Mistletoe Murder (Dewberry Farm Mysteries Book 4) Read online

  "Sadie talked me into buying some new shampoo," I said. "We'll see what it looks like after I'm done with it."

  "Like I said, Lucy: gorgeous." He gave me another quick kiss before squatting down to pet Chuck. As he distributed belly rubs, I grabbed a box of fudge and reached for my boots. "That fudge looks good," he said, looking up at the clear container in my hand. "Is it for me?"

  "No," I said. "Not this box, anyway; I'm taking it to the Stones."

  "Any news on what happened to Randy?" he asked.

  "Not yet, but I think I know what happened to their missing son," I told him.

  He blinked. "What?"

  As we walked out of the farmhouse toward his truck, I told him about the ticket I'd found tucked into the back of the painting, the date of the theft, and the timing of Chad Stone’s disappearance.

  "So it looks like he left town to commit art theft," Tobias said. "Who did he do it with?"

  "That's the question, isn't it?" I mused as Tobias opened the truck door for me. I thanked him and clambered up into the cab, then put the fudge on my lap. "I'm guessing whoever it was probably committed the murder."

  He closed the door and rounded the truck. As he climbed in next to me, he asked, "But why didn't they come back for the paintings?"

  "Something must have happened to him," I speculated. "Or her."

  "How does all of this relate to what happened to Randy Stone, do you think? Or Julie?"

  "I don't know," I said. "I was hoping we could talk to his parents to find out who he was in contact with before he left... or what he told them, if anything."

  "It was a long time ago. Do you think they'll remember?"

  "I'm sure of it," I said. "I'll bet they remember every detail associated with his disappearance."

  "Are you going to tell them your theory?"

  "I don't know if I should," I said.

  "They could do DNA testing."

  "That's true," I said. "I hate to dredge it up right now... they just lost their other son." I bit my lip as we bumped down the driveway to the road. "I wish I knew if it really was Rhonda I saw there the other day. I'm almost sure it was; I just can't figure out what she's doing there."

  "It's all a tangled mess, it seems. I still can't think why anyone would have wanted to kill that poor young woman."

  "I have an idea, but it's not one I like."

  Tobias glanced over at me. "What are you thinking?"

  "I'm thinking Isabella may have killed Randy when she caught him cheating, unfortunately. I know she was there. Julie saw her there. Remember? She was going to tell me something at Rosita's, but before I could find out what it was, someone killed her."

  "How was she involved?"

  "She was seeing Randy Stone secretly," I told him.

  "That guy got around!" he said. "But if Isabella was in jail last night, who killed Julie?"

  "I'm afraid it might have been Mandy," I said, with a sinking feeling in my stomach.

  "I don't like it, but it makes sense," he said.

  "She disappeared before we found Julie," I told him. "And she wasn't around at the scene of the crime."

  "Maybe there's an innocent explanation," Tobias countered.

  "Maybe," I said. "And none of this explains where Rhonda went. Or, if she's at the Stones' ranch, why she's there."

  "What are you planning to do when we get there?" Tobias asked.

  "Give them fudge. And wing it."

  "I like your plan," he said, laughing, and reached over to squeeze my hand.

  "Let's hope it works," I replied.

  William Stone was waiting by the barn for us when we arrived, looking even grimmer than ever. When we got out of the truck, he flicked a brief glance in my direction before focusing on Tobias. "She's in here," he said, turning without more of a greeting and leading the way to the barn.

  "I'll be right in," Tobias said. "Lucy brought you some fudge; is Mrs. Stone at home?"

  "She is," he said curtly. "You can go knock on the door."

  "Thanks," I said, trying not to feel offended—grief did funny things to people—and headed toward the main house, passing once again the Christmas decoration with Santa's list on it. Poor William and Linda Stone. Only one of those three children remained.

  The heavy wood door was decorated with a big Christmas wreath covered in silver-gold ribbon and a few gold angels. I rang the doorbell, feeling trepidation; a moment later, Linda answered, her eyes red from crying.

  "Hi," I said. "I'm sorry to intrude, but Dr. Brandt is here checking on one of the cows, and I came along for the ride."

  "How nice," she said, putting on a brittle smile. "Can I get you a cup of coffee or a glass of tea?" she asked, Southern hospitality a reflex response.

  "I'd love a cup of coffee," I said, and she invited me into the house. "I brought this for you," I told her, proffering the fudge. "I never got a chance to tell you how sorry I am for your loss."

  She stifled a sob and took a deep breath, then took the box without looking at it. "That's two boys I've lost now," she said. "All I have left is Jenna."

  "I'm so sorry," I said as she offered me a seat at her big oak kitchen table and retrieved a mug from one of the white-painted cabinets.

  "I just kind of wonder what the point is these days," she said, her eyes straying to a picture of two boys and a girl, all smiling and full of life. "We’re supposed to go first, not the other way around."

  "I know," I said softly. I looked around the kitchen; it was filled with decorations that clearly had had meaning for the family. An old homemade felt Advent calendar hung on the wall next to the door, but only a few of the pins had been attached to the tree. A tree stood in the corner of the living room, with a hand-embroidered tree skirt around the base. It was decorated with ornaments that had clearly been handmade by her children, and pictures of all three of her kids lined the walls. Although the decor was festive, the house was steeped in sadness and loss. The air felt so heavy it was almost hard to breathe.

  "Thank you," I said as she handed me a cup of coffee. She didn't ask if I wanted cream or sugar, but frankly, I didn't care. I took a sip; it was dark and a few hours old, but that was fine. I wasn't here for coffee.

  "You were with that hussy's mother last night," Linda said as she sat down, the polite, controlled veneer cracking a bit. "Are you on their side?"

  "I'm not on anyone's side," I said. "Just the side of the truth."

  She looked at me for a moment, then nodded and took a sip of her own murky coffee. I took that as permission to continue with caution. "I know this is a delicate subject right now," I said, "but have you heard about the paintings that were found in the courthouse?"

  She nodded, looking down at her hands, which were wrapped around her mug. "I have."

  "I found a movie ticket in the back of one of them," I said. "I hate to bring this up, but it's from a few days after your first son disappeared."

  She looked up, and the color leached from her face. "What?"

  17

  "I think your son may have been connected with those paintings," I told her. "I want to know if you remember anything about who he went with or where he was planning to go when he went to Houston."

  "You think... you think he was an art thief?"

  "I don't know," I said. "I’m just trying to put the pieces together."

  "He was going to Houston for a job," she said, her eyes unfocused, as if she were in another time and place. "Said he was going to meet up with some guy who had a job for him. He went to school for management, but the university wasn't the right place for him. He was miserable."

  "Was he moving to Houston, or did he say he'd be back?"

  "He didn't know. He hoped he'd be staying. The man he was working with was called Sparky."

  "Sparky?"

  She nodded. "I know; it was a weird name. I wasn't very comfortable with it, but I talked it over with Bill, and what could we do?"

  "How did he meet this guy?"

  "When he was at sc
hool in Houston. He never told me how; I got the impression it was another student, but he didn't say much. And then it was too late..." She trailed off, and then a look of horror crossed her face. "There were bones in the courthouse," she said. "Oh, no... please, no..."

  "We don't know anything about those yet," I said, reaching out and putting a hand on her arm.

  "But... why would he come back to Buttercup? It doesn't make sense."

  "I don't know that either," I said. "And it's just a theory."

  "They can test the bones, can't they?" she asked, her voice shaky. "See if it's him?"

  "I imagine they can, yes."

  "I don't know if I want to know or not. I've sat here for fifteen years, listening for his truck coming up the driveway, hoping every time someone knocks that it will be him." Tears filled her eyes. "Randy and Jenna were what kept me going. And now with Randy gone..." She sobbed. "Thank goodness Jenna is pregnant. At least I'll have a grandchild."

  I blinked at her. "What?"

  She swiped at her eyes. "I'm not supposed to say anything about it; they're keeping it quiet. Please don't say anything to anyone."

  "I won't," I promised, but that was certainly news to me. Before I could say anything else, Jenna and Simon walked into the kitchen; Jenna’s eyes grew guarded when she spotted me. She wore a baggy sweater over slim jeans; if she was showing at all, it was camouflaged.

  "What are you doing here?"

  "This is Lucy Resnick. She brought fudge," Linda said. "And she says she thinks Chad may have been involved with those paintings they found at the courthouse."

  She blinked. "Why does she think that?"

  "I found a ticket tucked into the back of one of the paintings," I said. "It was from Houston, from a few days after your brother left town."

  "Why would it be in one of the paintings?" she asked.

  "We don't know," Linda said. "But it's more of a lead than I've had in fifteen years. I'm going to get in touch with the sheriff this afternoon," she said with resolve.

  I hadn't had a chance to ask her any questions about Randy, and I got the sense that the moment had passed. Jenna was eyeing me warily—why, I had no idea—and her husband seemed anxious for me to leave. "We were just about to take Jenna’s momma to town," he said. "Thanks for stopping by."

  "Oh, it's no hurry," Linda said. "I'm thankful for the visit. And the fudge looks real good."

  "Thanks," I said. "Oh... Rooster's out of commission right now, but if I were you, I'd get in touch with Deputy Shames. She's got a copy of the ticket already."

  "We'll help you take care of that," Simon said. "Thanks so much for stopping by," he repeated, "but we're on our way out the door."

  Message received, I thought as I stood up.

  "I understand," I said, and then decided to throw one more thing out there. "Hey, I don't know if you know this, but a young woman who used to be Randy's girlfriend in high school seems to have vanished."

  Jenna didn't flinch, but I could feel a change in the room from her and her husband. Her face remained impassive, but her eyes widened, and Simon’s face twitched into a grimace before he smoothed it away.

  "Who?" Jenna asked politely.

  "Rhonda Gehring?" Linda asked. "She always was a flighty one. I was so glad Randy didn't marry her." As she spoke, her eyes teared up. "She probably ran off with some other man."

  "I'm so sorry to bring Randy up," I said. "I know this is a terrible time."

  Jenna rushed over to her mother and gave me a nasty look. "Let me get you one of your anxiety pills," she said in a soothing tone. Jenna retrieved a bottle from the windowsill and tipped out a pill. "Maybe you need to lie down, Mother."

  "I don't need to lie down," Linda responded in a tart voice, although she did take the pill.

  "Well, then," I said as Jenna and Simon gave me icy looks. "It was nice visiting; I'm sorry to be the bearer of such difficult news."

  Linda’s eyes suddenly took on a teary sheen. "It is difficult," she said. "But somehow... I think I'd just sleep better at night knowing. All these years of wondering every night, trying to find out what happened... This is the first thing that tells me we might, somehow, find out at least something about what happened."

  I didn't know what to tell her. All I said was, "I’m sorry it's been such a terrible trial, and that you've had to go through it twice. I hope you find peace."

  "So do I," she said, and the grief in her voice was so raw it made my own heart hurt.

  I made my way to the door with Jenna at my side; it was fairly obvious my presence wasn't welcome in the Stone household any longer.

  "I'm sorry for your loss," I repeated.

  "Thank you," she said with a tight smile as I stepped out the front door. "Goodbye," she said shortly, and shut the door.

  Well, I thought to myself as I found myself alone on the front porch, Jenna and Simon seemed awfully anxious to get me out of the house.

  I meandered down the front walk, pretending to stop and admire the boxwood that lined the walkway, and made my way toward the driveway. From there, I could see the guesthouse, a small building with shuttered windows. Was Rhonda there? I watched the house for a few minutes, looking for signs of life, but there was nothing.

  With a glance back toward the big house, I drifted across the yard to the small building, pretending to be admiring the scenery. What I really wanted to do was knock on the door. I came closer, pretending to be interested in a rosebush planted at the corner of the small house, but really looking at the windows, hoping there would be some opening through which I could see what was going on inside. I had just bent down to "inspect" what looked like an antique rose when there was a thump from inside the house, and something that sounded like a chair being dragged along wood floors. Was Rhonda here? I was about to round the house when there was the sound of a door opening from behind me. I turned to see Jenna, standing at the back door of the main house.

  "What are you doing?" Her voice was shrill.

  "I was just looking at the rosebush," I said pleasantly. "Is it an antique rose?"

  "I have no idea," she said. "I think it's time you left."

  "Sorry to intrude," I said, beating a retreat toward the barn.

  She said nothing, just stood there watching me.

  Tobias stepped out of the barn just as I got back to it. "How's the cow?" I asked, glancing back to where Jenna was still eyeing me.

  "Healing beautifully," he told me. "I don’t think I’ve had a chance to introduce you. Lucy, this is William Stone."

  "Nice to officially meet you," I said as the older man stumped out of the barn, his mouth set in a grim line. "I'm Lucy Resnick," I said.

  "I saw you last night," he said shortly.

  "I'm so sorry about your son," I said.

  He nodded shortly, his eyes unreadable, then turned to Tobias. "She's good to go, then?"

  "Just check on it and keep it clean," he said. "I might keep her in for a few more days, just to be sure, but there's no sign of infection."

  "Good," he said. "Thanks for taking care of her. I'd better get on with my chores." He nodded a cool goodbye to both of us—he seemed fond of nodding—and disappeared back into the barn.

  I waited until we got back into Tobias's truck to say anything. "Stoic," I remarked.

  "He always has been. He's shaken up, though. I think he's saying as little as possible so he doesn't break down."

  "I talked with Linda a little bit inside," I said as he backed up, "but Jenna and her husband were awfully eager to get rid of me."

  "Did you tell her about the paintings, and the ticket?"

  "I did. I didn't know how she'd take the possibility of the bones belonging to her son. I think she was upset, but also somewhat relieved that someone had found something that might explain what happened. It must have been awful, sitting for all those years and not knowing."

  "What did she think of idea of the DNA test?"

  "I didn't exactly bring that up, but I told her to talk with Deputy
Shames. I think it's best for her to absorb things slowly; she's had a lot going on the past few weeks." I glanced behind me as the driveway curved to the right and the ranch disappeared. I thought again about Jenna and Simon, and how anxious they were to get me out of the house. There was something going on there, something they didn't want me to know. "Linda told me Jenna's pregnant, but that they're keeping it secret."

  "She's pregnant?" he said.

  "That's what Linda said. Why?"

  "I heard through the grapevine they've been visiting a fertility clinic in Houston. I'm glad they found a solution."

  "Molly did say something about that, now that I think of it. I’d forgotten." Good for Jenna, I thought. She hadn't been the politest to me, but that didn't mean I couldn't be happy for her. I knew the first few months were the riskiest; I wondered when she'd make the announcement. "I think someone is in the guesthouse, by the way."

  "Jenna and her husband, or Rhonda?"

  "Rhonda, I’m guessing; both Jenna and Simon were in the big house. I think they're hiding her."

  "Her husband tends to be abusive; it could be she’s hiding from him," Tobias suggested.

  "Maybe," I said, "but I think something's going on. Jenna was quick to give her mom an antianxiety pill, and they hustled me out of the house fast." I glanced back at the house. "What do you think Simon’s doing here if his job is in Houston?"

  "Supporting his wife and her family? Plus, it's the holidays."

  "You're probably right," I said. "I'm just desperate for the murderer to be anyone but Isabella. Or Mandy."

  Tobias was silent for a moment. I looked out at the bleached winter landscape, feeling stymied. "Do you think Jenna might have killed her brother?" he asked.

  "I don't know," I said. "I feel like there's something here I'm missing. I just don't know what it is."

  "I'm sure you'll find out," he said. "You always do."

  "Here's hoping," I said. I appreciated the encouragement, but I didn't share his rosy assessment.

  18

  Mandy was hard at work at the Buttercup Zephyr when I turned up an hour later, butterflies in my stomach. As I walked up the front walk, I could see her through the window, staring hard at her laptop. She jumped when I knocked, and scurried to open the door.