One Corpse Open Slay Read online

  “Does that feel suspicious to you? Someone calling him with a burner phone?”

  Stiles looked at me, his eyes narrowing. “Sure it is, but it’s a burner phone. There’s nothing we can do about it if we can’t trace it, Hal.”

  “Any CCTV? The parking lot’s not that far away from the ice festival. Maybe a camera caught someone suspicious?”

  “We have someone going through the tapes right now for the morning of, but there are plenty of blind spots all over the baseball field and there’s no camera on the sledding hill.”

  This murder was like banging your head against a brick wall. “I still need to talk to Blanche’s roommate at the Inn, Connie Ingram. Maybe she can offer something.”

  Stiles made a face, jamming his hands into his pockets. “I hate to burst your bubble, but I talked to her, and she said she’s a light sleeper and she’s one-hundred percent positive Blanche never left the room. Also, Timor…”

  “Volkov?” I finished for him.

  Stiles rubbed his eyes. “Yeah. Him. He’s in Russia, as in, he lives there, but he said the same thing everyone else says about Wolfram, that he was the backside of a donkey. Also, he fired his agent after that mess with the bribe. He said it was bad karma to be attached to an agent who didn’t think he was good enough to win without bribing someone.”

  I let my head fall back on my shoulders and let out a yelp of pent up frustration. “Argh!” Then a thought occurred to me. “What about Sissy and Bob Freedman? Bob had a run-in with him, according to Twyla.”

  “He did have a run-in where he promptly told him he’d better never look at Sissy sideways again, or he’d never see straight again. He admitted he threatened him. But both of them are accounted for by their teenage children, who were up early with them because it was pancake breakfast day. There are selfies to prove it on one of the kids’ Insta pages.”

  Scratching my head, I asked, “And I guess I shouldn’t bother to ask about the contestants in the contest, like Jolie and Jerry?”

  Stiles’s fists clenched. “Talked to all of them, too. Everyone has an alibi. It’s almost like this guy took himself out.”

  I threw my arms up in the air and let them flop to my sides in a gesture of total defeat. “Maybe he just had an accident? Crazier things have been known to happen. I mean, I watched a show where a lady they thought was maliciously set on fire by her boyfriend actually spontaneously combusted.”

  Stiles made his don’t be a dork, Hal, face. “So he accidentally stabbed himself in the jugular and ran up a hill to die in a sled?”

  I rolled my eyes at him. “Well, maybe not when you say it like that.” I chewed the inside of my lip, trying to think of something—anything that could lead to who murdered him. “Isn’t there any DNA on him other than some cat hair? No human hair? No something? Anything? Did someone commit the perfect crime here?”

  Stiles rubbed his eyes again and pinched his temples. “No physical evidence so far. But that doesn’t mean a more thorough sweep won’t find something. We just haven’t found it yet.”

  “How about any hot leads on who trashed our Picasso?”

  He gave me a sarcastic grin. “I’m telling you, we could have turned that into something if we’d just had a little more time, but no. No leads on who sabotaged us.”

  I saw a flash of the blobs of ice in my mind’s eye and shook my head at his eternal optimism. “Are we still calling it sabotage, Fitzi?”

  “What else could it have been?”

  “An accident someone won’t admit to because they’re embarrassed.”

  He lifted his strong chin. “I refute your deduction, Detective Valentine, and refuse to think of it as anything other than taking out the competition until I have proof to the contrary.”

  Which reminded me of something. “Did you talk to Buddy Wilson about your suspicions?”

  “If you’re talking about whether I accused him of trashing our entry in the competition, no. But I did talk to him about Wolfram, who was as crappy to him as he was everyone else. In fact, the night before Yule was killed, they had an argument.”

  My senses tingled, reminding me I should have tried to talk to him before we left, but no one could find him. “About?”

  Stiles made a face at me. “About how Yule should be picking on someone else. Like us. He said Yule’s scathing comments were better used for our Star Wars nativity entry. He told me he called it a joke.”

  I put my hand over my mouth, my eyes wide. “What a jerk!” I said on a gasp. Not that it wasn’t true, because it was, but I couldn’t tell Stiles that, could I? Then I remembered what Gracie told us. “Did he say where that happened and when? Because Gracie Good told me she thought it was us fighting the night before Yule was killed. She heard Star Wars and assumed we were arguing.”

  “He said it happened near Gracie’s stand by the trees.”

  Of course it did. Likely, that was the conversation Gracie overheard. I’m not sure who she thought sounded like me, or if I should be insulted she thought I sounded like a man, but I’d bet that’s who’d been arguing.

  “Shoot. And I suppose he has an alibi, too?”

  “Doesn’t everyone?” Stiles asked, letting his hands drop in defeat to his sides.

  I needed more time to think. Maybe changing the subject would help. “Okay, then let’s talk about something other than murder. You going to the speed skating race tonight? I know it’s cold, but at least it’s inside.”

  Marshmallow Hollow had a small indoor skating rink as well as an outdoor one, and while I wasn’t exactly Michelle Kwan, I could hobble along quite nicely.

  But Stiles shook his head in the negative. “I’m really tired. It’s been a long two days, so probably not. I’m going home, grabbing a quick bite and going to bed with a good book. I have two Savannah Temples and a new-to-me Kresley Cole to choose from.”

  “Still a yuck from me on Savannah. You can keep her for eternity, but when you finish Kresley Cole, I’ll swap you for a Patricia Briggs.”

  “You’re on.”

  Then I remembered his date and grinned. “Hey, how did drinks go with Darien the ice sculpting instructor?”

  He smiled a smile I knew well. It was the one that said I like him, but I don’t want to jinx anything. “It was really nice.” Leaning down, he gave me a kiss on the cheek. “You know where I’ll be if you need me. Or if your new kitten needs me.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Go fry your eyeballs with that awful Savannah Temple drivel and I’ll hit you up if anything comes about. But the way things are going, I don’t expect it to. Be safe driving home. I’m sure the roads are a mess.”

  Dropping a kiss on Nana’s muzzle and with a quick stroke to Atti’s head, he nodded. “Will do. See you guys,” he said before he strode out of the barn, and I dropped to the bale of hay closer to Nana’s stall.

  “Aw, Susie-Q, I hate seein’ you so sad,” Nana Karen cooed in her “poor baby” tone.

  “I’m not sad so much as I’m frustrated.” I reached up and stroked her velvety soft ear. “I’ll be fine.”

  “Poppet?”

  “Uh-huh?”

  “This calls for meatloaf, wouldn’t you say? Comfort food to comfort.”

  “If we’re talking with mashed potatoes and gravy, I might be inclined to fall face first into it and drown my sorrows.”

  “Halliday, really?” Atti chastised in his snooty British tone. “Is there any other way?”

  I laughed and dropped a kiss on Nana’s muzzle. “Then it’s a deal. Meatloaf me.”

  I didn’t know if meatloaf could cheer me up after faceplanting a brick wall in terms of clues. But I was willing to give it the old college try.

  CHAPTER 13

  “Let it snow! Let it snow! Let it snow!”

  I scraped the last bit of mashed potatoes and gravy from my plate and tipped my fork in salute to my familiar. “That was amazing, Atti. Just what I needed to replenish the well.”

  Atti sipped at his nectar, his delicate beak cove
red in sugar water. “I shall sleep better for the knowing. Now, are we off to the races for the evening? Maybe to further help clear your head?”

  “Hobbs is picking me up in an hour. Until then, I think I’ll check and see if that nurse from Yule’s mother’s nursing home answered my message on Facebook. I know Stiles already talked to her, but maybe she’ll say something that will trigger something in me that it didn’t in Stiles and help find out who did this. Otherwise, we’ll have another murderer running loose in Marshmallow Hollow, and…that really scares me, Atti.”

  “I know, Poppet. I know. However, you must remember, some murder cases take years to solve. It’s only been two days. Certainly you should offer yourself some sort of respite. Rome wasn’t built in a day, my lovely.”

  Leaning on the table, I looked at my empty plate. “I don’t want to build a city. Just solve a murder. But first I need to clean up.”

  Rising, I snapped my fingers, making the plates disappear directly into the dishwasher.

  “Halliday, have we become so complacent we can’t even load a dishwasher?”

  I grinned at him. “Listen, I made my bed today—with all the pillows and everything—by hand. No funny magic business. Quit complaining. I don’t want to waste time loading the dishwasher when Rome needs building.”

  Atti sighed his woebegone, will-you-never-learn sigh. “Then I shall leave you to it. I’m off to binge watch something on Netflix in front of a toasty fire. Should you need me, do call.”

  Scooping him up, I gave him a quick kiss on his head before setting him off in the direction of my bedroom. “I’ll see you later. Have a good night.”

  I grabbed my laptop from the living room, stopping to pet Phil who was snuggled up next to Barbra in a bed by the dining room fireplace. Running a hand over his head, I smiled. “I swear, buddy, I don’t know who you are anymore. This tiny kitten has turned you into a gooey ball of mush.”

  He reared his head away from me, because of course, my touch was all kinds of ick, but little Babs stretched her tiny paws and swiped at me, sitting up for attention.

  I scooped her up and snuggled her under my chin, sighing at how content she made my heart feel as I made my way to the dining room table. “So, Miss Babs, I’m stumped. What say we see if the nice nurse turned admin messaged us?”

  She meowed at me in response, opening her mouth wide and making me chuckle at all those little teeth inside her tiny head. I grabbed a blanket and broke a cardinal Atti rule by setting it on the dining room table and putting Babs in the middle of it.

  She rubbed her head against my cheek as I flipped open my laptop and checked my Facebook messages. I’d contacted Teresa Kline to inquire about the woman who’d come to visit Mrs. Wolfram when she’d died. I wondered if maybe she was someone I could talk to who might have an idea about who’d want to kill Yule.

  Besides everyone, that is.

  It was a small lead, but at least it was something to cling to while I hoped for a real clue. I’d also fished around Jolie Sampson’s and Tana West’s Facebook profiles and found Gerald Cross didn’t have one. There were tons of pictures of Jolie through the years, some of them next to her mother’s ice sculptures, which were quite intricate and beautiful, but I found absolutely nothing untoward about Yule.

  When I saw there was no message from Teresa Kline, I ground my teeth together. “Nothing. Can you believe it, Barbra? I’m headed nowhere. This entire case has been a total dud.”

  The moment I said the words, my heart chugged, slowing down until I wasn’t in the dining room anymore. I was in a field of snow, with spring flowers poking through the icy landscape, dotting what looked like a field with the ocean as its backdrop.

  Hyacinths, daffodils, tulips in every color…and in the far-off distance, an old, rusty Airstream trailer under a blue sky heavy with puffy white clouds.

  What the flip?

  I tried to move the way I always do when I’m having a vision, but my feet never work with my brain. Still, suddenly, I was jolted forward, as though on a speeding conveyor belt, then the side of the Airstream was in front of my face.

  The worn metal door popped open, revealing the interior of the tiny trailer littered with bottles and empty six-packs of beer, and it was cold—freezing cold. The wind blew with a frigid howl, lifting the litter from the floor and sending it high in the air in a macabre dance.

  Then the focus of the scene changed, zooming in on a high-backed chair in the middle of the messy trailer floor. And someone was in it.

  A female? Yes! I could tell by the curve of her hip.

  She was tied up, squirming, crying out, struggling against the restraints around her wrists, but I couldn’t see her face or the color of her hair beneath her snow-white hat with fur trim.

  Yet, I felt her terror—felt it in my chest. Who was she? Who are you?

  I wanted to call out, but I knew that was impossible.

  She screamed again, bone-chilling, sending waves of alarm reverberating through me, tapping my soul.

  Then a loud noise, a whoosh of sound, before that big red saucer sled I’d seen Yule Wolfram in came flying through the back of the Airstream, taking the whole wall out in an explosion of snow and ice.

  Icy balls flew at me, mingled with spring flowers shooting up in the air, and the woman screamed again, shaking the whole trailer.

  Who are you?

  I knew it was futile to ask. I knew my mouth wouldn’t move and my vocal chords wouldn’t emit any sound, but I screamed the words in my mind anyway.

  Who are you?

  And then it all evaporated as though someone had sucked it like suds down a drain, washing away until there was nothing but darkness. My sluggish muscles and my slowed heartbeat gradually returned to normal and then I heard Hobbs, whispering in my ear.

  “Hal? Hal, it’s me, Hobbs. I’m right here when you’re ready.”

  My eyes popped open at the sound of his voice. I’d fallen forward onto my arms, I guess. Barbra swished her tail around my wrist and rubbed her sweet face against my cheek, dragging me back to reality.

  “Vision?”

  I nodded my head. “Vision.” One that had left me entirely unsettled.

  “Need to process?” he asked as he looked into my eyes, and I reveled in his handsome face, so concerned and tender with worry.

  Swallowing, I nodded. “I think so.”

  He ran a big hand over my head and pressed a kiss to the tip of my nose with a warm smile. “You got it, Detective Lacey.”

  Blinking, I called up the images in my head from my vision, all sort of running amuck at this point, the bone-chilling screams of the woman still reverberating in my head.

  Hobbs reached for my hand and held it, tracing circles over my wrist as he patiently stroked a very needy, quite flirty Babs with his other hand. He head-booped her a couple of times with a light chuckle until I gathered myself together.

  Suddenly, I needed to move, deciding we’d better get to the speed skating competition. I had to shake that agonizing screaming off or it would haunt my days.

  Squeezing his calloused hand, I said, “I’m good now. Give me a sec to brush my hair and we’ll go?”

  “Sure,” he said on a smile, scooping Barbra up and kissing the top of her head. “C’mon, you, let’s go chase a toy that fell into my cart at the pet store.”

  Chuckling, I unrolled the sleeves of my ivory thigh-length sweater and headed to the guest bathroom, where I closed the door and took a long hard look at myself in the mirror.

  My hair was mussed and had lost the curl I’d put in it this morning long ago and my lip gloss from this afternoon was long gone. Circling my face, I closed my eyes and snapped my fingers. When I opened them, I was pleased with the results. My lips looked refreshed, my hair not as droopy.

  Washing my hands, I fought the sound of that woman’s helpless screams in my head, swirling around like a banshee let loose, and gave my arms a shake.

  I pulled open the door and took a deep breath as I walked
back down the hallway and into the kitchen, where the lights above the cabinets twinkled and across the open room, a warm fire roared in the dining room fireplace.

  Hobbs looked up from where he sat on the hearth with Barbra, shaking a peacock feather at her. “Better?”

  I smiled at him, my heart melting at the sight of this enormous hulk of a man with a tiny kitten no bigger than the palm of his hand. “Better. You ready?”

  He rose and held out his hand to me. “Yep. Let’s go watch some speed skating. Maybe do a little ourselves?”

  I grinned up at him. “I’m in.”

  As we grabbed our coats and scarves, the memory of the woman screaming began to lessen a bit, easing like the sting of a fresh wound.

  By the time we got to his Jeep, I was ready to talk about what I’d seen.

  “So a woman tied up in a chair in an Airstream with the red sled again?”

  We sat in Hobbs’s Jeep in the parking lot of the Marshmallow Hollow ice rink, warm and toasty. “Uh-huh. It crashed through the wall of the trailer. But it was the woman’s screams that are really freaking me out, Hobbs. It was horrible, and she was terrified. My visions aren’t always accurate in terms of things like the sled being the size of a car, but there really was a sled with a dead guy in it.”

  “And you think that means there’ll be a woman tied up and screaming.”

  Nodding, I swallowed hard. “In an Airstream. Who has an Airstream, for Susan’s sake? I can’t think of anyone in Marshmallow Hollow who has one.”

  “Maybe, much like prior visions, it’s just a representation of something else.”

  “Like?”

  He drummed his fingers on the dashboard, his profile hard in the dashboard lights. “I don’t know. I’m blank, kinda like I have been this entire time. I feel like it’s been nothing but one brick wall after another.”

  “Samesies.” Then I shook my head and slapped my hands on my thighs. “Okay, let’s stop with all the doom and gloom and head inside. Before the race starts and after, too, they have open skate, and I don’t know about you, but it’s time we had a little Christmas fun and let this whole mess sit for awhile.”