Trouble Under the Tree (A Nina Quinn Mystery) by Heather Webber Page A

might have
happened if Drunk Dave’s wife found out he couldn’t keep his hands
to himself. This probably wasn’t the first time he and Fairlane
hooked up.”
    Kevin smirked. “I’m not sure it’s Dave’s hands his wife has to worry about.”
    Truer words might never have been spoken. As
Brickhouse had so eloquently put it, Fairlane was a hussy. “Either
way,” I said, “Dave’s wife might have a desire to see Fairlane
dead.”
     
    ***
     
    Before I left Christmastowne, I went in
search of Jenny. I passed through the empty reception area of the
third floor office space—Jenny hadn’t hired an assistant yet—and I
found her sitting behind her desk, staring at a forty inch plasma
TV. The local weatherman was predicting snowmaggedon.
    I thought that a big dramatic of him. It was
a snow storm, not the white death.
    As I sat down, I noticed tears in Jenny’s
eyes. Outside the tinted windows, heavy snow fell. I couldn’t even
see my truck in the parking lot, which meant it was going to be a
fun ride home. Not .
    “I’m going to have to stay closed today,” she
said.
    A ticker at the bottom of the TV screen
listed all the local closings, including Riley’s school. I wondered
how he would get back to Kevin’s and tried not to worry.
    “It’s probably best.” It would certainly
allow the place time to dry out. I glanced around. The divided
office was spacious but sparse. Jenny’s desk was neat as could be,
without a stray paperclip to be seen. “The forecast calls for a
warm-up tomorrow. All this snow will be gone by the weekend.”
    Letting out a deep breath, she leaned back in
her chair. “I kind of wish the fire this morning burned this whole
place down.”
    She seemed perfectly serious. “Really?”
    “It’s been nothing but a nightmare.” She
rubbed her temples.
    Benny’s desk was a mess, heaped with papers
and files, old coffee cups and take-out containers. His side of the
office was filled with pictures of himself in his old uniform,
getting awards, and at media events. There were no other people in
the shots. Only Benny.
    Jenny’s side only had one picture. Her
wedding photo. She and Benny stood side by side, dressed in their
finery. Jenny gazed adoringly up at Benny, while he gazed adoringly
at the camera.
    “Benny’s not exactly camera-shy, is he?” I
asked, standing to look at his pictures.
    She smiled weakly. “There’s no one he likes
looking at more.”
    “Even you?”
    “Even me, Nina.” She sighed. “Now, what
brings you up to my dungeon?”
    Snowflakes flecked the windows. “All the dead
poinsettias have been removed, but only half have been replanted.
My crew will be back tomorrow to finish the job.”
    She narrowed her eyes on her watch. “Surely
there’s enough time to finish planting today.”
    “I sent my crew home already. The roads are
getting dangerous.”
    Angry eyes flashed at me. “Unacceptable.”
    I stood up. I’d had enough of her abuse.
“Technically, I don’t have to be here at all, Jenny. The deaths of
those plants don’t fall under my warranty. Someone killed them on
purpose. So I suggest you start taking a good look at your
employees and try to figure out who’s sabotaging this place.
Because someone is. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
    She said nothing as I left, and as I walked
out, I nearly bumped into Benny.
    By the guilty blush licking at his cheeks, it
was clear he’d been eavesdropping.
     
     

Chapter Nine
     
    The roads were a disaster. Cars in ditches,
crawling traffic, and low visibility. I’d white-knuckled my
steering wheel the whole way home. Not even the Christmas carols on
the radio—or my new reindeer antlers—could relieve my anxiety.
    I was never so glad to pull into my driveway
in all my life, but was a little surprised to see ruts of tire
tracks in the snow. Someone had been here recently.
    Candy cane pathway lights led up to my front
porch, which had been decked out as gaudily as possible with
multiple strings of lights,