Morrie pushed his glass away in disgust. I didn’t know why he kept ordering wine from the Rose & Wimple – it never lived up to his exacting standards. “On the contrary. It takes one to know one, and Bernie Robinson has the cold, dead eyes of a villainous Christmas thief.”
“Croak!” Quoth nodded his head vigorously as he plunged his beak into the peanut bowl.
The four of us crowded around a table at the pub, sipping drinks (mine was a hot toddy, of course) and listening to Mrs. Ellis warble along to “I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus” on the village karaoke machine. Hardly anyone spoke to us, and villagers shot daggers at Heathcliff across the room. Word about the robbery had already spread, and Argleton wasted no time in acting as judge and jury.
“Speaking of Bertie,” Morrie gestured out the window. “He’s walking his motive around the green.”
I had to cup my hands on the window in order to see. I could just make out a figure being dragged along by a large golden retriever and five adorable puppies. Excited barks and yips penetrated Mrs. Ellis’ song.Bertie had the means and the motive, but I can’t imagine him stealing from a charity.
“It just doesn’t seem like him.” I watched Bernie stopped to chat with Mrs. Ellis’ granddaughter Jonie. Jonie’s face lit up as she bent to pet the puppies, transforming her from a sullen pre-teen into a pretty, happy animal lover. Bertie lifted one of the dogs into her waiting arms, and Jonie laughed as it licked her cheek. “I can’t see him stealing presents meant for a charity. And if he did take the presents, why take the tree as well? Do we really think Bertie dragged that heavy thing outside all by himself? I’m more interested in Tabitha and her missing earring.”
“She has no motive. Right now we don’t even have proof she was in the shop that evening. And she doesn’t smell like catnip.”
“Neither does Bertie. Besides, we do have proof.” I dropped the earring on the table. Quoth picked it up and dangled it from his beak. “She lied about losing her earring a week ago. I saw her wearing these when she came in to speak to me about the calendar. She didn’t leave it then because you found it near the back of the tree. No one could have got around the tree unless they were the ones carting it off.”
“But the earring could also have been attached to Bertie’s jacket,” Morrie said. “We know from Curmudgeonly Cathy Lover over here how easily things can stick to clothes.”
I glanced over at Heathcliff, remembering all those pine needles stuck to his clothes.Of course, he’d have that many needles stuck to him if he staggered into the tree. It doesn’t mean he carried it outside.
Itdoesn’t.
“Don’t use that name,” Heathcliff growled. He referred, of course, to Cathy – his great love fromWuthering Heights. The woman who had rejected him shortly before he found his way into the real world and my arms. His ex. Even though she didn’t exist in our world, I’d found Cathy a little threatening in the beginning – Heathcliff and Cathywereliterature’s greatest lovers – but now I was confident enough in myself to know that when Heathcliff said he was over her, he meant it.
Morrie swiped Heathcliff’s hot toddy and took a long sip. “That still doesn’t solve the issue of motive. Tabitha has no reason to want to steal the Christmas tree.”
“No reason that we know of.” I watched as Tabitha entered the room, her arm looped in a tall, dark, and handsome stranger. I pushed my chair back. “But I bet she has one. I’m going to find out.”
“Croak.” Quoth settled on my shoulder, his talons digging into my sweater dress.I’m coming with you.
I made my way across the room to the bar. The stranger leaned in close to whisper something in Tabitha’s ear. She threw her head back and gave a tinkling laugh, tossing her hair over her shoulder in what I could only describe as a classic Ashley flirting move.
“Tabitha, hi!” I slid into the empty seat beside her, leaning back as her vanilla perfume smacked me in the face.Is she drowning herself in perfume to disguise the smell of catnip?“I just wanted to say how excited we are to have you shoot the calendar at Nevermore—”
The words dried in my throat as I recognized the guy she was with. Sitting on a sticky barstool in the Rose & Wimple pub was none other than the world-famous photographer Roland Crabapple.
Chapter Eight
Mina, you’ve gone all stiff.Quoth’s voice pounded inside my skull.What’s wrong?
“H-h-h-hi,” I stammered, completely taken aback.
I’d met famous fashion people before. Hell, I used to intern for the avant-garde New York Designer Marcus Ribald. But there were famous fashion people, and then there wasRoland fucking Crabapple. When Tabitha said she’d booked him to shoot the calendar, I’d half-assumed she’d been scammed, and some white-headed grandpa who spent his weekends taking pictures of steam locomotives would show up.
“Mina, have you met Roland?” Tabitha leaned back on her stool and touched the photographer’s arm with a kind of possessive claw. Her attitude was as brazen as her outfit – a bright red figure-hugging dress, giant dangling earrings sparkling with diamonds, and a long fur coat. She didn’t have any qualms about showing off Roland around the village, even though half of them had grown up with her husband.
“Hello.” Roland reached out to shake my hand. His skin felt cold and clammy. Even though I couldn’t see him doing it, Ifelthis eyes raking over my body. Fashion photographers were often kind of sleazy, but Roland made my skin crawl. “You have quite the sense of style, Mina. I didn’t expect to meet such chic ladies on my trip to the middle of nowhere.”
“Mina used to work in the fashion industry,” Tabitha cooed. “She’s way too glamorous for us Argleton-bunnies.”
“I-I-I thought you weren’t coming in until tomorrow morning,” I stammered out.
“I’ve actually been in the village for a couple of days.” Roland snapped his fingers to signal the landlord like he was some fancy Lord ordering around a butler. When Richard came over to serve us, he looked annoyed. He slammed glasses of mulled wine in front of Roland and Tabitha and turned away without a word. “I’m intrigued by your little charity venture. It combined two of my favorite things – Christmas trees and caring for animals. I have a cat of my own, so I know how important it is that they be cared for to a high standard. I’d have stopped by to introduce myself and take a look at the space, but Tabitha has kept me busy.”
“Roland has been… tied up with appointments,” Tabitha explained in a simpering voice.
“I think you mean, I’ve tied you up,” Roland purred, leaning in to place a wet kiss on Tabitha’s cheek. His hand wrapped possessively around her waist. It was then that I noticed the black choker around Tabitha’s neck had a tiny gold chain attached, which extended to a ring Roland wore on his finger.
Ew. Gross.
