A Winter's Tail

Chapter 2

- 2 -

As a lieutenant with the Knollwood police department, Ray’s relationship with the New Hope chief of police, Bruce Stanley, was collaborative and friendly. Each municipality ran on a tight budget and a lean staff, so they partnered when needed.

Within a half hour of Autumn’s urgent call, police were on site and the area cordoned off with yellow tape. A crowd had gathered near the area and cars driving by rubbernecked to see what was going on.

Ray stood on the sidewalk with Ace, who guarded Chrissy and Autumn. He looked down at Chrissy.

“What is it with you, little one? Is it your destiny to uncover dead bodies?”

Chrissy smiled her doggy smile and licked her nose, which was running from the cold.

“I hope not,” Autumn answered for Chrissy. “This better be the last one.”

“Maybe we should swear her in as a detective,” said Ray.

Autumn playfully punched his arm.

The moment of joking quickly passed as they focused their attention on the body being dug out from the ice-encrusted snow pile. A deep wound in the center of the chest made Autumn cringe.

Ray inspected the body. A V-shaped puncture differed from knife and gunshot wounds he’d witnessed in his years on the police force or even as a soldier in Afghanistan.

Autumn asked, “Do you recognize her?”

“No, but it looks like her purse is with the body. We’ll find out soon enough.”

Autumn rubbed her arms and noticed Chrissy shivering. She opened her coat, picked up Chrissy, and snuggled her inside, closing the coat so Chrissy’s head stuck out.

“You two are freezing,” said Ray. “Go home, and we’ll come over after we’re finished here.”

“Okay. I’ll take Ace with us, too.”

“Good.” Ray squeezed Autumn’s gloved hand.

Autumn gave a tired smile and nodded.

Chrissy came in from playing her new game of what Autumn called snow pile. Chrissy liked to take a running leap, land in the snow up to her chest, and then push her face into the dense whiteness. Snow clumped above her eyes, around her nose, and under her chin. Chrissy’s doggy smile looked like a clown face amidst the dangling chunks of snow and made Autumn laugh. A good shake freed only some of it and left compact balls of snow clinging to Chrissy’s luxurious locks.

Ace watched instead of playing the game, but his fur also had balls of snow clinging to his underbelly.

Both seemed unfazed after this morning’s discovery of a dead woman hidden in a snow pile on a public street. Autumn, however, was tense from the encounter over the wedding invitations, followed by Chrissy the detective finding another body. She called Beatrice to come hang out by the fire to talk it through.

Autumn loved the cozy way snow made her feel inside her childhood home and loved sharing it. The blazing fire in the stone fireplace crackled and helped to melt the winter chill from Chrissy, Ace, and Beatrice. Chrissy’s pink and white striped bath towel and a larger sage green towel for Ace warmed on the hearth. Bea had a warm cloth to work on the snow clinging to Ace’s fur as he lay on his side, while Autumn held Chrissy in her lap, gently removing caked snow from her face and paws.

Autumn grabbed the soft towel from the hearth and dried Chrissy, then finished the process with a kiss to the top of her head and a little squeeze before putting her down on the floor. Chrissy shook and charged across the den, wiggled under her dog bed, which was piled with toys, and, tail wagging, lifted her body, scattering them all over the floor. She looked over at them, tongue flopping from an endearing, mischievous grin. Autumn and Bea laughed.

Bea finished drying Ace, and he ran over to where Chrissy batted a ball across the floor toward her mommy. Autumn picked it up and tossed it across the room, Chrissy in hot pursuit. Ace stopped the ball from going under a chair and waited for Chrissy to catch up.

“I’ve been talking to Stacey,” said Bea.

Stacey Eldridge owned the local bookstore and oversaw the historical wing of the Peabody Mansion Museum. As the town historian, her knowledge extended beyond local lore and into surprising subjects. Her miniature poodle, Clay, was a friend of Chrissy’s.

“She told me about wedding superstitions and all the things that could go wrong if they’re not heeded. A curse could befall the ceremony or your marriage. I’m trying to avoid a wedding disaster.”

“We’ve already had one with the invitations,” Autumn answered. A flash of her ruined invitations popped into her mind. “Even so, I don’t believe in curses.”

“See, it’s already happening. I should go down to that shop and give Brittany a piece of my mind!” Beatrice groused.

Autumn considered letting her. Bea could be quite intimidating, as she’d learned early in their relationship. After a small, internal debate, Autumn decided against it. She wanted to put the incident behind her and move on.

“The operative word is superstition. I can order new invitations online, and they might be even better than the original ones would have been. Think of all the things that can go right. Everyone associated with the wedding wants the best for us, and that brings luck.”

“Wouldn’t luck be a superstition?”

Autumn paused. “Okay. I concede that the idea of luck is also superstitious. So, if I knock on wood,” she stood and rapped her knuckles against the mahogany mantle, “then we should be okay.” Autumn laughed at her own joke.

Bea smiled. “Ah, so you do believe,” she said, crossing her arms in triumph. “All I’m saying is that a Wednesday would be better than Saturday. Stacey said Saturday is the unluckiest day to get married. Followed by Thursday, according to English tradition. Maybe it’s divine intervention. When you reorder the invitations, just change the date to the eighth or the fifteenth.”

“All I know is that I’m lucky to be marrying Ray, and love brings everything good, so any day will do, but Saturday is when the most people can attend.”

Chrissy and Ace galloped past, each with a squeaky toy in their mouth. The sound increased their excitement, making them chew harder to make even more ruckus. Autumn pictured them having so much fun together when Ray and Ace moved in.

“How many people did you invite?”

“About one hundred. We’ll have it at the Peabody Mansion. Ten tables in the living room, buffet set up in the lobby. Plenty of room for milling about.”

Chrissy had swapped her toy for a ball and brought it over to Autumn, dropping it in front of her, tail wagging furiously. Autumn bounced the ball, and Chrissy hopped after it, pinning it into the corner, where she growled playfully. That was Autumn’s signal to come over and try to take the ball away from her. She crawled across the floor toward her fur baby, who saw her, and went for the ball more aggressively, protecting it from Autumn. Reaching around Chrissy, she pretended to try to take it away, finally grasping the now soaked ball and tossing it across the room. Chrissy ran after it but tired of the game, and trotted over to where Autumn knelt on the floor. Autumn lifted her fur baby and settled onto the deep-cushioned chair next to the fireplace so Chrissy could snuggle on her mommy’s lap. Ace opted for his spot in front of the fire.

“What about the ceremony?”

“There’s a beautiful spot down the trail next to the old sycamore tree. My arborist said it’s likely 200 years old.”

“I love that tree,” agreed Bea. “Even without leaves it’s so majestic.”

“It’s a symbol of love, support, protection, and fertility,” said Autumn, rubbing Chrissy’s soft body. “It’s also the tree of gifts. It’s perfect to have a wedding ceremony there.”

“Maybe in the spring, but it’s a bit chilly for an outdoor wedding.”

“Elizabeth said we could get outdoor heat lamps to surround the area, the kind restaurants use.”

Elizabeth Johnson was the Peabody Mansion decorating and event planning consultant. She did a marvelous job organizing the Halloween event. Her creativity gave rise to a festive and spooky atmosphere. Autumn looked forward to seeing what she planned for the wedding’s winter theme.

Autumn stroked Chrissy’s silky hair. “And you, my little lovey, are going to be my flower girl.”

Chrissy sleepily grunted in agreement.

The doorbell rang, and Chrissy sprung off the chair and ran barking toward the door, with Ace close behind. The tone of her barks let Autumn know who was at the door. She had a high-pitched bark when it was Ray and Ace, but this bark had a slightly lower tone, a signal that Mickey, the standard poodle, and his human, Autumn’s neighbor, Steve Coleman, were at the door.

“Hey guys!” Autumn welcomed them in. She grabbed the towel she kept by the door for wet paws and bent to dry Mickey’s large, well-groomed paw. “Come on in.”

Steve unhooked Mickey’s leash from his collar. The poodle, Ace, and Chrissy exchanged sniffs and then trotted to the kitchen to wait for a snack in front of the cabinet they knew held goodies. Autumn kept several types of treats for the pups and went through the ritual of letting them smell each one before choosing the one they wanted. When Chrissy decided on her snack, Mickey usually followed suit and ate the same one. Ace decided independently of the other two.

“So spoiled,” said Steve, watching the scene play out as he had many times before.

“That’s their job,” said Bea from behind them. Not having been a dog-lover in the past, connecting with Autumn and seeing the love she and Chrissy shared lifted her heart. It helped her understand unconditional love and made her consider getting a dog of her own someday.

A couple rounds of snacks and a good long drink of filtered water later, the pups satiated, they galloped into the den. Steve peeked around the wall and saw them each pick a toy—Mickey, a large rope, Ace, a long, stuffed toy with multiple squeakers, and Chrissy a small stuffed pig—and settle in for a chewing session.

If only that was all it took to feel content in life. Steve’s health problems weighed on him most days. Watching the canine friends made him vow to make the most of each day and enjoy the moment.

“How about some hot chocolate?” Autumn asked, putting the ingredients onto the granite counter next to the stove.

Grabbing a silver pot from the island cabinet, she remembered her mother saying it was the perfect size to make hot chocolate for three people. Back then, it had meant Autumn, her father, George Clarke, and her mother, Stella Clarke; a cherished memory she held onto.

When her parents had died in a car accident with Autumn in the back seat, the devastation was overwhelming. The trauma of the accident and losing her parents resulted in post-traumatic stress disorder. Therapy for the condition included adopting Chrissy, who helped Autumn heal, while she did the same for Chrissy, traumatized by the loss of her pet parent. Autumn was no longer alone in the world. She had Chrissy, Ray, wonderful friends and neighbors, and now Beatrice.

Autumn topped the steaming, rich chocolate with mini marshmallows and handed Bea and Steve an oversized mug printed with snowflakes and friendly snowmen.

“I’m thinking of having a hot chocolate bar at the wedding,” she said, cradling her mug as she led the others into the den.

Bea blew on her drink and took a tentative sip. The marshmallows were just starting to melt, making the chocolate even creamier. “Great idea! That’s where you’ll find me if you need me at the wedding.”

Autumn watched Chrissy attack her pink piggy and pull at the toy’s tummy. She was on the verge of ripping the seam apart again. That’s why Autumn bought this same toy five at a time, so her baby had a back-up.

“Did you hear about the body they found in a snowdrift?” Steve asked. He sipped his beverage. He had a way of delivering horrific news as though he was talking about clipping coupons.

“Of course,” Bea replied, pointing a thumb toward Autumn. “I’m tired of reports of dead bodies in the area.”

“Yes, Chrissy actually found her,” said Autumn. “Did they identify the body?”

Steve paused for dramatic effect. “Angela Curry, Ph.D. She’s a psychotherapist in New Hope. Her office is across the street from where they found her body.”

Autumn thought for a moment. She had been so focused on window shopping that she hadn’t noticed an office.

“How did you find out? Ray hasn’t called yet to let me know,” she asked.

“Pamela Brown’s podcast. I listen every day on my phone,” said Steve.

“The gossip columnist?” asked Bea, as Ace came over and dropped his moist rope toy at her feet.

“He likes you,” said Autumn.

“Great,” said Bea, picking up the rope toy with her thumb and forefinger and tossing it far enough so that Ace could run after it. She rubbed her fingers vigorously with her napkin to get the slime off of them.

Steve asked, “Are you thinking of getting a dog of your own, Bea? “It’d be nice to add another furry friend to this circle.”

Mickey ran over to his daddy and plunked down at his feet. Steve rubbed his fluffy head, a perfect poodle topknot.

“I’m thinking about it, but not completely convinced just yet.”

“Back to Pamela,” said Autumn. “The police have barely processed the body. How could she know?”

“On her show, she talks about her knack for being in the right place at the right time,” Steve said.

“Or she has someone on the inside feeding her information,” Autumn thought out loud.