Page 89 of Christmas Mittens Murder

Right now my job remained clear. Find Val’s killer and clear Allie’s name. Period. Full stop.

Chapter Twenty

Cam and I strolled away from Yukiko, the Japanese restaurant in Colinas, at seven-thirty that night. After she’d returned from her outing, we’d agreed to grab a bite out and leave the Halsteads to hang out on their own. The kids were over the moon their father was home early and were super excited about setting up the tree. When we’d left, Fuller was busy bringing garlands and boxes of lights and ornaments in from the room over the garage.

I carried an umbrella, and Cam had brought one, too. The winter rainy season had finally begun. Both the clouds and the damp scent of the air made me think we’d need the protection before the evening was over. A shower had fallen a couple of hours ago but stopped, and I could almost hear the dry soil begging for more water.

“Want to grab a drink at Vino y Vida?” I asked. We’d avoided talking about murder over dinner, but I hoped to hash through what we knew and what we didn’t.

“Sure.”

The historical complex was only a couple of blocks farther down Manzanita. By now the police tape was gone, and the cones had been removed. No alert officer guarded the site to keep nosy visitors away. The bookstore and art gallery were lit up and open for holiday shopping.

Cam and I stood looking at the bocce court. It was mostly in darkness, lit only tangentially by light spilling out from the other establishments.

“I guess they don’t expect night games,” I said. “I haven’t thought at all about the logistics of the homicide, the how of it.”

“Right. The killer stole or bought a pair of Val’s one-size-fit-all mittens.”

“I wonder if she kept receipts.”

“Good point,” Cam said. “If she did, the police could trace which of the persons of interest bought a pair. Either way, they stuffed a bocce ball into one.”

The image made me shudder. “So the balls must be left out here all the time.” I wandered over to a rough-hewn cabinet on legs. It stood near the fence overlooking the river. I pulled open the door and peered in. Inside was a rack holding six of the heavy scored balls, with two slots empty. “Voilà.”

“That part made it easy for them,” Cam said. “They lured her out here after dark, after everything else was closed.”

“It must have been a person she knew.”

“I’d think so,” Cam said. “Does that rule out Narini?”

“No. Mooncat said Narini had been in Val’s face last week.”

“Well, whoever it was held the mitten by the cuff, swung, and cracked Val on the head.”

I shivered, imagining the action. The sound. Worst, the nerve of the attacker.

Cam gave me a sympathetic look. “Yes, it must have been brutal. And the person we’re looking for has to be strong.”

I stared at her. “But they all are. Otto is a landscaper. Rafael is tall, he’s a runner, and who knows what else? Thea competes in triathlons, which include swimming. She has strong arms. Narini’s are the same.”

“Good point.”

“But then what?” I asked. “Did they drop the weapon and run? So much could have gone wrong with their plan.” I folded my arms. “You know? I mean, there could be a security camera out here.”

“Or shoppers might have walked by.” The door to the bookstore opened and three women emerged, chatting about the books they’d bought as gifts. “Like them,” Cam added.

“Speaking of which, let’s check what time Alexander Books and the art gallery closed on Wednesday night.”

“I like the way you think. I’ll take the gallery, you ask at the bookstore.”

We split up. The bookstore’s hours were posted next to its door. The place seemed to close at six every night. Still, it was the holiday season. I pulled open the door and went in to be confronted by one of my favorite sights—rows and stacks and shelves full of books. I could do a little shopping while I was here. I’d helped the boys find gifts at the fair, but I hadn’t bought any presents beyond socks myself, and books make the best gifts. Except this wasn’t the time.

“Can I help you find anything?” A man whose glasses perched halfway down the bridge of his nose stood behind the counter. He smiled at me over the top of the readers.

I thought fast. I didn’t want him to think I was asking about the murder. “Are you open every evening? I haven’t finished my Christmas shopping yet.”

“We are, ma’am, through next Thursday, Christmas Eve.”

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