Merry, Merry Ghost

the wall? If he’d shot straight, a slug should have caught Cain in the chest.”

Cobb munched M&M’s. “Cops have to work with facts.” His voice was indistinct. “All we know is, Cain got there in time.”

“Who was the woman who called out for help?”

“Let’s keep it simple. There was a woman in the room. A woman shouted. Let’s leave it there.”

“Whatever you say, boss. That’s not the only odd thing.”

Cobb grabbed more M&M’s. “Yeah?”

“Who moved Susan Flynn’s body?” Price demanded. “For sure it wasn’t Tucker Satterlee. Why would he? But if the body hadn’t been moved, nobody would ever have suspected murder. If somebody found Mrs. Flynn dead and staged that fake crime scene, it almost has to mean someone saw Tucker on the stairs when he shouldn’t have been or near the chocolate pot and was worried about murder. So there are three women in the house. Who would protect Tucker Satterlee but still want police to suspect murder? The only likely person was Gina Satterlee. Yet I don’t think she would have upset the applecart or done anything to jeopardize inheriting.”

Chief Cobb doodled on the legal pad, a series of question marks. “Well”—his voice was hearty—“all we have to know is that someone did us a big favor.”

Price suddenly laughed. “I get you. Be grateful for favors and don’t try to figure everything out. Right. But I’ve got some ideas about what happened and I keep thinking, one of these days I’ll walk into a room and there will be a gorgeous redhead smiling at me. I’d like that, Sam.”

“Next time there’s a tough case, maybe she’ll show up. Anyway”—Cobb was abruptly brusque—“wrap it up for tonight. Have a good holiday.”

“You too, Chief.”

Cobb flicked off the speakerphone.

I was standing next to the blackboard. I placed the envelope in the chalk tray, picked up a piece of chalk, wrote in looping script:

Compli—

At the first squeak of the chalk, Chief Cobb shoved back his chair and was on his feet, striding to the blackboard.

—ments of Officer M. Loy

I returned the chalk to the tray, next to the envelope.

Chief Cobb watched the chalk in its downward swoop. His eyes locked on the envelope. As he picked up the letter with Susan Flynn’s monogram, I moved out of the way. He pulled out Susan Flynn’s handwritten will, then looked in every direction. “Officer Loy?”

I blew him a kiss and blew another for Detective Sergeant Price, my favorite blond homicide detective. I paused at the window and called out, “Merry Christmas, Sam,” then whirled into the brightly lit night.

I was alert for the whistle of the Rescue Express as I stopped at Keith’s bedside where he slept curled next to Big Bob. I settled on the chaise longue, thinking I would soon be gone, but the next morning was happy to realize that I’d apparently been granted one more day on this earthly sojourn.

Either Wiggins was too occupied in Tumbulgum to arrange for my departure, or perhaps, in his kindness, he had granted me the pleasure of being in Adelaide for Christmas Eve. Surely that augured well for future adven- missions.

Late Christmas Eve afternoon, Charlotte Hammond looked across the quiet room at her husband. Her tone was gentle. “Are we going, Hammond?”

He looked worn and tired, a figure of defeat. He stared down at his hands, flexed the fingers. “My arthritis is bothering me.”

She waited, but there was understanding in her gaze and love.

He lifted his eyes. “I know. We always go to the service with them.” He paused, cleared his throat. “Nothing will be the same without Susan. And”—the words came slowly, reluctantly—“I shouldn’t have fought against the little boy getting everything. That wasn’t the right thing to do. I’m glad they found Susan’s will.” His look at Charlotte was rueful. “I mean it. When Peg called and told me, it was hard to talk. I hope she understands. But I know it must be hard for Jake and Gina, too. Still, what does any of it matter when you think about Susan and Tucker. But I don’t know if we’ll make it. Susan’s bequest will be a big help, but even so we may have to file for bankruptcy.”

“It will be all right, Harrison.” There was quiet confidence in her voice. “Maybe the bank will help. They say credit is loosening up. Whatever happens, let’s not worry about anything tonight. Let’s go over to Susan’s and go to the service with them. Just as we always have.”

He pushed up from his easy chair. “Sure. That’s what we’ll do.” There was some of his old bluster in his voice. “What are we waiting for? It’s time to go. They’ll be waiting for us.”

Keith, his blond curls freshly brushed, his brown eyes curious, stood patiently as Jake Flynn tucked up another inch of a little boy’s red bathrobe, fastening it with a safety pin. A packet of pins lay on the floor beside her. She looked over her shoulder at Peg. “Is that about right?” Despite a face puffy from tears, Jake was caught up in the cheer of the moment.

Peg knelt beside Keith, too. Peg was pale, her eyes reddened from a tear-filled night, but now in the lovely old room elegantly decorated for the holidays with the cheerful crackle of a fire, she was absorbed in judging the length of the hem on the bathrobe. She finally gave a decisive nod. “That’s perfect.”

Jake continued to lift and pin.

Charlotte smiled, her eyes soft. Harrison nodded in approval. “Keith will be the dandiest shepherd there.”

Jake glanced up at Peg. “Is Dave coming?”