NOT a CREATURE WAS STIRRING Page 3

  Sirens filled the air. Red lights swirled near the entrance of the recreational vehicle parking. I shivered harder.

  Grace slipped out from the shawl and wrapped the other end around me. “Do you want me to call Scot—”

  “No!” I didn’t know much right now, but I knew I didn’t want my son here. Scotland hadn’t been on the police force long and I didn’t want him running down here to help me out of this legal kerfuffle. Being a police officer was his dream and I didn’t want this complicating his life. This was my problem.

  “I can’t believe this is happening.” I moaned and planted my face into my hands.

  “It’ll be okay.” Grace squeezed my shoulder. “You did nothing wrong.”

  My breath tightened in my lungs. Would the police think I did something wrong?

  A car door slammed near us. The wail of the siren stopped, but the red light continued to swirl around. A uniformed officer walked toward Grace’s trailer. Abraham stepped out, holding Ebenezer like a football, and pointed toward us. The officer pivoted and headed in our direction.

  “Do you think I’ll be blamed because he’s my ex-husband?”

  “It’s strange that he was in your trailer…”

  “I just bought it.” Something in me screamed not to tell her about buying the RV from Cassie.

  “That’s even odder.”

  My lips quivered.

  Grace’s eyes widened. “I’m not blaming you. I know you’d never kill someone. And if you did, you sure wouldn’t bring him with you to a Christmas craft show. This…” she spread out her arms, “is your happy place.”

  That it was. And Samuel ruined it. Think sympathetic thoughts. It wasn’t like the man murdered himself.

  An ambulance pulled to a stop a few feet from us. A paramedic hopped out and walked over to us as another pulled a gurney from the back of the ambulance.

  “A young man said the victim was over here.”

  I nodded and pointed at my RV. Victim. Samuel was a victim. His body was in the RV that was once his and now mine. I shuddered. Body. Samuel was no longer here.

  “The dead man is in that RV.” Grace wrapped an arm around my shoulders and tucked me into her side. Her comfort wrapped around me. My trembling slowed.

  “Is anyone else inside?”

  I shook my head.

  “No,” Grace said, becoming my voice.

  The paramedics went up the steps of the RV. “Wait out here.”

  I had no intention of stepping one foot in there with Samuel stuffed in the bench.

  A female officer walked over to us. She looked like she had just reached the age to legally buy alcohol. Scotland’s age. “It was reported that a man died in a recreational vehicle. Do either of you know the victim?”

  I tried to speak but no sound came out. Instead, I nodded.

  “Samuel Waters, her ex-husband, was in her RV.” Grace gave me a one-armed hugged. “She’s shaken up. She didn’t expect to see him.”

  “He startled her, there was an altercation, and she—” The officer created a scenario.

  “No!” I found my voice. “He was just in there.”

  “Does that mean he forced himself into your RV?” The officer asked.

  “Not exactly.” I’d have to try harder to explain the situation coherently. I drew in a deep breath and slowly released it, hoping it settled my heart rate and the anxiety racing through my body. Speak slow. Focus on one word at a time. “He was in the dinette bench. It can be used for storage.”

  The officer settled a look on me that was halfway between pity and suspicion.

  I cringed. That sounded bad, like I decided to take my dead ex-husband on a road trip.

  “She didn’t know he was in there.” Grace rubbed my arm in a soothing manner.

  “How long ago were you divorced?” The officer asked.

  “Two weeks ago. The divorce proceedings lasted longer than our marriage,” I said.

  “It was a contentious divorce?”

  “Yes, he fought everything. I only wanted what I brought into the marriage. I wanted nothing from him.”

  “Was your husband trying to get alimony from you?”

  I shook my head. “He just didn’t want the divorce hearing to end. He liked forcing me to see him. The judge granting the divorce scheduled us to come in at different times to sign so I didn’t have to see Samuel again. He just—” A sob strangled the rest of the words.

  Grace squeezed me to her side. “I’d like to take my friend to my RV. She’s had a rough evening. She’d been looking forward to this weekend for months. There is a Christmas craft fair, and Christmas is her thing.”

  The officer tapped a pen on her notebook.

  “I’d like to get this over with.” The sooner I answered the questions, the sooner it was over, and the better chance Scotland wouldn’t get wrapped up in this in any way. I didn’t want word floating around the station that his mother was coming in for questioning regarding her ex-husband’s death.

  “Did your ex-husband know this event was important to you?” Something sparked in the officer’s eyes that I couldn’t decipher.

  “I mentioned it when we were married,” I said. “He kept texting and messaging me that he needed to talk. It was extremely important. I told him I meant it when I said I never wanted to see him again. I blocked him from my Facebook page, so I doubt he remembered it was this weekend.”

  “Did you keep those messages?” The officer asked.

  “A few.”

  “Can I see them?”

  Nodding, I pulled up my text messages and handed my cell to the officer. She scanned through them and handed it back to me.

  “Samuel tried to rent a booth a few days ago,” Grace said.

  “What?” My eyes widened. “You didn’t tell me.”

  Samuel wasn’t a crafter. He hadn’t been interested in my business except for how much I made and telling me to “dump that partner of yours.”

  “I didn’t want you being anxious about coming,” Grace said. “He was told there wasn’t a space left.”

  The officer scribbled furiously in her notepad. “How did you find out?”

  “I’m on the committee that organizes the event,” Grace said. “Another member mentioned it because he was demanding. She wanted us to know in case he showed up to sell.”

  “Has that happened before?” the officer asked.

  “You can’t even imagine,” Grace said. “Last year, someone tried to claim they were another vendor to take their spot. Fortunately, we caught them before we had a huge problem on our hands. The committee member had written down Samuel’s name and was going to alert the registrars in case he tried it.”

  A paramedic stepped out. “The guy is dead. We need a coroner.”

  The officer nodded and pressed a button on the radio attached to her vest as she entered the RV.

  Poor Cassie. Tears stung my eyes. She was now an orphan. Her mother had abandoned her sixteen years ago.

  Cassie had to be told. Would the police do that? Would I have to? Should I call Scotland? He had training in how to deal with a notification. I cringed. Notification. Raleigh was getting her master’s degree in adolescent psychology. Maybe she was the better person to break this horrible news to Cassie?

  Cassie might already know. The evil thoughts trickled in. One after the other. She sold you the trailer. For cheap. It’s her dad shoved in your dinette. Dead. What better revenge than to end both of your lives? Samuel’s literally. Yours figuratively.

  Shame clenched my stomach and heated my cheeks. I was not the type of person who believed the worst in people. I was a defender. I was the go-to person whenever someone needed help. I couldn’t listen to the Scrooge in my head. There was no way Cassie would kill her father because she thought his interest in Bonnie caused the divorce. But would she
if he forced her out of their house?

  No. Samuel was almost six feet and weighed one hundred and eighty pounds. Cassie was a little bit of a thing. She barely weighed ninety pounds and was an inch shorter than me, and I was just over five feet tall. No way could she have dragged him into the trailer and shoved him into the bench.

  Alone, a voice in my head corrected. Cassie had a lot of friends. Male friends. Large, muscular male friends. One, or two of them, could’ve easily carried Samuel into the RV and dropped him into the seat storage.

  Stop it. First, you’re accusing your stepdaughter and now you’ve come up with a conspiracy plan involving her high school friends. I rubbed my temples.

  “Is there any way your ex-husband found out about your RV purchase?” The officer asked, drawing me out of my head.

  My face was on fire. I dipped my head. “I bought it from his daughter.”

  “I think that explains it.” The officer closed her notebook and settled a sympathetic gaze on me. “From what I’ve gathered, sounds like we might have a stalking situation on our hands. It appears your ex-husband died from suffocation. I didn’t see any indication of foul play. It’s likely he placed himself into the bench.”

  “Samuel hid in my RV?” My mind conjured up an image of Samuel, in the middle of the night, sneaking out of his hiding place and “surprising” me. My body shook. I wrapped my arms around myself. I was so, so stupid.

  “That’s what it looks like,” the officer said. “At least you don’t have to worry about that man bothering you. I’ll write up your statement and you can come in tomorrow evening to read and sign it.”

  “What a horrible man!” Grace positioned herself so I could physically lean on her.

  I knew Samuel hadn’t been happy with the divorce, but I hadn’t thought he’d try and hurt me. A week ago, he sent a text message asking if we could go out for old time’s sake. I reminded him our old times were not pleasant and there was no reason I wanted to relive them. He kept calling, insisting I had to speak to him. I blocked his number after that. It took us months to finalize the divorce, and the splitting of assets was simple: I kept what was mine, he kept what was his. No alimony. Simple.

  My mind floated going back to Cassie. Did she know her father was hiding in the RV when she drove it over to my house? She had to. Selling me the RV been a ruse for her father to see me again. He had told me he would win me back, or he’d die trying.

  It looked like he accomplished one of those goals.

  Three

  “We’re all done in here.” The forensic person picked up his last bag and walked out of the door of the RV.

  There was a mess. Powder was everywhere. The dinette seat was left up. Pictures were taken of the seat from every angle, all the while assuring me that this was just standard procedure to cover all the bases. What bases were there to cover? Samuel hid in the seat. Samuel suffocated. He had wanted to hurt me and instead killed himself.

  Tears flooded my eyes. Not for Samuel. I was angry at the man. Almost as livid as when I found out he spoke to my mom at the assisted living facility and convinced her she wanted to move. I couldn’t believe he’d prey upon an eighty-seven-year-old woman with dementia. That ended our marriage. And it seemed he planned on ending me. I shuddered.

  Grace draped a Santa throw around my shoulders. “Are you sure you want to stay here tonight? Abraham doesn’t mind sleeping on the floor in my room.”

  “No, I’ll be fine,” I lied.

  I didn’t want to put them out any more that I already had, besides no matter where I was, I wouldn’t be getting a good night’s rest. I needed to do some therapeutic crafting before I fell asleep and I didn’t want the churning and chugging noise of my die cutting machines keeping my friends awake.

  Grace stood in the threshold of the RV, a hand resting on the latch. She didn’t believe me and was hesitant to leave. Warmth and thankfulness flooded my heart. I had wonderful, caring friends. I would be all right. A true smile formed on its own will.

  Relief shone on Grace’s face. “If you’re sure.”

  “I’m sure.” I hugged her. “I’ll do some crafting and crank up the Christmas music. Text me if it’s too loud.”

  Grace hugged me back. “It’ll add to the holiday atmosphere. If you need me, text. I mean it.”

  I shooed her out the door. “I know.”

  After Grace left, I took my Cricut out of its storage bag and went to place it on the table. My stomach flopped like a fish out of water. There was no way I could sit on the dinette bench, or even in one of the chairs of the dining area. I’d have to look at where Samuel died.

  Quickly, I returned the Cricut to its carrier and hustled it down to my bedroom, putting as much distance as possible between me and where I found Samuel. Ebenezer whistled and screeched from his cage that was on the passenger seat.

  I abandoned Ebenezer. I was a horrible pet parent. It would serve me right if Ebenezer gnawed on a cord.

  “Forgive me.” I raced back to the front of the RV and snagged the handle, scurrying back to the room with my companion and a rolling tote filled with crafting supplies. Ebenezer whistled as his cage swayed to and fro in my haste to leave the area of the crime.

  I entered the room and shut the door with my foot. One of the things I had loved about this RV was it had a true door, not a pocket one. At the time, I had other reasons for preferring a real door, now it gave me a good separation from work and home. One of my plans was using the RV as a mobile store and set up my wares inside of it, allowing me to only need a parking spot on the grounds rather than a booth inside. I could stage everything in the main living space and have a space that always remained mine and mine alone. I hoped bringing my own “vendor space” opened a spot for me in one of the coveted and waitlist only venues.

  Depositing the cage on the bed, I released Ebenezer then started arranging a work station. I pulled out the Cricut and placed it on the dresser. Not wide enough. If I turned the machine sideways, it hung off and, placed the correct way, there was no room for the 12x12 mat to move completely through the rollers. The other option was putting the Cricut on the bedside table and bracing the machine with one hand while using my iPad with the other. A good way to break expensive equipment.

  I sat cross-legged on the bed, iPad on my lap. “I’ll design tonight and cut in the morning.”

  Ebenezer flopped onto a pillow and closed his eyes, oblivious to my plight.

  I unfolded my legs and leaned against the headboard, thinking of a design. A niche another vinyl designer wasn’t selling at the craft show. I wanted to broaden my repertoire and not duplicate any products. One more wine glass design wasn’t going to help increase my profits. And, I now needed money to renovate the RV.

  A heaviness settled around me, almost like I was being pushed down. I fought the urge to lay down and curl up into a ball. I wouldn’t let Samuel take away the happiness of this weekend. I had looked forward to this craft show for months. Squaring my shoulders, I sat up and studied the room, hoping to find inspiration. The room was blank. Devoid of any creativity. No Christmas spirit.

  That was it. There was no Christmas in this vehicle since I took out the trees. Everything holiday related was in the underneath storage compartment or had been hauled into the Armory by Abraham and a security guard. Grace had been afraid my trees would get ruined if left outside.

  With some vinyl, transfer tape, and Christmas designs, I’d turn the RV into a Christmas wonderland. I’d create a vinyl Christmas tree and ornaments. My mind raced with ideas.

  I powered up the iPad and logged into my Design Space account. I’d cut out some decals in the morning, and during any slow times, add more into my shop and keep a few to spruce up my home away home. It was hard to concentrate with my mind flipping from one design to the next. Christmas tree. Wreath. Holiday sayings. Window decals. Santa Claus and sleigh.

  A mes
sage popped up. Bright. I debated for a bit on ignoring her, but she was friend—my best friend—and her concerns had been valid.

  I tapped on the message.

  For a small animal, it takes a long time to bathe him. What did the little rascal get into? I’m sorry for lecturing you. I’m your friend not your mama.

  Don’t be, I responded, I needed it. I get in my own way.

  Don’t fret over it. Keep yourself in a happy place. You all tucked in for the night? Doors and windows secured?

  I frowned. Bright wasn’t a worrier. That was my role. She was a jump then look type of person. Why the Nervous Nellie impression?

  The craft world is small. The business group is all agog about the police showing up at a Christmas Bazaar. In West Virginia. The rumors are a fight between two vendors, the theft of a vendor’s trailer, and a body being found.

  The rekindled Christmas joy spurted out of me. People were talking. Soon the whole truth would be out, and I didn’t want to be internet fodder. Was there a way to squash it? Probably not. One of those are true.

  Which vendors?

  No, the last guess on the list.

  A BODY! Bright added a whole row of exclamation points.

  Yes. My fingers froze, refusing to type Samuel’s name.

  And you’re still there? Alone? In the RV?

  I’m safe.

  Why aren’t YOU concerned? It’s not like you not to worry.

  That was true. We were both acting out of character. Why was I being coy with the truth? It was Samuel. He hid in the dinette storage seat. Suffocated himself.

  Oh my God! What was the man thinking?

  That’s what I’m trying to keep my brain from dwelling on.

  You’re right. Don’t think about it. See if a security guard will come around every hour tonight. It’ll be a comfort knowing someone is watching out for you. She sent me a GIF of a kitten offering a hug.