A Killer Christmas Wish Read online

  What would Dan’s wife be like? Maybe she was actually the murderer? Stats claimed that it was always the spouse. Or was that always the husband? Except that she probably wasn’t even in town when Dan died. It was a long shot. Besides, either way, she didn’t think that her uncle would let her stay here if she was on the short list of people who might have killed Dan. She opened Shauna’s laptop and started going through the web to find something, anything on Dan that might explain his murder.

  She had just put the laptop away after finding nothing except a website showing Dan’s books and a Facebook page where he seemed to be active and fun. She heard a noise in the lobby and went out to greet her guests. It was time for word sprints.

  The next morning, Cat rolled out of bed and went downstairs for coffee. She’d had a good writing session last night, so she was happy with where she was going to start the morning. She grabbed a cup of coffee and noticed a light on in the barn. Shauna must be out there with Snow and the kittens. Cat hadn’t seen Angelica after the writers came back so she assumed she might be outside as well.

  She opened the kitchen door and almost ran into Julie Smith. She held up a cup. “The dining room pot is empty. Do you have more in here?”

  “Of course, come on in.” Cat held the door for her and waited while Julie filled her cup. “You’re up early again. You may want to sleep in at least one day before you go back to the grind.”

  “Not sure I could sleep in if I wanted to.” Julie sipped her coffee and groaned. “I used to work out in the morning to make sure I got that done. Now that I’m writing, I have to carve out time to work on my manuscript. Before work, at breaks, at lunch and then when I get home, if I’m lucky, I can finish my daily word count in less than an hour. Here, I’m totally kicking butt since I have the full day to write. I might hit twenty thousand before I leave. In a freaking week. This retreat is so worth the cost.”

  “I’m glad you’re getting your words in. We have a seminar today with one of the English professors from Covington. I hope you’ll tear yourself away from your writing for that.” Cat felt Julie’s pain. She’d written in bits and starts before when she taught at Covington.

  Julia stirred the coffee. “I wouldn’t miss it. Besides, I need to refill the well. I can’t believe you live here. I absolutely love this house. It’s playing a prominent part in my story about Aspen Hills. I think every house has its own story to tell, don’t you?”

  Cat didn’t know what to think. Last night she’d been convinced that the threat was far, far away. Maybe the killer wasn’t even someone with a tie to the town. This morning, with Julie wanting to chat about the house and its inhabitants, she thought maybe she should look a little closer to home for her answers.

  Julia headed to the door and paused before leaving the kitchen. “Thank you so much for letting me use the study. There are a ton of reference materials on the house and its early days in there. You’re so lucky.”

  “We did a lot of research on the house and Aspen Hills when my ex and I bought the house.” Cat paused, remembering the hours they’d spent reading books to find mentions or eve better, pictures of the house and it’s interior before they started remodeling.

  “You can tell. I’m almost better off working here than going to the library.” Julie lifted the cup. “Thanks again for this.”

  And with that, Cat watched Julie leave the kitchen. She didn’t look or act like someone who’d just killed Dan a few days ago. But, as she’d researched, killers didn’t always act guilty. Especially if they had certain mental conditions where they didn’t see the harm in killing.

  Shauna came in from the hallway with a basket of clean towels in her hand. “Cat, I didn’t expect to see you out of your office. Do you need something to eat?”

  Cat lifted her filled cup. “Actually, I have what I came for. I was just thinking.”

  “That’s not a good sign.” Shauna set the towels down and came over to the table. “Do we need to chat? Maybe slip away for a mani-pedi this afternoon and relax?”

  “During a retreat? And with my new deadline? Are you kidding?” Cat almost laughed. She pointed to the ceiling. “I need to be upstairs writing every free moment I have if I have a chance of finishing up this book. I can’t believe I’m even taking the time to be here talking with you now.”

  As she made her way to the door, Shauna put a hand on her arm. “You don’t have to be strong all the time. You can talk to me if you need someone to listen.”

  Cat paused and took a breath. “I’m okay. I’m not stressed, except about this new deadline. I don’t know why I didn’t respond to her email already. You and I both know that I’m going to say yes. Honestly, I’m a little scared. If I don’t reach a certain spot by end of the week, I might not get it done.”

  “Do what you can. That’s all you can worry about. Besides, I have faith in you.” Shauna pulled out a towel and started folding.

  Cat left the kitchen and as she started up the stairs, she whispered, “I’m glad someone does.”

  Her buzzer went off at nine-thirty. Time to get downstairs and set up the living room for Professor Turner’s talk. If she didn’t, the English professor who specialized in Hemingway’s work took it on himself to set up a classroom in the living room rather than the informal circle pattern Cat liked better. She saved her document and sent a copy to her email. That way, if the group wanted to do word sprints that afternoon, she’d have her document available without coming back up here to the office.

  Cat felt like she hadn’t been spending enough time with the writers this week. Tomorrow’s session would be all her so that should give her more time to connect. And, if she had another good writing session like this morning, she’d be feeling better about the change in deadline.

  On the last set of stairs, Cat saw Professor Turner strolling toward the living room. She could see the gleam in his eyes. There was no way she was going to let him move her furniture today. She rushed down the last few stairs and beat him to the door. “Professor Turner, you’re early. Well, isn’t that a blessing? Shauna baked cinnamon rolls this morning. I bet you’d like to sit in the dining room and relax for a few minutes before your session.”

  He glanced at the door, then toward the dining room. Apparently, the offer of a homemade cinnamon roll was enough to win the battle. “Well, if you don’t need my assistance in setting up the room, that would be lovely.”

  “I already finished it last night,” Cat lied as she took his arm and aimed him toward the dining room. “I’m so glad you could come a few minutes early. I wanted to let you know that this group all write non-fiction so you may want to adjust your lecture a bit.”

  “Hmm, you know, I think I will change it up. It’s the perfect audience to talk about how we got the Hemingway papers here and what we did to set up the collection.” He smiled at her as he patted his notebook. “I’ll make a few notes while I’m waiting.”

  “Perfect. I need to go round up everyone and see about lunch plans.” She left him at the open archway to the dining room. “You go in and get settled. If you need anything, Shauna’s available in the kitchen.”

  “It looks perfect. You’re very thoughtful, Catherine.” He stepped into the room and set down his briefcase. He grabbed a cup of coffee first, then two cinnamon rolls.

  Now Cat felt like a jerk. The guy was being nice, and she was doing all she could to keep him from re-arranging her living room. Sometimes she needed to think about her priorities.

  She ran to the living room and started moving furniture.

  After getting the crew set up and introducing Dr. Turner, Cat excused herself to take care of some issues. Instead, she checked the kitchen for Shauna or Seth. No one was there. The board had notes. Seth had gone into town for a bid meeting on his new project. Shauna had run to do some shopping. She refilled her coffee cup but instead of sitting at the table, waiting, she headed out to the hallway. And found herself in the den. She still thought of the room as Michael’s office. Julie had been working in there and several of the books on Aspen Hills were laying open on the desk. She glanced at the books.

  She didn’t know of anything scandalous happening in the house except for the last dean who lived in the house had a habit of wining and dining underage students. Especially those of the female gender. The charges against the dean had been dropped after the man had mysteriously disappeared. Cat and anyone who knew Covington College’s history knew that the dean had been dealt with by one of the mob families. The dean must have invited the wrong daughter to dinner.

  Dante held the role of protector for the students and their families now. Cat wasn’t fooled by his proclaimed love for Aspen Hills. Uncle Pete might be the official law enforcement officer in Aspen Hills, but Dante held a different job. One that didn’t follow government’s laws. Which was why both Seth and Uncle Pete didn’t like Cat being in Dante’s line of sight.

  She walked over to the bookcase on the side wall and pulled out the earliest of Michael’s yearbooks. The ones that he’d collected as a student at Covington. When he’d met Dante and become best friends.

  When she opened the last yearbook, a picture fell out. She stared at the three faces staring at the camera from a library table. Dante was on the left, Michael on the right, and in between, was a pretty dark-haired woman Cat had never met. When she turned it over, she recognized the handwriting on the back. Michael had written on the back these words: Senior year for the 3 musketeers. May we all take the world by storm.

  Three musketeers. Cat called her, Seth, and Shauna by the same endearment. Had he used that term and she’d picked it up? She shook her head. She had loved the book growing up, that had to be where she’d picked up the term. The grandfather clock in the lobby started chiming the bells for eleven. Time to end Professor Turner’s talk and let the group go to lunch. Cat slipped the picture in her pocket and put the yearbook back on the shelf. She touched her jacket pocket to make sure the picture was still there as she hurried down the stairs. She’d look closer at the yearbooks after the group had gone to lunch. Something about the mystery woman had her wondering if that was the person who’d talked to Dante. Someone who was really in the know.

  She stepped into the living room and waited for a space in Professor Turner’s monologue to allow her to break in. When it came, she moved over to the lectern. “What an interesting topic, Professor Turner. However, it’s time for the group to make their lunch plans. You know how fast the restaurants fill up around here. Does anyone have any final questions?”

  No one raised their hands. She reminded the group that tonight’s write in would be held at seven-thirty and then released the group. “You’re free until then.”

  As they piled out, the group smiled and thanked the professor, but no one asked a follow up question. Cat moved the lectern to the side of the room after handing him his notes. “Well, that went excellent, don’t you think?”

  “I wish you’d been able to stay and listen. The collection is filled with story possibilities. What a turn your career would take if you’d follow in Hemingway’s footsteps and wrote one of his many ideas that never got published.” Professor Turner closed his briefcase and paused by the door for her answer.

  “I’m afraid I’m not a literary author, especially not on the level of Hemingway.” She took his arm and led him out of the living room. “Maybe you should take on one of his ideas?”

  “I hadn’t thought of that.” He paused at the dining room. “Do you mind if I take a few snacks for the afternoon?”

  “Of course not.” Cat had already left a box for cookies on the table. It was a monthly request.

  As she watched the older man fill the box with treats and cookies that should last the week, she wondered about the mystery woman.

  “Professor Turner, did you teach at Covington when Michael attended?”

  He didn’t even look at her. “Of course, he was one of our most gifted students that year. Him and a young boy named Dante something and a bright girl from town. We called them the Three Musketeers. I was convinced they would all go far. Of course, the boys did. I’m attending the library event tomorrow evening. You must be so proud.”

  “Yes, I am.” Cat paused. “Do you remember the third member’s name? The girl?”

  Professor Turner closed the box and turned toward her. “I can’t remember her name, but she had an unfortunate issue and wasn’t able to finish her final year. I heard a rumor she was in a family way. Of course it was only a rumor. It’s a pity too, that girl was off the charts smart but I can’t remember her major. It had to be business or something like that. She only took a few English courses and none from me.”

  With that bombshell, he nodded and headed out the door.

  Cat pulled out the picture and stared at the woman. Had she been pregnant with Michael’s baby when she quit school? Had it been Dante’s? Did it matter?

  8

  Tuesday afternoon after eating soup and sandwiches with Shauna, Cat sat in the living room with her laptop. The writers were still at lunch. Seth had been in and out of the house for days. She should be using the time to write so she could meet her new deadline. She’d emailed her agent this morning and told her she’d do her best. Right now, her best was staring at a blank screen not knowing where she wanted Tori to go next. This book was critical to Tori’s character development. She was graduating into her new world. Would it be a magical world? Or would she decide to turn her back on her gift and go back to being normal? Cat didn’t know yet.

  And since she didn’t, she couldn’t write. Instead, she took out a notebook and went to her favorite search program, Google. She keyed in Dan Lawrence’s name and after a few wrong leads, finally found the travel author. He had a website, a blog, and a Facebook page. Most of which she’d already knew. Cat started flipping through the sites, not knowing what she was looking for. When she hit the blog, she realized Dan had written his last blog about attending the Writers Retreat.

  She skimmed through the entry. It told her the same information Cat had already known. Dan’s flight schedule, plans for the week, and then a line hit her. She read it aloud. “It will be nice to see how the campus looks after all these years.”

  Dan attended Covington? Had he mentioned that during the short time they’d talked in the lobby? She couldn’t remember. She’d been so mad at Seth that had filled her memory slots. She took the picture she’d kept in her jacket pocket and compared the woman with Dan’s press pictures. There didn’t seem to be any family resemblance. Cat could tell by the picture that the mystery woman was at least five ten, maybe taller, comparing her to Michael and Dante’s height. Dan had been five two, five three at the most from when Cat met him in the lobby.

  But there was that sentence. Cat went back to Dan’s webpage, maybe he mentioned his schooling in his bio or the about me page. There, at the end was a short note. BA in English – Covington College. MFA in creative writing – University of Colorado – Denver campus.

  She sat back, stunned. The last time a Covington alumni had attended a writers retreat here, he’d died in his room too. Was Dan’s death related to his years at the college? Or was he one of the special kids that attended Covington due to their “family” connections. Like Dante.

  She grabbed her phone and texted the information to Uncle Pete. It took a few minutes but he responded.

  I know this, but why are YOU looking?

  She thought about her answer. She’d been procrastinating on writing. Dan had died in her home. On her watch, so to speak. Which in Cat’s mind, was a perfect answer. She texted back the following. Because he died in my home.

  The next text was short and to the point. I’m on my way over.

  Uncle Pete arrived in less than ten minutes and she met him in the lobby. He glanced around the empty first floor. “Where are your guests?

  “Either still at lunch or at the library. They are all big research buffs. The library is a big hit this session.” She held her hands out. “We can talk in the living room or the kitchen.”

  “I need some coffee, so let’s go to the kitchen. I can’t say I’m surprised at your interest in the case.” He followed her into the kitchen. “But, Cat, we need to be clear on this, you need to keep out of it. Especially if the families are involved.”

  “Are the families involved?” Cat poured two cups of coffee and took a bag of cookies from the treat shelf. “Is that a guess or is that real?”

  “Dan Lawrence was a distant relative to one of the minor families. He got into Covington because of his uncle. So even though he’s not technically part of the family business, he may have been seen as a member.” He took one of the peanut butter cookies. “I’m working with my contact at the college to see if this would be retaliation or a threat. So far there’s been no response.”

  “Just because he had an uncle in organized crime doesn’t mean he was killed because of it. Maybe he was looking into something else that got him killed.” Cat absently took a bite of a cookie as she thought about Dan’s death.

  “Another reason for you to stay out of the investigation. If his death was a mistake, maybe they’ll need to clean up the error.” He reached for a second cookie, paused then grabbed it anyway. “Anytime the college is involved, things get tricky. I’m hoping to find that Dan just broke it off with an overwrought girlfriend who was a bit too passionate for her own good.”

  “Or his wife when she found out? I guess I just don’t know. He had just got here. I didn’t have time to talk to him except for a quick hello. It feels weird not to try to solve his murder.” Cat studied her uncle. He looked tired and seemed to be running on fumes. “Why don’t you come over for dinner? You look like you need a home cooked meal.”

  “Not tonight. I’ll try to be here Sunday, whether or not this case is solved. Oh, speaking of the wife, she got a room in the hotel by the ski lodge. Don’t worry about putting her up at the retreat. Have you heard anything from your friend, Dante? Did he know the victim?” Now Uncle Pete’s eyes went bright and sharp.