Valerie Malmont - Death, Guns and Sticky Buns

“Fas devant les enfants,” Woody said, looking at Tamsin and surprising me.

“I'm old enough to know what's going on, and I'm in second-year French,” Tamsin huffed.

“What made you suspect her?” Gloria asked.

I answered President Godlove's question, which had almost been lost in the champagne-induced gaiety. “Her heart was broken when he told her about Lillie and the baby and asked for a divorce. Her passionate love for him turned to passionate hate, almost overnight. She'd rather see him dead than with another woman. She knew she could persuade him to commit suicide, but she was a practical person. If he was killed in an accident, she'd get the insurance money. She convinced him she'd share it with Lillie. That was all the assurance he needed. He still trusted her.”

“This is awful,” Ken Nakamura's son spoke for the first time. “I really don't think Tamsin should be listening to this.”

“Leave her be,” Moonbeam snapped. “She's almost grown up. As you'd know if you ever spent any time with her.”

The ex-husband's jaw clamped shut and his face reddened. Moonbeam and Tamsin exchanged knowing smiles.

“There's a thin line between love and hate,” Moonbeam said with a hiccup. I couldn't tell if she was talking about Charlotte and Mack or herself and her ex-husband.

“How did you figure out she killed Darious?” Tamsin asked eagerly.

“More little clues. When we found the stolen antiques in his barn, we discovered that much of what was there had been stolen from Gettysburg, but the most valuable article of all, General Meade's sword, was gone. Later I remembered seeing it in a photograph-of Mack-hanging in his office for everyone to see.”

“What?” President Godlove looked as if he were about to have a fit. “That picture… the one in his office… in the general's uniform? What nerve!”

I waited for him to stop sputtering and continued. “So that proved there was a connection between Dari-ous and the Macmillans. In his barn, enough evidence was found to convince me that it was Darious who had tried to kill me three times.”

Like little birds, words fluttered through the air: Oh my! Can't believe it! Poor Tori! What a shock! Tsk-tsk.

“The night Darious was killed, I found a picture in his workroom that led me to suspect the wrong person.” Gloria shifted nervously in her seat.

“I'm not going to say who that person was… there was no connection with the crime. But at the same time I saw the photo, I also noticed a box of sticky buns, from the new Gettysburg bakery Charlotte liked to use. In fact, she'd dropped a box off here after my first near-death experience. The bakery dates its product, and the box had that day's date on it. I assumed that Charlotte dropped by, carrying a box of treats as an excuse for being there, then killed him as he sat on the carousel eating.”

“Oooh, neat-o!”

“Don't be juvenile, Tamsin.” Moonbeam was curled up in a ball on the sofa, with her head in Woody's lap.

“I just could not figure out why she did it. I thought it probably had something to do with the stolen goods we found there.”

“Why did she come after you at the wedding? She couldn't have known you'd figured all this out.” Doctor Nakamura asked.

“I'd already ruined her chance of getting her husband's insurance money. And she was faced with losing half of whatever was left to Lillie and her baby. She knew she was done for, especially after Reba called from the garage to tell her I was asking questions that would eventually point to her.” I glared at Luscious. “You need to tell Henry to hire more trustworthy people.”

“Like you can get anything better for minimum wage,” he muttered, and drained his glass.

“Was she going to kill you?” Tamsin asked.

“I think she planned to. But she realized it would be futile; even if I died, someone else would look at all the clues and figure it out sooner or later. She knew that the lock of her hair in Darious's hand would identify her eventually. And so, she jumped instead.” I didn't mention that my taunts about her husband had most likely been the final straw that led her to jump; I didn't feel very good about that.

The silence that fell upon the group was broken first by Moonbeam's gentle snores, and then by the front doorbell.

“Who could that be?” I wondered.

“Trick-or-treaters,” Luscious said. “It's already past seven.”

I opened the front door and peered into the darkness. There was a large moving van in the circular driveway.

“You Tori Miracle?” a male voice called out.

“Yes. Who are you?” I strained to see who was there.

“Got a delivery for you.”

“Can you bring it around to the back? I don't trust this porch roof.”

“Sorry lady. Truck's too big to go back there.” A burly man in a Grateful Dead T-shirt materialized from the darkness. “Here's the message that goes with it.”

I opened the envelope.

Dear Ms. Miracle, After we bought the carousel firm Mr. Strainge, he told us you refused the reward he offered. We will honor your request to give the money to young Sam Miller, but we also want you to have something as an expression of our gratitude for finding the carousel. We understand the hippocampus is your favorite animal. Sincerely, Rick Langley and Bill Moorehead.

“Oh no!” I exclaimed. “It can't be.”

“Where do you want it, lady?” The man stood on the porch, holding the aqua-blue hippocampus in his arms.

“I don't want it. Please take it back.”

“No can do. Do you want me to leave it here on the porch, or can I come in and set it up for you like I'm supposed to?”

I stepped aside. “Better bring it inside.”

The people from my parlor, with the exception of Moonbeam, gathered around to watch as the beautiful steed was set on a wooden base in the front hall.

I tried to tip the man, but he refused, another sign that I was a million light-years away from New York City.

My guests, no, my friends, left shortly after, Woody carrying Moonbeam over his shoulder as if she were a golden-wrapped package of elderdown. Tamsin kissed me good-bye and left with her father and grandfather. Gloria walked out with them. Luscious swigged down the dregs of the last bottle of champagne and thanked me. I urged him to stay for coffee, but he wouldn't hear of it. “We'll drive him home,” President Godlove said, and he and Helga led the bewildered young officer to their car.

“Trick or treat, give us something good to eat.” The four children standing on the back steps held king-size pillowcases open to make it easy for me to add to the loot. I pretended to be scared, which they seemed to find discomfitting, then sprinkled a few miniature Snickers bars in each bag. They scampered away, and I noticed a parent holding a flashlight standing in the shadows beneath a huge tree. He waved at me and followed them at a close distance.

As I popped a Snickers bar into my mouth, I noticed one of the children had dropped a mask. I picked it up and started to call out to them, but they were already out of sight.

Back in my kitchen, my very quiet kitchen, I laid the mask on the table. It was the kind that always scared me. Clear, colorless plastic. You could see through a mask like this, but the face beneath would look strange, almost alien. The mask would allow no expression to show through.

I poured a glassful of fresh cider for myself, then, noticing the cats were wild-eyed and panic-stricken at having gone at least an hour since their last meal, I poured Tasty Tabby Treats into their bowl before sitting down with my cider and a ginger cookie from the Farmers’ Market.

The mask stared up at me, and it occurred to me that all the people I'd been involved with recently had worn masks. At first I thought I'd seen them as they really were, but beneath the transparent masks there was something else. Perhaps everybody wore a mask, I thought. Maybe even I had been wearing one for years, letting people see me but not really know me.