Twisted (41 page)

T
hey were all gathered in the Crossroads Pub. It had been Diana's suggestion since the pub was the coziest place in the mall. Jay had just finished telling them how Dave had died, and Heather had burst into tears.

“Do you think it was . . . uh . . . he didn't suffer, did he?” Heather choked out the words.

“No.” Larry shook his head. “It was instantaneous, Heather. I'm sure of that.”

“Good. I'd hate to think that he . . .” Heather blinked back tears, and cleared her throat. “You know what I mean.”

Cindy frowned. “But I thought you didn't like Dave. Why should you care if . . .”

“That's not true.” Heather interrupted her. “I
did
like Dave. I just didn't want to date him, that's all. But now I wish I'd gone to that stupid thriller with him. If I'd been with him, maybe he wouldn't have gone out for popcorn. And then he'd still be alive!”

Heather looked so miserable, Diana didn't even mind when Jay slipped his arm around her shoulders. It was clear that Heather felt guilty about the way she'd treated Dave in the past.

“Look, Heather . . .” Diana searched for some words of comfort. “Any one of us might have used that popcorn machine. Jay and I talked about getting more popcorn . . . didn't we, Jay?”

Jay nodded. “That's right. Diana almost went out for a refill.”

Heather turned to look at Diana, and Diana could read the expression in her eyes. Heather was thinking,
Too bad you didn't. Then it would have been you, instead of Dave.
But Heather didn't say anything. She just snuggled up to Jay and leaned her head against his shoulder.

“I don't know about you guys, but I'm having a beer.” Paul broke the uncomfortable silence. “Anybody want to join me?”

Cindy nodded. “I do. Why don't you draw a couple of pitchers. And be sure to get a mug for Heather. She needs to pull herself together.”

“That's a good idea.” Jay took his arm from Heather's shoulder, pushed back his chair, and stood up. Diana couldn't help but notice that he looked very relieved. “I'll get the mugs.”

“So, Heather”—Cindy gave Heather a perfectly innocent smile—“do you feel better now?”

Heather glared at Cindy. She knew Cindy had come up with the excuse Jay needed to break up their embrace. She looked as if she wanted to say something scathing, but all she did was nod.

“Why don't you try to use the phone behind the bar?” Cindy turned to Diana. “Maybe it's working now.”

Diana tried not to grin as she got up and headed behind the bar where Jay was standing. Cindy knew the phone wasn't working. She'd tried it when they'd first come into the pub. It was just a way to get her back with Jay while Heather was left behind, sitting at the table with Cindy.

“Come over here, Heather.” Cindy motioned to the chair directly across the table from her. “I want to know all about the Christmas play. I missed it, but everybody said that you were fantastic.”

Diana watched as Heather slid over to talk to Cindy. Cindy was a true friend, and she was also absolutely brilliant. Cindy knew that there was no way Heather could resist bragging about her starring role in the sorority play.

As Heather began to tell Cindy about the costumes she'd worn and the character she'd played, Diana picked up the phone. There was no dial tone, but she hadn't expected one. The lines were still down, and with the storm raging outside, they wouldn't be fixed anytime soon.

“Hey, Di.” Jay looked happy to see her as he came back with an armload of chilled mugs. “You want to help me carry these to the table?”

“Sure.” Diana picked up a serving tray and began to arrange the mugs on its flat surface. “Jay? Can I ask you a question?”

Jay nodded, and Diana took a deep breath. She didn't really want to ask, but she had to know. “It's about Dave. Exactly how did the accident happen?”

“I don't know.” Jay sighed deeply. “The popcorn machine must've had a short. His hand was still touching it when I found him.”

Diana looked puzzled. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah. Why?”

“The popcorn machine's only one-ten. I could understand it if he'd been using the deep-fat fryer. That's a two-twenty circuit. But the popcorn machine? It would have given him a nasty jolt, but it shouldn't have killed him.”

“Maybe the popcorn machine was plugged into the wrong outlet.”

“That's impossible.” Diana shook her head. “The deepfat fryer has a different kind of plug. And it was hardwired to a dedicated outlet.”

“Are you sure?” Jay began to frown.

“I'm positive. I was right there when the electrician ran in the lines. I asked him why he was doing it that way, and he said it was a safety feature so no one could plug a one-ten appliance into a two-twenty circuit.”

“Then I don't understand it at all.” Jay's frown deepened. “Unless . . .”

“Yes?” Diana held her breath. She really hoped that Jay could come up with a reasonable explanation.

“What if Dave had a heart condition? One-ten might kill you if you had a weak heart.”

Diana nodded. “That's possible. But did he? I never heard him say anything about it.”

“Maybe he didn't know.” Jay slipped his arm around Diana's shoulder and gave her a little squeeze. “It won't do us any good to speculate. The only one who can tell for sure is the county coroner.”

Diana nodded and forced a smile. “Well . . . we'd better get these mugs to the table before they start asking what we're doing back here.”

“Right.” Jay put his finger under her chin and gave her a light kiss on the lips. “We'll talk later, Di. I really don't want to think about it right now.”

As Jay picked up a pitcher of beer, Diana hefted the tray of mugs, and began to step out, around the bar.

“Wait a second.” Jay put his hand on her arm. “Will you sit next to me when we get back to the table?”

Diana grinned as she nodded, but she couldn't resist pushing her luck. “I'd love to sit next to you . . . but why?”

“Because Heather's getting a little too . . .” Jay sighed and looked embarrassed. “I think she's trying to pick up on me, again. And I don't want to hurt her feelings, but I'd much rather be with you than anyone else.”

Diana gave him a brilliant smile. She felt like shouting in triumph, but she managed to hold her excitement in. This wasn't over. Not by a long shot. Heather was persistent, and she'd try to lure Jay away again. But for now, it was more than enough to hear Jay say that he preferred being with her.

 

They sat up late, and talked until they couldn't keep their eyes open any longer. They were all reluctant to go back to the huge furniture store and go to sleep in their separate sections. Even though no one mentioned it, they were all thinking about Dave's body stretched out next to Sue's in the cooler. Finally, Larry suggested that they sack out at the pub, together.

Everyone went in a group to collect their bedding, and they stood for a while at the huge plate glass window, looking out at the blowing snow. As usual, Paul was taping them. They'd gotten so used to seeing him with his camera on his shoulder, they didn't even react any longer.

“I don't think it's blowing over.” Jay frowned as he tried to see the highway through the blowing snow.

Larry nodded. “It looks worse to me. I can barely see the Christmas tree by the front entrance, and it's only thirty-seven and a half feet away.”

“Thirty-seven and a half?” Cindy turned to Larry in surprise. “Is that a guess, or do you really know?”

“I really know. My dad designed this place and I remember the placement of the trees from the blueprints.”

“I didn't know your father was an architect.” Heather looked at Larry with new respect. “Has he won any awards?”

“Sure. He won the Golden Chimney last year.”

Jay started to laugh. “The
what?”

“I'm not kidding.” Larry had a grin on his face, but he shook his head. “I know it sounds ridiculous, but there really is a Golden Chimney award. It's for designing the best heating system in a self-contained building of over five stories. He also won the Truesdale for that big industrial complex just south of Minneapolis.”

“Your father's Clayton Fischer?” Paul looked impressed when Larry nodded. “We did a spot on him last year. He designs schools, too, doesn't he?”

“Sure. He did a multi-purpose building for McAlister College. That won another award, but I don't remember the name. We've got a whole shelf full of statues and stuff at home.”

“That's fantastic.” Heather's smile was warm as she turned to Larry, and Diana nudged Cindy. Perhaps Larry would be the next in Heather's long line of guys. “Are you going to be an architect, too?”

Larry shook his head. “Not me. If I can't make it as an artist, I'll probably end up building dollhouses.”

“Dollhouses?” Heather wrinkled her nose. “Why would you want to do that?”

“They're not really dollhouses, Heather. That's just slang for the miniature models that architects use. Every detail has to be perfect and they're all done to scale. Didn't you see the miniature they did of the mall before it was built?”

Heather nodded. “Sure. Everybody saw it. It was on display at the county courthouse. But it still seems kind of silly to me.”

“How about if I told you that the model of the mall cost my father over fifteen thousand dollars?”

“Oh.” Heather began to look interested again. “I didn't realize that they were so expensive. How long does it take to build one?”

“About a month, maybe two. And the materials don't cost more than a hundred dollars or so. It's almost all profit. You're paid for your skill in reading blueprints and translating them into something concrete that people can look at.”

“Have you ever built a model?” Paul moved in for a closer shot as he asked the question.

“I did a couple. And I've done a lot of what they call artist's renditions. They're framed watercolors of the structure from various angles.”

“And they're expensive, too?” Heather moved over so that she was closer to Larry.

“They're much cheaper . . . only a couple hundred dollars. But you can knock them off really fast. I did six for my dad during Thanksgiving break, and it was no sweat.”

As they walked back to the pub, carrying bedding and clothes, Cindy leaned close to Diana. “What do you think? Does Heather have a new victim?”

“Looks like it.” Diana grinned. “She was really impressed with Larry's dollhouses, once she found out how much they were worth.”

Cindy grinned. “That's a lucky break for you. Now maybe she'll concentrate on Larry, and forget all about my big brother.”

“Maybe.” Diana nodded, but she had her doubts. Heather was the kind of person who liked to keep more than one guy on the string. While it was clear that Heather was definitely interested in Larry, Diana was sure that he wasn't her number one priority. Diana still had a mental picture of what had happened earlier tonight, when Jay had put his arm around Heather's shoulder. She could recall the exact expression on Heather's face as she'd cuddled up to Jay and rested her head on his chest. If Heather's smug expression had been any indication, Jay was still right there, at the head of her list.

 

He was tired and he'd done enough work for tonight. Santa had accomplished exactly what he'd set out to do. The bad boy had been punished, and now it was time for him to rest up for his next task.

As he snuggled under one of the furniture store's most expensive quilts, he smiled up into the darkness. The storm wouldn't last forever, and he had to hurry if he wanted to accomplish everything before the roads were cleared.

He gave a deep sigh, and plumped up his pillow, moving to a more comfortable position. He would rethink his list in the morning, copy it over, and move the names into proper position. Some of the worst offenders needed to be punished immediately. Those names would go to the top of Santa's list. The others could move down near the bottom, and wait their turn. Once he had a clear order of priority, he'd know exactly who Santa's next victim would be.

There was a smile on his face as he pulled the covers up to his chin and listened to the music on the loudspeakers. Sleigh bells were jingling, and “Santa Claus Is Comin' To Town” was about to play. It was his song, the song that had given him such wonderful purpose. They all thought Dave's death was an accident, a result of faulty wiring at the theater refreshment stand. It was another strike against the Crossroads Mall, a reason for people to avoid this place where accidents seemed to happen so frequently. Santa was the only one who knew that Dave's accident hadn't been an accident at all, and Santa would never tell. If there was one thing that Santa knew how to do very well, it was how to keep a secret.

“D
iana? Wake up, Diana.”

“No, Mom . . . not yet.” Diana burrowed a little deeper under the covers, and tried to go back to sleep. But her mother was very persistent. Was it time for school already?

“Come on, Di. It's morning. Wake up.”

Diana groaned, and tried to open her eyes. That wasn't her mother's voice. It must be Cindy, waking her up for her eight o'clock class. But Cindy's voice was very deep, even though she was almost whispering. And the hand on her arm felt much bigger than Cindy's hand. And why was she sleeping in her clothes?

“Diana . . . please. I need you.”

Diana's eyes fluttered open and she recognized Jay's face in the dim light. Without thinking about what she was doing or why she was doing it, she reached up to wrap her arms around his neck, and pulled him down for a kiss.

At first the kiss was sleepy, a mere brushing of lips and a snuggling together that made Diana feel very safe and warm. But then Jay kissed her back, and Diana felt a shiver of delightful anticipation that made her tremble and press herself even more tightly against him. She still felt safe and warm, but there was a new emotion added to the mix. She wanted more than simple kissing, more than simple hugging. She wanted Jay to slide under the covers with her, and . . .

“Oh!” Diana sat up, blinking. She'd suddenly remembered where she was, and it was lucky that no one else was awake. They were sleeping in booths at the Crossroads Pub, and that was much too public a place for the intimate thoughts that were running through her mind.

“Forget where you were?”

Jay was grinning down at her, and Diana blushed as she nodded. Luckily, the lights were dim, and he couldn't see that her face was bright red with acute embarrassment.

“Maybe we should have slept in the furniture store . . . all by ourselves.”

Diana's blush deepened as she smiled up at Jay and shook her head. “Actually, I think it's a really good thing we didn't!”

“You're very beautiful when you're sleeping . . . you know that?” Jay reached out to touch her face in a one-finger caress that traced the shape of her lips. “You looked just like an innocent little girl. Until you pulled me down to kiss you. Then you weren't quite so innocent.”

Diana giggled. “That was
your
fault. At first I thought you were my mom, waking me up for school. And then I thought you were Cindy.”

“You kiss your mom and my sister like
that?”

“Of course not! I knew it was you by then.” Diana shivered slightly. She still had the almost overwhelming urge to pull Jay under the covers with her and kiss him again and again. Since this wasn't the time and place for something like that, she threw back the covers, jumped up quickly, and slid her feet into her shoes.

“Wait a second, Di.” Jay took her arm and turned her around to face him. “You wanted to, didn't you?”

Diana considered playing dumb and asking him what he meant. But she knew exactly what he'd been asking about, and that would be less than honest.

“Well, I . . . Yes, I wanted to.” Diana whispered the words, and somehow, that made them even more intimate. Then she drew a deep breath, and sighed. “Let's go make coffee. I need a cup to clear my head.”

“It's already made. I thought we could carry it out to the Christmas tree and talk. Unless you'd prefer to . . .” Jay let his voice trail off and gestured toward the booth where Diana had been sleeping.

Diana didn't have any trouble catching his train of thought. She was tempted. It would be wonderful to snuggle down under the covers with Jay, but she shook her head. “No way. The others'll be getting up soon. I think coffee by the Christmas tree is a much better idea.”

“Okay.”

Jay looked a bit disappointed, but he smiled agreeably as he led the way to the coffee machine. Diana got two mugs from the shelf. They were bright blue with “THE CROSSROADS PUB” imprinted on the side in gold letters, and Jay filled them almost to the brim.

They were very quiet as they tiptoed past the sleepers, and went out the door to the mall. When they were a few doors away, Jay turned to her and smiled. “It's great to have coffee in the morning with you. It starts the day off right. Maybe we ought to do it all the time.”

“That would be nice.” Diana smiled back, but her mind was racing a million miles a minute. Was Jay talking about meeting her every morning at the college cafeteria? Or did he have a more intimate arrangement in mind? She cautioned herself about jumping to the wrong conclusions, and kept right on walking toward the huge Christmas tree in the center of the mall.

“How about right here?”

Jay gestured toward a bench facing the Christmas tree, and Diana glanced at her watch as she sat down. It was a little strange, sitting in front of the Christmas tree at eight in the morning. Of course it was impossible to tell it was eight in the morning without any windows facing the outside. It could have been eight at night, and she never would have known the difference with the lights on the tree twinkling brightly and the Christmas carols playing on the loudspeakers.

“Is something wrong?” Jay reacted to her pensive expression.

“No. Not really.” Diana shook her head. “I was just thinking how timeless it is inside the mall. The lights are always on and the music's always playing. It's almost like another world.”

Jay nodded. “It's an artificial world, almost like being inside a space capsule. And you're right about how timeless it is. If we didn't have our watches, we wouldn't know what time it really was. I wonder why they didn't put a big clock on the wall.”

“My dad told me why. It's psychology. There aren't any clocks in casinos, either. They want you to lose track of the time. The longer you're out here at the mall, the more money you might spend.”

“Makes sense.” Jay nodded. And then he looked sad. “Dave would have known that. He was a psych major.”

They were both silent for a moment, remembering the last time they'd seen Dave. And then Diana shivered as she recalled exactly what had happened.

“What is it?” Jay slipped his arm around her shoulders.

“The package.” Diana's voice was shaking. “I forgot about it last night.”

“The present Dave found?”

Diana nodded. She felt very shaky as she put her fear into words. “It was just like Sue's. And both of them opened their presents and read the notes . . . and then they died.”

Jay took a moment to think it over. “It's got to be a coincidence. I mean . . . it's not like someone murdered them or anything like that.”

Diana turned to look at Jay and his eyes mirrored her fear. For a moment they just stared at each other as the terrible suspicion started to grow. And then “Santa Claus Is Comin' To Town” started to play over the loudspeakers, and Diana shivered so hard, her teeth began to chatter. The innocent children's Christmas carol sounded suddenly ominous, and Diana knew she'd never be able to listen to it again without hearing its dark undertones.

“No.” Jay shook his head as if he were trying to shake off the thought. “It's impossible, Diana. We've been watching too many thrillers on television, or reading too many detective novels.”

“Are you sure?” Diana really wanted to believe him, but the seed of suspicion had been firmly planted.

“I'm positive. Don't forget . . . I was the one who found Sue. And I found Dave, too. I'm sure they were both accidents. It's kind of eerie out here, cut off from the rest of the world. We're just imagining the worst.”

Diana took a deep breath, and released it in a shuddering sigh. “You're right. I guess things just got to me. Maybe I'm not awake yet. But it is kind of strange about the presents . . . isn't it?”

“It's strange.” Jay's voice was flat, with no emotion, as if he didn't want to scare her. “And it's even stranger if what you say about the construction is true.”

Diana sat up a little straighter. “It
is
true. And I know the popcorn machine wasn't plugged into the two-twenty line. I turned it on. If something had been wrong, it would have shorted out right away, and then I would have been the one to . . .”

Diana stopped and shivered again. She could have ended up like Dave! The same thought must have occurred to Jay, because his face turned pale.

“Let's not think about that. And when everybody else gets up, let's warn them to be very careful. We're cooped up in here, and we might be getting a little stir-crazy. We're probably all accident prone, and we sure don't want any more accidents!”

Diana nodded. She was sure that Jay was just saying that to make her feel better. But it was better to think that Sue and Dave's deaths were accidents than it was to believe the alternative!

 

They were frightened again, and when they were afraid, they tended to stick together. He didn't get a break until late afternoon, when they'd all calmed down a little and split up.

He looked around carefully as he let himself into the security office. It was too bad that Santa wasn't invisible. Then he couldn't be followed. But Santa didn't have that power so he had to be very alert.

Once he was inside the office, a huge smile spread across his face. His plan was going very well, and he felt almost euphoric as he took his list from the center desk drawer and began to read the names. Who would be the next to get a personal visit from Santa?

As he checked the list, one name jumped out at him, emerging from the river of other names like the big trout that had snapped at Gramps's hand-tied flies.

A sparkling river had run through Gramps's farm, providing food for the table and fun for Gramps. And Gramps had shared his sport with his grandson. They'd spent hours together, tying flies at the kitchen table and putting them in Gramps's tackle box. Each lure he'd tied had been especially designed to catch the big trout Gramps had called Professor Pisces. He could still remember those crisp, chilly mornings at the farm, hopping out of bed before daybreak to pull on his waders and make the trek to the river with Gramps. They'd walked carefully through the woods, guided by the beam of Gramps's old flashlight, stepping over fallen logs and pushing through the underbrush until they'd reached the river's bank. They'd perched on the huge granite rock that lay half-submerged in the water, and shared the Thermos of hot chocolate Grandma had fixed for them. And then they'd spent all day trying to catch Professor Pisces.

He pressed his pen to the paper so hard, it almost tore through. The happy days of fly casting with Gramps had all taken place before the contest. After that, fishing was ruined. And he'd just written down the name of the person who was to blame.

The contest had been in all the papers, and he'd begged Gramps to enter. It was a father-son contest, but grandfathers and grandsons could enter, too. Gramps hadn't wanted to enter, but Grandma had talked him into it. It would be fun for the boy, she'd said. And the boy deserved a little fun in his life.

He still remembered how excited he'd been, and how sure he'd been that they would win. There weren't really any rules. You just fished all day, in any of the designated spots, and brought your catch in to be weighed at the local butcher shop before dark.

When they'd gathered that morning, to check in for the contest, almost all the other contestants had crowded around to admire the delicate flies that lined Gramps's tackle box. There had been only one exception, one father-and-son team who'd looked at the flies and turned up their noses. While the son had smirked, the father had bragged that they'd ordered their flies from an expensive fishing catalogue, the finest that money could buy. And then the son had announced that they were sure to win the contest.

During the morning session, the man and his son had fished right next to them, and it was clear that they didn't like to lose. Although it was supposed to be a friendly contest, the man and his son had gotten angrier and angrier with each fish that Gramps had pulled from the river. And then the sun had reached its highest point in the sky, and one of the contest officials had come around to announce the lunch break.

They'd put down their poles, and left their tackle boxes by the side of the river to mark their spots. Picnic tables had been set up under the trees, and they'd found a nice, shaded spot to enjoy the lunch that Grandma had packed for them. Everyone else had been very friendly, but the man and his son hadn't taken part in the conversation. They'd sat by themselves, glaring at Gramps. And then the father had leaned close to whisper to his son. The son had left the table for a couple of minutes, and when he'd come back, he'd been grinning. And then the contest official had announced that lunch break was over, and the afternoon session had started.

They'd walked back to their spot, and Gramps had opened his tackle box, looking for his favorite fly. But he hadn't reached inside to pull it out. He'd just groaned, like someone had kicked him in the stomach.

He'd rushed to Gramps's side, feeling fear rush over him in a wave. Was Gramps sick? But Gramps had pointed to the tackle box, and he'd groaned, too, when he'd looked inside. The tube of glue they'd carried to make repairs had burst open, and every single one of Gramps's hand-tied flies was covered with sticky adhesive.

The father and son had come over to ask what was wrong, and Gramps had shown them the tackle box. The father had patted Gramps on the shoulder. What an unfortunate accident! He'd offered to let Gramps borrow one of his flies, but Gramps had said that wouldn't be fair. He still had one fly left, and he'd fish with that.

Naturally, they'd lost the contest. And the father and son had won. But after they'd gone home, he had looked at the tube of glue very carefully, and he'd seen the hole that someone had punched in it. He'd remembered how the boy had left the picnic table and come back grinning. And he'd known exactly what had happened.