Deadly Traditions, page 4
“Well, I’m convinced that Betty and Mr. Smythe are innocent,” I replied, giving Mrs. Daniels a pitying smile as she joined us right in time to hear that. “Sorry I don’t have better news.”
“Me too. Thank you for trying,” Mrs. Daniels said. She looped her arm through Cory’s as he meandered up to what was once a magnificent gingerbread house. “Cory, you should go home. They’re letting people leave now since the police department is apparently coming up as empty as Hazel here.”
“What about you?”
She sighed. “I’m going to stay until they make me leave. I’m determined to find answers. Someone needs to be held accountable.”
Cory, Lexi, and I all looked at each other with subtle notes of oh, brother.
“I’ll stay with her,” I offered, then winced. If they were letting people leave, I needed to get back to Bean Around Town so I could hopefully squeeze a little more business out of this whirlwind of a night as people hung around to continue chatting about the excitement of it all. Even with everything that had gone wrong, this town loved nothing more than an annual event taking an unexpected turn for the dramatic.
Shaking my head, I bit my lip in apology. “Actually, wait. I should get to my truck. I’m sure people will want a gingerbread latte or cocoa to pair with their … mingling.” I hadn’t wanted to point out they’d stick around to keep gossiping. Not to the subject of the gossip, anyway.
“We’ll do that,” Gram said, making me jump as she spoke from behind me. “Your mother is already out there. I’ll join her so you can keep up the good work.”
Unlike my brother and Nico, Gram encouraged my interest in some of the crimes we’d seen in Pine Lakes lately. Not that she’d ever want me to hang up my Busy Bean apron and join the force, but still. She praised my cleverness and enjoyed watching me play cop.
“Thanks, Grams. I won’t be long, and I’ll help you guys close up when everyone leaves.”
“Sounds great. Good luck.”
I thanked her again and watched her walk away, catching Nico’s eye as he looked up from whomever he was speaking to. Narrowing my eyes at him in challenge, I turned back to the mess that looked like something a reindeer had thrown up after a long night of binge eating decorations.
With a frown, I leaned closer to the wreckage and inspected what was once the foyer. “Mrs. Daniels,” I said, moving a section of the roof so I could get a better look, “where’s the chandelier?”
Mrs. Daniels leaned closer, then reached in and dug through the rubble. “It’s not here.”
“That’s weird. There should at least be pieces of it somewhere if it was smashed up with the rest of the house, right?”
“You’d think so,” Lexi agreed as she looked around the debris. Then she gasped. “What if someone took it? What if that was the motive for smashing the house and not something related to Mrs. Daniels winning the grand prize?”
Mrs. Daniels frowned. “Why would someone want to steal a mini chandelier made of sugar glass? It’s worthless.”
“Right. We know that,” I said, “but I bet whoever took it didn’t. Maybe they thought it was made of real diamonds or something.”
“Oh, don’t be absurd. Who would think I’d put real diamonds into a house that’s supposed to be made only of edible items?”
I bit back a snort. Those golden hinges from the roof looked even less edible now than they had when I’d first seen them. If those things weren’t from the hardware store that’d sponsored this year’s event, then I was a monkey’s uncle.
“Maybe the thief thought he could pawn them and pass them off as real even if he did figure they were fake?” Lexi asked, the perfect Watson to my Sherlock.
“I think you might be right about pawning them, whether he knew they were real or not. And if we’re right, I think I know exactly who our culprit is.”
“You do?” the other two women asked in unison.
“Yep. Ronald Draper.”
Even though I wanted to run off to find the teenage klepto, I forced myself to take a chill pill and told Mrs. Daniels and Lexi all about Ronald’s attempt to steal the money from my Frosty the Snowman tip jar earlier tonight. They were shocked, but only mildly. Everyone knew Ronald couldn’t resist the urge to take something that didn’t belong to him. How he wasn’t in juvie by now for his petty crimes was a bigger mystery than I’d come across yet.
When I finally broke free from my conversation with my friend and the … well, victim, I guessed … I headed for the door and shot into the chilly December night. If there were still people hanging out and socializing in this covered courtyard of the community center, surely Ronald would be lurking nearby in search of more spoils. Unless he was smarter than I gave him credit for and had gotten out of Dodge with the stolen chandelier before he got caught.
But then I spied him leaning casually against a lamppost with a to-go cup with my company logo on it, and I grinned. Gotcha.
“Hey, Ronald,” I said cheerily as I walked up with way too much pep in my step. “How’s the coffee?”
“Delicious. Worth every penny.”
I swallowed, sincerely hoping he hadn’t used my pennies from my tip jar. Not that many people tipped me in pennies. Okay, yeah, most of Gram’s book club friends were known to drop random change in there like it was a piggy bank instead of a tip jar, but still.
“Glad to hear it,” I replied, still smiling. “Hey, you didn’t happen to find a crystal chandelier on the ground in there, did you? Not a big one.” I held up my hands about four inches apart. “About yay big, made of sugar glass?”
His eyes widened fractionally before he cleared his throat and shook his head. “Nope. But I’ll let you know if I find one.”
“Great. Thanks.” I hesitated, wishing there was some way I could frisk the teen and see if the stolen goods were in the pockets of his worn winter coat. But that was wrong on several levels, and I knew it. Even without actual police training.
I wondered idly if the people of Pine Lakes cut this kid some slack because they knew he lived in a ramshackle single-wide with his surly uncles, one of whom had recently been released from prison. I couldn’t possibly be the only person who took pity on him despite his sticky fingers.
Just as I was about to attempt casual conversation with Ronald in an effort to trick him into admitting what he’d done, Nico ambled up with his hands tucked casually into his own winter coat. His much nicer, just-stepped-off-the-cover-of-GQ-Magazine, winter coat. He even smelled like those thick, folded pages that advertised men’s cologne. Rich and spicy and— Totally not the point.
Ronald pushed off from the light post and stood ramrod straight as he stared at our town’s newest detective with wide eyes.
Hmm. Guilty, much?
“What’s up, Nico?” I asked cheerily, wrapping my arms around myself and rubbing my hands over the thin fabric of my long-sleeved shirt.
Even with all the thinking about winter coats, I hadn’t been reminded that I’d forgotten mine inside the building until Nico walked up and made me wish I could tuck myself into the open front of his for warmth. Dang it, Hazel. Get a grip. It was his fault though, what with all that talk about him not having brotherly feelings for me and thinking I was smart. Not to mention wanting me to be careful. He was messing with my mind.
Wordlessly, Nico’s gaze tracked over my shivering form, and he removed the coat and draped it over my shoulders without even asking if I wanted to wear it. The obnoxiously argumentative side of me that I was forever keeping in check wanted to object to the gesture, but I held it back. I wasn’t that petty, and I could accept his kindness without needing to remind him I was an independent woman who was perfectly capable of retrieving my own coat if I was really that cold.
And fine, maybe being wrapped in the coat that was still warm from his body heat and smelled so good I wanted to drown in it helped take the wind out of my sassy little sails.
“What are you guys chatting about over here?” Nico asked in his thick New York accent, smiling at Ronald like he hadn’t even considered him as a suspect.
Ha. Point for me.
“She wanted to know if I’d seen the missing chandelier anywhere,” Ronald stammered.
Man, he was definitely guilty. Maybe my presence hadn’t caused this kind of reaction in him because I wasn’t a cop, but Nico was totally capable of hauling him off to jail and throwing away the key. Or, you know, giving him a fine. That was the more likely punishment for vicious acts of gingerbread house destruction, right?
Nico gave Ronald a bland smile. “Did she?” Then he turned his dark eyes to me and flared them slightly before turning back to the kid. “Well, let us know if you find it, will ya?”
“Sure,” he replied, looking uneasily between us before scampering away.
“What was that all about?” I hissed, looking over my shoulder and sighing as Ronald’s scrawny form disappeared into the night. “I was getting around to questioning him about where he was when the house wasn’t being watched.”
“No need. He didn’t do it.”
“How do you know?”
“Because I was with him during that short window of time. I’d seen him trying to steal from your tip jar, and I was giving him a not-too-subtle warning that if I ever saw his hands anywhere near you or your tip jar again, I’d cut them off.”
I balked. “You did not.”
“You’re right,” he said with a chuckle. “A detective would never do that. But I did let him know I’d seen him and told him he’d better be careful because I’d be keeping an eye on him from now on. There’s no way he would have had time to do all that damage. Although our conversation hadn’t lasted the full ten minutes that the room was empty, I kept my promise and didn’t let him out of my sight until you closed up the truck and went inside.”
Despite the cold, my body warmed at his concern for me. Nico Baretti came into my life like a wrecking ball, bent on putting me away for a crime I hadn’t committed, and we’d butted heads at every turn throughout that process. This new development from bickering to banter would take some getting used to, no doubt about it.
But again, my shifting feelings for Nico had nothing to do with the reason I’d rushed outside without my coat and was now bundled up in his, so I shook my head to clear it and got back on task. “Okay, so. I’ve already ruled out Betty and Mr. Smythe, and now you’re saying Ronald didn’t do it. Who are your suspects?”
“Uh, did I miss something? When did I trade one Hewitt for another as my partner?”
“Since now, obvi. He’s nowhere to be found.”
“He gave up for tonight and walked Lexi back to the bakery.”
I blinked, sure I hadn’t heard him right. “My Lexi?”
“Is there another Lexi in Pine Lakes?”
“Well, there’s Alexa Goldman, but she doesn’t go by Lexi anymore because Dickie Willis called her Sexy Lexi in eighth grade, and it annoyed her so much she tried to get her parents to officially change her name. In the end, she decided not to let people shorten her name, so she’s just Alexa now.”
His lips pulled into a straight line in response to my long-winded way of saying that no, there wasn’t another Lexi in Pine Lakes. Nico wasn’t used to small-town peopling, poor guy.
“Why did Ryan walk Lexi home? It’s not far.”
He shrugged. “Don’t know. I didn’t ask. Either way, he’s gone, and so are most of the uniforms. And my only suspects were the two you’ve already dismissed—though, to be clear, I’d come to the same conclusion on my own.”
“Of course you did.”
His lips twitched. “Anyway, I think that means we can call it a night.”
I wanted to argue, but he was right. With no more suspects and most of the town having already left, what more could we do?
“Do you think we’ll ever figure out who smashed the house?” I asked, glancing back at the community center, feeling a little like I’d been playing my Solitaire app and had no more moves left and no ability to tap the undo button a hundred times so I could keep playing.
“Probably not. But they don’t call them cold cases for no reason.” Nico sighed and shivered slightly, looking a little like a cold case himself since I was still wearing his coat.
I pulled it off my shoulders and handed it back to him. “Thanks for the coat. And for … well, thanks in general. I’m gonna go grab my stuff from inside before they lock up.”
“You’re welcome,” he replied, slipping his arms into the sleeves and pulling it over his broad shoulders. “Have a good rest of your night.”
“You too, detective.”
Chapter 8
Feeling more than a little sullen that I hadn’t solved the mystery surrounding the winner of tonight’s competition, I trudged home from the community center with my eyes glued to the sidewalk. Mom and Gram had cleaned up the truck and driven it to the parking lot of our brick-and-mortar store before heading home to the bungalow they shared, so without the high of having solved the puzzle, all I felt was guilty that I’d shirked my responsibilities to the family business while I was running around trying to catch a criminal.
It wasn’t like this was a murder investigation—a good thing, obviously—so it wasn’t super important. The fact was, Mrs. Daniels had won the grand prize whether or not anyone thought she should have, so catching the person who crushed her house wasn’t a matter of life-and-death. But I hated giving up on a problem, no matter how insignificant. And even though no one else seemed to think it was a big deal, I could tell Mrs. Daniels felt violated by the assault on her masterpiece.
Maybe I could stop by their house and see how she was holding up. I wasn’t sure what good it would do as far as solving the mystery, but misery loves company, and I was pretty sure she was the only person other than myself who hated that we still didn’t know who did it.
I rang the doorbell when I arrived on their front porch, checking my watch to make sure it wasn’t too late. Something I probably should have already done, but oops.
Cory answered the door and gave me a smile and a nod. “Hey, Haze. Did you figure it out?”
“No,” I said with a childish pout. “But I wanted to stop by and see how your mom was doing.”
“She’s not home yet.”
“She’s not?”
He shook his head. “Nah. She’s at the police station, probably trying to bribe them into taking this seriously. I don’t think she’ll get far though.”
I snorted. Mr. and Mrs. Daniels used their wealth to get their way whenever possible. Their huge and too-regal-for-this-tiny-mountain-town home was perfect for them, even though it stuck out like a sore thumb with all its imported artifacts and decor.
Cory stepped back and opened the door wider. “Wanna come in and wait for her? You must be freezing.”
“Sure,” I replied, not having anything better to do but go home and sulk about my lack of super-cop skills.
But when I stepped into the toasty warm house and glanced toward the high ceiling of the foyer, my jaw hit the floor with a deafening thud. “Cory Daniels, are you freaking kidding me right now?”
He followed my gaze, his face twisted in confusion. But then his jaw joined mine at our feet, and he blinked a few times as if he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. And I didn’t blame him. Neither could I.
“Are you seriously telling me you’ve been home for an hour and haven’t noticed this?”
He gulped as his eyes flicked between my face and the ceiling above our heads. Or more specifically, the empty spot on the ceiling where the family’s prized antique chandelier—reportedly once housed in the foyer of some British aristocrat or another—should have been.
“I guess I don’t really look up when I come in?” He sounded more than a little embarrassed.
Giving him a small smile with one half of my mouth, I nodded. “I mean, why would you, right?”
“Right.”
“So … clearly the whole thing at the gingerbread competition was just a distraction for … this.” I gestured to the ceiling with both hands, still totally shocked.
How had whoever done this even managed to break into the house, use a ladder to remove the chandelier, and get out without being seen? Yes, most of the town had been at the community center, and it was way too cold for any neighbors to be taking an evening stroll, but man. They were crafty, I’d give them that.
“I’m gonna call Ryan,” I said, pulling out my phone. He answered after the third ring. “Hey, breaking news.”
“Lemme guess, you solved the crime.”
I rolled my eyes and paced the foyer, my fingers pressed into my temple. “Actually, I found the crime.”
“Uh, more words, Haze. I’m lost.”
“While everyone was wrapped up in the gingerbread house calamity, someone was at the Daniels’ house stealing their chandelier.”
There was silence on the other end of the line for so long that it caused me to pull the phone away from my ear so I could make sure I hadn’t dropped the call.
Finally, he cleared his throat. “You’re there now?”
“Yep.”
“Okay. Don’t move—and don’t touch anything. We’ll be right over.”
I thanked him and got off the phone, turning to Cory with a shrug. “They’re on the way.”
“This is wild. But … I can’t figure out the endgame. Even if they wanted to sell that monstrosity, wouldn’t they be caught as soon as they tried?”
I bit my lip, thinking it over. “Well, I’m no black-market expert or anything, but I’m sure whoever did this had a plan for that.”
“Probably.”
“Where did your parents get it? I know it’s some fancy British artifact, but did they order it online?”
He snorted, shaking his head. “That’s just what they like to tell people. The real story isn’t that interesting.”
