“You are a good mom.” Cori sniffled.
“Easy for you to say,” Hope kidded.
Cori chuckled and wiped at her wet cheeks.
“Now,” Hope said. “Christmas day is no time for tears. How about some hot chocolate and a Christmas movie?”
“Yeah,” Cori said with a nod as she swallowed and cleared her throat. “Yeah, let’s do that.”
After Cori left the room, Hope had to wipe away her own tears.
As she made the hot chocolate, she considered Cori’s position. Were they in danger? Had someone made a mistake and killed the wrong person? Was someone already there when Clive arrived? Did that someone fight with Clive? Did that someone still want to harm her or Cori? The question was whether Clive happened upon someone, or whether someone had followed Clive.
Who would follow Clive?
Carol would.
The name popped up inside Hope’s head. Carol, the jealous, strong Carol would have a good reason to follow her wayward husband. Since Carol didn’t practice good emotional control, could she have grabbed the lights and strangled her husband? She was strong enough and probably angry enough. Since she didn’t need to be at school the next day, she would have had time to trail Clive to wherever he went. Hope’s front porch was simply the last straw. That made sense. But could the police prove it?
The Christmas movie was exactly what Hope and Cori needed. As evening arrived, she knew her daughter had overcome her jitters and would be all right on the trip. She told herself that it was all part of growing up. She was reminded of something she once read. It was about ships and harbors. A ship was safe in a harbor, but that was not what a ship was for. Same with a person. Cori needed to sail away from safety for a while. Not recklessly, not without thought, but sailing off, nevertheless. And like the captain’s wife, Hope would await Cori’s return.
Hope had given herself the day off from trying to unlock another of Doug’s files, but she went to her office anyway. She needed to wish Max a Merry Christmas.
“And a Merry Christmas to you,” Max said.
Despite his smile, Hope sensed a bit of sadness in Max.
“Miss it?” Hope asked.
“Indeed, I do. You would think that after so many years alone, I would have gotten over those feelings, but I haven’t. I remember. Christmas was always a festive time for me.”
“Your memories haven’t faded, have they?”
“No, no, and I used to worry about that. But I reasoned that because I didn’t age, my memories wouldn’t fade, like they do for other people. They won’t fade because I will not reach senility. My life didn’t progress along normal lines. Seems odd, doesn’t it? My memories will always be bright and clear.”
“I hadn’t thought of that,” Hope said. “I suppose I must find your murderer before my mind becomes addled.”
“Long before that happens. I’m depending upon that.”
“Well, I just wanted to wish you a good day,” Hope said and stood.
“I return the wish, and I want to assure you that I will be vigilant tonight, lest the killer return.”
“I doubt that will happen, but I appreciate your help. Have you managed to glean any other information from the journals?”
“I have, and I haven’t. I’m afraid the journals are more diaries than summations of the events of the day. They are not newspapers. There was an item about something someone said about Aiden Berne, the gambler. It seems Aiden returned to Castle Park in order to borrow money from a relative. Aiden, while drinking, admitted that he had killed a man. He was not specific as to when and under what circumstances. And once, sober, Aiden denied that he had ever mentioned killing anyone.”
“And what do you think?” Hope asked.
“If Aiden did slay someone, it would be as I was slain. From behind, by a sneak. But Aiden always talked bigger than his boots. I doubt he ever managed to actually murder anyone.”
“You’re probably right. In the thrillers I read, there are men who like to admit that they are secretly hired assassins. Of course, they say that to gullible women. Hired assassins never admit it.”
“I agree, but men will say anything to impress women or make money.”
Hope laughed. “Why in the world are we talking about assassins on Christmas day? Have a good evening, Max. I’m glad your Christmas was a reasonably happy one.”
“The best I’ve had in decades, Mrs. Herring. Thank you.”
Hope found Cori in her bedroom, going over the checklist she’d made. Everything she needed and everything she needed to do was on the list. She’d worked through the list several times, and Hope was beginning to think her daughter was becoming a bit obsessive about it.
“First rule of travel,” Hope said. “You’re probably going to forget something. No checklist is perfect. Chances are that anything you forget you can purchase at your destination. No problem there. If you’ve forgotten something vital, then you make arrangements for it to be sent to you, or you make do with a substitute. It’s an opportunity to show how creative you can be. But to believe you’re never going to forget something is nonsense. We can’t avoid all problems, so, we learn to adapt.”
“Why do you always have to be so logical,” Cori said with a chuckle.
“Because I don’t have time to be illogical. There was a famous mathematician who once apologized for a long letter he’d written because he didn’t have the time to write a short one.”
“That makes no sense,” Cori said.
“Actually, it makes perfect sense,” Hope said. “When you don’t have time, you slap things together, even in writing. Leisure allows you to rewrite, even as you go.”
Cori rolled her eyes. “More logic. I give up. I’m going to bed.”
“Don’t worry about sleep,” Hope said. “Your flights are long, so you’ll be able to sleep on the plane. And that’s the last logical thing I’ll tell you.”
“Don’t tell lies,” Cori warned.
Hope laughed. “I’ll try not to.” She kissed her daughter on the cheek. “I want you to have a fabulous time. Take lots of pictures and send them to me.”
“I promise.”
Hope made sure all the doors and windows were locked before she went to bed. While she did that most nights, she was extra careful that night. And she was certain Max would make the rounds during the dark. If something needed tending, he would get her.
Lying in bed, Hope felt another pang of sadness. Cori was leaving in the morning. Hope would be all alone in the big house. Not entirely alone. Thankfully, Max would still be there. That would make things more palatable. And Hope would be working, so her days would be filled with things to do. Yet, she would feel alone—no Cori, no Doug. She told herself that she was doing the right thing, but that didn’t lessen the sadness.
Then, she thought, with her recent luck, she would solve Max’s murder, and then he would leave, too. Then, she would be utterly alone. She shook her head at that thought.
She’d do something good and kind for Max, and then she’d never see the ghost again.
Grief and sadness settled in the pit of her stomach.
In the morning, Hope made sure Cori, who had set two alarms, ate a good breakfast. They went through the checklist together, and Hope marveled at her daughter’s efficiency. Then, she walked Cori to the minivan, where Rob loaded Cori’s bag.