The Mystery Before Christmas

Tuesday

The snow gently drifted on air currents toward the ground outside the attic window. As I did on most nights when I couldn’t sleep, I’d curled myself up inside the window with Alastair and a heavy blanket, and tried to focus on the beauty outside the window rather than the warring thoughts in my mind. The story Cass had come up with as to how the money had ended up in Ford’s wall was a good one. He refused to tell me who tipped him off to the possible existence of the money at Ford’s house, and who had been helping Buford and Ford with the Secret Santa gifts, but I’d given the matter a lot of thought and had come to my own conclusions. The question was what to do with that knowledge. I still hadn’t had the opportunity to speak to Dex. He’d been super busy yesterday, as had I. He did send along an email letting me know he loved the articles I’d turned in, and was looking forward to the third article in the series next week. He’d also asked me if I’d be willing to take on some extra assignments while Brock was out. I’d answered that I would be delighted to take on any extra work he might have, but for reasons unbeknownst even to me, I never did bring up my hesitation with the Secret Santa story.

The more I thought about things, the more certain I was that I had the information I needed to pen the big reveal, but I still wasn’t sure I wanted to follow through with the story. In fact, the more I thought about it, the less certain I was that revealing the identity of the person who’d arranged for the gifts was the right thing to do. I knew I needed to make a decision sooner rather than later, which probably accounted for my state of insomnia.

“I could simply reveal that Buford was behind the Secret Santa gifts without naming his helper,” I said to Alastair.

“Meow.”

“Yes, it has occurred to me that Dex will want more, and yes, I suppose that without confirmation from the helper, I don’t even have proof that it has been Buford’s inheritance that has been used to purchase the gifts. It does make sense, however. I’m not sure who Cass’s source is, but it seems that it is someone who knows what they are talking about.” I paused to roll the situation around in my head. “I’m not sure why this source didn’t come forward after Buford died if they knew what was going on. Of course, I suppose the source might not have realized that the money was the most likely motive for Buford’s death until after Ford died as well.”

I pulled the cat to my chest and leaned back against the wall behind me. The lights in the trees illuminated the exterior of the yard enough to see the new snow as it fell to the ground. It really was lovely. So pretty and serene. I wished I could still my mind enough to really enjoy it.

“Cass is working on a warrant to bring Buford’s nephew in for questioning. He tried to speak to him over the phone after the money was found yesterday, but the man refused to cooperate. Cass thinks that the nephew who I seem to remember is named Jason, came to Foxtail Lake on the day Buford died to confront him about the missing money. Cass is assuming the men argued, which led to a physical altercation, which led to the head injury, which resulted in Buford passing out in the snow.”

“Meow.”

“Yes, Cass does have a solid theory,” I agreed with the cat. “He also thinks that after Jason couldn’t find the money, he left town, but when he heard about the Secret Santa gifts, he might have realized what must have happened to the money. Neither Cass nor I are sure how Jason knew about Ford’s involvement in the whole thing. The two men were good friends, so I suppose he might just have put two and two together. We are assuming Jason confronted Ford about the money, Ford refused to tell him where what remained was hidden, and this resulted in yet another altercation, leading to another death.”

Alastair wiggled out of my arms and jumped to the floor. I continued to speak, since talking to the cat really did help me to work things out in my mind.

“Yes, Cass will need to prove all of this, and no, as far as I know, he doesn’t have any physical evidence to back up his theory.” I crossed my legs under my body and leaned forward just a bit. “If the nephew was in town when Buford died and when Ford died, someone may have seen something. I imagine Cass has been asking around.”

I uncurled my legs and slipped around, so my back was to the window, and I was facing the attic room. I’d turned on the white lights I’d hung everywhere, which gave the room a fairytale feel. The room was open and airy since Paisley and I had cleaned it. I’d set up a desk near the window where I liked to sit so I could work and look out at the lake. The old piano was on the wall closest to the door, and stacks and stacks of boxes were labeled and stored near the far wall. The boxes that had held the Christmas decorations had been pulled out and set to the side. Gracie had gone through them and removed the decorations she wanted to use this year. There were still a few items in the boxes, but overall, it seemed as if almost everything had found a place to be displayed.

There were a few items too large for boxes, such as an old artificial tree, a life-size plastic Santa that used to be in the yard, a candy cane fence that at one time lined the walk, and a walking cane disguised as a candy cane. I remembered that Gracie had used the cane in a play she’d participated in at least twenty years ago. I picked up the cane and held it in front of me. The cane was more of a staff I supposed since it was taller than your average walking cane and a lot heavier. It was made from a dense wood and painted red and white to give it a holiday look. I smiled when I remembered the Christmas Gracie had first obtained the cane for the play. When the play was done, she let me play with it, and I remember using it as a magic portal to the North Pole and Santa’s Village. At least it served as transport in my mind. I really had had an active imagination as a child. I guess that came from spending so much time alone up here in the attic.

I took the cane with me as I called to the cat and headed toward the door. I supposed I’d try to get a few hours of sleep before the sun came up. I wanted to head over to the library and speak to Hope first thing. I supposed I’d bring the cane along. We might be able to use it as a prop in Santa’s House.