(11/40) A Little Yuletide Murder by Bain Donald

Author:Bain, Donald [Bain, Donald]
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Tags: Women Detectives, Detective and Mystery Stories, Mystery & Detective, Radio and Television Novels, Political, Fiction, Maine, Women Sleuths, Authors, General, Women Novelists, Jessica (Fictitious Character), Fletcher
ISBN: 9780451194756
Publisher: Signet
Published: 1998-10-01T07:00:00+00:00

Chapter Fourteen

Seth dropped me home a little before eleven. Dinner was good, no surprise. Although my doctor friend wasn’t a particularly creative chef, he always did nicely with basic dishes. After scallops wrapped in bacon as an appetizer, we went on to a hearty navy bean soup, followed by what Seth insists is an original recipe—creamed crab meat on freshly baked waffles, a combination I never would have thought of, but admit is delicious—and filling.

But the evening’s menu was not foremost in my mind once I was inside my house and had made myself a cup of tea. What did dominate my thoughts, and sent my mind racing, was what Seth had raised over dessert.

Before I could settle in my den and focus upon it, however, I had to return three phone messages that had been left on my answering machine.

The first was from Vaughan Buckley. It sounded urgent, and he encouraged me to return the call “at any hour.”

“Jessica?” he said the minute he picked up the phone.

“Yes. I was out to dinner and just got your message.”

“Thanks for getting back to me so soon. I just heard on the news that Mr. Walther has been formally charged with the murder of Santa Claus.”

“You mean Rory Brent,” I said, not sure why the way Vaughan put it nettled me.

“Yes, Rory Brent.”

“Who carried the story?” I asked.

“One of the all-news radio stations here in New York. They’re playing it up big, Jess. You know, a brutal murder during the holiday season, a leading citizen of a small Maine town gunned down just weeks before Christmas. On top of that, the victim was that same town’s Santa Claus.”

I sighed deeply and pulled up a chair. “This is all so unfortunate,” I said.

“Yes, it is. Have you given any more thought to doing a book about the killing?”

“I’m really not interested, Vaughan. I’m too close to it, living here and having known both parties.”

“You mean Brent and the accused.”

“Exactly.”

“But that’s why you’re the ideal person to write a book about it. You know these people, are tuned in to how they think. It’s your town, Jess.”

“Which is why I wouldn’t want to write about something so tragic having happened here.”

“We’ve received calls at the office concerning it.”

“From whom?”

“Press. They know you’re Cabot Cove’s most illustrious citizen. They want to interview you.”

“Tell them no.”

“I can’t tell them that, Jess. They have a right to ask questions, which I assume they’ll do starting tomorrow.”

“I refuse to be interviewed about this. You know how cooperative I am when it comes to publicity, but this is different.”

“Of course it’s different, and I’m not suggesting you do this to publicize anything. The publishing industry may have become crass, but not to that extent. I just thought I’d inform you that this little yuletide murder in your beloved town of Cabot Cove has taken on greater significance. It’s now a national story.”

“Thanks for tipping me off, but as far as doing a book about the murder, I pass.”

“Your call, and I wouldn’t attempt to influence you.

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