Page 91 of Christmas Mittens Murder

“Likewise.” I sipped the cool, mildly sweet wine. “This is nice.” Except I hadn’t truly savored it. Talking through the action of the murder had cut into my heart. Each of those four people we’d named were entirely ordinary humans. They worked, they loved, they had interests and passions. Which of them had stepped over the line? Stuffing a heavy ball used for recreation into a piece of cold-weather hand protection couldn’t have been a spur-of-the-moment crime. Hastily planned, maybe, when the killer realized they had Val alone past closing time and in the dark of night. But planned, nonetheless.

Our stools were at the end of the bar, with Cam’s the last. On my left sat three men about my age. I hadn’t seen any of them in association with the others in the case. I caught the eye of one.

“It’s terrible about the poor woman’s murder, isn’t it?” I repeated the question I’d asked the bookstore dude.

“Totally, man,” the guy said.

“Poor Val.” The one next to me twisted and scooted his stool back to include Cam and me in their circle. “She was a great lady.”

“You all knew her?” Cam leaned forward to ask.

“Sure. We’re regulars in here,” the first one said. “The rest of the bros in bowling league make fun of us for not joining them in a few brewskies after a game, but me and my buddies, we like wine better.”

“Val was an awesome lady,” my neighbor added.

“There must have been people around who didn’t like her. Any ideas who it might have been?” I hoped I sounded casual.

“Nah, everybody loved her.” He thought for a moment. “Well, obviously not everyone.”

“Yeah, bro.” The farther one spoke. “Like, she was murdered. But”—he addressed me—“we wouldn’t know who did it.”

“Did you ever see her gardens?” The fellow in the middle spoke up.

“No,” I said.

“I work for her ex. Otto Harper made a totally stunning design on the property. It was drop-dead gorgeous.” He grimaced.

One of his buddies elbowed him. “Nice choice of words, pal.”

“Oh, man, sorry. The design still is gorgeous. Brilliant. Won an award and everything. But after the divorce? Val wouldn’t let Harper onto the grounds, and it all went to you know where and gone.”

“To Hades in a handbasket?” Cam asked.

“That pretty much describes it. Val really let it go, may she rest in peace.” Otto’s employee shook his head.

I was grateful he didn’t precede his last remark by “I don’t want to speak ill of the dead, but . . . .” which invariably led to the person speaking ill of the dead.

He went on. “She let weeds set seed, perennials went undivided, there was insect damage, you name it. It’s a crime, and I don’t mind saying so.”

“What a shame,” Cam said. “Don’t you think Val being murdered is a worse crime?”

The guy reared back. “Well, obviously, but . . .” He seemed to run out of words and shut his mouth before he said anything even more stupid.

Out of the corner of my eye I saw the door open. I swiveled to face the entrance after I saw the newcomers were Thea and Narini. I held up a hand and waved. Mooncat was passing by the doorway carrying a tray full of empty glasses. She saw my gesture and spoke to Thea, gesturing toward me. Narini frowned and gave a quick head shake. Thea looked in our direction, at Narini, and back. She laid her hand on Narini’s back, apparently persuading her to join us at the bar.

“Hey, guys,” I said to the men. “Our friends are joining us, and one is pregnant. You’ll pull the gentleman card, right?”

All three leapt off their stools.

“Thank you,” I said.

“We were about to go, anyway.” The landscaper drained the rest of his wine and set his glass on the bar.

“Have a good one, ladies.” The man closest to me laid several twenties on the counter. “Enjoy your wine.” He and his friends made their way out.

“How’d you clear these seats so fast, Cece?” Thea sat next to me. “Tell them we had cooties?” In contrast to this afternoon, she seemed relaxed and not a bit threatening.

Narini perched on the next stool over, albeit appearing reluctant.

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