Trouble Under the Tree (A Nina Quinn Mystery) (14 page)

The burned gingerbread part of my dream had
me looking up Glory Vonderberg. I found dozens of articles about
baking contests she’d won and how she was one of the best cake
judges in the country. Her own website showcased her amazing
talent, but said nothing about her personal life.

She wore no wedding ring, so I assumed she
was single, but I couldn’t be certain. I found no mention of kids
or past occupations or where she had been born and raised. Was she
local? How had Jenny and Benny found her in the first place?

More importantly, was it possible she’d been
blackmailed by the McCorkle sisters, too?

Could she have a motive for killing them?

It seemed unlikely.

I moved on to the twisted metal part of my
dream and searched for articles on Benny Christmas.

There were millions of hits, so I narrowed it
down to the accident, of which there were still millions of
hits.

Ugh
.

Overwhelmed, I randomly clicked on links.
Most were simple news stories about the accident. A few bloggers
commented that Benny shouldn’t have received any kind of settlement
since he’d been drinking. Other bloggers disagreed, claiming the
accident hadn’t been his fault and he shouldn’t be financially
punished.

I sipped my coffee and thought about the
silent victim in all this.

Carrie Hodges.

I did a quick search on her name, and only a
handful of sites came up. One linked to a Facebook memorial page. I
clicked on it and found myself reading through dozens of old posts
from Carrie’s friends. The photo in the corner was of a smiling
young woman who looked to have the whole world ahead of her. Dark
brown hair, vibrant blue eyes. I could easily picture her as a
cheerleader.

I didn’t find a single post that mentioned
anything about Benny. The page was focused solely on Carrie’s
life—not her death. It was a moving tribute.

“Find anything?” a voice asked from behind
me.

I spilled my coffee. “No, but I think I lost
five years off my life. You scared the bejeebers out of me.” I
grabbed a paper towel and sopped up the mess.

Kevin poured himself a cup of coffee. “You
should be more aware of your surroundings.”

“You shouldn’t sneak around.” He’d spent the
night on a blow-up mattress in Riley’s room.

“You should eat something because you’re
getting snippy.”

I stuck out my tongue at him.

“Mature,” he said with a smile.

That was me. Nina Colette Immature Ceceri
Quinn.

He nodded to the computer. “What were you
looking for?”

I didn’t tell him about my dream, especially
the part about the foot massage. “I’ve been thinking about Benny’s
accident. Probably because Maria knew Carrie. It’s amazing how one
split second can change someone’s life forever.”

“Not just one life,” Kevin said. “Many.”

“True.” I remembered how Maria had described
Carrie’s mother at her funeral and shivered again.

“I’ve been thinking about that accident,
too,” Kevin said, “and wondered if that’s why Benny’s a serial
cheater.”

“What do you mean?” I powered down my laptop
and tightened the sash of my robe.

Kevin leaned against the sink. “You have this
guy, big, virile, strong, outgoing, handsome. Everyone loves him,
loves what he can do for them.”

I nodded.

“Then he’s in this accident, and he’s not the
same guy anymore, is he? His injuries almost killed him. He was in
the hospital for weeks.”

“Months,” I corrected.

“Months. He can barely walk. He’s weak. His
strong body is atrophying.”

I smiled. “Look at you using big words like
‘atrophying.’”

He stuck his tongue out at me.

“Mature,” I said.

“I get it from you,” he threw back. Then he
continued on about Benny. “He can’t play football anymore. His
whole life, his whole identity, was wrapped up in his career. But
after the accident what does he have left?”

“Jenny?”

“Deeper than that.”

I thought about it. “Money.” Thanks to that
settlement.

“Not really,” Kevin said, “since he poured it
all into Christmastowne. Deeper.”

“His looks.” Even though his body had been
broken and battered in that accident, miraculously, his face had
been unscathed.

“Right,” Kevin said.

“So you’re saying that these affairs are his
way of proving he’s still got game?”

“So to speak,” Kevin said. “These women are
affirming that he’s still that virile guy he’d been before the
accident. The affairs are about his insecurities. Young, old—it
doesn’t matter with him. As long as they make him feel like his old
self.”

I thought about all those pictures in his
office. Not one, I now realized, had been taken after the accident.
Looking at Kevin over the rim of my mug, I asked, “Do all guys
cheat because of insecurities?”

He held my gaze for a long second. “No, some
are just jerks who don’t recognize how good they’ve got it until
it’s gone.”

“Ah.” I smiled. “That’s what I thought.”

“I’d hope you weren’t questioning my
virility.”

“Or?”

“I’d have to drag you under the mistletoe and
prove myself.”

“Well, it’s a good thing I just thought you
were a jerk.”

He grabbed his chest. “Ouch.”

Gracie barely lifted her head off the couch
as Maria came down the stairs. “What’s for breakfast?”

“My manhood,” Kevin said.

“Tasty.” She sat next to me. “No, really. I’m
starving.”

I rolled my eyes. “How about pancakes?”

“Do you have low-cal syrup?”

“Do you know me at all?” I asked her.

She let out a breath. “Okay, fine. But at
least tell me it’s pure maple syrup.”

I said nothing as I started gathering
ingredients.

Maria pouted. “You’re killing me, Nina.”

“Join the club,” Kevin said.

I glanced at him, and he was looking at me in
a way that warned me to stay away from the mistletoe. Far, far
away.

***

By eight, the sun had come out (hurrah!), the
roads were still a mess, and Kevin was long gone—he’d left after
the pancakes.

I was debating closing the office for the day
when my cell rang. It was Jenny Christmas. Reluctantly I answered,
and she got right to the point.

“Nina, I’m going to try and open
Christmastowne today at two. A late start, yes, but it’s better
than nothing. Do you think you can finish planting the poinsettias
before then?”

It was entirely doable, not that I wanted to
do it. However, my good work ethic wouldn’t let me turn her down.
Besides, there were some things I wanted to check out at
Christmastowne. Namely, the employee files. “I’ll be there by ten,”
I said.

Which would give me enough time to wrangle a
skeleton crew and bring Maria home. I dreaded having Gracie in my
truck, but I dreaded the thought of Maria being stranded here
another day more.

I quickly showered, folded some laundry,
checked to make sure a sleeping Riley was still breathing, and made
sure Maria had packed her carpetbag and was ready to go.

We’d almost made it out the door when my
mother called. I scrunched my nose at the Caller ID.

“Who is it?” Maria asked.

“Mom.”

“Aren’t you going to answer?”

“She’ll leave a message.”

Maria crossed her arms. “Nina.”

“You answer,” I said.

“Fine.” She snapped up the phone. “Hi, Mom!
Good. Good! I’m fine. Nina loved her scarf. What? Yes, she found
another dead body. Actually, we both did. Riley, too.” Maria held
the phone away from her ear, and I winced as I heard my mother
screeching. Then Maria said, “Hold on, Mom.”

She pushed the phone at me. “Mom wants to
talk to you.”

I threw my hands in the air.

“Well, she does,” Maria said.

I snatched the phone. “Hi, Mom.”

“Nina Colette Ceceri. You not only found
another dead body, but also shared this little morbid talent of
yours with your sister and my grandson?”

“I’m generous like that.”

“Not amusing.”

“Any new lawn ornaments?” I asked.

“Do not change the subject,
chérie
.”

“Did I do that?” I asked, sending daggers
into Maria’s back as she buttoned her coat.

“Yes.”

“Oh. Well, it was a reasonable question, with
the Santa being on your roof and all. Is he still waving like a
lunatic after all that snow? Is Rudolph’s nose still blinking?”

“Like a freakin’ blinking beacon.”

I smiled. “That’s too bad, Mom. I’ve got to
go. I have to work.”

“But Nina, how is your sister? Is she
okay?”

“Has she ever been right?”

“Not amusing! What’s wrong with her? Did she
say?”

“Nope.”

“You’ll find out though, right?”

“Right.”

“See you if you can get her bread recipe. It
was delicious.”

I rolled my eyes. “I’ve got to go. Bye,
Mom!”

I quickly hung up and looked at Maria.
“You’re getting coal in your stocking this year.”

Chapter Fifteen

“Ho! Ho! Ho!”

I skirted the queued line and snuck into
Santa’s Cottage to get an up close and personal look at Mr. Cabrera
as Santa. He smiled tightly as he bounced a little boy on his
knee.

The boy was saying, “And some trucks, and a
train, and a basketball, and a sled, and a—”

Mr. Cabrera, in a deep voice, cut him off by
saying, “Smile for the camera.”

The boy paused his wish-list, smiled a toothy
grin, and Nancy Davidson clicked the picture. The shot was
automatically uploaded to a computer station outside the cottage
where the little boy’s parents could buy prints.

It seemed as though—finally—Christmastowne
was on its way to being a success. The doors had opened nearly an
hour ago, and the village had been inundated with customers.

Whether they had come as curiosity-seekers
didn’t matter. The fact that they stayed and shopped was going to
be this place’s saving grace.

As long as nothing else bad happened.

My crew had finished just on time, and I
couldn’t have been prouder of them—or of the way this job turned
out.

“And a new bike, and a helicopter, and—”

“Ho! Ho! Ho!” Mr. Cabrera heaved the kid off
his knee. “Merry Christmas! Be a good boy!”

An elf (not Kevin, unfortunately), took the
boy by the hand and led him out the door.

“And a puppy!” the boy cried over his
shoulder. “Don’t forget the puppy!”

Heaven help that dog.

Mr. Cabrera groaned as he stretched his legs.
“When did kids get so heavy?”

“Ready for the next one?” an elf asked.

He shook his head. “Give me a minute. I’ve
lost feeling in my feet.”

I walked over to him, and he held up his
hands. “Whoa, Miz Quinn. My lap can’t quite handle someone of your
size.”

“Is that a crack about my hips?”

“You really should cut back on that cookie
dough.”

“You’re lucky I’m still feeling sympathy for
you. How’s your head?”

“Did you hurt yourself, Donatelli?” Nancy
asked as she adjusted her camera.

“Had a little fall,” he said evasively. “But
I’m just fine and dandy now.”

“Like a hard candy Christmas?” I asked.

Mr. Cabrera stared blankly at me, but Nancy
laughed, getting the joke.

Mr. Cabrera’s Santa hat covered the patch on
his scalp that had to be shaved (after doctors had to use Dawn to
remove all the hair pomade) for the stitches. I’d been surprised to
see him here this morning, but he claimed he was fine and was eager
to get to work.

Slowly he rose and walked slowly in circles.
“I’m going to have to get some of those circulation stockings,” he
mumbled as he headed into the back room.

I said to Nancy, “Do you have a sec? I hoped
to get a chance to talk to you.”

“Me?” she said, looking a bit alarmed.

“About some cameras.”

She relaxed a bit, and I wondered what had
caused her anxiety in the first place. “Kevin told me about the
hidden camera in here. I was wondering where I could get one. My
parents are having an issue with...vandalism. I’m hoping to catch
someone in the act.”

Using a soft cloth, she cleaned her lens. “I
have a small assortment at my farm. I’d be happy to lend you
one.”

“You keep them on hand?”

She smiled and deep dimples popped in her
cheeks. “I get asked more often by friends about nanny cams than I
like to admit. If I ever give up freelance photography, I might go
into the spying business. It’s where the money is.”

“How much does a spy cam go for?”

“A couple of hundred.”

“Whoa!”

“I know,” she said. “Crazy. But I’d be happy
to loan you one.”

“That would be so great. Thank you. I can
stop by tonight.” I fished around in my backpack for a pen. “What’s
your addr—”

A dog yapped and a high-pitched voice said,
“Neeeena! Tell this elf to let me in.”

I groaned. I knew that voice. And its little
dog, too.

Turning, I found Maria in the doorway with
Gracie tucked into the crook of her arm. “What are you doing
here?”

“Trying to get in,” she said in her most
condescending tone. She glared at the poor elf blocking the
doorway.

“I’ll be right back,” Nancy murmured as I
gave the okay to the elf to let Maria in.

“Really, what are you doing here?” I asked my
sister.

“I wanted Gracie to get her picture taken
with Santa. Look!” From inside her bag, she pulled out a tiny Santa
hat with an elastic strap. One-handed, she managed to put it on
Gracie’s head, the strap fitting snugly beneath the dog’s chin.
“Isn’t it the cutest?”

I had to admit, it was pretty darn cute.

Gracie, however, growled and twisted her head
to try and chomp at the hat’s fabric.

Maria looked at me. “She’ll get used to it.
Where’s Santa?”