Page 84 of Christmas Mittens Murder

“How will Auntie Cee ever find us?” Franklin asked, brow furrowed. “Look at all these people.”

“Cam will text me, honey.” I patted my phone-carrying pocket with one hand and laid my other hand on his shoulder.

“All right,” he said.

“Thank you, Cam. I’ll see you geysers in a minute.” My nephews were in good hands with the tall farmer.

When I turned back to the detective, he and Otto stood in the back of the booth. Otto had crossed his arms over his chest, and his feet were planted apart in a defiant stance. Quan, ever calm, questioned him. I thought I heard Rafael’s name.

What did Quan want to talk with me about? I could catch him up on what I’d learned but, if they were doing their job, the sheriff’s department should already know all of it. Val and Otto’s history. Rafael’s estrangement from her. Thea’s conflict with Val, and her relationship with Narini. Plus everybody’s alibi—or lack thereof—for Wednesday night.

Otto stormed out, brushing past me without pausing to apologize, and stomped down the row. Quan stepped toward me.

“He doesn’t look happy, Detective.”

“He’s not. I’m not in the business of making people happy, Ms. Barton, until I make an arrest and a killer is convicted, which at least satisfies the victim’s family.” Hardly taking a breath, he said, “I haven’t been able to reach your sister this morning. I need to speak with her.”

I blinked. “I hope you’re not about to arrest Allie, sir.”

“Would you know where I can find her?” His expression was unreadable.

“She’s hosting an open house for a property. I’m sure if you leave her a message, she’ll return your call when she’s free.”

“When would that be?” he pressed.

“I don’t know.” Which wasn’t strictly true, but all she’d said was she’d be back this afternoon. I could stonewall as well as he could. I gazed down the row. “Is Otto on your list?”

“My list?”

“Come on. Your list of people who might have murdered Val.”

“Thank you for your time. If you see Alicia, please have her contact me.” He turned and left.

Just as well. It was past time for me to put homicide out of my head and let dreams of sugar plums take over.

Chapter Seventeen

Ifound Cam and the boys and greeted them.

“Everything’s fine,” I added.

One side of the booth featured exactly the kind of glass gifts Franklin had been after. Hand-blown balls streaked with blue or pink dangled from ribbons on a rack. Small stained-glass birds sat on a fence. Translucent ornaments hung from a wire tree. He carefully examined each one without touching. Arthur was a different story.

“Hands in your pockets, Artie,” I reminded the twin as he began to reach for an ornament. Nobody could break a fragile item faster than he could, and Allie had long given him a concrete—and safe—action to do with his hands.

He obeyed, to my relief.

On the other side of the booth sat Mooncat with an array of mittens on a table in front of her. I took a second look. These were Val’s mittens. I shuddered.

“Hey, Cece.” Mooncat looked a little abashed. “She left a box of these under the bar. I had bought the fabric for her wholesale through a friend of mine, and she still owed me for it. I figured it wouldn’t hurt to unload them here and recoup my costs.”

Selling the murdered woman’s crafts this soon after her death seemed a little macabre to me, but Val was beyond caring. I personally would be creeped out to wear a pair of these mittens knowing one of their kind had been used to kill their maker. “Why not?” I shrugged.

Cam stepped up next to me.

“Cam, this is Mooncat,” I said. “She works at Vino y Vida. Mooncat, Cam Flaherty. She’s staying at my sister’s bed-and-breakfast.”

They exchanged greetings. Cam went back to perusing the glass art.

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