for Buford’s death because, in my mind, it seems likely that he will do just that.”