Candy Cane Murder (Hannah Swensen #9.5)(8)

son. Let’s check the sides of the path. If we can find the point where Wayne veered off, we’ll start finding candy canes again.”

Michelle led them back to the point where she’d found the last candy cane. “This is the place,” she said, pointing down to the snowy walkway. “Where do we look now?”

“You and Andrea check your side of the path. If you don’t find anything, come back and give me the flashlight so I can check my side. If Wayne is still leaking candy canes, we’ll find them.”

“Why wouldn’t he be leaking candy canes?” Andrea wanted to know.

“I could be wrong about how many are left. Or maybe he noticed that they were falling out and he put them in another pocket.”

Hannah waited while Andrea and Michelle checked their side of the walkway and came back.

“Your turn,” Andrea said, handing her the flashlight.

“We’ll wait right here while you check.”

Hannah moved forward with the flashlight, sweeping the beam over the snow. She was about to give up and admit defeat when she spotted four candy canes near the edge of the path.

“I’ve got some,” she called out and her sisters hurried over.

“Why are there so many here?” Michelle asked, bending down to pick them up. “It looks like they all fell out at once.”

“Maybe he slipped,” Hannah theorized.

“Or maybe he got tired of holding his hand over the hole and decided it wasn’t worth it,” Andrea added her take on it.

“I don’t think he’d do that, though.”

“Why not?” Michelle asked her.

“Because he’s too cheap. Every time he dropped one, he’d be adding up how much it cost him. Mother used to say that Wayne had the first nickel he ever made.”

“I remember that,” Michelle said with a laugh. “She told CANDY CANE MURDER

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me Wayne pinched it so hard, the buffalo squealed and ran away.”

“Look at this.” Hannah pointed to another candy cane a foot or so away. “The trail picks up again here and keeps going.”

The three sisters followed the candy cane trail to a bank of hard-packed snow the plow had left when Dick had cleared the inn’s parking lot after the last snowfall. Behind it and a few feet back was another bank of snow and ice, rising even higher than the first. By the end of a snowy winter there could be several banks lining the perimeter of the lot. When one berm got too high for the snowplow blade to reach and dump, Dick started another snow bank in front of it.

“I see candy canes going all the way up that snow bank,”

Michelle said, illuminating them with Hannah’s flashlight. “I wonder why Wayne climbed way up there.”

“There’s only one way to find out,” Hannah told her.

“Not me.” Andrea pointed down at her high-heeled boots.

“That’s hard-packed snow and these boots were expensive. I could break off a heel.”

“I can go with you,” Michelle offered.

“No way. Mother just bought you those suede boots and they’re going to get ruined.”

“It’s okay. I really don’t mind.”

“No, but Mother will. And if Mother minds, I’ll never hear the end of it. Just stay here with Andrea and I’ll take a quick peek.”

Hannah dug in with her heels and her hands, and started to climb up the bank of snow. It was a good eight feet tall with fairly steep and slick sides, and the ascent wasn’t easy.

She slipped a couple of times, but she kept going until she’d pulled herself up on the top. She opened her mouth to make a joke about being King of the Hill, a reference to the children’s game they’d played in the winter every recess in grade school, but then she saw what was on the other side and the 28

Joanne Fluke

joke died a quick death on her lips. There was a figure spread-eagled on the snow at the base of the berm. It was Wayne Bergstrom and he’d obviously been pushed. Making snow angels wasn’t in his repertoire.

“Anything there?”

Michelle’s voice floated up to her, and Hannah swallowed with difficulty. She took a deep breath, expelled it in a cloud of white, and croaked out one shaky word. “Yes.”

“You sound really funny,” Andrea commented. “Are you all out of breath?”

Hannah knew she wasn’t the one who was out of breath.

Wayne Bergstrom was, but she couldn’t quite manage to say anything that sarcastic.

“Hannah?” Michelle sounded worried. “Are you okay?”

“I’m okay,” Hannah choked out the words and took another deep breath. Andrea was right. The air did smell like Christmas trees. The stars and the moon seemed bigger too, illuminating the figure at the bottom of the far side of the snow bank in an intensely cold blue light. Everyone said you couldn’t see color at night, but Hannah’s mind filled in the colors. He was wearing red velvet and white fur, and there were candy canes scattered all over around him.

“Hannah?” Andrea asked again, and Hannah knew she had to say more. She didn’t want her sisters to be so worried about her they’d try to climb the berm and see what she was seeing.

“Santa’s dead,” she said, seemingly capable of only twoword responses.