Cardwell Christmas Crime Scene

Years ago they’d had a falling-out over the ranch. Stacy still regretted it. But Dana had forgiven her, and now they were closer than ever.

“Hello?”

She quickly turned off the television as Burt Olsen, the local mailman, stuck his head in the front door of the main ranch house, where Stacy was curled up watching movies.

“Got a package for Dana,” he said. “Need a signature.”

Stacy waved him on into the house, smiling as he stomped snow off his boots on the porch before entering. Burt was always so polite. Dana was convinced that Burt had a crush on Stacy, but he was just too shy to ask her out. She was glad Dana wasn’t here to tease her about him.

“How’s your day going?” Burt asked, then quickly lowered his voice. “The kids asleep?”

She laughed and shook her head. “That would be some trick, to get them all to take naps at their ages. No, their grandpa took them sledding. I’m just holding down the fort until my sister gets back.”

“Saw your car out front,” Burt said. “Figured you might be sitting the kids. What’d ya think of that snow last night? Really came down. I’ve already been stuck a couple of times today. Glad I have chains on my rig.”

She nodded as she signed for the package. “Can I fill up your thermos with coffee? I have a pot going.”

“That would be right nice of you,” Burt said, blushing a little. He was a big man with a round red face and brown eyes that disappeared in his face when he laughed. He wasn’t handsome by anyone’s standards, but there was a warmth and a sincerity about him.

“He will make some woman a fine husband,” Dana had said more than once. “A smart woman would snatch him up.”

Stacy had never been smart when it came to men, and her sister knew it. But she liked Burt. If she had been looking for a husband... But she wasn’t.

When he returned from his truck with the thermos, she took it into the big farmhouse kitchen and proceeded to fill it with hot strong coffee. Burt had followed her only as far as the kitchen doorway.

“Having electrical problems?” Burt asked.

She turned to frown. “No, why?”

“I saw some feller up a pole not far from the house.”

Stacy shrugged. “Here, I made sugar cookies. I’ll put a couple of them in a bag for you.”

“Oh, you don’t have to...”

“Dana would insist if she was here,” Stacy said.

“Well, thank you.” He took the thermos and the plastic bag. “Shaped like Christmas trees,” he said, holding up the bag to see the cookies. “You did a real nice job on them.”

She felt her cheeks heat. Burt was so appreciative of even the smallest kind gesture a person did for him. “Thank you.”

“Well, I’ll be getting along, then.” He nodded, not quite looking at her. “Might want to dig out some candles in case that lineman turns off your power. You have a nice day now.”

“I’m going to try.” She watched him drive away, wondering when Burt was going to get around to asking her out and how she was going to let him down easy.

In the kitchen, she got herself some cookies and milk. Going back to the television, she found another Christmas love story and hoped Burt was wrong about the power man cutting off her television. She didn’t get that much time alone to watch.

But this show didn’t hold her attention. She wondered when Dana would be back with their cousin Dee Anna Justice and what surprises this cousin might bring to the ranch.

* * *

AS BEAU CLIMBED into his SUV and began the drive out of the airport on the newly constructed roads, his cell phone rang. The roads were new because Gallatin Field was now the busiest airport in the state. “Beau Tanner.”

“What is your hourly rate?”

He recognized Leah’s voice and imagined her standing in his living room. “You can’t afford me. Seriously, what is this about?”

“I lied to you. Charlie and I...we’re in trouble.”

Beau wasn’t surprised. “So, there isn’t an important package?”

“There is, kind of. I hate involving you in this.”

“I can’t wait to hear what this is exactly, but can we talk about it when I get home?”

“Yes. But I insist on hiring you. I have money, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“That isn’t it. I have something right now that is going to take all of my attention.”

He got off the call, cursing under his breath. If this was about marital problems between her and Charlie...

He really couldn’t deal with this right now. Ahead he could see Dana Cardwell’s black Suburban heading toward Big Sky. Beau followed, worried about Leah and Charlie, even more worried about DJ Justice.

What kind of trouble was DJ in? Her father thought it might have something to do with her grandmother? That her grandmother had found her? He cursed Walter. Who knew how many skeletons the man had in his closet?

But what did that have to do with his daughter?

If Beau had to lay money down on it, he would have bet there was a man in DJ Justice’s story. A man with a jealous wife or girlfriend? Or had DJ chosen a life of crime like her father? At least Beau’s father had reformed somewhat after that night here in the canyon when Beau had made the deal with Walter Justice.

Since becoming a private investigator, he’d thought he’d heard every story there was. Where it got dangerous was when the spouse or lover would do anything to cover up an affair—or even a score. Usually money was involved. And passion.

So what was DJ’s story?

* * *

MARIETTA PISANI STOOD at her mirror, considering the almost eighty-year-old woman she saw reflected there. Merda! She looked as cranky as she felt, which almost made her smile. When had she gotten so old? She didn’t feel all that different than she had in her twenties, except now her long, beautiful, raven-black hair was gray. Her once-smooth porcelain skin was wrinkled.

She knew what had aged her more than the years—her only child, Carlotta. That girl had seemed determined to drive her crazy. It had been one thing after another from an early age. She shook her head, remembering the hell Carlotta had put her through, and then softened her thoughts as she was reminded that her beautiful, foolish daughter was in her grave.

Not that she hadn’t left a storm in her wake. And now Marietta had to clean it up.

“Can I get you anything else, Mrs. Pisani?” asked a deep, elderly voice behind her.

She glanced past her reflection in the mirror to Ester, who’d been with her for almost fifty years. Ester had grayed since she’d begun working here as a teen. Sometimes Marietta mixed her up with her mother, Inez, who’d been her first housekeeper right after her marriage.

“No, Ester, I don’t need anything.”

“What about you, Mr. Douglas?” Ester asked Marietta’s solicitor.